Superstar Read Online Free PDF Page A

consider a plain young writer a threat. Mark left the
pool and wandered away into the garden.

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
    That night,
dinner was an awkward affair. She dined alone with the superstar at
a table in an alcove off the main dining room. Carrin concentrated
on enjoying the delicious food, and made no attempt to converse
with Mark. He studied her, which made it impossible for her to look
at him. Eventually, he broke the silence.
    "You seem to
be feeling better."
    "Yes, thank
you."
    "Too much wine
last night?"
    "Something
like that."
    "I read your
screenplay this afternoon."
    Carrin looked
up at him. "Did you like it?"
    Mark looked
down at his half-eaten roast beef and potatoes drowned in creamy
sauce, as if unable to meet her gaze. That probably meant that he
hated it, she thought, her heart sinking. She took the opportunity
to study his face from yet another angle, longing to draw it.
    "It needs some
work. Your characters are a little vague. Some of your
conversations are inane and unnecessary, but otherwise, yes, I
do."
    Relief washed
through her. "I'll work on it." Her eagerness to get somewhere with
the screenplay banished her resentment momentarily.
    Mark raised
his eyes, toying with his food. "I have several computers you can
use. I trust you brought backups with you?"
    "Of
course."
    He sat back,
and the maid removed his plate. "You're very quiet this
evening."
    She shrugged.
"I'm a quiet person."
    "Tell me about
yourself."
    Carrin stared
at him, hoping that her anger did not show in her eyes. The candles
on the table bathed his face in a warm golden glow; softening its
lines and making him look younger.
    "There's
nothing much to tell. I was born in Africa, went to school, almost
got married at eighteen but he ran off with another woman. I worked
in various jobs, then started writing three years ago. I've had
four books rejected, and this is my first screenplay."
    He folded his
hands, and she noticed how long and slender they were. The hands of
an artist, or surgeon. "What about your family?"
    She shrugged.
"I have a brother and mother, my father's dead. We stay on a small
farm with my sister-in-law."
    Mark gazed at
her, probably waiting for her to go on. If he was expecting her to
ask him questions about himself, he was disappointed. Although she
burnt with curiosity, she refused to give him the satisfaction. He
unfolded his hands, and his lips curved in a slight smile.
    "There's
someone I'd like you to meet, before you work on the screenplay.
She's a writer, and I think she can give you some good tips."
    Carrin looked
doubtful. Another girlfriend?
    Mark sat
back as the maid served dessert. “If you like, I'll take you to
meet her tomorrow. I have a meeting, so I'll drop you off and
collect you later, okay?"
    She shrugged
again. "Okay."
    "Good." He
tucked into the strawberries and cream, and the meal was completed
in silence. Afterwards, she claimed to be tired and left him to sip
a brandy alone. She gained the impression that he was disappointed,
but dismissed it as imagination. In her room, she pulled out the
sketches and gazed at them. If only he was as nice inside as he was
on the outside.
    Why was it
that beautiful people were sometimes cursed with such horrible
personalities? Why couldn't her dream be real? In it, he was
sensitive, loving and tender, but in reality he was not a nice
person at all. Picking up her pencil, she drew another picture,
trying to catch the essence of his character. She made his crooked
eyebrows more prominent and his dark eyes glared, his mouth twisted
in a sneer. Yet no matter how she twisted his features, he still
wasn't ugly.
    Giving
up, she put the drawings away, then turned at a splash outside.
Walking onto the balcony, she looked down at the warm pool. Mark
Lord swam in it, using an energetic crawl that ploughed a foaming
wake from one end to the other. He seemed intent on exhausting
himself, swimming as if demons were after him, and she hoped that
they would catch him.