Savanah's Swan Song (Part 20)

The ocean was bracingly cold.  Savanah’s instinct was to race back up the beach, but she wanted answers more than she needed warmth.  So, she trudged behind Angelina through the turgid water until the churning surf smoothed into a waist-deep pool.    

The sand beneath her feet gave slightly as she padded after the actress, caressing her feet like custom insoles.  It wasn’t like the crowded beaches she’d visited a few times as a child, which were littered with jagged landmines waiting to explode into the tender toes of the nearest swimmer.  Usually, rocks or shells, but occasionally bottlecaps or bits of broken glass.  Rather than risking tetanus or getting sucked out to sea by the violent Atlantic tide, Savanah spent most of her time plopped in the sand building moats and sandcastles.  Truth be told, she didn’t care for that much either.  She was always picking cigarette butts out of the spires and repairing damage caused by her little sister or careless passersby. 

But this.  Savanah closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun, enjoying its warm caress as the roaring surf serenaded her ears.  She could get used to this.

When she opened her eyes again, Angelina was gone. 

“Angelina?”

The singer pirouetted in the waist-deep water, but there was no sign of the superstar.  For a panicked second, Savanah worried she wouldn’t reemerge.  That she had drowned, or been dragged off by a shark, or—and this next thought brought a lump to her throat so large that she couldn’t call her name a second time—had intentionally swum out to sea. 

Had that been why Angelina had summoned her in the first place?  To assist in the troubled actress’ suicide?       

Before Savanah could convince herself of that or any other nightmare scenarios, the water behind her erupted and a shove sent her face-first into the frigid foam.  She sprang from its icy chill like a Jack-in-the-box amidst a torrent of laughter from Angelina.  “Why did you do that?” she gasped.

“You looked like you needed it.  Isn’t it invigorating?”

“It’s fucking cold.”

“Oh, lighten up Georgia.”

Savanah wanted to tackle the bloated bitch, but there was something in the starlet’s playful blue eyes and mischievous smile that washed away most of her anger. “You lighten up,” the singer said with a rakish grin and a splash of water.

“I already have.”  Angelina floated effortlessly away from Savanah’s barrage.  “My tomb-raiding days may be done, but I’m still pretty graceful out here.”

Savanah gave chase, but the deepening water and incoming currents pushed against her new girth like wind against a sail. 

“C’mon, Georgia, catch me.”  Angelina teased Savanah’s ponderous pursuit on her back, gently kicking away anytime Savanah got close. “You can do it!”

Savanah felt her anger return.  Surely, she could catch a woman who, although not nearly as fat as she was in the photo she’d been shown, still didn’t appear to be much south of 300 pounds. 

“C’mon, Georgia!”

As Angelina continued her coquettish taunts, the subtext oozing from her derisive use of the singer’s stately surname hit Savanah harder than the incoming waves.

C’mon, tubby, catch me!

To the circling seagulls, it must have looked like a bull charging a matador.  Whenever Savanah threatened, Angelina quickly dove beneath the waves or released a couple of kicks and the gap between them grew. 

“No fair,” Savanah wheezed.  “You’ve got home-field advantage.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, Georgia.”

The pursuit continued for a few more minutes, with Angelina mercifully leading Savanah back to shore instead of out to sea.  By the time the singer staggered onto the beach and collapsed on her back beside the corpulent superstar, her anger and energy were gone.  She couldn’t even resist Angelina’s gentle pat on her belly as it arched skyward in search of oxygen.

“Well, it looks like we got our exercise for the day!”  The actress beamed.

Once again, Angelina’s roguish expression melted away Savanah’s animosity and her rounded stomach shook with laughter beneath the starlet’s still-slender fingers.  She was exhausted.  She was exasperated.  But for the first time in months, she felt alive.     

“Tell me about Maggie,” Savanah said after her laughter subsided.

Angelina’s smile disappeared.  For a moment, Savanah feared she might get up and walk away, but then she stared out to sea and slowly began reciting a monologue that had undoubtedly been written in her head for some time--

“I commissioned Maggie about six months after my replicant.  People think I’m a recluse.  I mean, I am to a degree, but I’m not antisocial.  I still need personal interaction.  That became…problematic with my replicant around.”     

Savanah nodded, knowing all too well what she was going through and suddenly wondering if that was the real reason she’d been summoned.  It’s lonely at the top, Savanah thought, remembering Dr. Wagner’s words from their first meeting.

“I wasn’t looking for romance,” Angelina continued. “I just wanted someone here with me besides me.” The actress swallowed hard and brushed some sand off her knee.  “Another presence in the house.  A little companionship.” 

Savanah was doubtful.  If all Angelina wanted was companionship, she could’ve gotten a dog.  She didn’t have to create a custom-made supermodel.  Still, she didn’t argue.  “But she became more?”

Angelina’s blue eyes moistened. “I suppose it was inevitable.  All that time alone together.  In many ways, she was the perfect lover.  She was never tired.  Never grumpy.  She was always up for anything, so we began doing everything.  Her energy was contagious.”

“It was much more than just sex though.  This is going to sound stupid, but I felt like she was my soulmate.”

It did sound stupid to Savanah.  The thing had no soul. How could it be anyone’s ‘soulmate’? 

“She always knew just what to say.  Just what to do.” A single tear ran down Angelina’s chubby cheek.  “She was perfect.” 

Savanah could hold her tongue no longer. “Isn’t that how they’re programmed?” 

Angelina looked as if Savanah had slapped her.  “There’s more to it than that,” she snapped.  “These aren’t robots serving at our beck and call.  These are sentient beings.  The sooner you realize that the better off you’ll be.”

“Sorry.  Please continue.”

“Anyway, we started dating.  Of course, the tabloids had a field day.  Do you remember?”

Savanah nodded, but she really didn’t.  If she wasn’t in them herself, she hardly paid attention.

“They wondered who she was.  How old she was.  How much older I was.  My sexuality wasn’t really an issue—I think most folks knew my tendencies by then—but they painted me like some depraved temptress who’d cast a Maleficent-like spell on a naïve child. In truth, it was the opposite.”

“I didn’t care at the time though.  I laughed it off.  Then all those decadent nights on the town began catching up with me.  They didn’t affect Maggie, of course.  She still had that—” Angelina made air quotes with her fingers, “youthful metabolism.”

“By the time I snapped out of my malaise, I was twenty-five pounds heavier and none of my clothes fit.” 

“Now the tabloids had even more to sink their teeth into…literally.  My agent had to leak a story that I was gaining weight for a role.  Then she had to find a role to match my rolls.”

“Maria?” Savanah queried, remembering Angelina’s most recent film, a biopic on opera singer Maria Callas, had been referenced during her Late Show interview with Paul Padner.  It had only been the night before but it seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Angelina cocked her head, surprised.  “Have you seen it?” 

Savanah shook her head sheepishly. 

“Don’t worry. I haven’t either.”

With that, both women laughed. 

“It’s supposed to be good,” Angelina continued.  “Apparently, I did a nice job.”

Now they were in fits. Savanah’s poor stomach shook uncontrollably. 

“Wait,” she gasped, wiping a tear from her eye.  “Hadn’t your ‘bot acted for you—"

“Never,” Angelina said, suddenly serious. “Would you want AI recording your next album?”

Savanah lowered her eyes shamefully.  She regretted both the question and for allowing her android to sing her songs at all.

“No, she made press appearances, gladhanded at fundraising galas, schmoozed at industry parties.  All the things I hated.”  Angelina looked wistfully out to sea. “Or at least I thought I hated.  You never know how much you’ll miss something until it’s gone.”   

“It sounds like it didn’t have to be that way.  Gaining weight to portray an opera singer seems feasible.”

“It was feasible.  Unfortunately, by the time filming began I was pushing 500 pounds.”

Savanah’s jaw fell open.

“Oh, don’t be so surprised.  I showed you that photo of me on the plane. Besides, it’s not like I’m skinny now.  I doubt I’ll ever be skinny again.  Trust me, at my age, it comes on a lot easier than it comes off."

Savanah winced.  She was barely thirty and already having the same problem.  “Still.  500 pounds.”

“Almost 500 pounds,” Angelina corrected.    

“How…how…”

“How did I get so fat so fast?”

Savanah nodded.

Angelina stood and brushed the sand from her suit.  Then, after a final glance out to sea, she turned and walked toward the footpath leading to the villa. 

“Let’s have some lunch.”