Page 3 of The Sun Sister

‘Well, don’t be late tomorrow. They want to shoot as the sun is coming up. A car will pick you up at four a.m., okay?’

‘Sure.’

‘I heard you had quite a party last night.’

‘It was fun, yeah.’

‘Well, no partying tonight, Electra. You need to be fresh for tomorrow. It’s the cover shot.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be in bed by nine like a good little girl.’

‘Okay. Sorry, I’ve got Lagerfeld on the other line. Rebekah will be in touch with a list of suitable PAs. Ciao.’

‘Ciao,’ I mimicked into the cell as the line went dead. Susie was one of the only people on the planet who would dare hang up on me. She was the most powerful modelling agent in New York and ran all the big names in the industry. She’d spotted me when I was sixteen. At the time, I’d been working in Paris as a waitress, having been expelled from my third school in about as many years. I’d told Pa that it was pointless him trying to find me another school because I’d only end up getting expelled from there too. To my surprise, he hadn’t made a fuss.

I remembered how astonished I’d been that he hadn’t been angrier at yet another of my failures. Just kind of disappointed, I suppose, which had taken the wind out of my sails.

‘I thought I’d go travelling or something,’ I’d suggested to him. ‘Learn through life experience.’

‘I agree that most of what you need to know to be a success in life doesn’t necessarily come through the academic process,’ he’d said, ‘but because you’re so bright, I’d hoped you’d at least get some qualifications. You’re a little young to be off by yourself. It’s a big wide world out there, Electra.’

‘I can take care of myself, Pa,’ I’d said firmly.

‘I’m sure you can, but what will you do to fund your travels?’

‘I’ll get a job, of course,’ I’d said with a shrug. ‘I thought I’d head for Paris first.’

‘Excellent choice,’ Pa had nodded. ‘It’s an incredible city.’

As I’d watched him across his big desk in the study, I’d thought he’d looked almost dreamy and sad. Yup, definitely sad.

‘Well now,’ he’d continued, ‘why don’t we compromise? You want to leave school, which I understand, but I’m concerned about my youngest daughter heading off into the world at such a tender age. Marina has some contacts in Paris. I’m sure she could help you sort out a safe place to stay. Take the summer there, then we’ll regroup and decide where you go next.’

‘Okay, sounds like a plan,’ I’d agreed, still amazed that he hadn’t fought harder for me to finish my education. As I’d stood up to leave, I’d decided that he’d either washed his hands of me, or was giving me just enough rope to hang myself with. Anyway, Ma had called some contacts, and I’d ended up in a sweet little studio overlooking the rooftops of Montmartre. It had been miniscule and I’d had to share the bathroom with a load of foreign exchange kids who were in town to improve their French, but it had beenmine.

I remembered that first delicious taste of independence as I’d stood in my tiny room the night I arrived and realised there was no one to tell me what to do. There was also no one to cook for me, so I’d taken myself off to a café just along the street, sat down at a table outside and lit up a cigarette as I studied the menu. I’d ordered French onion soup and a glass of wine and the waiter hadn’t even batted an eyelid at me smoking or ordering alcohol. Three glasses of wine later, I’d had the confidence to go up to the manager and ask him if he had any vacancies for a waitress. Twenty minutes after that, I’d walked the few hundred yards back to my studio with a job. One of my proudest moments had been the call to Pa on the pay phone along the hall the next morning. To give him credit, he’d sounded just as thrilled as when my sister Maia had won a place at the Sorbonne.

Four weeks later, I’d served Susie, now my modelling agent, acroque monsieurand the rest was history...

Why am I looking back all the time?I asked myself as I retrieved my cell to listen to the rest of my messages.And why do I keep thinking about Pa...?

‘Mitch...Pa...’ I muttered as I waited for the voicemail to spill its beans. ‘They’re gone, Electra, along with Amy as of today, and you just have to move on.’

‘My dearest Electra! How are you? I am back in New York again...What are you doing tonight? Fancy sharing a bottle of Cristal and some chow meindans ton lit avec moi? I’m yearning for you. Give me a call back as soon as you can.’

Despite my low mood, I couldn’t help but smile. Zed Eszu was an enigma in my life. He was hugely wealthy, well connected and – despite his lack of height and the fact that he wasn’t my usual type at all – incredible in bed; we’d been hooking up regularly for three years. It had all stopped when I had gotten serious with Mitch, but I’d reinstated him a few weeks ago and there was no doubt he’d given my ego the boost it had needed.

Were we in love? It was a total no, for me anyway, but we ran with the same crowd in New York and, best of all, when we were alone together we spoke in French. Like Mitch, he wasn’t impressed by who I was, which was rare these days, and somehow comforting.

I stared at the phone, debating whether to ignore Zed and follow Susie’s instructions for an early night, or whether to call him and enjoy some company. It was a no-brainer, so I called Zed and told him to come on over. While I was waiting for him, I took a shower then dressed in my favourite silk kimono, which had been designed especially for me by an up-and-coming Japanese atelier. I then drank what felt like a gallon of water to counteract any drinking or bad stuff I might do when he arrived.

The concierge phone beeped to announce Zed’s presence and I told them to send him right up. He arrived at my door with a giant bouquet of my favourite white roses and the promised bottle of Cristal champagne.

‘Bonsoir, ma belle Electra,’ he said in his strange clipped French as he unloaded the flowers and champagne and kissed me on both cheeks. ‘Comment tu va?’

‘I’m good,’ I answered as I eyed the champagne greedily. ‘Shall I open it?’

‘I think that is my job. Can I take my jacket off first?’