“So, is that all you called to talk about?” I asked my dad. I was anxious to be off the phone with him. I needed to find Cindy.
“Are you in love with the other girl? Cindy?” he asked.
I blinked. “Does it matter?” I asked. “Everyone keeps telling me that I need to stay away from her.”
“It matters to me. I’m sure it matters to you. The truth matters too,” he said, surprising me. “In the short-term this might be hard for you. I’m sure it’s very hard for her. But eventually all of this will blow over.”
“You think I should pursue her?” That was the opposite of what he’d said earlier.
“Not right now,” he clarified. “Right now, you need to do some cleanup. Protect yourself. Focus on your career. Focus on the awards ceremony tonight. Be the smartest, remember? But afterward? You should find her. Marry her if you want to.”
I felt my mouth fall open in surprise. Marry her? That wasn’t a bad idea at all…
I needed to find Cindy. My dad’s advice was probably the best I’d received so far. It was great advice. But I wasn’t going to follow it. I was going to have a cup of coffee, take a shower, shave my face, and then find her.
44
Tommy
I found her. It wasn’t that hard. I knew where she worked. I figured out that she must be moving her van at night, but that was hardly an insurmountable problem. I might not be a crack private investigator, but I was not a total idiot, either.
All I had to do was show up during business hours and ask for the wardrobe department. I could have done it a week ago. I should have.
Elaine would have a cow if she knew I was here right now, but it was pointless now to avoid Cindy. The votes were cast anyway. The show was tonight and someone—probably me—was going to win Best Actor. Still, I guess Cindy hadn’t thought that I would track her down at work. Given the look on her face when I showed up, she definitely hadn’t thought it likely. Maybe she thought I didn’t care.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped. Her hazel eyes were huge.
“I missed you,” I said. It was the honest answer, but not the one I’d meant to lead with. It just slipped out. I’d missed her.
She looked tired, and thinner than the last time I’d seen her only two weeks ago. Her hair was braided austerely off her face. She was wearing all black. She probably wasn’t sleeping enough or eating right. I couldn’t imagine living in a van was conducive to healthy living. I wanted desperately to fix it. But even sad, and tired, she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Just seeing her made me feel better.
“I missed you too,” she admitted in a small, tremulous voice. “But you really shouldn’t have come. We don’t know who’s watching.”
Since Cindy called me, I’d been wrestling with how I should handle this conversation. I still wasn’t sure how to tell her what I needed to tell her. But I was going to try. I shut the door behind me, sealing us both in the tiny sewing room. A few tense, slow seconds slipped by as we stared at each other. I was the one to eventually break it.
“Cindy,” I told her. “I think you should come home with me. We can figure this out. I saw the latest episode of your family’s show. It was laughably bad. Look, we’re better than this. We’ll go to the Oscars together. Or not. We could just get on a plane and go--”
Her expression looked sad and pensive. “You know that’s a bad idea. Elaine—”
“Elaine can go to hell!” I snapped. “Cindy, this is crazy. I know that you know it too. Obviously, your sister is not pregnant with my baby. This is just ridiculous now. Obviously, we’re meant to be together. Why are we still fighting this?”
She stood up from her sewing table and marched over to me. Her color was high, and her eyes were bright. I didn’t know if she was going to slap me or kiss me. She did neither.
“Tommy,” she told me. “I won’t be the one who causes you not to win a damn Oscar. I refuse to ruin your life. You need to leave.”
If I couldn’t convince her with words, then actions would have to do. I kissed her. I grabbed her by the waist, pulled her closer to me, and kissed her. She wasn’t expecting it, but she didn’t resist it either. We shared a breath together.
Just for a moment, I felt whole again. She kissed me back, melting in my arms and letting me hold her, touch her. She was so soft and warm. When I held her like this, I could forget about everything else.
She breathed against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and sighing. My heart pounded and my breath caught in my chest. This was good. Right. Easy. Whatever else we’d been doing over the past week and a half was clearly a mistake.
I pinned her against the door, touching her eagerly despite the risk of discovery. Her grip on me felt just as desperate, and just as rough as mine. I wanted to have her here, now, even though I knew she was on the clock. Maybe we could at least go out to the van…
“You’ve got to go,” Cindy told me, pulling out of my embrace and panting. “You know you have to.”
“I’m not leaving,” I told her, sitting down in the room’s tiny chair. That kiss had taken more out of me than I thought a single kiss ever could. I was panting. “Not until you listen to me.”
I knew she felt the same way about me as I did about her. I was sure she did. I hadn’t been one hundred percent sure before. I was worried the time had dimmed her feelings. But after that kiss, I was convinced.
She just shook her head at me. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything’s changed,” I told her. “I figured out that I want you more than I want anything else. I’m sorry it took so long but—”
She shook her head again. “No.” She was crying now, and it hurt me. “Don’t say that.”
“Why?” I didn’t understand why she was still so sad. This was good news! “You don’t understand, I’m going to fire Elaine. Maybe I won’t even go to the damn Oscars—”
Perhaps I would have been better served to have a more fully baked plan.
Her eyes were huge and horrified. “No.” Tears crawled down her face and I was helpless to stop them. “I don’t want that.” She took a deep breath. “Tommy, I’ll never be able to live with myself if you let me sabotage this for you.”
“You aren’t.”
“Yes, I am.” She looked like she felt ill. I hated seeing the dark circles under her eyes. I hated that she was spending forty-hour weeks in this tiny room sewing. There weren’t even any windows in here. “I want you to leave.”
I blinked at her in disbelief. “You don’t mean that.” She loved me back. I believed it.
“I mean it,” she told me. “I want you to leave, right now. And don’t come back.”
I stared at her, furious and confused. Why was she resisting what we both wanted? It didn’t make any sense to me.
“You aren’t listening to me,” I argued. “I’m telling you that I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t care what the press says about me. About us.”
“Well, I do care,” she told me. She stood up straight and looked me square in the eye. “I want you to have the life you deserve.”
“I don’t want all that. I just want you.”
She frowned. “Please go, Tommy. Go now. Don’t make this any harder.” She wasn’t looking at me now. Instead, she was staring at the ground despondently.
I couldn’t for the life of me understand what was motivating her to continue to reject me. “We could run away.”
“I could, but you shouldn’t,” she told me. “Go win your Oscar. Go live your amazing, exciting life. But don’t make me beg you to do it. It’s not fair.” Her expression was deathly calm. “You’re much better off without me.”
I was nothing without her. But it was obvious that I wasn’t getting through to her. She’d internalized all the shit people were saying about her online. It was the same exact shit that her family had been telling her for years. That she wasn’t deserving. That she wasn’t good
enough. And now she believed it.
“I’m not giving up,” I told her, standing up and walking to the door. I didn’t want to leave, but there was no more I could do here. “You can if you want to, but I’m not giving up.”
“Nothing is going to change,” she told me. “Marigold will use you. She’ll use me to hurt you. There’s nothing either of us can do to change that.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I wish I were.” She wiped away her tears. “Just go, Tommy. Aren’t the Oscars tonight?” She looked at her watch. “You’re going to be late.”
I didn’t want to go. But maybe, if I did, I could finally convince her. An idea started to form in my brain.
“Come with me,” I asked her. “To the Oscars. It’s not too late to find you a dress.”
She laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
My heart hurt. The look on her face finally convinced me.
“Okay, Cindy,” I told her. “I’ll go.”
She nodded. “Good.”
“Will you watch tonight?” I asked. I still had hope. Not a lot, but some. Maybe there was still a way that I could make this work…
Her expression was heartbreaking. “Of course.” She smiled. “Good luck, Tommy.”
45
Cindy
Two weeks of Cheerios and a surprise visit from Tommy made me feel shaky and weak. He couldn’t be serious. Go to the Oscars with him? Run away with him? What was I, Cinderella? My life was not a fairy tale.
When he left, I went to the bathroom and had myself a good long cry. I was good at crying these days. I’d developed a bizarre skill for it. I could now go, cry for twenty minutes, wash my face, and then carry on with the day like nothing ever happened. Easy. Pathetic.
When I left the bathroom, Lena was waiting for me in my “office.” It was really more of a glorified closet, but whatever.
“Was that Tommy Prince?” she asked. She’d brought me a coffee. I accepted it gratefully. I’d never been much of a coffee drinker before but working in the theater the last few weeks had changed all that. Now I lived off lattes and Cheerios.
I shrugged at the question. Lena and the whole rest of the crew had seen Meg Butler and the reality TV crew camped outside the theater in the evenings. She was pretty smart. I knew she could put two and two together. Besides, he was one of the world’s most recognizable faces. Of course, it was him.
“He didn’t even say hi,” she pouted. “We’ve worked together, you know. On two films. Rude.”
“Oh?” My voice was high. Talking to anyone about Tommy wasn’t really possible for me right now. “I’m sure he was just in a hurry.”
Lena didn’t seem to notice. She laughed. “He’s talented, that one. A bit too serious though. I hear he’s going to win an Oscar tonight. Everyone thinks he’s a better actor than Derek. Although I prefer working with Derek. He’s more fun.”
Derek could sing and dance, but he hardly seemed more fun and Tommy wasn’t too serious. Tommy was plenty of fun. He jumped out of airplanes. He played paintball. He kissed like he could make me internally combust… Lena must not really know him at all.
“Well anyway,” Lena was continuing, “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but today is going to be your last day.” She pointed at the dwindling pile of alterations. “I’m just out of work for you to do.”
Shit. I thought I’d have a few more days. I didn’t have enough money to leave yet. I needed at least two or three grand to uproot my life and make for the Midwest. Besides, I didn’t even know where I was going yet. I didn’t want to return to Altoona. Too many ghosts.
“Oh. Okay.”
I was reduced to monosyllable answers now. I didn’t know what else to say. This was not what I wanted, but I knew it was inevitable.
“You’re welcome to stay here for a few days,” Lena said. “But I’ve got a couple of other productions that I know are looking for someone with your talents.” She handed me a slip of paper. “If you’re interested, just let me know and I’ll make a call.”
I swallowed hard against the news. This wasn’t part of the plan. But it wasn’t a disaster. I could do this for a bit longer on another production. I could survive this a bit longer.
“Don’t worry,” Lena told me. “You’ll be the next Edith Head in no time. You just have to pay your dues first.”
I nodded at her. “Thank you for all your help.”
I didn’t want to be the next Edith Head. I didn’t know what it was that I wanted. Except Tommy. But I couldn’t have him.
“Don’t mention it.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. I worked, finishing up the things I needed to do on autopilot. People dropped by to say goodbye to me. They were all continuing on with the production. It was just me that was leaving. Everyone had nice things to say to me. I tried to be polite back.
But my heart wasn’t in it. My mind wasn’t in it, either. Nothing made sense. I felt confused, like I was walking through spiderwebs and shadows. By the time the day ended, even three cups of coffee hadn’t given me any clarity. It did make me jittery though.
The van was starting to feel like home. I’d put up a string of battery-operated lights. I’d scavenged a bean bag chair from a rummage sale. I bought a minifridge. I’d improved on my little nest, turning it more into a bed. It really wasn’t so bad. At least I had doors now. I had privacy too, which was a first. It got a bit too quiet sometimes, but it was better than being yelled at.
I settled in for another long night in the van. I was back behind the theater tonight, since Meg Butler seemed to have given up on getting me to talk—at least, for now. My laptop would provide me all the entertainment I needed, and more. The Oscars were on tonight, and I’d promised I would watch it. I worked up my courage and turned it on.
The red-carpet coverage started early. I put on my pajamas, cracked open a fresh box of cereal, and watched the parade of handsome men and beautiful women smiling and answering questions about their beautiful clothes.
I did not belong there. I’m not sure what Tommy had been thinking when he asked me to go with him. It was obvious to me that I would never, ever belong in that glittering world. I’d thought I could once. I’d put on a stolen evening gown, pearl earrings, and some waterproof mascara and almost fooled the world. But it was just a dream.
As I watched Scarlet Johansson kill it in a slinky pink ball gown, it wasn’t hard to see why I didn’t belong. She was so confident. So effortlessly beautiful. And she had nothing to hide from. That must be nice.
The Prince family was in fine form tonight. They were all there. Even Connor Prince, the enigmatic uncle that inspired Tommy to go into acting in the first place. He was next to none other than Isabelle Schmidt, the pregnant puppeteer that gave me the ticket to the charity ball where I met Tommy. They were an item? My mouth dropped open.
It was definitely her. She was wearing a long, dark green, beaded maternity gown. She was smiling broadly and waddling down the red carpet like she didn’t give a fuck that she was about to give birth then and there. Connor Prince hovered over her protectively, looking vaguely put out to have so many cameras shoved in his face. He must be out of practice. The other Prince family members seemed totally at ease.
Holden Prince was there with a tall, brown-haired model. They made a handsome, smiling couple. He was a director, I recalled. A very famous one, too, although rumor had it that he was difficult to work with. He seemed like he was in a good mood tonight. His eyes were the same color as Tommy’s.
Derek Prince was attending solo. He was the type of guy that was charismatic enough on his own. He kept cracking jokes on the red carpet, laughing and seemingly as comfortable as I was sitting on my bean bag chair with my Cheerios. I envied him.
“How are you feeling?” One of the correspondents asked him.
Derek shook his head and stared around himself as if in wonder. “Like I’m about to wake up.”
“Is that a good thing?”
He laughed. “Depends on whether I win or not, right?”
“Is it strange to be up for an award the same year as your brother? That’s an Academy first, unless I’m mistaken.”
She was mistaken. Thankfully, Derek corrected her.
“Actually, the Coen brothers beat us to it four separate times. Although I’d argue they cheated with the whole cowriting thing.”
My trivia brain kicked in to add a few others. That wasn’t the only example of two siblings winning the same year. The Sherman brothers had done it twice in 1964 for their work on Mary Poppins, winning both Best Song and Best Score. The Epstein brothers shared an Oscar in 1944 for Casablanca. And then there were plenty of actor siblings who won awards in different years, including the Barrymore siblings, Shirley McLain and Warren Beatty, and Ben and Casey Affleck. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the useless knowledge. I needed to focus.
Peter Prince showed up next. Tommy told me that his wife, Lucia, had once masqueraded as a Swedish princess. She was incredibly tall and svelte, and I had no trouble believing it. She looked a bit like Grace Kelly, and her long, crimson red evening gown and matching opera length gloves suited her glamorous, old Hollywood look. She even had Veronica Lake finger waves in her hair. The gigantic diamond earrings didn’t hurt either.
Tommy Prince was the last of the dynasty to arrive. He was alone. And he didn’t speak to the press much. Just a few questions answered here and there.
My heart leapt when I saw him. God, he was hot. Even though I knew he wasn’t mine, I could still admire him. The tux he was wearing was flawless. He didn’t need a pretty model on his arm to make him look complete. He’d only outshine her. He definitely didn’t need me holding him back. There was no way I’d look anything but lost up there.
Meg Butler was not at the Oscars. They didn’t invite the trashy tabloid folks for obvious reasons. But even though she wasn’t there, her influence could still be felt.
“Tell us, Tommy,” Ryan Seacrest asked when he stopped by for his meet-and-greet, “what do you make of all this reality TV drama that’s been going on with you lately? Is any of it true?”
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