A story based on Can Yamans Turkish dizi.
Ozgur Atasoy.
Rich, handsome, Club/bar owner and DJ lives in an exclusive rooftop penthouse in Istanbul.
He's a Player.
A lover of beautiful things and he can't resist one night stands with beautiful women...
I'm staring at Ozgur, who's staring at Ezgi, and I'm wondering what he's going to say to me, to get himself out of this predicament. The evidence is right there... Traces of gold leaf and glitter, from the Strawberries, on her neck and his lips, and unless Ezgi is a closet contortionist, she didn't put it there herself. The tiny particles catch the light when she moves. I'm also pretty sure that it was done behind closed doors... In private.
There's more to this fake girlfriend thing than he's letting on. Is she pretending to be a fake girlfriend? A fake, fake girlfriend?
His fingers touch his mouth, then he chews into his lip, just as Ezgi puts her hand on his forearm.
"Ozgur, I think we should get your mum a coffee?"
He nods and she watches him call over to Emre. When her phone rings suddenly, she excuses herself and turns, walking to the end of the bar for some privacy, but her excited tone puts pay to that. She's very happy to see who is calling.
"Deniz?" She makes a small squeal.
"Is that you? It's so good to hear your voice... Where are you?...
Honestly. I'm over him now.... Soooooo, over him...
You did? Cansu.
No. You are not to do anything. I know what you're like... However, it's good to know you want to pound on him for me...
Anyway, he's already been in a fist fight....
Oh, I'll tell you all about it later...
Because I didn't want to distract you...it was my problem."
Her voice drops and she looks up shyly, very briefly, before carrying on.
"So, how was it being a lawyer in London?"
She pauses for longer to listen and Ozgur is getting jumpy watching her, tapping his fingers on the bar. His mouth twists up at the side.
"Do you think Deniz is a man or a woman?" It's a telling question.
"Errr, I don't know. Could be either, but she's obviously very happy to hear from them. Look how animated she is. What do you care anyway?"
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His eyes briefly glance to the side, in my direction and he smooths his head at the back of his neck.
"Ozgur? What's going on? Don't tell me, is she... getting to you? Is the fake feeling a bit too real? You can't stop staring at her."
At that, he turns and looks back to the tables with his mother and all her guests. "No. I'm just concerned about her, as a neighbour and friend." "Okay. That's good too, but I mean, I wouldn't blame you. She's smart, talented, cute and funny. Her hair always smells good. Have you noticed that?"
