Smile Number Seven

by Melissa Price

  Clay held her tighter. “Are you okay?”

  “No. I have to go.” She pulled away. “I’ll call you to get my things.”

  He extended his arm to prevent her from reaching for her gear. “Don’t you even want to hear her acceptance speech? Come on, you were with her through all of the rest of it.”

  Julia exhaled hard. She shot Clay a sidelong glance and plopped back down on the stool. “Sure. What’s a little extra heartbreak on the second worst day of my life?”

  “What day was worse than this?”

  “The day my mother left.”

  “Your mother left you and your sister?”

  “Shh!”

  * * *

  As Rina walked toward the stage, every other A-lister stood to congratulate her.

  “Wow,” said Clay. “Reese Collingworth just breached his tribe to congratulate her.”

  “Ha! Look at that phony Britney Cavell smiling,” Julia said with disdain.

  Once on stage, Rina returned the kiss on the cheek of the presenter, last year’s Best Actor. She accepted the little gold man he handed to her and stared at it. Her halter gown with the V neckline flaunted the sensuous cleavage that made Julia weak, all of it framed by dark chestnut waves that fell to just below her shoulders. Her bright green eyes sparkled in the camera’s lens.

  “Hold on,” said Clay. “That’s not Award Ceremony Smile Number Two. Or Number Four for that matter. In fact, I’ve never seen that smile.”

  Julia sighed. “She calls it ‘I Love You Smile Number Seven.’ It’s the one she gives only to me.”

  “Sheesh! You have your own Verralta smile?”

  “Well, I did until now, I guess.”

  Katarina Verralta smiled and surveyed the audience before speaking. “When this indie film came my way, the thing I found most striking was the authenticity of the script—so brilliantly written by Swan. Thank you for Dolly, Swan, and heartfelt appreciation to everyone who worked so hard to make this picture come to life, right down to the caterers who indulged my finicky ways.”

  The audience chuckled.

  “The more I delved into the character of Dolly, the more I realized she had some very important lessons to teach me. So being Dolly didn’t exactly end when we wrapped. She’s still teaching me to take risks—to follow my heart to my own ultimate do-over. So here goes.” Rina stared directly into the camera. “I’m dedicating this Oscar to my partner, my lover, Julia. If you’re out there watching, our time has come. Will you marry me?”

  The cameras cut away to the faces of Hollywood’s shiniest audience. Jaws dropped on their hinges—a few gasps made it past the producers, all the way out—live—around the globe.

  Rina eclipsed the reactions, using her microphone. “My deepest gratitude to the Academy and to the other nominees whom I greatly admire and whose performances continually inspire me. I’m praying that this award isn’t the only prize I win tonight. Thank you and good night.”

  The orchestra punched into the end-of-speech refrain and the presenter held out his arm to escort Rina off the stage.

  * * *

  Julia and Clay stared into each other’s eyes, slack-jawed. Julia heard the cacophony rising in the bar—the screeches from a packed house at a gay video bar. Outbursts came from every corner of both rooms and escalated to a din. The reactions played like voiceovers:

  “Whoot whoot!”

  “Did you hear that!”

  “Get it, girl!”

  Not only would Hollywood be all over this, but West Hollywood was already making itself heard.

  “You heard that right, kids!” the bartender blurted over the PA. “Katarina Verralta just came out!”

  “Oh. My. God!” Clay reached for Julia and hugged her. “I can’t believe she did it! She came through for you.”

  Julia hoisted her gear off of the chair and turned to him. “Let’s go!”

  He ran after her. “Where are we going?”

  She grabbed his hand and ran toward her bike. “All that’s left is Best Picture!” She unlocked the second helmet and handed it to him. “Put this on!” She hastily secured the saddlebag, climbed onto the bike, and started it. “Hold on tight. Tighter!”

  Julia flew through the back streets and up to Fountain Avenue. She broke every law—speeding and running red lights as she zigged and zagged between the cars.

  “Julia! You’re going to get us killed!”

  Julia accelerated and raced toward the theater, bumping them onto the sidewalk to bypass the gridlock. She turned onto La Brea and headed north, passing Sunset Boulevard. The next block would be tricky as it was barricaded at Hollywood Boulevard for the Dolby Theater. If she had any chance of reaching Rina, she would have to come from behind all the madness. She cruised down Hawthorn, the residential street along the back of the Roosevelt Hotel, in an attempt to get as close as she could.

  “I’ll call the limo driver,” said Clay. “We can meet up with him—there’s still time to get into the queue.”

  “No time! You’re either in or you’re out!”

  “I’m in! I’m in!”

  Julia navigated around the unattended ROAD CLOSED barrier on Orange Drive and passed the Hollywood High School track.

  “You’re not going to be able to get this bike anywhere near Hollywood Boulevard!” said Clay.

  “Yeah? Watch me!” Julia blew past a cop manning the barrier on Highland Avenue. If she remembered it accurately, she wasn’t far from the theater exit. She passed the spot where earlier she had doubled over from stomach pain—before she’d said goodbye to Rina.

  The barricade at the next corner was easy to get around. She was so close now. Julia revved the engine and took off toward the orange and white sawhorses that read “STREET CLOSED.”

  A cop on horseback intercepted them and blasted her whistle. “Stop right there!” the policewoman yelled.

  Julia halted, turned off the engine, and engaged the kickstand. She raised her hands in surrender. “Will you bail me out?” she whispered to Clay.

  “Get off the bike! Both of you!” the cop said from sixteen-hands high.

  Clay’s phone rang. “Not now, Gigi, I’ll call you back.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the cop scolded.

  Julia removed her helmet, mustered her most pathetic expression, and read the cop’s name off her uniform. “Officer Morrison,” she said sheepishly. “Um…d-do you believe in true love?”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Officer Morrison glared at Julia. “What does true love have to do with you breaking the law?”

  Julia put her hands on her hips. “I thought cops were supposed to help people.”

  Morrison rolled her eyes. “Do I need to give you a breathalyzer?”

  “No, ma’am.” And then Julia blurted it all out in one ridiculously long sentence. “My lover just proposed to me in front of the whole world from the Oscar stage and what makes it awful is that I broke up with her right before she did it because I love her so much and I have to get to her before she thinks I’m gone and…”

  The cop raised her hand as though halting traffic at the Oscars. “The event is over.”

  “Please, Officer, you have to help me,” Julia pleaded. “Can you use your radio to find out from the door if she’s still there?”

  Morrison unclipped her radio mic from her shoulder and groaned. “Who am I asking for?”

  Clay stepped forward and held out his business card. “Here, Officer.”

  Morrison skeptically took it. “Katarina Verralta?” She stared down at Julia. “You’re the one? The whole force is talking about this!” Morrison pressed the button and spoke into the radio. “Brady, this is Morrison. Do you copy?”

  A man’s voice answered. “I read you, Katy. Over.”

  “You still at the talent exit? Over.”

  “Affirmative. Why? Over.”

  “Has Katarina Verralta left the building?” While Morrison stared into Julia’s eyes, she continued to pres
s the Talk button and then let it go when she realized it.

  “Hey, Morrison, you know how these little black boxes work, right? Gotta take your finger off the button if you want to hear me.”

  “Cute, Brady. Katarina Verralta? Is she there or not? Over.”

  “Affirmative. We just provided an escort to get her into her limo. The press and fans were all over her. We might need to escort her limo to get her out of here! Over.”

  “Do you have a description of the vehicle? Over.”

  “Why? Over.”

  “I have the woman she proposed to here with me. Over.”

  “It’s exactly like the other fifty black Escalade limos I’m staring at right now. Over.”

  “Copy. Out,” said Morrison, staring down at Julia. “Sorry, but you heard the man.”

  Julia stared down the street, her heart pounding. “Officer Morrison, I need your horse.”

  “Okay now. Have a good night,” said Morrison as she turned the horse away to leave.

  “Please, please, please! I’ll groom your horse for a month!”

  “Are you crazy? I can’t just give you my horse! Do you even know how to ride?”

  “There’s no way in hell I’m going to find her without your horse! I’m an expert rider. Really!”

  Clay stood beside her nodding. “She’s not joking, officer. She has a ranch in the desert and everything.”

  “Every second counts,” Julia blurted out. “What’s your horse’s name?”

  “Trigger.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, I’m a big Roy Rogers fan.”

  Julia kissed Trigger’s nose and spoke to him calmly. “I’m an excellent rider, Trigger, but I need your help. I can’t do this without you.” She glanced up at Morrison. “Keep my bike for collateral. Keep Clay for collateral!”

  “Hey!” Clay protested.

  “The bike is badass—like having thirty Triggers between your legs. Come on, Morrison—what do you say? For true love?”

  She grunted. “Okay, okay, but I could get fired for this—and if you take off with my horse that’s Felony Grand Theft!” Morrison dismounted. “What the hell is your name, anyway?”

  “Julia. Julia Dearling.” She swung up and into the saddle in one fluid move. “Come on, boy!” She pulled Trigger around with crowd-control command and began to weave her way between the redundant limos like the cones in a corral.

  “Rina?” Julia called out in desperation. She shouted the name at every tinted Escalade window she passed. With the traffic gridlocked, chauffeurs honked at her until she maneuvered Trigger beyond them and eventually onto the sidewalk.

  She came upon the last of the police barricades. The row of LAPD sawhorses that closed off the sidewalk were lower than the height she was accustomed to jumping with Lightning. Julia stood in her stirrups to see above the crowds. “Dammit, Rina! Where are you?”

  It was useless to think her voice could be heard amid the clarion drone of Rina’s fans still calling to her and every other star.

  Julia clicked her tongue twice. She turned Trigger around and walked the horse as far away as possible from the barriers, then turned him back around to face them. “Come on, Trigger!” she yelled as she gave the horse a firm tap with her boots. “Ha! Come on, boy!” With a short runway, Trigger sailed over the barricades, and Julia maneuvered him back into the street, weaving to search the limos she hadn’t yet seen. From the corner of her eye she saw Officer Morrison crossing Hollywood Boulevard, closing in on her, with Clay following close behind, her saddlebag slung over his shoulder and the helmets swinging from his hands. Julia scanned the limos and called out again from the bottom of her lungs. “Rina!”

  The back door to the third-farthest Escalade limo opened. The Oscar winner stepped out onto the boulevard drowning in Dior Couture, wearing diamond-studded heels never intended to touch actual ground. She clutched her Oscar statue—her eyes wide with disbelief. “Julia?”

  The cowgirl nudged the horse forward, closed the distance between them, and dismounted so hastily she almost fell. Amid the honking limos, the paparazzi ran to the scene with cameras flashing, shouting a symphony of questions.

  “Julia—what are you doing? Where did you get that horse?”

  “Did you mean it, Katarina?”

  “My speech? Yes, of course I meant it! But what good would it do if you disappear? Is…Is that a police horse?”

  Morrison finally arrived.

  “This is Officer Morrison, who was kind enough to loan me her horse, Trigger.”

  Rina stared at the cop in disbelief. “Thank you?”

  When Clay caught up, he managed to speak haltingly with labored breath. “Please don’t arrest her, Morrison.”

  “Clay?” said Rina. “What are you doing here?”

  Officer Morrison waved away the clutter of media pandemonium. “Keep it moving, people! Can we keep it moving along here? Oh. Julia Dearling, you weren’t lying.”

  “No, ma’am, I wasn’t. Lying is bad karma.” She handed Trigger’s reins to the cop. “Rina, if it wasn’t for Officer Morrison, I’d be in jail right now.”

  Rina smiled at the cop. “If you’d be kind enough to contact my office, I’d like to thank you—perhaps with less fanfare.”

  “Not necessary, Ms. Verralta. You have a pretty persuasive girlfriend here.”

  “Don’t I know it?”

  “Fiancée, Morrison,” Julia corrected her.

  Rina took a step closer to Julia and grinned. “So…that’s a yes?”

  Julia’s eyes opened wide. “Do you think I risked…” she turned to the cop, “Felony what, Morrison?”

  “Felony Grand Theft—with serious jail time since Trigger is technically police property.”

  “Yeah,” said Julia, “what she said. Do you think I risked that to say no? Hey, Morrison, where’s my bike?” Julia took the helmets and saddlebag from Clay.

  Morrison turned and pointed across the street. “Happy trails, ladies. Ride safe. Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Meet us at the suite, Clay. Come on, Rina!” She took the Best Actress’s hand and led her across the boulevard.

  Back on her horse, Morrison tried to separate them from the ant farm of paparazzi that had now surrounded Rina’s limo and doggedly pursued them.

  “But what about my Oscar?”

  Julia took the statuette, laid it gently inside the saddlebag, and hooked it to the bike. “Can you ride in that gown?”

  “You do realize this gown is couture!”

  “And you do realize this is a Harley?” Julia handed her a helmet.

  “I’m not smashing my hair with that thing.”

  “Yes, you are. Good thing your couture has a slit in the leg.” She helped Rina onto the bike, trying to ignore the onrushing press. Julia climbed into her seat, revved the engine, and rode off into the night, with Rina’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist and her head nestled against Julia’s back.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  What remained of the gaggle of press who lingered at the Roosevelt Hotel blinded the newly engaged couple with camera flashes as they raced through the lobby toward the elevator. Julia held Rina’s hand and juggled the helmets and saddlebag with her other hand. Once they were behind the closed elevator door, their eyes barely had a moment to meet before they fell into a kiss that fused them together—that reminded Julia of their very first kiss—the moment she knew she was falling in love. They stepped out into the penthouse.

  Rina laughed. “For a cowgirl, you sure know how to make an entrance.”

  “I learned from the best. And for an A-lister, you sure know how to propose.”

  “I can’t believe you stole a cop’s horse out from under her!”

  “I hope she doesn’t lose her job because of me.”

  “How did you convince her to give you…”

  “Trigger. I asked her if she believed in true love. Next thing I knew I was screaming your name on a horse who jumped those barricades like a
pro.”

  Julia pulled the Oscar statue from her saddlebag and stood it gently on the table. “That sure is pretty—but not as beautiful as you. Congratulations on your superb performance, Ms. Verralta—especially that acceptance speech.” She smiled uncontrollably.

  “And to your performance, Ms. Dearling. Maybe you should have gotten that award. That scene on the boulevard belongs in a movie.”

  “I’m sure it’s uploading to the net as we speak.”

  Rina stepped forward and stroked back Julia’s long hair.

  Julia fell deep and deeper still into Rina’s almond-shaped gaze, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. “What possessed you, Rina? I mean going from being in the closet to coming out to a billion people?”

  “You. Us! That depressing mess we argued about. As soon as you walked out that door I knew I was going to lose the battle with myself. You were right. When I was on that stage, as much as I craved this Oscar, in that moment, I wanted you more. It was right then I realized that the win meant so little if I couldn’t share it with you.”

  A flood of emotion blurred Julia’s vision. Rina wiped away her tears and smiled I Love You Smile Number Seven. “Now do you believe I love you, Julia?”

  “Say my name again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love how it sounds with your accent.”

  “Zhooliah. Now, kiss me like you mean it.”

  “I always mean it.”

  Clay barreled into the suite huffing and out of breath. He collapsed onto the sofa.

  “Why are you so out of breath?” asked Rina.

  “Are you kidding me?” He nodded at Julia. “You try to keep up with her when she’s trying to get to you! The press is camped out in the lobby near the penthouse elevator, so I had to take the stairs part way.” Clay stood and crossed to them. “Oh my god, Rina! Julia!”

  Julia laughed and hugged him. “If it wasn’t for Clay, I might never have stolen that horse because I wouldn’t have heard your acceptance speech.”

  Rina went to the bar, planted the champagne bottle in the center, and waited for Clay to pop the cork. She placed three glasses next to it. “Now this is a story I can’t wait to hear.” She poured the bubbly and handed them each a flute.