Unmitigated Disaster - synopsis
Chapter One
The door of the Dorchester suite closed shut as Carina Jefferson slowly opened her eyes from a very bleary eyed sleep. In her millimetre squint, she saw the dark haired man close the door quietly behind him. She tried to sit up but could hardly move. She became panic stricken. Had she suffered a stroke in the middle of the night? She had recently read about thirty-two year olds who had gone to bed quite happily and the next morning were speechless, quite literally. No it couldn’t be a stroke? Could it? She was the healthiest woman that she knew.
Her eyes slowly focused on the crushed white powder on the mirror balanced onto the bedside table a foot away from her and there was a small rim of white powder still left on the small glass with what looked like whisky inside of it. Call housekeeping immediately she struggled as she edged towards the telephone. There was no doubt about it, Carina had been drugged. She could not feel her mouth; it tingled as she drew a heavy lifeless hand to her lips. What the hell happened last night? How could she have been so out of it to end up like this? As Carina looked at her left hand she saw a new band of gold around her wedding finger that was never there when she walked into the hotel lobby late last night.
That man, the one that had just left the room, she knew him from somewhere. He was unmistakable and completely without disguise as he left their suite. Surely he should have been wearing a party nose and moustache and a hat shouldn’t he? The paparazzi would get him outside in no time and he would be turned into the FBI, M15, and the BBC in an instant. The person who had walked out of their elegant suite not five minutes before was none other than Osama Bin Laden. She had somehow between eight o’clock last night and ten o’clock that morning got herself married to the most wanted terrorist on god’s earth. She was now Mrs. Bin Laden.
Chapter Two
On the other side of town, Freddie Davidoff was having huge problems with his penalty shoot out practice. He played for Milwall, which was no longer the hooligans best friend, but a football stadium in the East End of London that had now been converted into a multi-million state of the art contemporary football club, perfect for the Olympics which were due to be held there in 2012.
If Freddie wanted to be England Captain next season, he was seriously going to have to knuckle down and get some decent practice in. Out must go the late wild nights partying without his plastic fantastic wife and her mentally unstable sister. In must come six in the morning starts, ten mile runs and more goal practices than he could even imagine. Although, it would be a very hard move to make. He could hardly take such inspiration from his boss Geezer Nokia, who spent most of his day looking for a love pad to house his new fling of the moment, when Geezer should have been coaching the team into a replica 1966 winning first team.
Chapter Three
Back at home, still in quite a haze, Carina sat herself down at her minimalist desk and tried to concentrate on writing her weekly column. She was a widely read and widely talked about columnist on the most popular warts and all celebrity magazine. This week Carina was writing about celebrities who hung out in Park Lane hotel bars. Of course, that’s how she ended up at the Dorchester last night. Mingling with teeny bopper pop stars and pimply soap stars all squeezed into faux leather booths, pouting at each other over pre and post dinner cocktails.
She felt absolutely shocking, but it wasn’t too difficult. Carina could type one hundred words per minute and how difficult could it be to write about the odd inch of cellulite or whether red and green should never be seen? Because her job wasn’t mentally tiring or particularly exciting to such a bright girl as Carina, she had the time and energy to spend getting a little more excitement out of her evenings. Once she got the low down on the gossip for the magazine, she would spend time seeking out and even flirting with the more ‘interesting’ guests at the party. Obviously last night was no different.
She looked down at her hand and saw the wedding band. She couldn’t possibly have been drugged for her own wedding? She may have flirted with slightly career elusive Middle Eastern looking men, but surely she would have remembered marrying them? The ring would not come off, not with soap, not with WD40, every liquid advertised; hell bent on removing the toughest stains would not remove the gold band on her finger. Well it was rather exquisite she thought and looked quite antique. I will just have to keep it on until it wears itself away she thought and carried on emailing her piece to her editor.
Chapter Four
A few thousand miles away, Dog Tired the faded 60’s pop recluse was just landing at LAX airport. He had converted to Islam after a huge publicised row about monks not being able to wear trousers, with the Pope on a tour of the Vatican in his heyday. Dog immediately denounced his Roman Catholicism and persisted on being photographed with a copy of the Koran whenever possible.
Dog was making a comeback. He had been thirty years out of the spotlight and he was ready for another go at tripping the light fantastic. Hollywood was definitely the place to position himself for the new reinvented Dog Tired. After the war on terror, the Midwest had taken to reading the Koran in droves and they would understand his subliminal messages in his new lyrics. Although Hollywood was primarily run by the Jewish community, Dog would prove to Hollywood that he and his message was the perfect catalyst for both sides of the religious conflict to unite as one at last. Dog Tired would be more of a united one-world hero than any Bush or Kerry administration could ever be.
Chapter Five
Freddie Davidoff was despondent as he clicked his purple limited edition Ferrari shut. He stood outside of his huge mock Tudor mansion in the middle of Epping Forrest and sighed a heavy sigh. How could his wife, his tour de force be such a power wielding hungry, cold calculating bitch. He had wanted to give up football two seasons ago when he had turned thirty three. He would have been able to go for the sports pundit position that he was loosely offered on Sky for a huge amount of money. But oh no, Deborah Davidoff, the money grabbing attention seeking wife of his made him stay in the game.
Freddie Davidoff wanted more than anything else now to be an actor. He had a great face and still a great body, why it made him more money in endorsements for sunglasses and designer jeans than football every could. He had a fantastic agent in the guise of one Jonathan Wiseman, the best connected Jew in the business and the agent of many a Hollywood film star. If Tom Ford could make the transition from designer dresses to downing daiquiris on the silver screen, then why couldn’t the gorgeous Freddie Davidoff do the same? He would pass it by Wiseman at the launch of the newest Mayfair members bar and club Doodle tonight.
Chapter Six
Carina Bin Laden, nee Jefferson got ready for tonight’s launch of Doodle. Still feeling quite woozy after the previous night at the Dorchester, Carina wasn’t so sure that she should even be going out at all. The only reason was that she could probably glean enough material for a whole month of issues of Cheap Tat tonight with all the A to Z listers going to be at the party. It would then give her enough time to fathom out who and why she had managed to get herself married to a man that she did not know last night. She felt very vulnerable and completely unnevered. What was she doing coming back to her own apartment on her own? Surely a man like that must have surveillance on her night and day? As long as she stayed in the clear and did not do anything wrong or speak to the wrong people, it would go away, and surely they would leave her alone?
Freddie and Deborah Davidoff were having the biggest argument of their lives. He hated her common look and thigh split Versace. Why couldn’t she wear something a little less obvious? Dear Freddie came from a nice Home Counties family and could still not understand why his gutter snipe wife could not shake off her Black Country accent and her fondness for plastic four inch stilettos, whatever expensive help that they were able to employ. Her sister Wendy was not much help either, always edging her on to wearing outré outfits that got the flashbulbs of the waiting photographers in a frenzy. Deborah Davidoff featured on the cover of Cheap Tat three out of four issues a month. The only reason that she did not appear was either because she was in Japan endorsing new karaoke machines, or because she was too ill or too weak from her self inflicted food neurosis.
Chapter Seven
Jonathan Wiseman could not be missed as the centre piece of any party. His clients adored him and genuinely so. He got them the best jobs in the business, he had the best personal contacts and most importantly, made his clients more money than most of the other sports and actors agents in town put together. ‘Hey Freddie, you know Mr. Yokomoto here is looking for a new face for his trendy new painkillers,’ said Jonathan enthusiastically. ‘Sounds great, hello Mr. Yokomoto,’ replied Freddie politely and smoothly as ever, giving a huge flash of Harley Street veneers.
‘Jonathan you know that footballers aren’t supposed to suffer from headaches, I don’t think that Geezer Nokia will allow me to do this one,’ said Freddie. ‘Don’t worry about Geezer, he could do with a few painkillers himself, maybe the two of you could do the campaign, it’s going to be in South Korea anyhow.’ ‘I thought the strap line, relieves your pains on and off the pitch, might be good one Freddie,’ smiled Jonathan looking directly at Deborah Davidoff who was doing a very good impression of a Christmas tree. ‘By the way Jonathan, I want to pass an idea I have about my future with you, you’re an expert on getting the best out of Hollywood actors I hear.’
Carina whoever she was since last night, had enough material to sink a battleship. Everybody who the PR company invited had made it to the launch of Doodle that night. Carina put away her notepad and thought that she would stay for one more drink to relax from the tensions of the night before. Plus she did not want to return to an empty apartment just yet, be good to speak to some familiar faces to put her at ease again. After two years of writing about micro minis and rhinoplasty, she couldn’t wait to talk to a few old friends from fashion college that she noticed in the crowd.
Carina walked over to a rather ornate swan ice sculpture in the middle of the room, it was beautifully carved with real looking black and orange eyes. Champagne poured over its wings and into ready glasses moved in to place by the expert waiting staff. ‘Do you like my masterpiece,’ a voice said from behind Carina. She turned around to see the most handsome man of questionable heritage. He could have been a whole mix of different species Carina thought. A beautiful olive skinned face with piercing green eyes and dark smartly groomed eyebrows. Lebanese, Indian, Egyptian or Afghan she had no idea where. Carina turned around to face her stranger head on. ‘Fabulous sculpture,’ she said. ‘I’m a partner in this club, I’m glad you like it,’ said the devastating stranger. ‘My name is Salem Compton-Brown,’ he offered. ‘And I am Carina, um, Carina Jefferson.’ ‘I know, I’ve seen you before,’ replied Salem not altogether unfamiliarly. ‘Promise me that you will meet me for dinner tomorrow night at Zuma Carina,’ said Salem.
Salem Compton-Brown was quite an English sounding name thought Carina as she went home in the taxi that night. Where had she met him before? His face was a little familiar but she could not remember having spoken to him before. Although she met many people in her line of work and new faces came in and out of fashion, such a beautiful, sophisticated man such as Salem Compton-Brown, she would have definitely remembered. As she fumbled in her bag for her purse to pay the taxi driver, Carina accidentally stumbled and sat back down on her mobile phone. Damn she had accidentally dialled 999, the safety lock wasn’t on. I hope I didn’t waste their time she thought and felt bad as she realised what she had done. Five minutes later as she was putting her key in the lock, her mobile rang, number withdrawn. ‘Hello?’ ‘Hello, Ms. Jefferson, Scotland Yard here, is everything ok?’ ‘Yes, fine thank you, sorry I dialed 999 by mistake, I’m so very sorry,’ said Carina in a state of shock. ‘If you need anything, do call us any time day or night.’ The line went dead.
Chapter Eight
Off the coast of Belize a conference call was taking place. ‘We are ready for Operation Mount in one month’s time,’ said the voice in Belize. ‘Affirmative,’ replied the other voices in North Korea, Sudan, Iran and Finchley in North London. ‘I have been surveying the area all week and all is going to plan.’ The major terrors of the world were planning the biggest attack ever seen to coincide with the Hollywood Bi-Centenary taking place the following month. ‘Who is taking care of the how shall we phrase it, guest list?’ asked the North Korean General. ‘Everybody will be there Sir, I have their acceptances in writing,’ said the voice from Hollywood itself. ‘I have organised past, present and future of Hollywood, leading heads of state and even the US President himself is giving a speech on the night.’ ‘Good work and now we will not rest until those uncultured ignorant philstines no longer remain on Mohammed’s soil.’ Dog Tired put down the telephone, he had a lot of preparations to make.
Chapter Nine
Freddie Davidoff gave his last conference at Milwall before he left that day for Hollywood. Jonathan Wiseman sat next to him, fielding away any unwanted questions on why he wasn’t taking Deborah with him. Little did they know that Freddie and Deborah were now estranged following his complete embarrassment of her at the Doodle launch party. ‘Freddie will be appearing in a fabulous cameo part as an international footballer in the new Quentin Tarrantino movie,’ Jonathan announced with all the pride of a new mother. ‘Wonder if he will get to keep his cheesy grin or whether Tarrantino will make it wider for him with one of his swords,’ quipped one of the many present hacks.
Chapter Ten
Carina still couldn’t remove the damn band of gold on her left hand. Salem Compton-Brown was going to ask her god knows how many questions about it at dinner at Zuma tonight she was sure of it. She had to get some sort of story straight about it, she couldn’t think she was so nervous. As he walked into the restaurants, every woman’s head turned. Salem Compton-Brown looked and smelt amazing. He looked supremely confident but not a bit pretentious in his hand cut Saville Row suit. His mother would have been proud of him, whoever and wherever she came from Carina thought.
Salem Compton-Brown turned out to be half Saudi Arabian and half English. His mother a wealthy oil producer’s daughter had fallen in love with an English old Etonian called Compton-Brown in the sixties. Salmira Wassabi was a society beauty of her day in Saudi Arabia and came over to live with her parents in a suite at the Dorchester one summer when she turned eighteen. She had met Gordon Compton-Brown at a dance given in the Dorchester’s ballroom in her honour. Young Gordon was a cherished debs delight who could not be kept off a smart London party’s list. The eighteen year old Salmira was immediately taken with his good English looks and height and they married exactly one year later.
Salem’s parents were now divorced. The once beautiful Salmira died of breast cancer ten years ago. His father Gordon met a faded sixties supermodel at a mutual friends dinner party one night and now helped her at her donkey sanctuary in deepest Devon. It sounded like Salem had enjoyed a reasonably comfortable yet conventional English public school life, even though now he was lumped together with the nocturnal playboys that made up the partnership of Doodle. I wondered why he had singled me out at the Doodle party? God knows the room was five deep in gold lame with Paris Hilton look-alikes strutting their stuff in front of admiring glances.
Salem Compton-Brown made no mention of Carina’s band of gold, which she felt a little odd. Maybe he didn’t see the wedding band she thought. Although, he was so meticulous with his own clothes that he surely would have taken in every little detail about her, especially as he seemed so interested. Maybe he already knew why she was wearing it, but she did not feel he was acting odd towards her in any way at all. Salem was very open about his past and the way that his parents had forged perfect Saudi and Anglo dynasties together. He had a job as a partner in Doodle which cost over twenty million to refurbish and to market, he was used of course for his vast inheritance and his contacts. Wasn’t he?
Chapter Eleven
Freddie had just completed his first acting class with LA’s top coach. Jonathan Wiseman had organised it of course. Freddie, perhaps not a natural but definitely not as wooden as some of the hopefuls that showed up on a daily basis waiting tables in the Rodeo Drive coffee shops waiting for the big one, Freddie had a huge head start in the movie stakes.
‘“Slash, Bang, Wollop” is going to be just HUGE Fredster,’ said Jonathan confidently. ‘You are going to be the next big thing, I can feel the buzz about you Freddie, the chicks all love you.’ ‘And the guys all love you too,’ winked Jonathan. ‘There’s Quentin Tarrantino over there now Freddie,’ said Jonathan. ‘Hey Quentin, what do you think of my new star, mean mother with a sword don’t you think?’ asked Wiseman. ‘Hey dude, that was a great scene, just great,’ said Quentin. The cult movie legend congratulating a mere bit part ex-footballer on his newly honed martial arts skills. Freddie Davidoff could get used to this. Deborah and her dippy sister Wendy seemed a whole lifetime away.
Chapter Twelve
Carina looked out of the window along the Champ D’Elyses. Paris was so beautiful in the springtime and so was the man lying next to her. Salem Compton-Brown certainly moved fast. Carina Compton-Brown certainly had a certain ring to it. Well slightly better than Carina Bin Laden it had to be said. Even though they had only known each other for a week, Salem would hardly let Carina out of his sight. She was absolutely caught up in the whirlwind of the amazing romance. Dinner at every fashionable restaurant that Salem had a substantial share in for the past week and now, a five star Parisian weekend, complete with private jet. All at Salem’s expense. He had still not asked about her wedding ring. Maybe he thought it was a modern girl’s statement. After all there was what looked like ancient writing around it and it could possibly pass for a Boodle, Doodle & Dunthorp number.
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