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JOSIE
I glance out of the window of the private jet and see a landmass that is unmistakably Italy sitting there majestically on the horizon like it’s in some painting.
Holy crap.
It’s there.
It’s real. It ain’t no painting. It ain’t no movie.
I can hardly comprehend what we’re doing. I’ve barely left Crystal River in my entire twenty-ish years, and now I am descending into freaking Italy on a private plane.
“Welcome to Italy, Josie.”
Victor’s deep, resonant voice sends a shiver down my spine as I gaze, spellbound, at the beautiful country as we slowly aim down toward the airport.
This is really happening...
I slowly turn to face the actor. He’s smiling.
He looks so handsome.
He told me I am perfect.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper.
“You better believe it,” the impossibly gorgeous man replies. “We’re about to land in Italy to film a movie.”
I glance down at his lap. Resting on his legs is the screenplay for the upcoming movie he’s shooting here. The pages are battered and used – his handwriting is scrawled all over the margins like a schoolboy with homework. They’re little notes to himself. He certainly takes his craft seriously. He’s putting in the work. He’s not some airhead model-actor who likes to see himself on the screen but can’t display a single emotion other than pouting.
“You know your lines?” I ask him, my eyes flickering back down to the screenplay.
A confident smirk crosses his face.
“I’m very well prepared,” he replies. “I always am with every movie.”
“Ah, so you’re not just a pretty face?”
“Oh, I have that too, Josie.”
I snort and roll my eyes at his cockiness.
Italy, Italy, Italy. I’m coming for you.
Evelyn greets us off the plane. She looks stressed, and it’s not hard to see why - fifty yards behind her, on the other side of the tall security fence, about a thousand people are screaming. It takes me a moment to understand what they’re screaming about...
They’re screaming for Victor.
His name. Over and over.
Victor! Victor! Victor!
And in front of the security fence is a whole gaggle of photographers and news reporters.
Wow. This is becoming a bit too real.
I disembark the plane behind my fake famous boyfriend. It’s surprisingly warm. The Italian sun bears down on us as we sidle up next to Evelyn. The actor is wearing his sleek black sunglasses – limited edition, of course. Victor is all smiles and waves as he strolls effortlessly down the staircase and onto the Italian tarmac.
Whilst I’m just a grubby clumsy oaf trailing behind him. I just know that there’s gonna be a hundred photos of me looking like some kind of goblin while at the same time, Victor is going to look like a Greek god gracing us from Mount Olympus.
