Saturday, January 31, 2009

Dead Famous: part two.

by bitingmylip

(Read part one here: http://taleswecouldtell.blogspot.com/2008/02/dead-famous.html )

Six days and only one further rearrangement later, Kate was waiting in The Grand Hotel’s lobby for the ghostly Marissa. She had been told by the front desk that Marissa’s senior PR Officer Katerina Vishky would be with her “imminently.” Kate was anxious. The word “imminently” sounded particularly ominous.

By the time Katerina eventually scurried into the lobby, all clip-clopping heels and efficiently swishing ponytail, Kate had sunk herself into a green chair so large with cushions that she struggled to get back up in order to shake Katerina’s hand. Flustered, she had to haul herself out of the large chair with a hand that scrabbled uselessly along the velvet-covered armrest. Katerina had perfectly plucked eyebrows and looked mildly irritated by Kate’s presence.

“Kate Pearson?” she asked. Her tones were clipped, her accent impossible to place.
“Yes, that’s right,” Kate said, regaining her composure to match Katerina’s tone.
“Marissa is almost ready for you in her suite upstairs. I’d just like to run through a few things, if I may.”
“Of course.”

“There are one or two things Marissa would prefer not to discuss. I am sure you will appreciate this is a difficult time and there a few sensitive issues surrounding the months since her accident.” Katerina spoke as if she was delivering a monologue. “Please do not ask Marissa for specific details of her accident, her injuries, or her subsequent resurrection,” she said.

Kate had not met Katerina before but she was familiar with this process. She had wondered if Marissa’s PR specifications would have changed since her resurrection, as it seemed she must call it. But the key conceit behind Marissa’s rules remained the same. Do not ask questions that may elicit interesting answers.

Satisfied Kate had been fully briefed, Katerina treated Kate to a curt smile. “Thank you for your understanding. Alright! has shown such sympathy to Marissa. It is much appreciated.”

Kate smiled graciously. “Well, we thank Marissa for granting us this interview. Our readers are always so interested in hearing what she has to say.”

“Yes indeed.” Katerina smiled her tight smile again. “Now, I am sure you are aware, the photoshoot is to take place tomorrow, at the studio of our choice.”

“I think so,” Kate said, pleasantly. “I understand that with the, uh, special circumstances Marissa requires, our Art Director should have been in touch with you directly…?”

Katerina nodded curtly. “Yes, that’s correct. We elected to have it tomorrow to allow Marissa plenty of rest between these appointments.”

With that, she turned towards the ornate staircase, indicating that Kate should follow. Katerina did not say anything further as they made their way towards Marissa’s suite. Only when she reached the door did she fix Kate with a look. “Thank you for bearing in mind this is a sensitive time for Marissa,” she said, quietly, before turning into the room with an impressive flick of the ponytail. Kate followed her into a large and beautifully furnished room, sitting on the hard-backed chair with green-and-gold cushioning that Katerina indicated.

“Please wait there while I see if Marissa is ready,” Katerina said in her clipped voice, before making her way across the room and knocking quietly on an adjoining door. Kate made herself comfortable.

And then, there she was. Kate had read previous interviewer’s effusive ramblings about how she ‘glided’ across the floor; well, if that had been a result of her elegance, it was more difficult to tell now, being as Marissa now glided in a very literal sense. Kate couldn’t tell if she had any feet. She seemed to be propelled forwards by something other than her own legs. Maybe angels were holding her up. Kate scribbled this thought in her own ineligible version of shorthand.

Marissa avoided the large, squashy, comfortable sofa and instead perched herself on a wooden stall that had been conveniently placed away from the window. This meant no light or background colour interfered with her skin tone because, as Kate noted, where before she had been golden-skinned, she was now almost translucent. This seemed to be the only visible difference: Marissa’s clothes were still luxurious and clearly designer. Kate recorded said clothing faithfully, in the manner of women’s magazine writers everywhere: “Wearing dark jeans and a black figure-hugging Prada wrap-around top, even in death, Marissa looked the picture of sophistication…” Kate wondered if ‘wearing’ was the right verb – was it possible for a ghost to wear clothes? She had a sneaking suspicion that if Marissa stood in direct sunlight, the paleness of her skin would make her almost invisible and her clothes would look as if they were floating. Perhaps this was why she had avoided the dark green sofa. Looking at her now, Kate noticed she wasn’t really sitting on the stool – she was sort of assuming the position of sitting but appeared to be holding herself in a manner that looked distinctly uncomfortable although, Kate assumed, there was probably no such thing as uncomfortable for a ghost. As her flesh and blood PA whispered something in Marissa’s almost see-through ear, Kate saw her lose her position for a moment, and she seemed to dip lower onto the stool – no, through the stool, it looked like. But being a consummate professional, Marissa regained her composure immediately and righted herself at once. She turned to Kate with a smile, her lips devil-red and quite off-putting.

“Now, a proper hello,” she said in a deeply calm voice. “I do apologise for not shaking your hand. It’s rather difficult… well, let’s just say it’s hard to keep a grip on things.”

“Erm, that’s OK,” said Kate. “Would you like a glass of water or something?”

Immediately Kate new she had said something amiss. Katerina frowned from her corner of the room, but the lady herself just gave off a peal of laughter – it was literally a peal, Kate thought, it sounded like a hundred of your highest pitched church bells ringing at once – and shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said. “Well, at least I don’t need sustenance now. That’s one of the benefits of being dead. You definitely retain your figure!”

Kate smiled back, weakly, feeling clumsy and far too alive to be in the same room as such a vision of pale, ghostly elegance. She shut her eyes briefly in a bid to gather her thoughts. When she opened them Marissa was looking at her, a beatific smile upon her face. Kate glanced down at her notepad as she gathered her thoughts.

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