Authors: Thérèse
India's Summer
Praise for
India’s Summer
:
“
India’s Summer
is a furious, fast-paced, fun romp through the excesses of life in the Hollywood fast lane, with some thought-provoking wisdom interspersed throughout.”
– Jane Green,
New York Times
bestselling author
“A book has an energy field all of its own and
India’s Summer
has a really great one.”
– Ekhart Tolle, spiritual leader
and
New York Times
bestselling author
“
India’s Summer
offers a timeless tale of women supporting one another – delivered in a way that makes it feel fresh, alive, and utterly of the moment.”
– Arianna Huffington
“India’s fascinating character is what makes
India’s Summer
a compelling read. She is trying to make a big shift in her life, in her career, in the choices she’s making. She’s funny, clever and vulnerable and you are rooting for her every step of the way.”
– Goldie Hawn
“
India’s Summer
avoids the familiar clichés of LA and yet captures the character of the city so well.”
– Orlando Bloom
“I love how India learns to trust her inner voice and begins to let her light shine.”
– Miranda Kerr, Victoria’s Secret “Angel”
and author of
Treasure Yourself
“I loved this book. India made me smile.”
– Kim Eng, Presence of Movement Workshop Leader
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
The Fiction Studio
P.O. Box 4613
Stamford, CT 06907
Copyright © 2012 by Thérèse
Jacket design by Barbara Aronica-Buck
Cover photo © 2011 by Jeff Eamer
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-936558-34-6
E-book ISBN-13: 978-1-936558-35-3
Visit our website at
www.fictionstudiobooks.com
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by U.S. Copyright Law.
For information, address The Fiction Studio.
First Fiction Studio Printing: January 2012
Printed in the United States of America
For May and Fred
with love
Act the way you’d like to be
and soon you’ll be the way you act.
– Leonard Cohen
FACEBOOK STATUS – Where’s my tribe?
FACEBOOK STATUS – School's out for Summer...
FACEBOOK STATUS – I’m stuck in a holding pattern.
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – Wahoo!
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – California Casual?
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – Two glasses good, four glasses bad.
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – Emperor’s New Clothes
C’EST LA VIE NOTE – Nobody in the Polo Lounge plays polo.
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – Ohmygod.
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – Maybe…just maybe.
C’EST LA VIE NOTE – Hope Chateau Marmont is earthquake proof.
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – Check in with self
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – If I’d known I would have had my teeth whitened.
C’est La Vie Note – My fifteen minutes.
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – Check exchange rate.
C’est La Vie – Let’s get this party started.
PROFOUND THOUGHTS NOTE – In my element!
Profound Thoughts Note – I will approach the big 40 with a whole new optimism.
The crowd was howling her name.
“In-di-a!”
“In-di-a!”
She was vaguely aware of an arm. Yes, it was definitely an arm. She could feel it steadying her, pushing her toward the searing heat. Then came the pounding beat of a medieval drum. She took a deep breath, a very deep breath. There was this weird tingling between her legs. And she was dizzy. Oh my God! The adrenaline. Like swallowing a Motorhead cocktail.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this, she thought.
Yes you can! YES! YES! shouted another inner voice. Focus … Focus.
What is it you really want? Think.
So she thought: tall, fit, rich, funny, a cross between Orlando Bloom and Hugh Jackman…
“Don’t look down! Don’t look down!”
Then she heard another voice. “What’s your name?”
“India.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes!” she yelled.
“Louder, I can’t hear you.”
“YES!” she screamed.
She was burning up. She was on fire.
Suddenly, as her feet were plunged in a bucket of ice-cold water, she was clinging to a volunteer like a koala on a gum tree. She had made it. And one by one, every member of her team charged across the bed of burning hot coals into the arms of other volunteers. And within minutes, it was over. Weeks and weeks of planning, and it was over.
For one brief moment she stood there: the very image of everything she wanted to be – a valedictorian, a woman in control of her destiny; her olive skin glowing, her dark eyes shining with intensity, her chestnut hair piled high on her head. Then, overwhelmed with emotion, India started leaping up and down, sobbing, hugging all the kids around her, and waving triumphantly at the cameras.
“We did it! We did it,” she cried, rivulets of mascara streaking her cheeks, sweat pouring down her long arms. “Amazing, unbelievable, and I am never, I repeat, never, doing that again!”
“Completely out of the question.” This was the wildly enthusiastic response from Dr. White, the head teacher, spluttering over his cup of tea, when she had proposed the idea of a charity fire walk. India taught drama at a grade school in London. Every year, the school held a fundraiser for the local children’s hospital, a fete that to her felt more like a day release for prisoners. There were a couple of cake stalls run by the nearby church, a raffle, some hot dogs, and a smattering of bored parents trailing around with strollers.
But India had recently experienced an epiphany. She would take this year’s fundraiser to a whole new level. Destiny had come upon her in a flash while she was watching a TV special –
Breakthrough with Tony Robbins
. His message had hit her like a rallying call, like Moses on the mountain. Yes, she would be a leader not a follower, a believer not a doubter, a force and a voice for good. Yes, like Tony, she would inspire people to walk on fire. New wards would be opened and India would cut the ribbon, maybe even paint a few murals. Of course, the entire thing was easier said than done, even after the head teacher reluctantly agreed to attend.
“Okay, if you’re determined to go through with this, I want liability releases from all the parents. I want it off school time and off school premises,” he’d ordered.
The next major obstacle was to convince the students.
India’s practical class demonstration didn’t move them at all.
“See? Not even a blister! Ta-da!” she’d preened, swiping her finger several times through the tip of a burning candle. The next day she showed them films of a woman with prosthetic legs climbing a mountain, and a cross-channel swimmer with only one arm winning a competition. Still nothing. Then she took a different approach and tried the spiritual angle.
“Imagine being purified like a Buddhist monk!” she said. “Imagine being fortified, forged through fire like an Inca!” Blank stares.
It was not until she brought in Pete, a trainer from London’s own (and impressively Tony Robbins–endorsed) Institute of Firewalking, that they sat up and paid attention. It was probably the silver bolt through his tongue, the safety pin in his eyebrow and the metal hook through his nostrils that sold them, or perhaps, the tattoo of flames on his biceps. The guy had street cred.
“The firewalk, as you know from Miss Butler, is all about conquering fear,” Pete announced in the first (and only free) motivational session. “Once you’ve conquered your fear and walked across those coals, you know you can do anything.”
Thirty minutes later, six volunteers had signed up,and peer pressure did the rest. With a mere two weeks to go before the intensive training actually began, India managed to book the grounds of a local hotel, clear the insurance and reassure the parents, check the legalities, write the press releases, even organize a photo call with the local fire brigade.
“Are you going first tomorrow, miss?” one of the students asked nervously. He was hovering by the door after what India quietly hoped was her last ever class on Macbeth.
India froze. Going first? I’m the producer. I’m … well … the cheerleader. I’m the après-ski girl, with the emphasis firmly on the après. I’m not into extreme sports.
“Of course I am,” she heard herself say out loud.
After a long sleepless night punctuated by an unsettling erotic dream involving one of her students dressed as a fireman, India was forced to surrender and accept her fate.
“Obviously, I’m going first,” she told herself. “YES! I am a leader not a follower, a believer not a doubter. YES! I am a force for good…”
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Closing her eyes and holding hands with a student next to her, she had waited.
“Think of a time when you were ecstatically happy, powerful, in control of your life.”
India scrambled around in her head for an image.
“A time when you felt at peace, in flow,” Pete continued.
She was still struggling.
The conference room at the Holiday Inn was dead silent. He gave them a few minutes.
“Hold that image, open your eyes, and when I put up my hand, yell ‘YES!’ as loud as you can.”
India’s “Yes” lacked a certain conviction.
“Now think hard,” he went on. “What do you want to achieve this year? Because the only thing holding you back from achieving what you want is FEAR! Now think carefully. Think big! One year from now, where will you be? You can achieve your dreams. What do you want? Make a clear mental picture for yourself.”
What do I want? India wondered. Right now I just want this all over with … this is insane … okay … focus … focus. What? What? Think…
As she and the kids formed a crocodile line chanting “YES! YES!” in unison through the halls of the hotel, India felt strangely disconnected. It bothered her that she wasn’t able to join in the exercises wholeheartedly; that she was holding something back.
“See ya, Miss Butler,” shouted one of the students.
“Bye, miss,” yelled another.
Maneuvering her way through the groups of kids who were slamming locker doors, India checked her watch. The traffic on the way home would be heavy, but she would still have time to get ready for the next day. Her flight to Los Angeles left at 11 a.m. It was the TV interview on the Morning Show with the head teacher, Dr. White that had finally pushed her over the edge. This was shortly after the fire-walk, when all the positive reviews from the press had started rolling in, and the hospital had received a huge donation from a wealthy businessman.