~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens By Lady Aishiteru Chapter 1- The Eye of the Beholder ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Misery loves company. That's what I always thought. It starts deep inside of you, a bottomless, yearning ebb, an aching ooze that needs to get out, escape. That's when it latches onto other hapless victims and replicates. Maybe misery is lonely; as an emotion, it wants to be loved. Maybe it takes more than one person to really appreciate it, to embrace it and understand its depths. Or maybe I've been sitting under the lights for too long. I laughed shakily and took the ragged breath into my lungs. It was poor nourishment, and very temporary, needing to be joined by another, then another. "Are you okay, Minako?" I looked at the cameraman and flashed him my million-dollar smile. It was the same smile that is featured on the covers of Cosmopolitan, where it seems like that's all that I'm wearing. Beautiful blonde tresses with not a hair out of place just barely hide two seemingly unnaturally perfect breasts. Then the eye is drawn lower, to a brazenly bare navel, and a silky, almost translucent dress that reveals more than it clothes. That would be my figure on display, that of Minako Aino, fabulous supermodel, the one who's always smiling on the outside. When the flash bulb's gone out, the film roll runs out, and the cameraman packs away his tripod for the day, the dimples melt away. My million-dollar smile isn't worth a dime. It's the worst kind of irony, really. Someone like me should be able to have any guy she wants with the snap of her perfectly manicured fingers. And I could, but he would see Minako Aino, famous cover girl, not the real me, the one behind all of the flashing camera bulbs and plastered smiles. If I gave him five honest minutes of my time, he would run like the devil. I pondered this as I alluringly crossed and uncrossed my long legs for the next photograph. Sex would be easy to get, and possibly to give, but I don't want to make love. I want to find it. People have always told me I was pretty, ever since I was a little girl growing up in the west side of London. You should be a model, they said. You're pretty enough. You could make it, really. And, fool that I was, I believed them. Not that I was stupid for believing their forecasts of success, in that respect, they were right. It was the unspoken message behind the lines I bought into, enough to move out of the projects and to pose for people across the ocean. I believed the lie that being rich and famous guarantees happiness. Hell, I even lived it, but there came a point when it seemed hollow, empty and meaningless. And I'm sick of it. Damned sick, I thought, as I hailed a cab after work. That was when I ran to my dressing room, washed away the makeup, and put on my disguise. The disguise consisted of pulling my hair into the loop of a baseball cap, wearing a nearly opaque pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, baggy jeans, a ratty T-shirt and a sports jacket. I wanted to leave the cover girl behind, at least for the weekend. It was time to let my hair down, to be with people that knew the real me. Minako Aino, the woman behind the camera lens. The cab driver stopped the car and turned around in his seat. "Miss, if you don't mind my asking, why don't you keep your work clothes on? Why are you so quick to want to look like everyone else?" I said nothing in response, just thanked him and gave him a tip. "Have a nice weekend, Mr. Thomas." "You too, miss." I closed the door and walked away, listening to my rubber bottomed sneakers squishing on the rain-slicked pavement as I walked towards the Soda Shoppe. It's one of the few places in Tokyo I can visit without being mobbed. The owner, Motoki Furuhata, knows me personally, and has promised not to tell his customers about me. His wife, Reika, makes sure that he keeps his end of the bargain. "Hey guys, how's it going?" I asked, hearing the double doors whoosh shut behind me. "Hi, Minako. Ami's just showing us this wicked cool picture she did with her and her grandma on the computer," said Usagi. I looked at the photo very closely. It was a picture of Ami standing next to her grandmother. Both were smiling, the kind of smile that's sincere, that reaches the eyes. If I hadn't attended the funeral, I would have sworn that Ami's grandma was still alive and breathing. "Cool! You can't even tell." "Y'know, you should do this for real, I mean, as a job," said Usagi through a mouthful of sundae. "You think?" asked Ami. She looked kind of doubtful, but I knew that Usagi would be able to convince her otherwise. She's always been like that; warm, encouraging, friendly. Usagi is someone who's as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. She has this crazy, guffaw-like laugh, and it's contagious. When she laughs, you can't help but to laugh with her. She makes people feel special just by being with them. "I know so," said Rei. When I met Rei Hino for the first time, it was at the Cherry Hill temple. She was wearing these weird robes, like a priestess would wear. I thought she was this subdued, gentle spirited, shaman-like Shinto priestess. Well, I thought that for about ten seconds, anyways. Then she opened her mouth, and she hasn't closed it since. Even though she's gorgeous, I have the hardest time finding a date for her. She has this unfortunate tendency to push away guys that get too close. I know this one guy who would be just perfect for her, but she would never know it. "Even that ornery cuss wad, Mamoru would like it." Rei added. "REI!" yelled Usagi, fortunately AFTER she had swallowed her ice cream. "You picking on my Mamo-chan? How many times must I tell you to LAY OFF?" "Relax, Usako," said a deep voice. "I can take care of myself. But I do appreciate the effort, beloved." I covered my ears and waited for the inevitable, high-pitched squeal. I was not disappointed. "MAMO-CHAN!" she screamed, clearing the stool she was sitting on, reaching her husband in a single bound. "I'm happy to see you too," he said, chuckling. They were allowed to stand there like that for all of ten seconds, when Rei decided she had enough. "Get a ROOM, love-birds! You're freaking me out!" "You're just jealous," said Usagi, sticking out her tongue from her position in Mamoru's arms. In her classic form, Rei retorted, "Am not!" "Are too!" "Geez, will you two morons ACT YOUR AGE?" yelled Makoto, the karate fisted brunette of our group. I stifled a groan. Those two have been like that since junior high, or at least that's what Ami and Makoto say. "Or at least your shoe size," I mumbled. "I HEARD THAT!" yelled both Usagi and Rei, and Mamoru leaped backwards in fear of future hearing loss. Honestly, I don't blame the guy. It seemed like they've known each other for a thousand years, even though they didn't meet until they were both in high school. He'd married Usagi two years ago, and it's totally obvious that they're meant for each other. I let out a little sigh. Wasn't there anyone I was meant to be with? I watched them whisper a conversation in private. I didn't hear anything they said until I heard an indignant "MAMO-CHAN!" I laughed a little, knowing he must have said something really naughty to get her going like that, and that it was making Rei very uncomfortable. "Well, on that note, I'd better be going," I said. "So soon?" asked Makoto. "Yeah. Later!" "Bye," they all chorused. I began the long, lonely walk to my penthouse apartment down the street. I was looking forward to going home and sitting down with a cup of herbal tea and the daily paper. Not that I'm crazy about coming home to an empty penthouse, but a bit of peace and quiet is a nice change of pace from my hectic workdays. I breathed an audible sigh of relief when I stepped into the penthouse. No camera flashes, no pushy reporters, no annoying photographers. Just my couch, my paper, my herbal tea and me. I kicked off my sneakers, flopped down onto the couch and settled in. For some strange reason, my attention was caught by an ad in the Classifieds. CAT FOR SALE 1 YEAR OLD, NEUTERED MALE. VERY FRIENDLY, LOVES PEOPLE. CALL 555-0978 IF INTERESTED. Come to think of it, having a cat would be a good idea. It might help me feel a little better. I've heard that pets can lower blood pressure and even prolong my life. Cats are said to be low- maintenance, too. I reached for my cordless, then dialed the number. A rich baritone answered, "Hello?" "Hi, I'm calling about the ad you placed in the classifieds. Is your cat still for sale?" "Yeah, but he's very special to me. I'd need to meet any potential adoptee in person." It seemed a bit silly. After all, it was only a pet. But I put that aside for the moment. "Okay, when can I set up an appointment?" "Appointment?" The man on the other end laughed. "Pfft. I get enough of those at work. I live in Juuban Heights, penthouse suite." "Nice place. A friend of mine lives there. What time may I come?" "Now is good." "Ooo..kay...see you in a few minutes." I hung up the phone, and shook my head. The cat's owner must have been some kind of weirdo. Oh well...if I got a cat out of the deal, it would be worth it...right? I put my sneakers back on and drove to Juuban Heights. Mamoru lives there with Usagi and their cat, Luna, so I know the place pretty well. As I walked into the apartment, the doorman, Ichi, greeted me. "Hi, Miss A. Tell the Chibas I said hello, will you?" I shook my head. "I would if I were going up to see them. This person lives in the penthouse." "Ah, Kunzite. Tell him I said hello, then." "I will, Ichi. Ja ne!" That being said, I walked in and took the elevator up to the penthouse suite. As the numbers on top showed the elevator's ascent, I wondered what kind of person lived there. Surely someone wealthy enough to live in the penthouse would be able to afford pet care. Even a few vet bills wouldn't faze them - I happen to be familiar with the price of the rent. Mamoru and Usagi said they would live there, but despite Mamoru's impressive wealth, they didn't want to pay the high cost of rent. I smiled to myself. Mamoru is such a tightwad. I knocked on the door, expecting to meet a nutty old man. I twirled a strand of hair and waited, hoping to get this over with quickly. My experiences with elderly men have been less than pleasant. Instead of an old coot, a gorgeous, godlike man answered the door. My jaw almost dropped to the floor. I work with male models, but they all paled in comparison to this guy. I mean...he was... unbelievable. He wore a white undershirt over a pair of jeans, which accented his triangular build. I almost wished the shirt were off... what was underneath must be incredible. His hair was shoulder length and platinum, and I guessed that it would be like silk to the touch. His eyes were an icy, pale shade of blue, almost like a winter sky. "Um...hi. Are you Kunzite?" "Yes, that would be me. How can I help you?" "I'm here about the cat." "Okay, come in then." He made a sweeping gesture and opened the door wider. I looked at him briefly before entering the penthouse. Everywhere I looked, I saw boxes of all shapes and sizes. It was if his whole life was being packed up and shipped off. "Are you moving?" I asked. "Yeah. The apartment that I'm moving to doesn't allow pets." "Ah. Why would you want to move though? This place is great." "I dunno...I guess I felt like it was time. I was getting sick of the place." "Oh, okay." He gestured towards a series of medium-sized boxes in the main room. "Geez," I thought. "He could have at least left one chair out. Even a folding chair is better than a box." "Make yourself at home," he said with a lopsided grin. I sat on top of a box and he sat on another one. "Artemis! Here, kitty, kitty!" he called. A small white cat came running into the room. I raised my eyebrow. What kind of name for a male cat was Artemis? Wasn't Artemis a female goddess? "Why did you name him Artemis?" I asked. "He has this funny, crescent moon-shaped bald spot on his forehead," he explained. "The name 'Artemis' seemed more masculine than Diana, so it stuck." I looked a little more closely, and I had to admit that he was right. "Ah." "Well, I seem to be at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don't know yours." "No," I said. "Excuse me?" "Sorry," I said, offering my usual consolation smile, "but I don't date male models." Bemused, he replied, "I see." I rolled my eyes. I mean, the man was gorgeous...what else could he be? "Sorry. My name is Minako Ai-erm...Minako." He raised an eyebrow. "Just Minako?" "Yep. Kinda like Cher." "Ah," he said, but I could tell by his expression that he wasn't buying it. "Well, what makes you think you can provide a home for Artemis?" I clenched my hands, fingernails digging into my palm. Who the hell did he think he was, anyways? What a pompous jackass! "Well, for starters, I know I can afford any vet bills that come my way. Unlike some people, I don't invite guests to sit on boxes, and my apartment does allow pets. Besides, who can resist such a cutie?" I finished, scratching behind Artemis's ears. "Well, he does seem to like you," he admitted. My nails dug deeper into my palms, and my body stiffened. Of course he liked me! "What are you charging for Artemis?" "Not a thing. I trust that's okay with you?" he asked. "Peachy," I mumbled. "Great! I'll go get his things." "Thanks," I said curtly. I waited and listened to the sounds of boxes being opened and rummaged through. "Do you need help carrying these things to your car?" "No thanks," I said. "I can manage." He dropped the load in front of my feet. "Are you sure?" "Positive." "All right, then. I guess everything's settled." I picked up Artemis and placed him on my shoulder. With the other hand, I grabbed the cat carrier, which contained everything I would need to care for him except food and litter. "Yep," he said. He looked reluctant to end our encounter. He looked into my eyes, like he wanted to say something more. I wondered what he could have possibly been looking at...I was still in "disguise," and I knew I had to be at least a little unkempt. "Well, I guess I'll be going now. Nice meeting you," I said, even though I was completely insincere. I was still fuming as I dragged the cat carrier over to the elevator. The cat purred happily on my shoulder; he really was a sweetheart. Too bad his former owner had to be such a jerk. I would be very happy if I never saw Kunzite again.