chocolate Snickers bar.
This news was greeted by a
minute silence at the other end of the phone.
“Are you kidding? You can choose royalty, a movie star, a rock
star and you choose the billionaire business mogul and ageing Stanley
Marx? He hasn’t been seen in Public in
over ten years. Stanley Marx is a
notorious recluse. He lives in complete
seclusion since his three-year-old son and wife died in a car accident, There
is no way he’s going to agree. He bowed
out of living years ago,” her eyes were wide with surprise.
“He’s never given an interview
about what happened that fateful night. I
heard he was driving the car. I’m a
budding journalist and that would be the interview of a lifetime. It would be the most exhilarating adventure,”
she said, her ice-blue eyes alight with excitement. Minx looked like a fragile child.
“Moving on from an experience like that is
tough. I read he was tormented with
grief and cut everyone out of his life. The papers say he fires all his staff every year,” Mary said closing her
eyes and shaking her head.
“Stanley Marx is one of
Hollywood’s most intriguing and perplexing figures of the 20 th century. He is also one of the world’s
richest men. Before he got married, he
was a renowned womaniser and owned half of Hollywood. He’s a living legend and I’d love to spend a
week with him,” Minx declared, giddy with joy.
“I know he went to
Cambridge University to study law, after graduating he moved into film
directing, shipping and property development. No leading lady was able to resist him. He broke up countless marriages,” giggled Mary, twirling her hair around
her manicured nails.
“I’ve arrived at the photo
shoot, darling. This will be the last
modelling assignment I can do for a few weeks. I have to embark on a blitz of
publicity for the Game Show. Call you
later,” said Minx as the Aston Martin ground to a halt and the driver stepped
out to open the car door for Minx.
“I understand, Bye
darling,” said Mary, hanging up.
***
The elevator pinged to a
halt at the third floor of the grey building and Minx walked out to the crew
clapping and cheering. Her cheeks heated
at the sight of the crowd. The excitement
was tremendous. Ten people clustered
around Minx. Everyone wanted to get a
look at the golden star and the lucky finder.
“Can we see the golden star?”
somebody shouted. “What celebrity are
you going to spend a week with?”
“When will it be?” someone
else shouted. “Will it be televised?”
“I bought three hundred
copies of the Evening Bulletin and I found nothing,” a makeup artist shouted
enviously.
Minx stood still and felt
dizzy from the constant attention. She
wished Mary was here to take control of the photo shoot.
“Come on, guys,” she
shouted, “Let’s get to work and I’ll tell you all about it.” Minx had a gift of making people feel at
ease, smoothing things over and making sure a fashion show or photo shoot ran
seamlessly.
***
Chapter Three
The producer of the Game Show,
Mitch Cooper telephoned Minx that evening, as she sat by the black counter in
her minimal stainless steel kitchen. The
contemporary kitchen looked sleek and modern, teamed with bright painted
yellows walls and vanilla coloured cupboards.
“Honey, we are as surprised
as you are. Are you sitting down?”
“I sure am,” said Minx
munching on a ketchup-drenched chip before taking a sip from a strawberry
milkshake.
“We are in shock, but we
talked to his agent and because it’s for charity, the notoriously reclusive
Stanley Marx has agreed,” he hollered down the phone in excitement. Mitch Cooper was fully aware that an
interview with Stanley Marx would cause their show’s ratings to explode. Their Game show and the Evening Bulletin had
the potential to make a profit of millions.
“The business magnate,
Stanley Marx had not been seen in
This news was greeted by a
minute silence at the other end of the phone.
“Are you kidding? You can choose royalty, a movie star, a rock
star and you choose the billionaire business mogul and ageing Stanley
Marx? He hasn’t been seen in Public in
over ten years. Stanley Marx is a
notorious recluse. He lives in complete
seclusion since his three-year-old son and wife died in a car accident, There
is no way he’s going to agree. He bowed
out of living years ago,” her eyes were wide with surprise.
“He’s never given an interview
about what happened that fateful night. I
heard he was driving the car. I’m a
budding journalist and that would be the interview of a lifetime. It would be the most exhilarating adventure,”
she said, her ice-blue eyes alight with excitement. Minx looked like a fragile child.
“Moving on from an experience like that is
tough. I read he was tormented with
grief and cut everyone out of his life. The papers say he fires all his staff every year,” Mary said closing her
eyes and shaking her head.
“Stanley Marx is one of
Hollywood’s most intriguing and perplexing figures of the 20 th century. He is also one of the world’s
richest men. Before he got married, he
was a renowned womaniser and owned half of Hollywood. He’s a living legend and I’d love to spend a
week with him,” Minx declared, giddy with joy.
“I know he went to
Cambridge University to study law, after graduating he moved into film
directing, shipping and property development. No leading lady was able to resist him. He broke up countless marriages,” giggled Mary, twirling her hair around
her manicured nails.
“I’ve arrived at the photo
shoot, darling. This will be the last
modelling assignment I can do for a few weeks. I have to embark on a blitz of
publicity for the Game Show. Call you
later,” said Minx as the Aston Martin ground to a halt and the driver stepped
out to open the car door for Minx.
“I understand, Bye
darling,” said Mary, hanging up.
***
The elevator pinged to a
halt at the third floor of the grey building and Minx walked out to the crew
clapping and cheering. Her cheeks heated
at the sight of the crowd. The excitement
was tremendous. Ten people clustered
around Minx. Everyone wanted to get a
look at the golden star and the lucky finder.
“Can we see the golden star?”
somebody shouted. “What celebrity are
you going to spend a week with?”
“When will it be?” someone
else shouted. “Will it be televised?”
“I bought three hundred
copies of the Evening Bulletin and I found nothing,” a makeup artist shouted
enviously.
Minx stood still and felt
dizzy from the constant attention. She
wished Mary was here to take control of the photo shoot.
“Come on, guys,” she
shouted, “Let’s get to work and I’ll tell you all about it.” Minx had a gift of making people feel at
ease, smoothing things over and making sure a fashion show or photo shoot ran
seamlessly.
***
Chapter Three
The producer of the Game Show,
Mitch Cooper telephoned Minx that evening, as she sat by the black counter in
her minimal stainless steel kitchen. The
contemporary kitchen looked sleek and modern, teamed with bright painted
yellows walls and vanilla coloured cupboards.
“Honey, we are as surprised
as you are. Are you sitting down?”
“I sure am,” said Minx
munching on a ketchup-drenched chip before taking a sip from a strawberry
milkshake.
“We are in shock, but we
talked to his agent and because it’s for charity, the notoriously reclusive
Stanley Marx has agreed,” he hollered down the phone in excitement. Mitch Cooper was fully aware that an
interview with Stanley Marx would cause their show’s ratings to explode. Their Game show and the Evening Bulletin had
the potential to make a profit of millions.
“The business magnate,
Stanley Marx had not been seen in
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