“You’ll have your own,” she said quietly, and he put it down, reaching out for her. She gave him a tight hug, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.
“Only because of you, of what you’ve done for me.”
“I didn’t act for you,” she reminded him, and he smiled gently, his hands going to her face. She relaxed in his embrace, and he rubbed the back of her neck, causing her to let out a little sigh. She smelled of roses and lavender, as she always did, a scent that had turned his head since day one. Her skin was soft under his touch, and in that moment, he had never experienced happiness that rivalled the feeling of her in his arms.
“I want to ask you something,” he said; his face just inches from hers. Out of habit, she looked up to find his eyes, and was surprised that they were also full of emotion; un-spilled tears. “Will you be my date? For the Oscars? I’ll buy you a pretty dress, I’ll get you whatever you need… but I need you to be by my side.”
“Caius…” Her breath caught in her throat, and she looked away. “There are a million girls out there throwing themselves at you, a million girls who are skinnier and prettier than I am… I see them in the tabloids every day with you.”
“Like that matters,” he said, trying to get her to come back to him. He needed to feel her breath on his face, to be as close to her as possible. “None of them have your heart of gold, Em. And that’s all I care about.”
“You want to be with seen with the likes of me?” she asked, anger in her voice. “See, only a blind man would be willing to do that. I’m nowhere near a size 0, Caius, nor am I what anyone would consider pretty. My eyes are too close together; my hair is a colour that could only be described as boring. My breasts make a chicken look well endowed and….” she felt a lump rise in her throat, “I’ve got scars, Caius, scars that’ll show in a strapless dress. You want to know why we left England. You want to know why I never made it as a singer? Because I’m hideous to the world, made hideous by a fire that took our house. A bunch of school kids went too far with calling me names one day, and here I am, still fat, still flat and still alive to hear them every single day.”
“Emily…” he said, but she wasn’t finished.
“I won’t do that to you, Caius, even if your heart is pure, and even if you think you love me. We can’t do this. I don’t want an actor who barely knows himself, and who can never know what he’s getting himself into. I’ll finish what we started here, and I’ll see you off, and then I’m leaving, before one more perfect Barbie Princess looks like she wants to throw up when she looks at me.” He heard her turn on her heel, and storm across the room, leaving him alone to navigate the now unfamiliar territory.
*
Caius let Phil do up his cufflinks in the dressing room of set, having to go straight to the awards ceremony. Phil sighed, watching Caius as he put up one arm, and then the other, like a robot.
“I thought you were an actor, pal. Act happy,” he said, giving his client a little nudge.
“Why?” Caius replied, without emotion. His voice was slightly slurred, he habitual drinking spree of the depressed descending like a cloud after Emily had stormed out. She had left Phil with her diagrams and instructions, and then turned off her phone and headed to the airport without so much as a goodbye. “What does it matter? If I don’t win, it’s because I suck. And if I do win, it’s likely that I suck and someone has found out and given me the pity vote.”
“If there was even the slightest inkling of the story leaking, Page 6 would have done about ten issues on it by now,” Phil reminded him. “And beside, pal, it can only be good for you. All those women throwing themselves on you, hoping to help you. Hey, slow down,” he said, alarmed as Caius popped the tab on another beer can and slugged it down.
“Why the hell is this world so focused on how people look, anyways?” he asked, angrily, and Phil had to laugh.
“Funny question, coming from someone of your profession.”
“No, I’m serious. Why the hell do I care what they say is beautiful. I know what I like, what feels good, and if they don’t like it, good for them, more for fucking me!” He threw the beer can in a fit of anger, causing a crash as things fell off the table. Phil winced. Caius had always been prone to fits of frustration when things didn’t go his way, but not like this. Even if he won tonight, he likely wouldn’t be fit to make it up those steps, blind or not.
“Come on, the car’s waiting,” was all he said, giving Caius a gentle push in the right direction, and pulling out his phone at the same time. He sent a quick text to the team of assistants that were stationed carefully every step of the way. As soon as they opened the door, they would be mobbed by paparazzi, from here to the Oscar theatre, and he needed to be careful. There were assistants positioned to open the door, guide him in and out of the car, and assistants posed as paparazzi to nudge him down the red carpet. Still, it was going to be a feat. “Are you sure there isn’t any pretty bird you can call to be your date? Any girl. Hell, I’ll find you a hooker!” Phil was starting to panic that the chaos in the entrance way was going to be Caius’s down fall.
Caius turned suddenly, his sightless eyes on fire with rage.
“I will be walking down that red carpet alone, the way I’m going to be the rest of my life. And if you mention a date one more time, you’re fired.” And with that, he stormed off towards the door, leaving Phil in shock. This was going to be a disaster.
*
By the time they pulled up in front of the theatre, Caius was well on his way to drunk. He had not allowed anyone to say a word to him in the limo, and only when he felt them pulling up did he speak.
“Maybe I should just tell them,” he said, “let them all know that their talent is easy to fake. A blind man could do it!” He threw his head back and laughed, and Phil buried his head in his hands as the car came to a stop.
“Look, dude, keep it together for about three more hours and then I really don’t care if you set yourself afire. I’m done with this,” he said, reaching for the door handle, and putting a hand out to stop Caius from sliding out of the car. “Let me go out first, idiot, and make sure everything is in place. You may be self destructive, but I’m not.” He launched himself out of the car, eager to get away from his snarky client.
Immediately, flash bulbs went off in his face, but he ignored them, scanning the crowd to make sure the plants were all in place. It was only when he looked directly to his right that he jumped.
“Emily!” he exclaimed, stunned. Her hair was in long curls, cascading down her neck, her body in a slimming back dress. From her neck, drifted the smell of roses and lavender. Her only jewellery was a cheap silver necklace, tarnished with age. The charm on it, in scrolled letters, said ‘Best’.
She caught him looking at it, and her scarred hands began to fiddle with it, tears in her eyes.
“He’s my best friend. What am I supposed to do? Even if he hates me for what they say about us, maybe he’ll finally see.”
“Em,” Phil said, smiling for the first time all day, “he’s already seen, and all he sees is you.” He reached into the car, indicating for the driver to send Caius out. And then he stepped aside, letting Emily reach her hand into the limo to pull him out.
He knew the second he grabbed her hand, and he reached further up her bare arm, pulling her down.
He looked a mess, she could see it as soon as she laid eyes on him. With a gentle smile, she shook her head, reaching out to touch his face.
“Em?” he asked, doubting his sense.
“Yes,” she replied, even as the paparazzi began to shout her name.
“You came back.”
“Of course I did, stupid,” she said, reaching out to touch his chest, where the other half of the necklace lay. ‘Friends’ it said, having pressed against her during their last hug. She hadn’t realised he still had it, let alone still wore it. “I couldn’t leave you to your own devices, you’re a bull in a china shop. Look at you! Are you drunk?”
His familiar lopsided grin played across his face, as he pulled himself up and out of the car, wrapping her tight in his arms.
“I love you, Emily,” he confessed, in a rush of emotion. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and she buried her face against his chest, safe in his embrace from all the stares. He turned to where he heard the crowd, pulling down his sunglasses to keep his eyes from outing him. “Do you all hear me? This is Emily Lancaster, and I love her!”
The crowd exploded with questions and pictures, and against his chest, she shook with laughter.
“Oh Caius, you always were the dramatic one.”
“Let’s go find out if I’m the most dramatic of this whole town,” he said, taking her hand, trusting her to lead. And, with one fortifying deep breath, she did.
*
“Ha!” Emily laughed out loud the next morning, as she sat beside Caius in bed, checking the tabloid headlines. He winced, his head still sore, but grinned, rolling over to lay his head on her bare thigh. Beside them, on the night stand, the Oscar sat, gleaming.
“What is it, love?”
“I will never understand your world,” she replied, reaching one hand to scratch his scalp. The window was open, and the cool breeze flooded their naked bodies with relief, after a hot night of passion. She had never had a man love her the way he loved her. His hands had wandered over every inch of her body, wanting to know her, to kiss her, never getting enough of her. Normally, she’d hide under the sheets, the lights off, letting the man meet his needs, and then slinking off before he got a good look at her. But here, last night, in his own way, he had seen every inch of her, and she had let him, opening. And when he was done, he wanted to see her again, and again, until both of them were delirious with pleasure. “They outed you, but not in the way you’d think.”
“What?” he sat up, confused.
“Not a word about me, or about your eyesight, or even about your outburst. What they all want to talk about is how drunk off your ass you were,” she laughed, scrolling through the articles. “This is just silly. This entire industry doesn’t seem to care about what actually matters.”
“Drunk with love, baby,” he replied, kissing her gently. She stopped talking, returning the kiss with pleasure, their tongues dancing back and forth in their mouths. “Marry me, Em?” he asked, and she pulled away.
“What?”
“Marry me. Don’t act like it’s sudden, we’ve known each other since we were kids. And I’ve loved you about that long.” He fumbled for her hand, and then reached under the pillow. After a moment, he pulled out a ring box. She gasped, opening it, and then laughed. In it, was a prop ring from the first show they ever did together.
“Millions of dollars, and you give me a cracker-jack ring?” she asked, silently slipping it on.
“I thought you didn’t want dramatics?” he replied, teasing her, his heart pounding in anticipation for an answer. “I’ll give you anything that you want, babe, as long as you say yes.”
She looked at the ring on her hand, carefully, in the morning light, and then glanced at him. The sun glinted off his face, making him appear with a halo, his gold hair catching the light. He was so beautiful, and she didn’t need to glance in the mirror to know what she looked like beside him. But those weren’t the important things in life.
“Yes,” she breathed, and he yelped in happiness, throwing himself on top of her to smother her in kisses, “but let’s get one thing straight. I’m not walking you down any aisle, you’ll have to get there yourself and wait for me.”
“For you, I’ll wait a lifetime,” he replied in her ear. And then, the words were lost in ecstasy.
###
About the Author
Jasmine Bowen is an accomplished actress living in the heart of Hollywood North. She has performed across the nation on stage, and internationally on television and film, working with Donald Trump, Joe Estevez, U2 and the Black Eyed Peas. She currently hosts ‘The Cache Metals Market Overview’ on AM640, a national station by Corus Entertainment. She has always been inspired in creating characters for audiences on paper, stage and film.
Jasmine has published many short stories, and eBooks over the past few years, both online and in hard copy. She currently has a feature length novel on shelves: ‘The Children Will Inherit The Earth’, and book two of the series is due out in mid-2013.
Discover
Discover other titles by Rhetorical Ratatouille:
Hello Bitches!
Delilah
Other titles by the same author:
Love Under the Mistletoe
Passionate Pasts
Connect with Jasmine Bowen Online:
Website: www.jasminebowen.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jasminebowenactor
Twitter: twitter.com/jasminebowen
iTunes: itunes.apple.com/artist/jasmine-bowen/id545488668
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/jasminebowen
Smashwords: www.smashwords.com/profile/view/JasmineBowen2
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/6867753.Jasmine_Bowen
Rhetorical Ratatouille: www.rhetorical-ratatouille.com/jasmine-bowen-canada/
Credits
Author: Jasmine Bowen - Edited by Yvan C. Goudard
Published by Rhetorical Ratatouille
© 2013 Rhetorical Ratatouille/Jasmine Bowen - All Rights Reserved
Learn more about Rhetorical Ratatouille on http://www.rhetorical-ratatouille.com
Table of Contents
Preface
Blind Love
About The Author
Discover
Credits
Blind Love Page 2