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Authors: Jackie Collins
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the airport in Paris to meet me. We hug and kiss and giggle at the insanity of it all. Then we walk outside, and to my surprise Olympia jumps behind the wheel of a cool white Mercedes convertible.
‘Wow!’ I exclaim, throwing my suitcase in the back.
‘Wow is right,’ Olympia says, grinning broadly. ‘Not bad, huh?’
‘Who does this car belong to?’
‘Dear old Mom,’ Olympia says. ‘She never drives it – besides, she’s never here – so I have taken possession. Right now we’re off on a magical mystery tour, so I suggest you hold onto your knickers!’
‘Where are we going?’ I ask, drinking in the heady taste of freedom.
‘South of France,’ Olympia says, as if it’s the most normal place to run off to. ‘I got it all figured out. One of my aunts has a villa above Cannes. She never goes there, so it’ll be all shuttered up. The good news is that I know how to get in, ’cause I used to spend the summers there with my nanny when my dear old parents didn’t have time for me, which was mostly every summer.’
‘How will you explain this to your family?’
‘You think they care? No way. It’s just me and a housekeeper in the Paris apartment. I told her I had to go see my mom, and since the old crow doesn’t speak English, she couldn’t care less. Which means we are free – on our own – and ready to have an incredible adventure. Right?’
I couldn’t agree more. The two of us against the world. I like it!
Olympia is the perfect friend, she always comes through when I need her. What more can one ask of a friendship?
Naturally she drives like a maniac.
‘You’re a crazy driver,’ I gulp, hanging on. ‘I didn’t know you even had a driving licence.’
‘Don’t,’ Olympia replies matter-of-factly. ‘Let’s hope we’re not stopped.’ She swerves to avoid an old man crossing the street. He shakes his fist at her. She turns on the radio, blasts it loud, and gives him the finger.
I cling onto the side of my seat. This is insane, but I’m loving it!
‘How far’s the South of France?’ I ask, attempting to remain cool.
‘Not far,’ Olympia replies. ‘Shouldn’t take us more than a day or two.’
A day or two! I am speechless. Yet I am also excited. So what if she drives like a crazy person? This is our adventure, and I am totally into it.
Eight hours later I am not so sure. We’re in a convertible and the sun is relentlessly beating down on us as we drive across France. I am thirsty and sweaty and starving hungry.
‘Don’t you think we should stop somewhere?’ I suggest.
Olympia shrugs and points out that we don’t have a lot of cash between us.
‘What about your credit card?’ I say.
‘Hmm . . .’ Olympia replies. ‘I guess we can use it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t want to leave a trail of where we are.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ I say, desperate for a break.
‘You’re right,’ Olympia agrees. ‘Nobody’s going to be checking on us.’
Ten minutes later we pull into a dusty Novotel and book a room. I fall onto the bed and into a deep sleep, too tired to even think about eating.
When I finally awake it is dark out and there’s no Olympia in sight.
Where is she? I think, exasperated. Foraging for food, I hope . My stomach is groaning with hunger.
I make it out to the motel swimming pool, a depressing oasis surrounded by concrete, a couple of sad palm trees, and one solitary light.
Olympia is in the pool making out with a boy I’ve never seen before. She is topless.
Hey – I’m also into boys, but not random pick-ups at some anonymous motel.
‘What’s up?’ I say, trying not to sound like the uptight friend.
‘What isn’t?’ Olympia giggles. ‘Meet Pierre – he doesn’t speak English, so we’re communicating via the language of love.’
French Pierre surfaces with a stupid leer on his face.
Oh crap! Olympia is way out of control .
Chapter Fifteen
W hat have I got myself into? The next morning Olympia is nowhere in sight
‘Wow!’ I exclaim, throwing my suitcase in the back.
‘Wow is right,’ Olympia says, grinning broadly. ‘Not bad, huh?’
‘Who does this car belong to?’
‘Dear old Mom,’ Olympia says. ‘She never drives it – besides, she’s never here – so I have taken possession. Right now we’re off on a magical mystery tour, so I suggest you hold onto your knickers!’
‘Where are we going?’ I ask, drinking in the heady taste of freedom.
‘South of France,’ Olympia says, as if it’s the most normal place to run off to. ‘I got it all figured out. One of my aunts has a villa above Cannes. She never goes there, so it’ll be all shuttered up. The good news is that I know how to get in, ’cause I used to spend the summers there with my nanny when my dear old parents didn’t have time for me, which was mostly every summer.’
‘How will you explain this to your family?’
‘You think they care? No way. It’s just me and a housekeeper in the Paris apartment. I told her I had to go see my mom, and since the old crow doesn’t speak English, she couldn’t care less. Which means we are free – on our own – and ready to have an incredible adventure. Right?’
I couldn’t agree more. The two of us against the world. I like it!
Olympia is the perfect friend, she always comes through when I need her. What more can one ask of a friendship?
Naturally she drives like a maniac.
‘You’re a crazy driver,’ I gulp, hanging on. ‘I didn’t know you even had a driving licence.’
‘Don’t,’ Olympia replies matter-of-factly. ‘Let’s hope we’re not stopped.’ She swerves to avoid an old man crossing the street. He shakes his fist at her. She turns on the radio, blasts it loud, and gives him the finger.
I cling onto the side of my seat. This is insane, but I’m loving it!
‘How far’s the South of France?’ I ask, attempting to remain cool.
‘Not far,’ Olympia replies. ‘Shouldn’t take us more than a day or two.’
A day or two! I am speechless. Yet I am also excited. So what if she drives like a crazy person? This is our adventure, and I am totally into it.
Eight hours later I am not so sure. We’re in a convertible and the sun is relentlessly beating down on us as we drive across France. I am thirsty and sweaty and starving hungry.
‘Don’t you think we should stop somewhere?’ I suggest.
Olympia shrugs and points out that we don’t have a lot of cash between us.
‘What about your credit card?’ I say.
‘Hmm . . .’ Olympia replies. ‘I guess we can use it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t want to leave a trail of where we are.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ I say, desperate for a break.
‘You’re right,’ Olympia agrees. ‘Nobody’s going to be checking on us.’
Ten minutes later we pull into a dusty Novotel and book a room. I fall onto the bed and into a deep sleep, too tired to even think about eating.
When I finally awake it is dark out and there’s no Olympia in sight.
Where is she? I think, exasperated. Foraging for food, I hope . My stomach is groaning with hunger.
I make it out to the motel swimming pool, a depressing oasis surrounded by concrete, a couple of sad palm trees, and one solitary light.
Olympia is in the pool making out with a boy I’ve never seen before. She is topless.
Hey – I’m also into boys, but not random pick-ups at some anonymous motel.
‘What’s up?’ I say, trying not to sound like the uptight friend.
‘What isn’t?’ Olympia giggles. ‘Meet Pierre – he doesn’t speak English, so we’re communicating via the language of love.’
French Pierre surfaces with a stupid leer on his face.
Oh crap! Olympia is way out of control .
Chapter Fifteen
W hat have I got myself into? The next morning Olympia is nowhere in sight
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