Her mum shrugged, as if being on first-name terms with one of the most famous people on the planet was entirely normal. ‘Brad’s a very nice man. I’ve told him about you and what a talented musician you are. Brad’s always on the lookout for fresh new talent and he said he’d like to meet you. I didn’t want to push anything when you were younger, because I know how the music industry works. But now that you’re eighteen…’ She left the statement hanging in the air. ‘Well, you’re old enough to make up your own mind.’
Sapphire shook her head. She was having a hard time taking all this in. Then something else fell out of the envelope and she bent down and picked it up.
‘What’s this, a plane ticket?’ She gave a gasp. ‘It’s got my name on it! British Airways, First Class.’
‘Oh my goodness!’ said Leonie. She came over to have a look. ‘I did say he was very generous.’
Sapphire shook her head. ‘I don’t get it, Mum. Why he’s done this? Did you know about it?’
Leonie’s heart gave a sudden jump. What do I say? she thought wildly. ‘I didn’t know he was going to do this,’ she said eventually. At least that was the truth.
Sapphire bit her lip. ‘What if he’s a bit, well, you know…pervy?’
‘Darling, I wouldn’t let you go if he was. Look, I know it’s a big surprise, but why don’t you think of it as a nice holiday, and the chance to meet the best-connected man in the music business? It could really open doors for you.’
The first flush of excitement crept across Sapphire’s face. ‘You don’t mind?’
Leonie smiled at her daughter’s expression. ‘Of course I don’t! I think it sounds fantastic. Just as long as I have the house phone number and you call me regularly.’
Sapphire blew out a big breath. ‘Brad Masters. Wow! I’ll need a bit of time to think about it though.’
Instinctively, she looked at the old photo on the dresser, of a smiling man with a little girl on his shoulders.
‘What would Dad think?’ she asked quietly. Her dad, Bill, had been a talented musician himself, until he’d been tragically killed in a motorbike accident when she was younger. Even though Sapphire couldn’t remember much about her dad, she treasured this photo.
Leonie felt herself welling up. ‘I’m sure he’d be very proud, darling.’
Sapphire shook her head in wonder. ‘This could be my big break!’ She narrowed her eyes at her mum, humorously. ‘Just before I go, Mum, have you got any more surprises for me? Like you’re best mates with Mariah Carey or something?’
Leonie laughed. ‘I’m afraid knowing Brad is the extent of it!’
Sapphire grinned and bounded out the kitchen.
As soon as her daughter was gone and she was alone again, the smile dropped from Leonie’s face. ‘Oh God,’ she muttered. She had worked hard to move on from what happened twenty years ago, and now she was starting it all up again. Had she just made the biggest mistake of her life?
Rome
Simonetta Mastrangelo breathed in deeply, filling her lungs. She didn’t smell the pollution-filled traffic fumes of Italy’s capital city; she smelled adventure, glamour and success.
Tucking her portfolio under her arm, she sashayed down the street, well aware of the admiring glances she was getting from passing pedestrians. She got a few dirty looks too, but Simonetta was used to bitchiness from other, less pretty girls. They were just jealous. As she passed a shop window, she caught sight of her perfect reflection and congratulated herself – not for the first time – on leaving behind her boring village in the countryside and moving to Rome to make it as a model.
Standing nearly six feet tall, Simonetta had the posture and long, lithe limbs of a natural. Or so Models Italia, the agency that had just signed her up, told her. With the smoky brown eyes and jet-black hair of Vanessa Hudgens, and the slim physique of Whitney Port, she had the beauty and natural grace to go very, very far. Simonetta had already done a few major catwalk shows, but she wanted more. Naomi, Claudia, Cindy, Giselle – she saw her name up there with all the greats.
It was taking a little more time than she’d anticipated, but Simonetta knew she’d get there eventually. She was destined for the cover of Italian Vogue. She just knew it.
Her mobile went off, rousing her from a daydream about red carpets and Hollywood parties. It was her mother. Simonetta rolled her eyes in irritation. Extremely over-protective and religious, her mother rang her at least four times a day. Anyone would think that Simonetta was a bambina of nine, not a beautiful, self-assured woman of nineteen.
‘How are you, Simonetta?’
‘Same as I was two hours ago, Mamma.’
‘Are you eating properly? Papa and I are worried about you.’
‘Mamma, stop fussing.’
‘You were skin and bone last time I saw you! That is not what men find attractive, Simonetta. How will we ever find you a husband?’ Her mother sighed dramatically. ‘You’re putting me in an early grave, Simonetta, all this gallivanting about Rome. I will pray extra hard for you at church tonight…’
Simonetta’s eyes glazed over as her mother droned on. She’d heard it all before: how she’d abandoned her family for a shallow, superficial life. How she had shamed her local congregation. Just because I want to make something of myself, Mamma, and not be stuck in a little hick town all my life! Just because I want to be someone!
Ten minutes later, her mother took her first pause for breath and Simonetta took the chance for escape.
‘I’m home now, Mamma! I’ll call you later.’ Before her mother could say anything, Simonetta ended the call. She gazed up at the modern apartment block she lived in now and swelled with pride. Renting in the trendiest part of the city may have left her in tons of debt, but it was essential to have the right address. Besides, she could pay all her debts ten times over when she started earning serious money.
As she let herself into the lobby and checked her mailbox, Simonetta noticed one envelope standing out from all the credit card statements and overdue bills. Black and shiny, it looked like an invitation to a hot new nightclub or bar. Simonetta smiled, pleased that her networking was starting to pay off.
She pressed the button for the lift and the doors slid open. Simonetta stepped inside. Trying to open the envelope with a portfolio under one arm and a Chloe handbag under the other wasn’t the easiest thing to do, and Simonetta had to wait until she got into her apartment. Kicking the door shut, she dumped her bag and portfolio and ripped open the envelope.
It was an invitation all right, but not the one she was expecting.
You are cordially invited to a party celebrating the fiftieth birthday of
