Counterpoints 2 (Counterpoints #2) Read online

  The first time it happened, it was just after they had landed, once they had crossed the doors to the arrivals building. Screams, everywhere.

  Christopher’s fans were so many, security guards had to escort them to their rented vans in a haste.

  Hillary wasn’t kidding. Christopher is a God in Germany.

  She took a picture with her camera from where she was standing -on the right-hand side of the red carpet and as out of the spotlight as possible- and then studied Christopher, from top to bottom.

  He was beyond handsome.

  How could any woman resist a gorgeous guy like him, with that sly smile, that mysterious, bad boy look of his?

  More importantly, how could a woman resist a man like that, in a tux ?

  Christopher turned his head left and right and waved to his fans and smiled, his perfect, sexy smile.

  His hair was a little styled with gel, a little up, a little to the side, messy just the same.

  He hadn’t cut his beard much. It was looking longer than usual, but neat ever the same, and Isabella reckoned it gave him an extra manly attitude. The scruff made him look tougher, more savage.

  Don’t look at his hands, she told herself but her eyes slid down to his wrists nonetheless and Isabella imagined his big hands all over her body, holding her tight.

  Inevitably, her mind was back to the night before, to the night spent together in her hotel room.

  Stop it, she ordered herself. She wasn’t there to fantasize about her and Christopher, she was there to work.

  And you better take good pictures because this is the only event Christopher is going to take part in this weekend, Isabella reminded herself.

  It wasn’t going to be like any other race weekend. No interviews scheduled besides press conferences, no sponsors’ events, no promotional activity.

  Isabella and Hillary- with Mr. Johnson’s and Mr. Jenkins’ consent- had created a shield around Christopher, beyond which journalists and tabloid reporters weren’t welcome. Anything to make him feel as comfortable as possible, during a delicate weekend like the one ahead.

  Isabella took another picture, as Christopher moved forward on the red carpet, photographers calling his name continuously to get a better shot at him.

  He looked amazing and perfectly at ease in his blue and black tux, so different from all the black ones around him.

  Christopher found her, standing at the end of the red carpet- slightly to the side, her back to the wall. Hillary wasn’t far from her, but she was busy chatting with two other guests of the fashion show.

  Isabella looked up from her camera and a strand of short hair fell down over her right cheek.

  Christopher smiled, his fingers twitched, refraining the impulse to reach out for her hair. She would have hated that, for sure. It was getting harder though, as their relationship progressed, to separate work from their affair.

  And so mind wrecking and frustrating, Christopher thought.

  “Ciao bellissima” he said and kissed her on the cheek.

  Isabella looked absolutely stunning that night, so hot that Christopher seriously thought it was going to torture him all evening, not being able to touch her, not being able to walk with his arm wrapped around her sensuous bare shoulders.

  The long dress she was wearing was dark, burgundy red and it matched her lipstick. It was very simple, very form fitting. It wrapped around her waist and hips and it ended just below her knees.

  From the front, the neckline seemed rather innocent- round with wide straps- but when she turned to the side, Christopher noticed it had a wide open back, that ended just above her behind.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” he mumbled.

  In that moment, Hillary waved and started walking back towards them, from the front entrance of the building.

  “Why?” she looked at him briefly, bashing her eyelids innocently at him.

  “This dress is made to be taken off” his voice was deep, as he leaned back a little to give it another quick glance.

  “I guess this is not the right time to tell you, I am not wearing any underwear” Isabella mumbled and then waved at Hillary, casually and grinning like there was no tomorrow.

  Christopher glanced her way for an instant, his cheeky smile spread across his face.

  “I’d like to see that” he traced small circles behind her back, with just the tip of his fingers, for only a moment, enough to startle Isabella.

  “Stop that, Hillary is coming” Isabella turned to face him again- so that she was out of reach, so he couldn’t take another glimpse of her naked back- and held back a snicker.

  She did her best to look busy, checking something on her camera.

  “Chris, I want you to meet Franz, from the Sinergy Maison. He’s the man behind the photo shoot you and Noah will be attending next week” she gestured to both Isabella and Christopher to follow her towards the entrance, where Noah was already standing looking bored and glum as usual.

  Next to him was a tall brunette, someone Isabella had never seen before - but she would later find out to be his new fling. Isabella held up her camera and took a picture of them together.

  For future generations.

  The two drivers eyed each other.

  Neither one of them smiled, neither said anything besides ‘hi’. The scene, so sterile and cold, made Isabella cringe a little. It was awkward, this sudden change of attitude between them.

  Christopher glanced at his team mate only once, but didn’t address him.

  He had said what he had to say, already. He was done.

  Loud house music started to play in the background, while the guests moved forward in the queue to get in.

  Just after the door, Isabella spotted Franz, waiting for them to join him inside.

  Someone else –a female voice- shouted Christopher’s name over the loud music and Christopher turned – while other screams followed- his arm up again, to wave at his fans. He smiled wide, his face assaulted by dozens of flashes.

  Isabella witnessed the scene – seeing his eyes gleam towards the crowd- and felt that same uneasiness, that very gut feeling, push its way inside of her.

  It was a smile for someone else, for a fan, for another woman.

  He could never smile at me like that in public.

  And that’s when it hit her, the truth, why she had felt her feelings jumbled up inside, since they had been back from Toronto.

  It was getting to her, the secrecy of their love affair. It was eating her up, not being able to be fully herself around him and around the people she worked with.

  Hillary, the guys… One moment I don’t want the rest of them to know, the next one I crave his attention in public…I don’t know what the hell I want, she blamed herself.

  It didn’t matter that it was Isabella who had always wanted the relationship with Christopher to be a secret. It just felt wrong at times.

  Isabella was getting tired of covering up their intimacy. But most of all, Isabella hated to be someone that she wasn’t, she hated the fact that she had to pretend they were nothing.

  We are… something.

  Isabella pursed her lips, as she walked right behind Christopher, her head elsewhere.

  How could her feelings, her thoughts change so drastically overnight?

  Sneaking out at night to meet Christopher, had felt right until the day before. In the daylight though, everything seemed different.

  All of a sudden the secret meetings weren’t enough anymore. That was it.

  How long can we go on like this? She wondered.

  “Hey, Christopher” two brunettes – who apparently were two popular German singers- walked over to Christopher and kissed him on the cheeks.

  They engaged in small talk – one of the two invited him to an exclusive, VIP party in a club downtown- while Isabella stood there, by their side in silence, her chest heavy.

  She felt invisible, as she looked elsewhere and tried to ignore their conversation.

  I’m trying and fai
ling miserably, she admitted to herself, when the tallest one of the two women, started touching Christopher’s shoulder.

  “Christopher, Celine, Marissa, one picture please” a photographer asked.

  “Of course” the shorter one, Celine smiled and wrapped her arm around Christopher’s back. She placed her other hand on her hip, posed and smiled.

  “Oh, wait I’ll just move…” Isabella mumbled, as she stepped aside, out of the spotlight, at a safe distance from Christopher.

  He eyed her to the side, even as the photographer took the picture.

  The flash made Christopher turn toward the crowd again, a weak smile was all he had.

  He said his goodbye to the two singers – with the promise they would meet again inside- and he resumed his position in the queue, next to Isabella.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, glancing at her quickly.

  “Yeah, sure” she looked sideways at him and forced her lips to smile.

  I am anything but okay, Isabella thought but she pushed all the negative thoughts away.

  It was just how things were between her and Christopher, period.

  Think about work, think about work.

  For a good two minutes, Isabella actually did think about work. She was almost feeling okay again, until she spotted a familiar face, walking up the red carpet, flashes everywhere.

  Giselle is here.

  The top model walked up the red carpet, looking stunning as always, impeccable, like she had just been to a photo shoot.

  When you think it can’t get any worse… Isabella thought, studying every detail of Giselle’s dress.

  The long, silky, fitted gown she was wearing, was light pink and gold and it left very little to human imagination. In some parts it was see-through and it accentuate the perfection of her slim body line.

  She was all smiles, so comfortable and at ease in the spotlight, and of course every photographer there shouted for her attention.

  Isabella watched her walk up to the fashion show like a goddess, with elegance and grace, giving the press her best poses.

  Then, she gave her back to the photographers and walked ahead, all the way to the entrance of the building, while her long hair swayed back and forth down her open back.

  Isabella looked away instantly, not wanting Giselle to notice her staring. Not that she would have had the faintest idea who Isabella was.

  Not being popular was an advantage. It gave Isabella the chance to study Giselle’s every move in the dark, like the invisible woman.

  I am anything but invisible, Isabella’s eyes went down to her voluptuous breasts and her soft hips for a moment. She stood out in a crowd of models, like a black sheep in a herd of white ones.

  Let’s not be silly about this. She is a goddess, so beautiful even I would date her.

  She listened the model speak to a few people standing in the queue to get in, right behind Isabella’s shoulders. She could hear her speak English, then switch to German like it was natural to her.

  And she seems really smart, too. Jumbo box of vanilla ice cream, I want you, I need you. Isabella sighed.

  She heard Giselle laugh a few times, before she walked through, apologizing as she did.

  For a second, Giselle’s shoulder brushed against Isabella’s.

  “Hi” she reached out for Christopher’s shoulder and looked up at him. Her fingers traced lines down Christopher’s jacket, until her hand stopped to rest on Christopher’s arm.

  It was only for an instant, but his stare darted from Giselle to Isabella. She was standing right behind Giselle.

  Shit, Isabella looked down and almost turned the other way.

  “Hi” he said back.

  “I knew you would be here” Giselle told him, her eyes shining bright.

  Two or three photographers shouted their names and took pictures of them talking.

  That’s going to look pretty on tomorrow’s gossip magazine, Isabella glanced at the scene only to look away again, as if her eyes stung at the sight of them.

  “There, you had your picture” Christopher kept his face straight, not even the slightest hint of a smile on his lips “I am not one of your puppets, that you can sell off to the paparazzi, Giselle. Make sure you keep that in mind next time”

  For a moment, Christopher’s words seemed to wipe the smile off Giselle’s thin, pink lips. They were unexpected and surprisingly brusque.

  “You never cared about those things, never thought twice about ending on magazines, kissing women” she smirked.

  “Things change” he looked straight at her, his stare so penetrating and serious, it made Isabella shiver, even if that look wasn’t meant for her.

  “I guess they do” Giselle kept her eyes on him “Where’s your date?” the words came out of her mouth with an edge, like they were more meant to tease than in search of a real answer.

  “Why do you ask?” his tone of voice sterile and unemotional.

  Giselle smiled a little and tilted her head to the side.

  “I hope I didn’t get you in to trouble”

  “Not at all” he shrugged

  Giselle moved a little closer and whispered “I still have the keys to your flat in London”

  She bit her lip and bashed her eyes at him.

  “You can leave them to the doorman, next time you are in London for work” Christopher said “Have a lovely evening” and he moved forward in line.

  It was over, their goodbye was somewhere there, in between the lines.

  Maybe Isabella was reading too much into his words. Maybe Isabella wanted to read too much into his words, but Christopher had just told her off and it seemed as though he had given her their last picture together, as a goodbye present.

  These shoes are killing me, Isabella slid the blue sandal off her feet and gave it a dirty look. Whoever designed that shoe, had successfully made it in her black list.

  The bus turned left and both Hillary and Isabella let a sound of astonishment.

  Berlin was really something. It was a perfect mixture of modern and old, pieces of the Berlin wall reminding the history behind the city. It was a place designed for young people now. It was pure entertainment, fashion and style.

  Being the only two girls on the bus, their eyes were all for the store windows they passed by.

  “We should go there” Isabella pointed to a shoe shop and Hillary grinned.

  I’ll ask Hillary to go shopping after the race… Isabella thought.

  There were certain moments in a girl’s life, when spending money on clothes, shoes and accessories could cure almost anything: stress, depression, anger, sadness.

  Years and years devoted to psychology and psychoanalysis, when finding the perfect accessorize could truly be the cherry on the top, the unexpected road to happiness. Isabella firmly believed in that.

  Yes, Isabella eyed Christopher- who was sitting at the far end of the bus, at what felt like miles away from her- she needed the distraction. She needed some of that, shopping therapy.

  They had just spent an entire evening at the fashion show, pretending to be just colleagues, while Christopher had been shaking hands and talking to most people in the room. Mostly models.

  On a positive note, there was a really delicious buffet to comfort my soul, Isabella thought and touched her bruised ankle.

  Damn sandals.

  They stopped at the traffic light and waited for the green light.

  “Hey look at those girls” Mark said and almost fell through one of the windows of the bus. He leaned forward and waved at them. The girls were now looking at him and giggling in each other’s ears.

  “Hello” said Fred, joining Mark at the window.

  In an instant Thomas and Jeremy and many other members of the team joined them.

  Noah watched the scene with a hint of a smile on his face.

  The four girls walked towards the unmoving bus, squinting and trying to figure out who the people in the cool vehicle were.

  Noah waved at one of the gi
rls, who’s eyes had grown wide.

  “Noah” she said to the other girls and then something incomprehensible to Isabella followed. She had recognized him immediately.

  They were typically German, with fair skin and big blue eyes. They could have been sisters, Isabella thought.

  “You girls want to hop on?” Mark asked at some point of their conversation, a smile spreading on his face. “We have other girls, friends of ours, on board” and he gestured towards Isabella and Hillary.

  “You guys only think about one thing” Hillary shook her head.

  “Three things” Fred corrected her with a grin on his face, while his hands moved in a sinuous manner, resembling a woman’s body.

  “I don’t want to know, thank you” Hillary waved it off.

  “Christopher, get your ass over here. They recognized Noah already, show yourself. Come on, mate. Do your thing” Mark called for his help.

  Christopher looked up, uninterested.

  He had been a little quiet during the tour ride- his bowtie undone, his face tired from talking to so many people that evening.

  He seemed lost in thought, lying loosely on three seats, like he was on some sort of save power mode, like he was keeping his energy for the qualifying session and the race. No distractions.

  We haven’t spoken all night, she thought.

  Isabella looked at him again now, feeling a stab in her chest. His friends, his team mates were calling him to do what he did best.

  Chat up girls, get them in bed with him.

  Christopher looked her way briefly, like he was waiting for Isabella to say something but she looked down and then turned to Hillary again.

  “Come on, Chris. What is wrong with you?” Mark called for him again and opened his arms wide, like he just didn’t get Christopher’s attitude that night.

  Mark’s words felt like a punch in the stomach for Isabella.

  Why had she said yes to the tour bus again?

  The Fashion show had ended rather early and Hillary had insisted they all joined the rest of the guys in the city center, to get a proper tour of the city and do their ritual thing together. Be a family.

  Christopher stood up and moved to the other side of the bus, sensing Isabella eyes on him.

  “Hello, girls” he said “We are here for the race and we are doing a little city tour. How about you help us get to know Berlin a little better?” he smiled.