Sunlight slipped through a gap in the curtains and fell softly across Irene's face, waking her. She stretched quietly beneath the covers, and hunger stirred along with her.
Barefoot, she stepped onto the floor, opened the window, and walked out onto the balcony. Resting both hands on the railing, she closed her eyes and savored the feel of the fresh sea breeze against her face.
Not far away, the boundless blue ocean stretched into the distance. The gentle sound of the waves drifted into her ears, and as she took a deep breath, her heart suddenly felt calm and open.
"Good morning, Irene!"
A familiar voice came from the right. She slowly opened her eyes to see Britney, who had just woken up and was greeting her.
"Hey, now that our two beautiful ladies are awake, I'll have the butler bring lunch up." Edward, on her left, ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "You two go wait in the dining room. I'm going to take a quick shower."
Irene returned to the elegantly decorated room and opened the wardrobe. Inside hung brand-new clothes in her size, with even the tags removed. They looked just like clothes she might have brought from home, so much so that she almost got the impression that this vacation had been planned long ago.
In fact, up until the second before she won Best Director, she'd still been debating where to go on vacation. But when she woke up the next day, she was already on a private island in Hawaii.
By the time she changed and came to the dining room, the table was already laden with food. Most of it consisted of local specialties, and all the seafood had been freshly caught and carefully prepared by the chef before being served.
There was an abundance of dishes in front of her. She picked a shellfish dish at random to appease her stomach and almost swooned at its incredible freshness.
The lives of the rich really are so wonderful. Irene couldn't help thinking. She'd been born into the wealthy Coppola Family, but last night's experience had shown her that she was still a long way from the truly wealthy elite.
After the awards ceremony the previous night, the news that she and Britney had both won had drawn reporters hoping to interview them. They crowded outside both Rockefeller Center and the hotel where they were staying.
Shelly Ovitz had brought several bodyguards to get the three of them out of there. Though they'd been happy, the reporters had dampened the mood. Thinking about how they'd be followed everywhere they went over the next few days, Irene found that even the trophy in her hand had lost its appeal.
Edward suggested that it might be better to leave New York immediately. But even if they returned to Los Angeles, they wouldn't be able to escape the reporters' pursuit.
Taking the opportunity, Irene mentioned that she wanted to go on vacation. Britney's eyes lit up, and she immediately asked Shelly Ovitz if she had any work coming up.
"You're on the rise right now, and you still want to go on vacation? You've got an interview with Rolling Stone tomorrow, a magazine shoot the day after, a radio interview three days from now, and a music show in eight days. When would you have time?"
Irene watched the light in Britney's eyes gradually fade as Shelly listed all the work. Thinking of how she herself had grown emotionally unstable under such a relentless schedule in her past life, she decided to change her manager's mind.
"Shelly, give Britney a week off. She won Best New Artist. We can't turn down Rolling Stone, but there's no need to do all those less important little magazines. And you can cut back on some of the late-night radio shows, too. All they do is attract a few drunk listeners for Britney. They don't do her any good."
Shelly Ovitz tugged hard at his hair and said helplessly, "That's easy for you to say. Without all that exposure, how would she have achieved what she has now?"
Irene knew Shelly Ovitz wouldn't change his mind just because she said so. "Your plan was to present her as a girl next door, so you booked a lot of call-in segments and radio interviews. I had no objections to that before.
"But from now on, I think you could shift the focus a little. A superstar needs to maintain some distance. You could arrange visits to fans in the hospital once every month or two. That would do far more good than the same call-in segments every day."
Although Shelly Ovitz still didn't want to let Britney go on vacation, he had at least taken some of Irene's words to heart.
Irene knew her manager was the sort who wouldn't act without a clear benefit. "I think my winning this time was pretty unexpected. Are there any media outlets that would be interested in interviewing me?"
"You're willing to do interviews?" Shelly Ovitz's voice rose several notches. Irene had said before that she wanted to turn down every interview, and he couldn't be nearly as forceful with her as he was with Britney.
"Pick two. I can do them with Britney. Would that be enough to get her a week off?"
"Haha, you're even willing to put yourself on the line to make the trade. If I still said no, I'd seem unreasonable. Where are you planning to go? Hawaii, maybe? There are too many media outlets in Las Vegas. I'm afraid you'll get photographed." Once Shelly Ovitz had something to gain, his position changed at once.
Just then, Edward Nelson raised his hand quietly, like a schoolboy. "Um, if you want to vacation in Hawaii without being disturbed, I have a private island there you can use."
Shelly Ovitz punched Edward in the arm. "Look at you, with your own private island, and you've always been so low-key." His envy and admiration were unmistakable.
"My father gave it to me as a coming-of-age gift. I haven't been there in two years, either. I'll call and have them get things ready. It might be hard to buy plane tickets at such short notice, so I'll borrow a plane. Shelly, do you want to come with us?"
"I'd love to, but if you all leave, I'll have to stay behind and clean up. I'll buy a ticket and come over in a couple of days. You won't mind, will you?"
"Of course not. When you get off the plane, just have the airport call me, and I'll send someone to pick you up."
By the time their plane took off, less than two hours had passed since they'd decided to go on vacation in Hawaii. Sitting on a private jet for the first time in either of her two lives, Irene felt a little dazed. There were no other passengers to disturb them, and they didn't have to squeeze into a cramped space. Even the armrests of the seats were adorned with roses.
Even the most spacious first-class cabin couldn't compare with this in terms of room or comfort.
When the flight attendant cheerfully asked whether they wanted a late-night snack, Irene realized she was a little hungry. She'd barely eaten all day because of the awards ceremony, so now she could finally relax and enjoy some food.
The snacks they brought out were nothing like ordinary airplane food, either. Professional chefs prepared them fresh on board, and they tasted every bit as good as the food at a five-star hotel.
By the time everyone had eaten their fill, it was already two in the morning.
Edward had someone bring out champagne.
"Neither of you ladies is old enough to drink yet, but it would be such a waste not to celebrate a wonderful occasion like tonight. Don't worry, this is a specialty champagne from my family's winery, made especially for elegant ladies. It won't get you drunk."
As the last drop of golden champagne slid into a crystal glass, a server wheeled a three-tier cake into the center of the cabin.
It wasn't an ordinary cake decorated with piped cream. A master pastry chef had recreated a Golden Microphone Award trophy out of edible gold leaf and spun sugar. It was almost a miniature version of the trophies they'd received.
Amid this feast for the senses, the faintest hint of frankincense quietly emerged.
It was like a specially blended fragrance, designed to offset the stuffiness of the cabin with a cool, crisp note when there was no fresh air, keeping the luxurious space feeling open and fresh.
The distinctive cool fragrance made Irene's nerves, already slightly hazy from the champagne, feel even more dreamlike.
So much so that she could barely remember afterward how she got off the plane, boarded the private yacht, and was welcomed onto the private island out at sea, or how she entered the elegantly decorated suite. Those memories seemed to have been gently washed away by the bubbles in that glass of champagne, leaving only hazy shapes and light.
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