“But—”
“Hush, it looks like she’s just about to cut the cake.” He gives me a look of mock seriousness and nods toward the raised platform at the end of the room. There sits a two-tier cake with white frosting, decorated with candied bubbles in pink and blue.
Simone, Archer, and Stuart all step up to it.
“I’d like to thank all of you for coming today to help us celebrate the newest addition to the Bennett family, both old and new friends.” She seeks me out in the audience and gives a subtle wink.
“And now for the moment I know at least two of us in this family have been waiting for since I first got the news I was pregnant. It took one of us a little longer to come on board.” She gives a not-so-subtle nod toward Archer, who gives the laughing crowd a good-natured grin.
“Stuart, do you want to do the honors?” she asks, handing him the cake knife.
“Yes!” He shouts so loud it has the audience laughing again.
He makes a cringe-worthy stab at the side of the cake, creating a lopsided slice for his aunt and uncle to rescue at the last moment as he pulls it away. But everyone in the crowd is able to get a perfect glimpse of the pink cake that falls onto the plate.
“It’s a girl!”
Chapter Forty-Five
Vanessa
After the Limelight
A Product of Serafin Productions
It’s the first day of filming and I’m with the first of twenty subjects for this film. I’ve already taken photos of Kaylee Charleston, giving her the kind of depth and gravitas she’s somewhat earned. The court of public opinion can often be ten times worse than the real thing.
She also learned the hard way that a fifty-thousand dollar payday, if not used wisely, doesn’t go far. This is especially true in New York City, a place where too many people may recognize you for all the wrong reasons. She now lives back in California with her parents as she figures out what to do with her life, now that fame and that unearned (at least in my opinion) money is long gone.
With the video camera rolling behind me, focused on her, I begin.
“So, Kaylee. I really just want to hear your story of what it was like. The positives, the regrets, anything you want to say about it.”
Kaylee nibbles her bottom lip as she stares at me, considering her words.
“It was like that song, “I’m So Much Cooler Online”? I heard it once, I don’t know who sings it.”
“Brad Paisley, I think.”
Kaylee just nods. “Well, it is an old song, but it fits. I mean, I was popular. Like really popular in high school and in college.”
Like any good journalist, I keep my expression perfectly neutral. Even inside, I’m only barely rolling my eyes. This is her story to be told in her way, after all. The varying points of view for this project are necessary. Though I doubt I’ll be lacking for any prima donnas.
“When you’re online though, it’s like…stratospheric. The attention was like a drug. I felt like every girl in the world adored me. The boys, well,” she wrinkles her nose a bit. “They were kind of weird and gross sometimes, but even that was a thrill.”
“Tell me about the journey. What made you get started, when did you finally feel like you were…popular, I suppose.”
“Well, in the beginning, it was just me posting photos with my friends—so-called friends, anyway.” She takes a moment to frown. “That’s another thing. I think this experience, like, helped me grow a lot. When, well, all that stuff happened, they were history. At first, I was mad, but, like…I got it. All that fame and attention made me think that I was doing them a favor, basically being my gofers or whatever. I don’t blame them. I’m in a much better place now.”
“That’s good to hear,” I say with a diplomatic smile. Really, I’m glad she is. The world needs less posturing and more introspection.
“Once again, I’m sorry about what happened.” She gives me a sheepish look.
“And once again, I accept your apology. But this is about you, so…let’s talk about Kaylee Charleston.”
She sits up straighter as though bracing herself before speaking.
“Like I said, the fame, it gets to you. Once upon a time, I would have been thrilled to have a hundred likes. By the end, that seemed like a failure. So when I saw the video, I just….”
* * *
Ginny Lawson is curled up in a comfortable chair wearing an oversized t-shirt and leggings. It’s been over a year since the infamous Sexton Spring Fling—as it turns out, the final one—and she’s an entirely different woman now. Her hair is a cute pixie cut and her face seems to have lost that youthful softness that made her so ambiguously appealing age-wise as Go-Girl.
“It was harrowing. I mean, even as the star of Can Do Town, I got my share of shit thrown at me. Is it okay to curse?”
I smile and nod my head. “I want you completely uncensored.”
She raises her brow. “Careful what you wish for. I have some things to say.”
“So, say them.”
A smile curls one side of her mouth. “I guess, mostly I want to say that even celebrities aren’t above feeling the sting of public stigma. As an actress, I’m good at hiding it, but underneath it ate me up right to my core.”
“The things said about me online, even in person to my face.” Her smile fades and she shakes her head, looking off to the side with a frown. “The sad part is, it was mostly from other women. Slut. Skank. Whore. The usual. Then, one day, I was torturing myself, taking another peek at the comments. Nasty-ass ho.” She laughs. “That’s what someone called me. I mean, really, at that point I just had to laugh. Of course, most of the men were much worse in their own way. Them, I’d just like to say, the next time they think about writing that shit, think about how they’d feel if that was written about their daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter.
“In retrospect, I realize how shortsighted that whole Sexton Spring Fling thing was. A part of me will never regret it, I just regret that it affected other people. That’s the part you don’t realize until after the fact, at least not when you’re a dumb twenty-one year old. You, Dylan, Pete, even the people with Can Do Town.”
“And now? What is your life like these days?”
She smiles softly. “It’s good. Getting there, at least. I’ve cut all ties with my mother, which is…bittersweet, especially with all the legal issues she’s still involved with. I’ve been approached by a few people for some small projects, but I think I want to take my time with it. Frankly, I need a break from the limelight!”
She laughs…
* * *
“I’m not your girlfriend today, I’m the interviewer.”
“Got it,” Dylan says, but I see that glint of humor in his eyes that’s dying to throw out some smart-assed comment. Still, this is my pet project, the one that he’s helped bring to fruition and he knows better than anyone not to screw with that.
“So, I just want you to tell me what your life was like being famous. The good, the bad, the ugly…the pretty.” I give him a mildly warning look at the last one, but the subtle smirk on his lips tells me even he notes the subtle one mirrored on mine.
“For me, it’s been mostly good. But it helps not only being a man—we seem to get away with a lot more—but also being me. Most of the scandal or bad press or negative reaction I’ve been met with has been brought about by my taking a risk.”
“What kind of risks? Can you give an example?”
“Well, I just recently got back from a trip to Portland, Oregon, where I took probably one of the riskiest chances in my adult life.”
“Really?” I ask, my eyes fluttering in surprise. I fall completely out of professional character as I continue. “What were you doing in Portland?”
“Well, I’m working on a new project, one I’m really excited about, and I needed the backing of two people, who were both happy to provide it.”
“What project is this?” I ask. I know he likes to surprise me, but I had absolutely no c
lue he was working on something new. Serafin Productions—named in honor of his mother—just got started, and that took so much time and money and effort, especially with how fast everything happened.
“The one where I get married.”
I stupidly wrinkle my brow in confusion until I see him sink from the chair across from me down to the floor on one knee.
“Of course, I’ll need a partner for that, and I’m hoping it’s you, Vanessa Paige.” He pulls a velvet box out of his pants pocket, and again, I’m struck dumb. Then he opens it to reveal a perfect emerald-cut diamond ring of a carat size my mind refuses to wrap it’s head around.
“Are you…is this?”
“Yes, Vanessa, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”
“Yes,” I whisper without even thinking. I realize that this is being recorded, which I’m sure was the point of him doing it here.
“Yes!” I say louder this time.
“Whew,” he says with a grin.
I’m stunned when a round of applause and cheers sounds from doors that suddenly open to reveal friends and family. Mom and Dad. Shayla, Jim, and their newborn Christopher. Simone, Archer, Stuart, and little Poppy. Georges and Coco. And more. The crew that has been working with me on this project also fills the studio, and the whole thing turns into an impromptu party.
I laugh as he puts the ring on my finger. Good grief, but it’s gorgeous.
Dylan stands up and brings me in for a deep kiss, making everyone cheer all over again.
Everyone gives us a moment, happily indulging in the champagne that’s appeared out of the blue. I press harder into him and look up at him with a smile that almost hurts, but I can’t seem to make fade.
“I can’t believe you had this whole thing planned like that.”
“Oh come on, you didn’t honestly think I’d limit it to being that sappy and traditional without an audience, did you?”
“Frankly, I was worried there for a second.”
“So, you admit you like my attention whoring?”
I roll my eyes up to the side and hum. “It’s definitely growing on me.”
“So, are you glad you made the leap with me?”
“I’m still falling…every day, Dylan.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Dylan Sexton Marries Photographer Vanessa Paige in Small Island Ceremony
This weekend Dylan Sexton (real name Dylan Serafin), former president of Sexton Enterprises, married photographer, Vanessa Paige, in a ceremony that took place on Isla Escapar. The Sexton Resort was closed for the weekend-long celebration.
The two met while Vanessa Paige worked as a photographer for the final Sexton Spring Fling. After a reportedly tumultuous start due to the infamous scandal involving Ginny Lawson, formerly of Can Do Town, Dylan and Vanessa became a couple, eventually starting Serafin Productions together.
Although no press was invited to the event, unnamed sources who were involved in the planning process tell us that the guest list was fewer than fifty names, limited to close friends and family of the couple. According to the same sources, the ceremony and reception were both simple yet elegant, surprising, considering the groom’s history for going over and above when it comes to throwing a party.
The bride wore a simple, white, knee-length dress and the groom in a suit and tie. The couple officially said their vows on the beach in the early evening, just before sunset.
Epilogue
“I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt! Ugh, now I feel old,” Layla says from the iPad we’re FaceTiming on.
“I’m just ready for him to arrive already,” I say, placing my hand over my midsection, which is much larger than it was seven months ago. We decided early on to find out the sex rather than either be surprised or make a big to-do about it, à la Simone Bennett.
Dylan was, of course, thrilled about a son. I’m just slightly relieved. I have a feeling a girl would have him wrapped around her thumb from day one. Which, of course, leaves open the possibility for the next one…and the next…and who knows?
“Let me see the dress!” Layla insists.
I step back so she can see the simple black, one-shoulder drape dress, matched with gold hoop earrings and my hair up in one large afro puff for the Sexton Enterprises Holiday Party. Dylan is no longer involved in the company in an official capacity. But it would be bad form for the corporation not to invite him, not to mention bad for the brand. Just as it would be in poor taste for us not to attend.
“It’s disgusting how good you look when you’re pregnant,” Layla sighs.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say with a smirk.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Dylan says, as he winks at me while trying to put his cuff link on.
I take it from him and finish the job. “Even though you know I’ll kill you if you say otherwise, I’ll also take that as a compliment.”
“At least now Mom and Dad have an excuse for us to finally fly out to New York when he’s born.”
“So, how is it going at school?” Dylan asks Layla.
“Okay so, we have the winter formal next week and hell if I’m going to lose to Rebecca Winehouse again like I did at homecoming. Josh and I have been campaigning hard. I was going to play up the whole gimp thing, but decided it was too obvious.”
“Especially since you have so many other admirable qualities to play up,” I say, turning to give her a raised eyebrow.
“You’re my sister-in-law. You have to say that.”
“So the device they implanted in Louisville is working well?”
“If you call walking like a ninety-year-old after two bottles of Jack Daniel’s a success, then I win a gold medal.”
Dylan laughs, and I bite back a smile.
At least the therapy, which was a Hail Mary, seems to be working for Layla. I’m not one of those froufrou types, but I have to believe that her positive attitude certainly helps things.
“Alright then, I’ll let you go party. I’m sure you’ll be having more fun than I am stuck here in Chicago. We’re doing the same boring house party thing you had to suffer through last year.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Dylan says.
The party last year was the first chance I had to see the Duncans in their home after meeting them just before the wedding. I can see why Dylan would find it fascinating. It was the same kind of holiday house party my parents sometimes threw, so it was nothing new for me. For him, it was like opening up a whole new reality.
“Please. A bunch of doctors standing around talking about doctor things? Ugh, kill me now,” Layla protests. “I can’t wait to finally go to college and get wasted at some frat house kegger.”
Dylan’s head snaps to the screen with a frown, and I feel him go tense underneath my hands as I finish the second cuff link. I smile to myself at how overprotective he is of her, even though he has to know what a joker she is by now.
“Okay, enough giving your older brother a heart attack,” I say as I finish and turn back to the screen. “And go easy on your parents. They only get a few more years with you before you leave the nest.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Layla says with a grin. “Have fun tonight. Bye!”
I turn off the iPad and sigh. “Shall we?”
“You sure you’re up for it?” Dylan says, eyeing my bump.
“I’ll last a good hour, then we have a built-in excuse to leave, one which will probably be legitimate.”
He grins. I know how much he loves running into Gene Peters, who always manages to suggest he come back on board as president in a roundabout way. The answer is still a firm no, but it’s nice to be asked.
“Okay, let’s go then, Mrs. Sexton.”
* * *
With Gene & Co. at the helm, the Sexton Enterprises Holiday Party is a more sedate, but far more glamorous affair than the former Sexton Spring Fling was. The guest list is still A-list, and the red carpet leading up to the event is lined with press, hoping to get a few pictures or, better y
et, a few words.
“Dylan! Dylan!”
I lead him to the cameras since I know he still lives for this sort of thing. After posing for a few shots, the questions start.
“Rumors are that the film recently announced by Serafin Productions, Angel Boy, will be a biopic based on your own life. Care to give more information on that?”
“You’ll have to wait just like everyone else for the film to come out and see for yourself.”
They take that as neutrally as possible, then I’m surprised when one woman turns to me.
“Vanessa, you were a Pulitzer Prize finalist this year for your photo series on mental health and social media. How does it feel to achieve such an honor so early on in your career?”
I smile with pleasure at the acknowledgment. “Well, like you said, it’s a huge honor and I couldn’t be more thrilled.”
This short interaction has earned me my own share of photos, and I smile for the cameras. This is something I’m rapidly getting used to and, like tonight, I realize it isn’t always so terrible.
“And next year, she’ll definitely win the prize,” Dylan says, proudly wrapping his arm around me, making my smile even broader.
They move on to the next celebrity making an appearance, and we continue into the party.
“In case I haven’t told you, I’m damn proud of you, Vanessa.”
I slip my arm around his waist and look up at him. “I think that would be the nine hundred and fifth time you’ve said it, but keep it up. You may just get lucky tonight.”
“Oh yeah? In that case, let’s make it nine hundred and six. I’m damn proud of you.”
I laugh as we take the steps into the event.
As VIP guests, Dylan and I get our hands on as many invites as we want, and I’m glad to see a few familiar faces.
Dylan: Ex-Bad Boy: An Ex-Club Romance Page 22