Fat Funny Famous

Chapter 17

There aren't many places to hide in the Theatre Royal. The worldwide premiere of Aussie Princess has booked out the entire Drury Lane venue; everywhere I look, there are elegant couples, English celebs, cast and crew – all delighted to be attending such an anticipated event.

Which is lovely and all, but what I really need is a place to fall apart for a moment. Nan and I had been escorted to our seats a few minutes early; she's ecstatic to be attending, her enthusiasm nearly enough to override my own feelings about being here. I've been able to pretend, smile for the cameras, chat animatedly with producers and big wigs, almost pulling off the ruse that I am fine.

And then, Erik had appeared, easing down our row. "Hello, Miss Martinique," he'd said, as cool as ever. God, he looked good. I haven't seen him in a month, but his face and body and scent are as familiar to me as my own. It's utterly cruel that this man and I had once been as close as two humans could possibly be; now, we are strangers, former colleagues, forced to pretend that we don't know exactly the expression each of us makes as we climax.

"Erik." I'd risen slowly, still drawn to him. "Hi. It's good to see you."

He'd blinked, taken back. "What, no silly voice? No humorous commentary?"

"No." I didn't have more words. Nothing about this was funny. We should have been here as a couple, the happily ever after to this story. We should have been celebrating; instead, I was being forced to endure.

"Well," he'd said, perplexed but pushing on, "may I introduce you to my companion?" He'd gestured to the woman behind him, and the world became muted from that point. I could see her talking, her perfectly painted lips moving, her hand enfolded inside Erik's where mine had once been. I could see Erik nodding and smiling, enamoured, see Olivia come up behind them, more introductions.

But I couldn't hear a thing. In my ears, there was only ringing, a high-pitched wailing that sounded suspiciously like my soul screaming.

I'd excused myself and fled to the only place where I couldn't be seen: the bathroom. Now, I'm huddled in a stall, my couture dress crumpled and dotted with tear stains. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to move on with my life when every molecule in my being calls for him.

Around me, women come and go, the stall doors clanging, the distinctive rustle of sanitary wrappers. The sounds wash over me like waves, almost soothing in their polite softness.

"Ah, bugger!" A rough voice cuts through from the stall next to me. It's familiar, but I'm too distraught to try and place it. "Are you kidding me? It's a bloody premiere and there isn't any bloody toilet paper! What am I supposed to do? Shake it off like a dog?"

A giggle erupts from my chest, despite my agony. I ball up some paper and pass it under the divider. "Here you go."

"Ah, cheers, mate! Lifesaver!"

"No worries."

"Are you an Aussie too?"

"Yep."

"Grouse! Always good to find a mate in the wild, yeah? This bloody world can be rough sometimes."

"It sure can," I say, but my voice breaks on the last word, and an audible sob echoes around the bathroom.

A pause. "Oh, mate... You don't sound like you're having much fun in there. Tampon stuck?"

A burst of laughter joins my sobs. "No. I wish. That would be easier."