Page 76 of Galata and Nutmeg
Kaan crouches down beside me. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“What? No!” My eyes find Ginny’s in the crowd of faces around me and I grab her arm. “I’m not ruining your night!”
“Don’t be daft!”
“I know you don’t want to steal Ginny’s limelight, but you need to get checked out, just to be safe.” Kaan shouts over to Deniz who disappears back below deck. “Deniz is dropping us back at the port and we’ll go to the emergency room. We’ll be back before you’re even missed.”
Tears well up in my eyes and I whisper, “Are my lips swollen?”
“Tanrim!” Kaan is muttering in Turkish but I can still hear the relief in his tone. “You look beautiful.”
I grab a makeup mirror from my handbag and shriek at my reflection. My lips are red, raw and swollen. “I look like I’ve got a mandrill’s bum on my face!”
“Best looking mandrill bum I’ve ever seen.”
Good grief.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Even The Best Laid Plans
LIVE UPDATE:
Hold onto your knickers, folks, because Blair Roberts has been at it again.
According to eyewitnesses, the supermodel was cutting loose at some of London’s hottest nightclubs last night, where she reportedly danced on tables and exposed her glory box to anyone who cared to look. If that wasn’t scandalous enough, rumours are also swirling that she was spotted snorting an “unknown substance” right there in the middle of the club.
Many in the fashion industry are calling for more support and resources for models who are struggling with addiction or mental health issues, and Blair’s recent behaviour only underscores the importance of this issue. While it’s tempting to get swept up in the glitz and glamour of the fashion world, the reality can be much darker.
So, let’s all send some positive vibes Miz. Roberts’ way and hope she gets the help she needs to turn things around. And, of course, let’s hope she remembers to wear some darn knickers next time she goes out on the town!
I’m Pippa Ellis, and this is Fame and No-sense.
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A trip to a Turkish ER was not how I expected to spend my first night in Istanbul, however, visiting a Turkish ER with a celebrity in tow at least meant immediate service. I was out the door loaded with antihistamines and cortisone and some profound medical advice offered by the doctor within an hour flat. His medical advice? “Don’t drink any moreraki!”
We hail a taxi and return to the hotel, only to discover that the wedding party had beaten us back. They had decided to continue the festivities at the hotel. Ginny, Aydin, Leyla, Deniz and Olive were relaxing on the outdoor seating beneath the old tree, sipping that evil poison known asraki. Spotting Leyla, I rush over to thank her. “Leyla, you saved me tonight! Thank you.”
“Tabii ki!”She hugs me tightly. “Of course!”
“I didn’t even know I was allergic.”
“You’ve never eaten anything with aniseed?”
“I don’t think so, but I did drink absinthe once. I either had an allergic reaction or an out of body experience. I ended up in hospital that time as well.”
“I don’t think it’s the same thing.” Leyla giggles and offers me a glass of red wine tapping the brim. “I hope you’re not allergic to red wine as well.”
“God, no!” With a grateful smile, I accept the glass and take a sip. “Much better.”
“You really frightened me tonight.” As I settle in one of the overstuffed chairs, Ginny’s smile shows her relief. “Thank goodness you’re okay, though. I really didn’t want to have to telephone your mother.”
“I wouldn’t wish that chore on anybody!”
“Your first day in Istanbul was certainly memorable.”
“Delayed flights, dodging the press and a late-night visit to the hospital? I’m hoping tomorrow will be a little more chill.”