HERE IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE LADY JEWELS DIVA® NOVEL
Jewels' second novel delves into the excitement of one lucky gal's lotto win and what she does with her money. A move to L.A has her chasing the man she loves, setting up a fashion and jewellery business and buying the factory to make the clothes and design the jewellery herself. She also has serious run-ins with seriously bitchy celebs, one being the bitch (not the bane) of her existence, is stalked by a hot Italian stud from a hot TV crime drama, and saves a big wig TV network C.E.O, then his wife. And it all happens before she meets Michael. This book is dedicated to Michael Weatherly and Carmine Giovinazzo. The acknowledgements include Oprah Winfrey, Ellen DeGeneres, Larry Emdur, David Reyne, Human Nature, Hamish and Andy, Indecent Obsession and Les Moonves of CBS.
Have you ever dreamed of winning lotto? Dreamed of all the things you would do, buy and have? I do, every day. And let me tell you, I'd buy everything I could get my hands on. Go everywhere I could go, do everything I want to do, and have everything I could have.
You get the picture.
You must have a list of things you want to buy, places you want to go? Doesn't everyone? Especially when it comes to winning lotto. The thought of marking off those six or seven numbers must absolutely thrill you to pieces. Then to have someone from the Lottery Commission call you at nine the next morning to confirm that you've won millions and millions of dollars.
It must be bliss! Heaven! Brilliant, amazing, incredible, unbelievable, freakin' fantastic!
What's that? You wouldn't know, because you've never won lotto? You want to give up and stop buying because you've bought tickets for years but never won anything, and it's such a waste of money. Stop being so negative! Negativity will get you nowhere. NO. WHERE! Negativity WILL NOT win you lotto! And you can imagine can't you? So imagine this....
Your phone rings at nine a.m. and you answer. The woman tells you she's from the Lottery Commission and that you've won ten million dollars. You can't believe it. You're in shock, you call her a liar, and say it's some kind of joke. She assures you it's not, and that you can collect it when you're ready. You are now the proud owner of a ten million dollar cheque. You can do what you want, go where you want, buy and have anything you want. You don't have to struggle to pay the bills, send your kids to school, or get around in that death trap you call a car. You can now give your kids the best education, buy the flash sports car you've always wanted and never worry about bills again. You can have the holiday you've always wanted. A new family home or Italian seaside villa. The Ferrari or the Porché. The Chanel or the Versace. The Rolex or the Swatch. You can even walk into any store you want and buy whatever you want and NOT give a crap about the price tag. Because it doesn't matter anymore. You can buy whatever you want!
Knowing that those glorious, wondrous, amazing, incredible dollars of money are sitting in your bank account ready to do whatever you want them to do. Buy, trade, donate. Whatever you want to do, you now can. Whatever you want to buy, you can now have. Whatever it is you've always dreamed about, the dream of lotto is halfway there. And when it happens, you'll have absolutely no idea of what to do. Dreaming big? Absolutely! With lotto’s financial freedom it will come true. It will!
I'm Tahlia by the way. Tahlia Cameron. And I'm not here to give you a self-help guide to winning lotto. That's not what this is. I am here to tell you my lotto story. Because mine actually came true...
Seriously!
His thick luscious pink lips parted as they made their way toward mine.
My lips quivered with wild anticipation of what was to come. My heart pounded like a jackhammer in my chest.
They were closer now. Only inches of space between us.
My eyes couldn't tear themselves away. My breath came orgasmically in quick uneven rasps as I struggled for air.
He was so right, so sure he wanted to take me into his arms and make me his.
Those lips were only centimetres away now, coming closer and closer. The world fell away...there was nothing. Nothing but his lips, my racing heart, and a body that was so ready and ripe for him and all he could do to it.
Fingers slid around my arms in vice like grips, ready to take me to heights I'd never known.
My tongue sneaked out to wet my lips, ready to mate, as his found their way home.
They were so hot, so sure, as they planted themselves and hungrily devoured mine….
Bring bringgg. Bring bringgg.
Huh!
Bring bringgg. Bring bringgg.
I came to in a daze, dragged out of my daydreaming. Away from locking lips with the gorgeous TV naval drama actor heartthrob, Michael Anthony, and being taken to heights I sooooo wanted to go with him. Coming back down to earth to realise...there was something calling out to me.
Bring bringgg. Bring bringgg.
The phone rang out loud and clear in my apartment's tiny lounge room. I turned from staring out of the tiny window to run from the tiny kitchen to answer it, which wasn't far, since the place was so small. And I mean small. I only took five large steps!
I saw that my fave Aussie group, Human Nature, or as I call them, Australia's Singing Sexpots, were still performing some mushy love song on The Morning Show with Larry Emdur, so it's no wonder I'd been dreaming of Michael. I grabbed the TV remote and turned the boys down as I reached for the phone. I love Laz, as I affectionately call him. I think he and David Reyne, another morning show veteran, should get together and have their own show, calling it 'The Big Spunk Rats Show', with Big Dave and Big Laz. I'd definitely watch it, as would millions of other women aged 25 to 105. Anyhoo, back to reality; "Hello."
"Hello, Ms Tahlia Cameron, I'm Rose Dawson, calling from the Lottery Commission."
Well knock me down with a God-damn feather!
"Ms Cameron, are you there?''
My heart raced a million miles a second and I gripped the phone, almost breaking it, not sure if I'd heard correctly.
"Ms Cameron, are you there?"
I knew what it was about. There's only one reason the Lottery Commission calls you at nine a.m. It's because you won the jackpot. The prize. The division one multimillion dollar dream. I swallowed the lump in my throat that was making my eyes water, and pushed a few words past the lump. "I'm here." It came out in a squeak, my hands shaking and sweating.
"Ms Cameron, as I said, I'm Rose Dawson from the Lottery Commission. I'm ringing to tell you that you won division one in lotto last night. Congratulations.''
"Oh my God!" I gasped in a rush, my body sliding downward, my knees bending, my butt landing on the couch. Thank God I didn't fall flat on the floor and hurt myself. Now that would have been a problem. I sat there stunned out of my mind. My head moved back and forth in slow motion. No! I couldn't possibly have, I, oh my God! All of the things I had thought about, all of the dreams I had dreamed about, were about to come true. Everything I wanted to do flew past my eyes in a delirium of joy. I would finally do everything I wanted to do. Buy everything I wanted to buy. Have everything I wanted to have...etc, etc, etc.
"Ms Cameron, are you there? I know this must be a shock for you. Everybody we call is in shock. They can't believe they've won either. But they do, and now you have too. Let me tell you a bit more."
I don't think I heard a thing she said, as her voice was this muffled sound warbling down the line. My mind was still full of things to spend my brand new money on.
"Twenty-three million...division one winner...cheque in two weeks..."
Of course I heard the particulars, which brought me back to reality. "Ah yes," I muttered. "Are you absolutely sure you have the right person? You have to be positive that the numbers are right, that’s definitely my ticket with my name on it. You have to be certain." I was animated now. "I mean if you sit there and tell me I've won and then I go on a huge spending spree and rack up debt while waiting for my money to come in then you call again and say it's been a huge mistake and you're so sorry..." I gasped for air. "Then I'll kill you!"
There was silence at the other end. Well, yeah! I'd just dramatically threatened to kill her!
"Ms Cameron," she went on, unperturbed, "it's definitely your ticket, the right numbers, the right game. I understand your reasoning. A lot of people ask the same things." She gained momentum now. "Besides, you used your lotto player’s card when you bought your tickets, so your name is on them and your details are registered. That's how I contacted you."
We have cards the size of credit cards that we apply for from the Lottery Commission. They have our details, phone, address etc. It's all registered when we buy tickets. So if we win, they can call us. And if we lose the ticket, they still know it's us and we get our money.
"Believe me Ms Cameron, you have won division one in lotto. Twenty-three million dollars."
"Oh my God!" I interrupted. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!"
She laughed. "That's understandable Ms Cameron. It's going to take some getting used to being Australia's newest millionaire.''
"Screw Australia! I'm getting the hell out of here," I blurted out.
"Oh!" She seemed shocked. "Well, that's up to you. Remember though, you can't cash the cheque for two weeks. Do you want to be in the news? You can stay a secret if you wish."
"Ah," I said, thoughts coming in quick succession. As much as I'd love the people in my life to know I'm now filthy stinking rich so I can brag to my heart's content and tell them where to go when they come slinking out of the woodwork scavenging for money...I decline.
"Okay, that's fine. We will need to meet so you can sign some papers and claim your cheque. When will you be in?"
"What's today?" I asked, having a mental gap. "Hell, I'll be in today." I remembered it was a weekday. Who cares about the book I'm writing, or the dolls I want to bid on on eBay? I've won shitloads of money and I can buy whatever the hell I want!!!!!
"Okay, Ms Cameron, that's fine. We'll see you today. Come to the third floor of the Lotteries Commission in town and we'll fill out all the paperwork. We'll see you then."
"Okay," I managed.
"Oh, Ms Cameron. You have won twenty-three million in lotto. I guarantee you."
I sat there like a stunned mullet, the phone still in my hand, my backside still plastered to the couch. Images and dreams screaming through my mind of all the things I'd do and buy. I inhaled, deep and slow, then exhaled, once, twice, three times, and then realised the phone was beeping. I put it in its cradle and sat there contemplating my future.
"What the hell am I going to do?" I kept repeating to myself as I hauled my big butt up and stumbled over to my desk in a daze, still stunned out of my brain. This hasn't? Could it? Really? No! Don't even joke with me! My bladder threatened to overflow but I ignored it as I fell into my chair and just stared out the window at the crappy, weedy front yard, and the dead tree across the road. The suburb I'd re-named Hicksville. No more Hicksville. Hicksville will be gone forever in two weeks.
"Two weeks?" you ask.
Yes, two weeks. That's when I'll be able to cash my cheque and have all that glorious money in my bank account. Wait, it will take longer than that to get my visa and passport. Damn, I don't want to wait that long. Well, who cares! L.A., here I come!
Oh my God! I moved around in my seat at a frantic pace as I came up with one good idea after another. I have to get rid of my junk, and have a clean out. Put in notice with the banks, the bookshop, the library, the doctors, and oh my God...I'm a freakin' multimillionaire! A mega multimillionaire! I'm freakin' rich beyond my wildest dreams. Woohoo!!!
My heart was still racing and I was panting in shock. Oh my God! Tears sprang to my eyes. Oh my God! I'm going to live the life I've always wanted. I wiped at the teary overload. I'm going to leave Hicksville, move overseas, start my companies, publish my novels and with God as my witness I'll meet and marry Michael Anthony… Okay, so I'm sounding like Scarlett O'Hara at this time, but seriously, the moment calls for dramatic poise.
The tears flowed forth and I sat there at my little old desk in little old Hicksville and thanked God for the abundant riches he had bestowed upon me in good faith.
For a few moments I let the quiet wash over me, then I opened my gratitude diary.
Well, actually, it's a folder, full of pictures of things that I want to buy, have and do.
As I turned each page, starting with wanting to be a millionaire, I thanked God for the abundance he had given me to look after and to do much with. I thanked him for the financial freedom so I could move to L.A. and be with Michael – pages three and four – publish my first novel and make the movie – five and six – start my fashion and jewellery labels – seven and eight. I moved through the folder and scanned the pages, so thankful I could now have all that I want. Tears sprang to my eyes and I let them fall. I was now about to have to most amazing life ever and believe me, I thank you God.
*****
An hour later I flew into town. I live about forty minutes out of the city, but when money's at stake, the time flies. I was now a multimillionaire. Owner of twenty-three million dollars. I arrived at the Lottery Commission and three floors up met Rose Dawson, the woman who'd called.
"I'm so glad you could make it. Congratulations. Do you believe it yet?"
"No," I replied, shaking her hand and taking in her black hair, blue pinstripe business suit and pearls. "I guess I won't believe it until I'm told the money's in my bank account."
"Well it is an awful lot to take in," she said, striding around her desk.
Awful? I thought with a cocked brow.
"Most people are still overwhelmed days, weeks, even months later." She sat down. "So what do you plan on doing with your money, may I ask?"
No you can't!!! It's none of your business!!! "Moving," I said, hoping I hadn't said the other thing out loud. "Lots of shopping. New car etc. You know, the usual." I just wanted to snatch my cheque and run the hell outta there.
"That's what most people say," she said, signing a few forms and handing them to me. "Sign here, here and here." I read the forms first, then with overwhelming happiness, signed my name. "And here's your cheque. Now, you can't bank this for two weeks. The money's not applicable till then. Well, you can take it to your bank but you can't cash it."
"That's fine," I said, gingerly taking the twenty-three million dollar cheque from her, the half million was a nice extra bonus of extra money. I folded it and tucked it into my bra for safe keeping. "Should be safe in there till I can get to the bank." I saw the comical look on her face. "Do you know where the closest bank is? I haven't been here for over ten years."
"Just down the mall," she said, standing. "Well, I'll show you out and you can be on your way to a big, brand new world."
I followed her to the lift, thanked her before she left, and thought about what to do next on my way down. I suppose I could have a bit of a shop while I'm here. After all, I won't be coming back. What a great idea! I headed for the first store, remembering that big fat cheque in my bra, waiting to be banked.
I arrived home six hours later, laden with bags from almost every store. Since I didn't have the money yet I just booked it up on credit. Isn't credit wonderful! Buy now, pay later.
Feeling so damn good and having a need to dance, I threw a cd into the player and cranked it up loud. To hell with my soon to be ex-neighbours I say! Indecent Obsession, an Aussie pop-rock group from the late eighties, early nineties, belted out of the speakers. To think, it was over twenty years ago that four young, good looking guys burst onto the Aussie scene.
Girls loved them, and I had a huge crush on the keyboardist for six years. Ironically, his name is Michael, and he's got brown hair and blue eyes! Mmm, I see a pattern forming! I still love listening to them and wish they'd reform like all the other eighties bands. It would be so cool to see and hear them again.
So here I am in my small Hicksville bedroom, listening to good music, dancing around, and sorting out everything I'd bought, knowing I had to have an almighty clear out. After all, I wasn't going to be caught dead in L.A. in some of the crap I owned.
I suppose at this stage I should tell you a little more about myself. Well, I live in Australia, in a state I won't name as I'm being mysterious, and because I don't want you thinking you can hunt me down. As much as I don't mind living here in Aus, now, L.A. is more important.
I live alone. At my age I damn well should I suppose. I wanna be a singer, author, collector, entrepreneur, business woman of the year, and a fashion and jewellery designer, struggling away to get my designs out to the world.
Except I'm no longer struggling, thanks to those wonderful coloured dollars of money.
Which reminds me...the time is flying by and there's a hell of a lotta stuff I gotta start doing. Let's see now. I told the girls at my local bookstore they wouldn't be enabling my Nancy Drew addiction anymore – they were sad at that. Oh, and I got to tell the girl at the lotto counter that she wouldn't be serving me anymore. I'd won the jackpot. Take that girly! She could not get over the shock. I need to cancel my memberships everywhere. And I get to quit my crap shit job. Woohoo!
My boss didn't like me quitting, although I only had the job to pay the bills while I got my designs up and going. He begged and begged me to stay and work for him.
''But Tahlia, my sexy little minx.''
What the?!?!?!
''I do not want to lose you.'' His fat greasy hand crept over to my leg, while his filthy black tongue licked his fat cracked lips in anticipation. ''You my most valued employee.'' His fingers reached me and I slapped them away in disgust.
Considering this guy is a sleazy old sleaze bag, I figured it was a definite NO to me staying and working there. ''Listen shit head,'' I hissed, ''you think you're such hot stuff and you can hit on all the girls who work for you. Since you don't hire guys, then I'd say it's a fair assumption that you only hire girls to perve down their tops and up their skirts. Ugh, how gross.''
I stood up in the store's small office which I'd once called work, and with great delight said, ''You can stick ya job up ya fat arse 'cause I've won shitloads of money in lotto and don't need you touching me up 'cause ya think ya can.'' I moved toward the door. Ugh, the poor girls left behind will get twice as much crap now that I'm leaving, but that's their problem. They need to stand up for themselves! My boss also seemed to think now that I had loads of money I should pay him back as a thank you for giving me the job and helping me out.
''But Tahlia.'' His fat sweaty body managed to get from the desk to the door in one quick step. He spun me around and slammed me back against the door. His gross body was against mine, his foul breath overwhelming me. I tried to quash the ever rising panic that sped around my body. I moved my head to the side, trying to get fresh air. I was unsuccessful.
''Tahlia!'' His tongue licked his lips again. ''You won lotto? You have money? Maybe you, no, you should pay me back for helping you out all these months.''
What the hell?!?!?!?
Oh crap, I should've kept my big mouth shut and my lotto win to myself. That'll teach me for opening wide and letting words spew out of my mouth before thinking about it, I thought.
Bugger!!!!
His hands tightened around my arms and he pressed his body closer against mine. I felt his erection eagerly trying to find its way through his pants to get some relief.
EEEWWWWWW!!!!!
''You should pay me back Tahlia, for helping you. That would be so nice of you...wouldn't it?''
Well, you know what I told him. ''GET STUFFED you fat arrogant bastard.'' I pulled my right knee up into his groin and shoved him backwards into the desk. He yowled in pain and tumbled to the floor. I shook the feeling of him off and spat at him. ''I should call the cops on you, you low-life piece of scum. GET STUFFED!'' With a kick to his groin for extra good measure, I slammed the door open and ran out of the shop and to my car. I almost sped all the way home, then lay panting and shaking on my couch. ''Ugh, how gross. How could I have put up with that? Ugh.'' Once I’d showered three times and calmed down enough I checked my phone messages. There was one very important call waiting for me.
''Ah, Ms Cameron. This is David, from your bank. I'm just calling to let you know that your money is now deposited into your account. You can start spending it any time now.''
My money was now safe and sound in my account. Snug as a twenty-three million dollar bug in one damn big rug.
Fan, freakin', tastic!
I went over my list of things. I needed statements to get a passport as I had to prove who I was and where I lived. Then a passport so I could apply for a visa to move to L.A. After all, I was going to be with my gorgeously gorgeous Michael. So during the week I found a post office that took passport applications and the photos to go with it. I had an appointment for all of five minutes and was told my application would be sent off and I'd get it in about two weeks. Well I couldn't wait.
I rang the Australian branch of the American Consulate to find out which visa applications I would need and any other relevant details such as when to make appointments, get my fingerprints taken etc. There's a lot required when you apply to move to the U.S. While I was waiting for my paperwork I got to work, emailing someone who follows my blog.
See, I own and write a blog called A Bitchfest! Lovefest! I love bitching about all things big and small. I started it up because I found myself sitting in front of the TV yelling abuse at everyone who said or did anything stupid. I was good at it, and decided to start a blog so I could bitch to the world. I also write about my fave actors, Michael Anthony, and Carmine Gionetti, from one of my fave crime show spin offs. Things like what movies they're in, what functions they attend, magazines they may pop up in or the latest entertainment show they give an interview on. My posts attracted my first follower, Sin Mainwarring, a lawyer who lives outside of L.A. I had sent her a copy of the book I'd written, a raunchy sex novel that our fave actor had inspired so much. And believe me, he inspired most of the sex in the book. We did it all over the place, er, ah, I mean the characters did it all over the place.
So I emailed her about me moving to L.A. and of course all the particulars that I had to have. Cough, Michael Anthony, cough. Our emails ran as follows:
Hey Sin,
Oh my freakin' God I'm moving to L.A. I won lotto baby and am on my way. Just waiting on my passport and visa. I want you to be my lawyer. I need to show the U.S. Consulate I'm ready to set up or invest in a company. I need to know about registering / copyrighting / trademarking my company names. If there's any businesses I could buy out. Are you up for it?
Tahlia :)
*****
Hey Tahlia,
Fuck yeah! I'm so happy you want to move here. I'll be your lawyer. Okay, so I looked into it and you need to pay to register your company name etc. But you need a place of residence. Do you want me to file on your behalf? By the way, how are you paying me?
Sin
*****
Sin,
I can pay you in person, or in shopping. Go ahead and register my business. I'll put the money in your PayPal account. I need you to find a place for me to live, as close to Michael Anthony as possible. Book a couple of rooms at a hotel in the same postcode so we can look for a house nearby. Give me a number I can call you on.
Tahlia :)
So I got Sin's number and we started talking. "I want a warehouse, and since I'm thinking big, I need at least a hundred workers to make the clothes, print the clothes, and pack and ship. I want it all in the same area I'll be living in. And have you tracked down where Michael lives yet?"
"Fuck you, I'm not a miracle worker, but yeah I have. I'm a lawyer, I have privileges."
"Of course you do. Let me know about the warehouse. I want a new one.''
So that was the first of many calls to Sin. While waiting for my passport and visa, I had many things to do, so my life was incredibly hectic. And I still had months to wait. Argh!!!
*****
Since money had been tight for so long, I had struggled to scrape together enough cash for a one hour singing lesson a week. Now I could make it a two hour lesson a day. The teacher didn't mind the extra money, and she knew I was determined to be the best I could be. Definitely not a world famous rock or opera singer, but one who could carry a melody, sing a song, and look and sound good while entertaining the crowd at hand.
I had also been taking free weekly self-defence classes at my local gym, since I was unable to afford those either. Now I paid for extensive classes, and added martial arts to my already full schedule. But as it turned out, this body could only do so much, and twist and turn in so many ways. So the instructors found my strengths – there weren't too many of them – and worked on those, while helping to fix my weaknesses, which were unbelievably far and wide.
I also got into weapons training. I was going to be living in California and I needed to be able to keep myself safe. So I trained hard, with firearms and other weapons such as bats, swords knives etc, that may be used against me. I know, it sounds strange, but muggers, killers and home invaders will use anything against you these days. I made sure I knew how to deal with almost any weapon. My teachers were great; they helped me figure out some quick, simple and efficient moves that my body would allow, and would get me out of any situation without being hurt, and without turning myself into Chuck Norris or Bruce Lee!
I worked out hard in the gym and danced up a storm at the local studio, including pole dancing. I found a doctor to suck out any fat I couldn't burn off. Liposuction baby! I also found a dentist who whitened my teeth and gave me a Hollywood smile. I needed one since I was moving there, and had to look my best when I flew in to L.A.
I had my body hair permanently removed, and my face and body sucked free of all the nasty germs that were embedded in my pores. I thoroughly enjoyed my first time at the day spa. It was very relaxing and invigorating. I had some moles removed that were either sore or itchy, or just in the way of straps. 'Cause God, I've got millions of them. Really!
I had defensive driving lessons and learned how to drive on the other side of the road, succeeding in getting an international driver's licence. I donated money to the Cancer Council as a thank you to God for the abundant riches he'd given me.
I even had a Nancy Drew luggage set made in turquoise blue with black embroidered silhouettes on it. And on top of all that, I collected as many Nancy books as I could, to try and complete my collection before I left. Especially since time flew by. And believe me, you really don't need to know any more details than the above mentioned, otherwise you'd be bored to death, if you're not already. And we're not even through the first chapter! Ha, ha, ha!
My passport arrived, and thanks to Sin, I could send in my visa applications. A week later the U.S. Consulate rang and told me my appointment was in two weeks. Two weeks, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I needed to get prepared...and have everything ready...I had to come up with documents...
God, where are they...I needed time, time I tells ya. 'Cause right now, I’m running around like a chook with its head cut off.
*****
The U.S. Consulate was in another state so I flew over the day before. It's only open in the mornings so I made sure I was there when the doors opened at eight thirty, even though my appointment was for nine. After going through security and being looked over by the guards, who were soooo not good looking, I sat and waited.
"Ms Cameron," a woman called, after what seemed like a very restless eternity.
"That's me." I dove out of my chair and followed her into her tiny white office, sitting in the chair she pointed to.
She seated herself and looked at me. "So, tell me why you want to live in America.''
Well I wasn't expecting that, although I should've since it was of great importance, and pretty much bordering on the whole, me getting a visa to move there thing. I certainly wasn't going to tell her I only wanted to move there to meet and marry Michael Anthony. No way! She'd consider me a stalker. "Well," I started. "I've lived all my life here in Australia and now that I've won lotto I'd like to spread my wings and experience the joy and wonder of another country." I gazed at her with great expectations. No...not the book!
"Nicely put," she said, reading over my application.
I twittered in my seat – no, not the website – and tried not to show my nervousness.
"I see you have plenty of money to support yourself. Congratulations on winning lotto." She looked up at me with a huge grin.
"Thanks. I still can't believe it." Her smile made me relax a little.
"I see you already have a business plan in place.''
"Ah, yes. My friend who lives in L.A. is a lawyer so she's put it all into place for me.''
"That's very nice of her," the woman said, not giving me an indication of anything.
"Yes, it was," I replied, before silence fell around us. I glanced at the walls and saw posters of America, advertising the many states and touristy things you could do there.
A few moments went by during which all I wanted to do was pee myself with nerves.
After what seemed like forever, she looked up. "Well Ms Cameron, everything is in order and your application will be looked at. We'll be in touch." She stood and extended her hand. I almost leapt out of my seat to shake it.
That was it. A few heart wrenching, gut twisting, mind altering minutes.
"Thank you for seeing me," I said, and walked out the door. I stood on the steps outside the Consulate, my brain slowing down long enough to understand it had happened. Now all I had to do was wait for my visa. But in the meantime it was still early and I didn't leave till later, so I may as well get in a spot of shopping while I was there. After all, I'm a multimillionaire. I could buy whatever the hell I wanted.
I ended up going home with far more than I'd taken, so it was just as well I had a case that I'd only thrown a few outfits into. As if I needed any more than I already had! I wanted to look good and all, but does a person really need everything I'd bought?
Of course the answer is yes! When one wants to be a fashion icon darling, one needs EVERYTHING!!!!!
*****
So here is another month flying by with me running out to the mailbox every day waiting for my visa. It will come, it will come. I believed! In the meantime, more lessons, more lipo, more dancing. I was going to be a new person when I flew into L.A.X. I was very determined about that. There were a million emails and phone calls to Sin about the business. She'd found a warehouse that sounded perfect, a couple of struggling businesses I could buy out, and she'd gone house hunting in the same area Michael lived in.
And of course I'd been scouring the internet for all things Michael. I had to keep up with his comings and goings. Find out where he was eating, where he was shopping, where he went for relaxation. I knew every little detail about Michael Anthony. Every little detail that mattered that is. And no, while you may think I am, I am not a stalker!
Oh yes baby, this will happen. I was prepared. As prepared as I could be. I had all my business and legal papers ready. I knew which boxes of my stuff I wanted sent over to America once I found a house. I was ready. And then the parcel post van delivered a huge bulky envelope labelled – ''The U.S. Consulate''. I ripped it open in apprehension. With very shaky hands, I pulled out a pile of papers, and read from the letter sitting on top.
Dear Ms Cameron,
Congratulations on your successful visa application.
