(horrifically unedited)
As expected, when she came out of the bathroom, she found it empty and she heaved a relieved sigh. Richard had left leaving a faint trace of his cologne, the only sign that he was ever in her room. An ache had started to form behind her eye sockets and as she went to look for her stock of painkillers, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrors and she stopped. Retracing her steps back to the mirror she stood and studied the reflection. Her skin looked ashen, her eyes were rimmed red and swollen, her nose was red, and her lips were dry and cracked.
Rachel was not exaggerating, I do look fucking terrible, Farrah thought to herself. She sighed. Looking at her reflection, she couldn't help but wonder why was it that things got so fucking complicated when they were in the same room. Their conversations, their understanding of each other was so much easier whenever they talked over the phone all those times Richard was away.
She sighed again and walked away from the mirror and quickly swallowed an Ibuprofen. She sent out a text to both Rachel and Ben that she was unwell and was going to sleep. She had to go through outfits and her script with Rachel, but that could wait until later. There were supposed to have an early team dinner in Richard's suite and she'd just do it then.
Her phone started buzzing nonstop and she knew that it was probably Richard calling her, he must have heard by now that she was unwell. Ignoring the buzzing of her phone, Farrah closed her eyes and wished, just for a second for Richard to forget about her. Stop fucking calling, she thought releasing a frustrated sigh, as she willed herself to sleep.
***
Blindly reaching over to her side, Farrah groped the bedside table for her phone. She squinted at the screen and saw that she was due her Zuhr (midday) salah. She once again willed her eyes to open, blinking rapidly as she looked at the ceiling. Laying her head on the plush pillow, she picked up her phone and started going through the accumulated texts and emails. She left Richard's messages the last as she knew she would be bombarded with a slew of questions. And she was right, she supposed Ben had managed talked some sense into him that he didn't come barging into her room.
R: Text me the moment you are awake. 12.08pm
F: I'm awake. 2.45p
R: How are you feeling, love? Any better? 2.46pm
F: Better, thank you. 2.46pm
R: Have you had anything to eat? For lunch? 2.47pm
F: No. I'll order something soon. I'm going to pray first. Talk later. 2.47pm
R: Your lunch is on it's way, love. It should be at your room by the time you're done with your namaz. 2.53pm
Farrah just dropped her phone on the bed, just as the doorbell rang. Standing up she walked over to the door opening it and was shocked to find Ben standing there with a trolley.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.
"I was given a royal decree to make sure you accepted the food and you...you know...ate it," Ben said sheepishly.
"Are you here to fucking babysit me, Ben?" Farrah asked harshly as she let the door slam behind her as she trailed after Ben into the room.
Setting the trolley to the side, Ben turned around and sat on the bed, watching her. Farrah crossed her arms defensively and clenched her jaw.
"Can I ask you something?" Ben started slowly.
"You already did," Farrah bit out childishly.
Rolling his eyes at her, Ben pressed on, "What happened?"
"What do you mean what happened? With whom? When?" Farrah said as she ran her hand through her hair roughly.
"Don't play dumb Farrah, it doesn't suit you," Ben replied with a raised eyebrow.
"Ben, I am recovering from a horrible headache. Please don't give another one," Farrah said sighing tiredly as she rubbed her face.
Ben sighed as he stood up, walking to the door. "Just...take it easy on him, okay. It's hard for him to be in Paris," Ben said as he looked away, deep in thought.
"Is that why you're here?" Farrah asked, her voice flat as her anger left her making her feel deflated. "Because he needs a friend?" she continued, mentally chastising herself for not even taking a second to empathize how hard all this must be for Richard. How fucking selfish am I, she thought to herself cringing.
"Yes. But perhaps this time, he needs more than a friend," he said pointedly as he looked at Farah.
Farrah swallowed. "I can't...uhm...," she cleared her throat, "I can't...I'm not...it's not me, Ben." She stammered out as she looked at Ben with wide eyes. "I can only be his friend."
"You and I both know that you are so much more than that, Farrah. Like I said earlier, don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you," Ben said before he walked out of her room.
Gnawing on her lip, Farrah turned towards the trolley to see what did Richard order for her. She spotted a teapot and as she poured the golden hued liquid into the teacups, the scent of cinnamon and cardamom wafted into the room.
"Masala tea," she whispered to herself, he remembered. She fixed a cup for herself adding two teaspoons of sugar. As she took a tentative sip, Farrah savored the rich flavors of the spices and the deep notes of the tea as it caressed her tongue.
***
"Bonjour madeimoiselle," the butler said to Farrah as he served her breakfast. She hummed in response as her eyes were still glued to the newspapers. Her face was completely bare of makeup and her hair piled in a messy knot high on the crown of her head. She was simply clothed, in an oversized white t-shirt, blue jeans and her white Converse. As she flipped the pages of the newspaper, Rich saw that the ink had smudged over her thumb and forefinger. As she read, he stood at the doorway, silently watching her and committing her to memory. Moments of quiet came in snatches especially with the crew around and he would be a fool to stir her as he now could watch her without fear of getting caught by the others.
Things seemed to have shifted again between the two of them at dinner last night, from all the pent-up emotions and tensions, it seemed as though both of them had somehow simultaneously decided to fall back onto their easy flirtatious banter rather than delve into the deep. It also helped that Richard had taken heed of Ben's advice; he worked out his frustrations in the gym and also gave Farrah some space. He had an inkling that Ben might've said something to her in passing about the relationship he had with the city, as she had guilt written all over her face when she came for dinner.
She apologised for whatever happened in the morning saying that she had acted out because of the stress and also being unwell. Even though he knew there was more to it all, Richard accepted her apology without pushing or prodding for more. He knew; that was all he was getting out of her and he made peace with it. He simply followed her lead.
"Your Highness," the butler motioned for him to sit at the table. He saw Farrah's shoulder tense before it relaxed as she shot him a small smile when she turned to look at him. He nodded towards the butler as he sat next to Farrah.
As Richard was served his breakfast; a cafetiere of coffee, warm croissants with butter and fruit â Rich said to her, "So, tell me what's going on in the world today?"
"Do you want the boring news first? Or the really, really, really boring news?" She asked, eyebrow raised as she popped a piece of strawberry into her mouth.
This should be interesting, he thought. "How about the really, really, really, boring news first?" He said.
"Well, the really, really, really, boring news is that the world is going to the shitter," she said with a sigh, eyes closed and leaning her head back on the dining chair.
Rich snorted, and he saw a small smile pulling at her lips while her eyes were still closed. "Well, what's the boring news then?"
"There's going to be another Lifetime, biopic, movie thing about you. Well more like the whole family," she said disinterestedly.
"Another?" Rich paused, his hands still working on buttering his croissant. He watched as the melted into the bread. He heard another uninterested hum from Farrah as she was served her breakfast of crepes and tea with milk.
"You'd think they'd be bored of the royal family and their biopics but God, people love this stuff," She said again, leaning on her chair with her eyes closed.
"You're one to talk," he said pointedly to Farrah.
"Hey, it's not my fault that people don't listen to mere mortals when it comes to spreading awareness about certain issues. Why do you think every Tom, Dick and Harry knows about AIDS? That's right mate, thank Bono." She said with her eyes still closed.
This time it was Rich who just hummed in response. Mate, she called me 'mate', he thought grimacing internally.
"Who do you think should play you?" she asked.
"Play me?" he asked after clearing his throat.
"Yeah, which actor would be the best casted as you in a movie."
"It's a Lifetime biopic, there's hardly any A-listers queuing up to get a part in it."
"Priyanka Chopra," Farrah said nonchalantly.
"Excuse me?" Richard asked confused.
"Priyanka Chopra: she'd play me. Well, that is if there was ever a movie about me," she said lazily blinking at him. "She's just gorgeous, with the brains, breasts and butt to boot." Rich just blinked at her. "Do you not know who she is?" she said gaping at Rich as he shook his head.
"Oh, let's get you educated," she mumbled as she quickly typed into her phone and Googled Priyanka Chopra. She slid the phone to him and watched him cough as he attempted to laugh and eat at the same time.
"I am not too sure what your reaction means," she glared at him eyes narrowed to slits. Picking up her fork and knife, she cut out a chunk of the crepes and put it in her mouth. "Although if reality is anything is to go by, I think I'm more of a Freida Pinto rather than a Priyanka Chopra."
"The Slumdog Millionaire girl?" He asked racking through his mind to find a face to put to the name.
"Yes, that's the one. I really don't have the sex appeal to be played by Priyanka Chopra." She said smiling as she dug into her breakfast.
Rich paused again, bewildered by the fact that this beautiful, enchanting young woman doesn't realise that she has everything and more in spades and buckets; the brains, the breast, the arse, the legs, the hair, the silky caramel skin, the deep golden honey colored eyes. He shook his head trying to rid the images from his mind.
"Well," she started prodding him, "Who would play you?"
"I've never thought about it," he shrugged.
"Never? Really?"
"No. Never,"
"...I suppose that's understandable as people have been making movies about you since..." The day your mother committed suicide, she thought, Shit!
The day my mother committed suicide, he thought eyes focused on his plate. The silence ticked away as the both of them looked at their plates, each one wrapped up in their own thoughts. "Ryan Reynolds," he blurted.
It was a slow burner of a smile- it sparkled through her eyes, then it pulled at her lips and it eventually took over her face that even her eyes were reduced to slits and then she started laughing. Loud hearty laughs that went straight to his heart and registered in his mind as the one of the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard.
"Ryan Reynolds, really?" she asked still laughing.
Rich couldn't help the answering smile, on his face as he said, "Yes, really. He'd look good with ginger hair."
"And the accent?" she asked, her eyes still twinkling with mirth.
"Well, there are coaching classes for that." He smiled as he raised an eyebrow at her.
Her reply stalled at her lips, as everyone else walked into Richard's suite to have breakfast before they started their first day of shooting.
***
Guys, I am feeling rather horrible - I think I am getting sick again. how wonderful to be sick right before the weekend. *rolls eyes*
So make me feel better by voting and commenting. Show me some love; especially since this is a really long chapter.
xxx