Spoiler
So, well after two months of a break from writing and continuous efforts of re-writing A Criminal's Heart I have come up with the first chapter of the re-write....The name's changed(any better ideas?), the character's name's changed and I have picked it up from before you know what happens. The ones who've read the novel before, please let me know what you think of this new version and please if possible do compare. And yes, most of all to all, please let me know if something is weird because I am messed up with this. It's a long spoiler, I am gone now. Thanks in advance.
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TABITHA JONES
Her lips, painted with a dark raspberry shade curved into a crooked smile. Her face, flushed with a heavy dosage of make-up was even stronger than the rays penetrating their way through the spotlights circling her. I could see faces all around me flashing with yellow lights. The ivory glass bottle from Versace rested on her hands steadily and she handled it with all the care she could muster in the world. I gave her a broad grin to assure her that I was there if she ever needed me, and it was a nothing more than a photo shoot for Italian Vogue. But needless to say, she didn't need a certificate announcing that we both were inseparable, I would always have to be there.
Her black smooth curls dropped down her bare shoulders and I looked down at her gown-cream coloured, embroidered with copper thread, which could very well be the peach of any one's eyes. People pressed me hard from all the sides, running in a competition of which they themselves knew nothing of. They just had one mission now-protecting Janelle from any unwanted problem that her fans could cause. Other than that also came the business of keeping this princess happy and sound. The foul smell of perspiration made its way to my nose but it was soon replaced by the sweet mumbling fragrance of the Versace bottle.
The director was talking to a tiny blonde who was holding a paper board in her small hands. The blonde’s face wasn’t visible in the dark circle formed all around it. He grumbled once, and sunk his head in his palm, only to bring it up again and give her thumbs up gesture. The blonde walked out of the gloomy studio room, turning her head again and again to see the progression of the photo shoot.
All while I had my glance stuck on Janelle's face, to read her expressions; she could anytime need my help. This edition of the Italian Vogue was going to be dedicated to the contribution of the Versace to the fashion field, and Janelle, being the global icon of Hollywood had been chosen for the ad shoot. Ideally, some Italian model or actress should have been here, sitting on the maroon settee, wearing a gorgeous dress for which women could kill anybody. But that was Janelle's popularity; even Italians wanted her.
This had to be my dream; being suffocated by the presence of bodyguards, of an eminent director, and assistants who had the mere job of taking care of my needs and comfort. I wanted to be hounded by the lunatic fans, struggling to get anything of me, even a strand of hair. But fate had something else in store for me maybe; I had to be her assistant, her manager. Maybe calling me her servant would be better stated.
The photographer, Louie, dressed up in loose cigarette coloured cargo pants and an intolerable shade of green pointed his camera at Janelle, now seated on a leather settee. She brought her eyelids closer and eyed the screen with a confidence that was unique to her. The sound of a click was the next thing to be heard in the sudden quite room, later to be beamed with the chattering of people again. A moment later when the photographer had checked the image on his monitor, the room again became silent and then followed another click. I had lost the count of the number of times the same thing had played over before Louie gave a green signal.
****
She pulled out the black wig she had been sporting for the photo shoot and scratched her head which was covered with blonde flake- like hair. Her heels clanked against floor as she made her way to the green room followed by me. A young girl, maybe in her teens stood right outside the door, and opened it for Janelle who walked in without even recognizing the presence of the girl. I was about to step in when I felt currents splashing all across my right thigh, as I realized that it was my phone vibrating. Without any other thoughts, I instantly extracted it from my pocket and attended to the call.
"Hey!" Peter's gleeful voice echoed in my ears for more than I can recollect. His sweet husky voice made my heart vibrate faster than the speed of the light.
"Peter, hi" I replied, my voice just a whisper.
"So, where are you?" He asked.
"Where do you think?" I asked, the sudden sour remembrance of Janelle creating a dark, murky shadow in front of my eyes.
Before he said anything, there was the sound of his clearing his throat, obviously an unsuccessful attempt of controlling laughter. "Are you coming tonight?"
"Yeah. But..."
"But? I won't let you miss on this dinner because of that witch." The utter frustration in his voice spoke of the unconditional love he had in store for me. I could instantly tell why I said yes when he had proposed.
"Peter! She's my friend," I tried to bring down his anger meter.
"Yeah, a friend. A kinda which treats you like her toy." He replied back with glass like sharpness in her voice. I couldn't argue with him on that; she did treat me like her servant more than a friend, but I knew in my heart that she couldn't live without me by her side for even a day. I was indeed her manager, her friend, her enemy...All composed into one. I was not there for fun, I wanted my ticket to Hollywood. But it's not mean like her mission-to remind me of my failure.
"See you, then, baby. Don't be angry, okay?"I told him, with my sweet chocolate like voice reaching out to him.
"Fine, just for you. But once we're married, you won't even see her face." Before listening anything further he hung on the phone and left me with an answer in my mouth urging to come out. I couldn't do what he wanted me to; I had to work for her even after the marriage just because...
***
I tiptoed silently inside her greenroom, so as not to disturb princess Janelle.
The room was too flashy, showing off the lucid taste of the interior designer. The red shade was more than my eyes could bare and on first time seeing it my eyes instantly closed. But when I opened them once again, the room looked bit more neat as if somebody had toned the red shade down. The same girl, dressed up in the tabbard, now stood near Jane and placed cucumber slices on her eyes. Jane's back rested comfortably at the leather chair, and she didn't know at first that there was someone other than her and the girl. I coughed slowly just to make my presence felt, and when Jane signaled me with her hands to come closer, I gently moved forward. The girl with blue eyes looked at the slices she had been holding onto with confused looks, not knowing what exactly what to do with the remaining ones. I asked her to move out of the room, and that we were fine here. Without further ado she slipped outside the door, probably relieved to be out of Jane's wrathful company. I shuddered at the thought of that innocent girl going through Jane's selfish and crude talks.
Jane sat straight, her back erected against the leather. With the tip of her manicured finger, she took off the slices and turned her attention towards me for what seemed like the first time in the whole busy day.
"What took you so long?" She asked, chewing off to a candy kept at the table across her.
"It was Peter."
"Argh! Him again?" She looked at me with reproach.
"Yeah. So what?" I asked, keeping my hands akimbo. Quite clearly, I wanted to smack her on her face. Her words weren't that rude, but the way she delivered them to me sounded like words from the Devil itself. It seemed that she wanted to indicate that my fiancé was a piece of dirt.
"Nothing, but I think you should stop thinking about marrying losers," she chortled. What came next wasn't another insurgent anger at her or anything of that sort. But instead my heart started paining at her last words, sinking down every passing second. I felt tears gushing down my eyes and my whole face started burning with fury. But I kept quite. There was no point in wasting my energy at Janelle Bailey, the queen of Hollywood. But right after I had dropped on the idea of saying anything to her, I got an idea.
"But I'm glad I've someone, even if a loser." I shot my missile at her, the bullet landing straight at her heart. Her lips curved down inside her mouth cavity, and her eyes widened into like tennis balls.
She silently got up from her chair."Mind packing my gown while I change?"She asked. Right, Jane, do I get an option?
But to my relief I didn't have to pack her gown. The blonde from the shoot who worked at Versace had come to me and told me that the brand wanted their gown back. Earlier they had said they would give it to Jane as a deal. Sally was very sorry, and she asked me to try sooth Jane. I couldn't promise her any results, but surely I could try.
"Hmm, I think we have a problem, Jane." I replied, making her turn towards me.
"What do you mean?" She said, all her earlier pain vaporised in a second to be replaced by anger.
"They want it back." She tried to comprehend my alien words. "Versace. They want it back."
"Why? We had a deal," she said.
"Yeah, but they just realized that its their best design ."
"How lame!" she exclaimed. Her words were sober then, but I knew that she was going to get weird anytime. "But this isn't right. We had a deal." She inhaled a couple of breaths before beginning again, "What should I do?" she asked, her voice filled with anger.
"Huh?" Puzzle crossed over my face.
"I mean, they've broken their deal, I have to avenge them," she said, her hands rolled around her waist. My fists curled up in a ball. Do you have all the rights in the world, Jane?
"Nothing. Change. Give the dress to me so I could give it to Sally."
Millions of expressions crossed her visage in that millisecond when she first hesitated over my idea and fidgeted with the hem of her gown. But afterwards there was a flicker of smile and she turned around.
"Where do you think you're going, Jane?" I asked her gently, because I knew that going harsh with her could give some unwanted results.
"Changing, puppy. Are you suffering from amnesia? Didn't you ask me to do this just now?" This was something coming straight from Pluto or Mars or any world which we weren't familiar to. She was listening to someone without arguing? Did I hear it right? Generally, she isn't the one giving up so easily and she wasn't the one either who could be trusted. My mind said something, my heart contradicted to it. I had no option, but to leave the room for a while. But for once I had to confide in her and believe her. That wasn't that tough. Maybe
She walked out of the green-room in her tight midrib jeans, her pink floral spaghetti and a big leather handbag swaying along with her shoulders' movement. Her face was placid, much more than my expectation. Practically she should have been fuming with anger, her world and even mine should have rattled down by now. She should have been herself till now. My mind kept on nudging me that I was just being too rigid and my mind had to sometime become flexible and think of Janelle in a more calm way, as she was when we were two little girls. Fearless.
I went close to her and wanted to seize the control of her bag, when a finger pricked me from behind. I bowed my head down to study the finger of the very person who had dared to interrupt in my FBI moment. After all I was going to check if Jane had been planning to snicker away with the gown. I had full belief in her abilities. The nails were shaped in a triangular, with the tips coloured with French white nail liquid, and the other area swept with lurid shade of pink. I turned around to be greeted by Sally, the blonde who had been fidgeting around in the photo shoot. She shot a smile at me and I grinned back, obviously knowing her very well.
"Hey Sally."
"Hey. Mind if I could have the gown back?" She asked. I looked back at Janelle who stood there with air of arrogance surrounding her and shot a glance like 'whatever' at me. Even if Sally had any thoughts of starting the conversation with her, she had ruined it all. Although I knew her heart was breaking into millions of pieces from inside, but she managed to wear the facade. But it was her fundamental right to be broken, to be furious, after all they had broken the pride of a Hollywood star, an arrogant star. I ran back to the room to take the bag in which the gown had been neatly packed. The red paper bag was kept on a glass table. I picked it up and jogged back outside where the two ladies waited silently for me. There was not even a 'hi' between both of them, just a silence which couldn't even be broken if I threw a crystal.
"Oh, thanks, Tab!" She took a sigh of relief.
"No problem," I grimaced and nudged Jane to do the same. But her face muscles didn't even move a tiny bit from their place.
"I have got to run, okay? Take care...both of you." She forced the word both with great difficulty, that I could see. I had thought that she would run away now that she had the thing she wanted, but instead she opened up the bag there itself. But I couldn't care less, right? It was her business and mine was already over, so why should have been bothered? But I should have known better. As she unzipped the bag I saw Jane's face brightening up with a smile slowly. My mind then couldn't comprehend, and it need not to. Whatever was making her grin was surely going to be out soon. Sally had the peach gown in her hand, her mouth felt open, brows closer than before, and the worse of all...she stared at both of us with bloodshot eyes through the hole the gown had. Just like the hole Alice had fallen into.
I thought I'd do the honours. I have not read the original version so bear with me.
