The Moonstone Starlet

Chapter 18

The three girls went to Cafe Gitane for brunch, located in the Jane Hotel, also in SoHo. Elina had invited Victoria Beckham to brunch with them, apparently they became best friends the night before. Victoria was like the Queen Wag. She had married the most famous footballer in England, all while forging her own separate identity in fashion. Elia had met the Beckhams many times, but was not exceptionally close to them.

The four of them sat at a little red table in a room with burnt orange walls and white and black tiles. One side of their table had chairs, the other a golden 18th century style sofa. It looked like a little cafe in France, with a bar counter and pastry display behind the counter. Elia ordered a mimosa, coffee, and a shot of whisky. Elina and Victoria were chatting about the fashion shows they wanted to see, and reviewing the ones they had seen thus far. Once the server came back and they ordered food, however, Elina asked Elia where she had been in the morning.

“I went out to get coffee.” She said, yawning.
“You were wearing the same clothes as last night. And you are glowing.” Elina pointed out. Victoria looked at her, eyebrows raised. Elia squinted, tired, looking at both of them. They were like a couple of fucking detectives. She couldn’t hide the giddy feeling and started laughing slightly.
“Okay, this can’t leave this table. I went out last night, late, to meet up with a guy,” She put her head in her hands, still grinning.

She told them the whole story, starting with how they met. She was at a bar with some friends when he caught her eye. He was playing pool with some of his friends and kept looking her way. She would always remember that first time they locked eyes and she saw that smile. Eventually she went over to them and asked to play pool with them. She told them how he got her number the next morning, but had never contacted her until last month. The girls listened intently.

“I don’t like that in this whole tale of events, you are always having to go to him,” Victoria pointed out. Abby nodded. Elina looked back and forth from Victoria and Elia, curiously. Elia didn’t think that was a fair assessment at all.
“You can try and spin it whichever way you want, but from an outside perspective, this guy is holding all the power in this relationship already.” She continued on.
“But it’s not a relationship, we’ve just hooked up two times, it’s not like I’m going out of my way--”
“--Did you not just drive an hour to Connecticut to meet him where he needed to be? I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’m just trying to give you something to think about.” Victoria said, her brown eyes and sharp face focusing on Elia’s.

Elia didn’t know what to say, she was trying to think it through, but whenever she thought about him, she just imagined the way he felt on top of her. She looked at Victoria, with her perfect face and perfect hair and perfect family. She was poised and exuded confidence. Victoria was one of those girls that men were drawn to, that somehow got men wrapped around their finger. Elina had that with Niklas, he was happy to give her whatever she wanted. There were girls in life that had that, but Elia was definitely not one of them. The majority of her relationships had resulted from her pursuing someone, and the others happened by accident. She looked over at Abby, wondering what she thought about it. Abby was more like Elia. Sure, she and Patrick were engaged now, but they had been together for 10 years. She had put her own dreams aside for a decade to follow Patrick from Vermont, to Philadelphia, to Chicago, on a promise that one day they would get married? His dreams had become her dreams. Not all relationships were 100% equal, sometimes it didn’t mean anything in the end, it was just the way it worked. But that didn’t matter anyways, because Elia was not getting into a relationship.


Sitting in the front row at a fashion show was one of those status symbols that Elia found so strange. All she had to do was sit there and her star meter on imbd.com would rise. Conversely, Marc Jacobs spring offering would get more publicity. And on top of that, the cream colored lightly striped dress that Elia was wearing from the Christian Siriano Spring 2010 line was going to get attention. Elia had been invited to sit front row for several designers, but ultimately her publicist had chosen Marc Jacobs. This was not only reflecting Elia’s carefully created persona of eclectic style, but was garnering favor for Elia to be hired as the face of the new Marc Jacobs fragrance line. Elia, Abby and Elina spent hours preparing before the show, getting their hair and makeup done by Mikel Cain and Fiona Stiles. Elia’s hair was pulled back in a clean smooth ponytail, her makeup light and natural but glowing. Their clothes and accessories were carefully prepared by Elia’s stylist, although Elia never took off her moonstone jewelry. All that work just to sit in front of a runway for twenty minutes. The photographs, however, would be circulating the internet forever.

Following the runway show the girls changed into something more casual and had a quick dinner at Gramercy Tavern before heading to the Charlotte Ronson after party at the Sanctuary Hotel. It was a much bigger party than the previous night, and more exclusive. The room was dimly lit, decorated in purple and black, with Charlotte Ronson’s name written in neon purple on the mirror above the main bar. People walked around in groups, others sat in booths or at tables. Photographers, journalists, models, designers, athletes, actors, it was like a living version of Page Six. Elina was greeted immediately by Victoria Beckham and people that Elia didn’t even know. She was whisked away from Elia and Abby in minutes. Elia and Abby wondered if Hjalmarsson was going to have to ask for a trade to New York after this week. The two girls met up with Rashida Jones and got some cocktails. Abby started out a little shy, but Elia could see her opening up more. Especially around Rashida, the three of them were joking and laughing. Every so often a photographer from a magazine or New York paper would ask to take their picture. Paris and Nikki Hilton stopped by to say hello to Elia.

“Hey, who is that studly guy you’ve been hanging around with lately?” Paris asked, in her soft lazy drawl.
“Jonathan Toews?” Elia asked.
“He has sort of curly hair and blue eyes?” Paris continued.
“OH, you mean Kaner-Patrick Kane. You think Kane is studly?”
“Yeah, he’s sexy, do you know if he thinks I’m hot?”
“Uh, I know he has ‘A Night In Paris’ saved on his desktop,” Elia said, in a way that only Elia could get away with.
“That’s hot.” Paris said, unperturbed.
“It’s something, I’m not sure if hot is the word I would use--” Elia was cut off by the approach of a young man with olive colored skin and wavy black hair and an Armani suit.
“El, do you know Andy Dunn?” Nikki asked.

Everyone was introduced. Andy was an entrepreneur and CEO of something, but more importantly one of New York’s most eligible bachelor’s according to Gotham Magazine, or so Nikki said. It was an awkward set up by the Hiltons. They were always trying to introduce Elia to some kind of upper class business type even though she could never fit into that world. Andy gave Elia his card in case she ever wanted to get a drink while she was in New York. Abby was smiling at Elia once the Hiltons and Dunn had walked away.

“What?” Elia asked.
“You think Jonathan is studly,” Abby said.
“No I don’t, I mean obviously, I’m not blind, he is technically hot. I didn’t mean it like that!” The future Mrs. Sharpie was just as annoying as Mr. Sharpie.

For their final day in New York, Elina, Abby and Elia toured New York City, visiting the Empire State Building, Central Park and Grimaldi’s. Abby had grown up in Connecticut, and had been to New York city many times. Even though Elia had been there for films, parties and photoshoots she had never been to most of the famous locations. The observation deck on the Empire State Building felt like a place from another time. Unlike the observations decks at the Sears Tower and the Hancock Building in Chicago, the Empire’s was open air, enclosed only by a steel fence. The city stretched out, neverending, packed in tight and dense. It made Elia feel claustrophobic. Central Park was beautiful in the winter. Bare, dark trees stretched across the paths like a natural trellis, coated in white snow. Elia found herself thinking about how much fun it would be to walk through the park with Jon. They had had such a good night at the Zoo before Christmas. It was in places like this, away from the traffic and the noise that Jon always seemed the most natural, and he had an almost calming effect on Elia. Walking with Elina and Abby was a different kind of fun, taking pictures and making snow angels. When the sun went all the way down they started to get chilled in their snow damp clothes and went to find some dinner. They went to Colicchio and Sons Tap Room on Tenth Avenue. They sat at a small table next to a wall made of iron piping and stacked wood. It was an indulgent meal of cheeses, prawns, beef tartare, pork belly, with a salad thrown in at the end to justify their dessert of lavender sorbet.

They flew back to Chicago the following afternoon. The landscape from the plane was a snow covered wasteland, flat and endless. There was no fashion week in Chicago, no sunlight, just cold grey streets, cold grey buildings, and a cold frozen lake. Elina tried to cheer everyone up by sharing that Sweden was often ten degrees below zero in February, and in parts of northern Sweden they didn’t have daylight at all. For once Elia wasn’t thinking about how terrible and dull February was. She was excited to get off the plane and go see the boys.

The team was already in the locker room getting ready for their game against the Thrashers by the time she arrived at the United Center. She stopped in to say hello to everyone before she went to her seat. Everyone was in their normal pre-game routine, except Kane. Instead of greeting her like normal he sat nervously on the bench.

“El, I gotta tell you something,” he said.
Elia was startled by his demeanor.
“Are you okay?” She asked, concerned.
“Yeah, just listen a sec...Ok...I banged a broad in the drunk tent, and I sort of wrecked your Maserati.” He said, as fast as he could.
“You did what with a what in the drunk tent?!” Elia yelled out of surprise.
“Kaner raw-dogged that hoe in the tent,” Versteeg started to clarify before Elia started shouting “Eeew”.
“Elia, you can’t yell at Kaner before games,” Jonathan said, snapping out of his pre-game stare. “How many times do I have to tell you to use your inside voice in the locker room?”
Elia rolled her eyes at him as he walked to get some Gatorade.
“Versteeg, you shouldn’t call women ‘hoes’ or say ‘rawdog’ that is tacky.” She said as calmly as possible.
“Well she was a hoe,”
“And Pat, drunk tent sacrilege aside, you can’t not use a condom, what the hell!?”
“She said she was on the pill, El there aren’t any condoms in the drunk tent, what was I supposed to do?”
“Get out of the tent and get some!” She yelled again.

But it hadn’t been that simple, Kaner couldn’t go in his room because Burish was already in there with someone. Elia rolled her eyes at that excuse, and started lecturing them about the importance of protected sex. Then she remembered something.

“Wait, what did you say about the Mas?”

Pat and Adam had gone joy riding in the Quattroporte, hence how they had picked up the girls. The next day Patrick went to park it back in Elia’s garage but it had snowed and the roads weren’t plowed well. They had wrapped it around part of the divider under the Ashland/Cortland highway underpass.

“I was gone for three days!” She rubbed her hands on her head, calming herself down. “Ok...I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. I can buy another Maserati, I can’t buy another Kaner. Next time it is winter,please take the Range Rover, please don’t ever drive my Barracuda...R.I.P. Drunk Tent, R.I.P. Mas….I’m going to head up and pour some beer out for my dead homies now,” Elia said sighing.

“El, I knew you were going to be mad, but I told you anyways. Because friends don’t keep secrets from each other,” Patrick said, locking eyes with Elia. “And because I knew you would be upset, I also got us tickets to one of those Beluga whale encounter things you’ve been wanting to do at the Shedd Aquarium.”
Elia gasped.
“That’s not fair, I can’t be mad and yell at you if we’re going to swim with Beluga whales.”
“Yep, I know.”

Patrick handed Elia his phone so she could call the mechanic where he took the car, and she headed to her seat in the Blackhawks’ box suite. The good news was the car wasn’t totalled, but it did have a lot of body damage.

For the second game in a row the Blackhawks won in a shootout. The team had started out strong, but faltered in the second period and let the other team pull ahead. They spent the third period making up for it. Toews was not happy. They skated by this time, but they couldn’t fall asleep in the middle of any more games. Their next game against the Blue Jackets also went into a shootout. Four of the six games in February had ended in a shootout.

Following the win in Columbus Jon asked Elia if she would be coming with to Vancouver for the Olympics. The two of them were laying in the trainer’s room in the Nationwide Arena, Jonathan on one table getting a massage and Elia across from him, getting nothing. She told him she couldn’t. When she first accepted the job, she really had no idea how much she would end up liking hockey. She also had no idea how much she would bond with the team. Her schedule had not been set up to go to Vancouver on a whim, and she hadn't anticipated professional athletes would take time off during the season for the Olympics. No other sport really did that.

“Don’t you have to watch all of our games?” He asked, turning his head to the side so they were facing.
“I don’t have to do anything.” She said smiling.
“I think you should.”
“What, you aren’t captain of team Canada and won’t have anyone to yell at?”
“I just think Kaner will want you there when he is crying because Canada kicks USA’s ass.”
‘You might win in the Olympics Jonny, but you’re really still losing cause you ain’t from ‘Merica.”

Elia did want to go with to the Olympics, but she couldn’t. She was heading to California first to see her top two 3 year old horses debut at Santa Anita. Then she would be flying to Belize for Island Madness 2010. Every year Elia and her friends met at her private island off the coast of Central America for a week of partying, camping, and the most intense game of capture the flag ever to be played. Not only did the game last three days, but they played armed with paintball guns.

“Okay, here is my compromise. I cannot come to the Olympics, but I will skip the Oscars this year so I don’t miss the Canucks and Redwings games in March.”

Jonathan seemed happy with that arrangement, actually. Truthfully, Elia had wanted to skip the Oscars ever since breaking up with Jeremy. The Hurt Locker had already swept the Golden Globes and she wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of seeing his face on jumbotrons for three hours.

While most of the Blackhawks took flights to Vancouver, Elia took a plane back to LAX. She wouldn’t be staying in Los Angeles, however, she would be staying at a hotel in Arcadia, close to Santa Anita Park. Elia had spent a her junior year of high school living with jockey Gary Stevens in Pasadena, back before her first movie. She would go to the race track with him early in the morning before school, cleaning stalls and exercise riding for Bob Baffert. Trying to get trainers to hire her to ride their horses. Then she had to go to school, and after school she groomed at a local stable to earn jumping lessons. Driving back through the area brought back so many memories.

Elia still had a vested interest in thoroughbred racing, even if she couldn’t ride. She owned a breeding farm in Kentucky, had investments in a breeding farm in South Africa, and a few dozen horses in training at any time. Her two most promising at the moment were a big chestnut colt called Frontier Justice, and a slender bay called The Deathly Hallows.

As expected, Frontier Justice destroyed the field. Once he got running he blazed through the race like a train. There was no stopping him. Hallows never fired, jogging lazily to a fourth place finish. Everyone had their eye on Frontier Justice, but Elia truly thought Deathly Hallows was the faster horse. She just didn’t know how to motivate him to run. After the race she walked back to the row of barns with the horse and groom. She texted a picture of him to Jonathan, saying “Can you come give the captain stare to this horse? Or send me a pic”. He responded almost immediately, “Remember you told me never to take a pic of myself cause it would break my phone? well well the tables have turned.”

He was right, she had said that. She sat down on a tack trunk set up against the barn wall. It was late afternoon. She watched the horses get hosed down, the steam coming off their bodies. Listened to the sound of hooves walking here and there. The sounds of voices coming from the other barns.

“Usted no está pensando en montar estas?” A voice asked her from behind. It was Javy Mendez, her assistant trainer. She was thinking of riding.
“No.” She lied.
“Good, because estás un poco gordito,” He said laughing. “I mean, not for life, but for this sport.”

She was only twelve pounds over race weight. Not that she had been checking. They discussed moves for the horses. Frontier was easy. He would stay in Santa Anita for the San Felipe next month, then travel to New York for the Wood Memorial, and from there probably just head to the Derby. Hallow was another matter. They debated back and forth for several minutes before deciding. He would rest tomorrow, Elia would breeze him herself the following day, and do a blow out later in the week. She wanted to try racing him again in a week, pending a vet check, but he hadn’t appeared to have exerted himself at all. Elia loved being at the track. She wished she could spend every day there. But the more she was there the more she wanted to race, and that was something she couldn’t do. Morning workouts weren’t so risky, there weren’t always other horses on the track, and she didn’t have to go into a starting gate. The real risk was that it made her want to ride more.

Half way through the week Paul Bissonnette flew into town. He was going to go to Belize with her and figured he might as well hang out in Arcadia. When they weren’t at the track or at a bar they spent time hiking in the mountains. They hiked to Hermit Falls, where they jumped off the top of the waterfall into the waterhole below. Sturtevant Falls were beautiful, but they couldn’t jump into those. Elia loved hanging out with Paul, but there was no way she could handle it all the time. He was one of those guys that was the life of the party, and as such always wound up as the center of attention. He was always ‘on’, and Elia was the type that needed to retreat and reboot often. But for a week long jungle party in Belize, a Paul Biznasty is the perfect thing to bring.

Elia didn’t stay around for Hallow’s second race. She told Javy to fly in Rosie Napravnik to ride him. If it made a difference, she would keep riding him through the Triple Crown campaign.

Notes