Or a fucking broken heart.
I shudder. I hear Jason on the phone. I’m not quite sure what he’s saying, but he seems to be talking to someone.
“House cleaning will be here in five,” Jason announces and throws me a dressing gown. “You might want to cover up.”
What the fuck does he mean now? Slowly my gaze travels down my body and onto my legs.
Fuck. I’m not wearing any pants.
Just as the doorbell rings, I put on some pants.
“Drink this,” he says, and it’s a command, not a question. Jason hands me a green-looking drink.
“Are you trying to poison me?”
Jason pulls a face. “Man, you’re doing that all by yourself. I’m trying to help you.”
I shake my head. He calls this help? Fake friend.
Gingerly, my lips curl around the glass, and I take a sip.
Argh. I grimace; it’s disgusting.
“Just drink and don’t think about it.”
I do as he commands. His face leaves me little choice.
As a reward, he hands me my espresso.
Ah. That’s better.
I look at him.
“So, man, how do I fix this stuff up? I can’t believe it’s such a mess.”
Jason shakes his head.
“What are you asking me for?” He is standing in front of me, arms folded in front of his chest. “Sophie’s film just got nominated for five Oscar categories, and here you are…wallowing.”
“What?” I ask him, cocking one eyebrow at him. Oscar nominations? How long have I been on this bender? Ten fucking years? “Jesus.”
“Yeah. And you got nominated for best actor.”
“Shit,” I mutter, and even though I should feel happy about this…I don’t. Not without Sophie by my side. “Still, that doesn’t do shit for me. It doesn’t fucking help. What am I supposed to do?”
“Man, I have no idea.” Jason sighs.
“I just thought,” I mutter and go back to drinking.
“Why don’t you just go viral? It’s what you do best, isn’t it?”
Viral? I mull the words over. Now here’s an idea. Go viral.
Not a bad idea, not at all. Jason might actually be onto something.
A glimmer of hope ignites deep within me.
Time to start devising a plan.
Sophie
I twirl around my full-length mirror. I hardly recognize myself. Self-doubt creeps in.
Can I pull this off? I wrinkle my nose. Is the dress too tight, too sexy?
God, I can’t believe this is really happening. It’s crazy to think that I’ve made it to the Oscars.
Yup, that’s right—I got those nominations, and the big day has finally come. I have to admit, I’m excited. These past few weeks were hard—Todd has never left my mind—and I need the distraction.
For the occasion, I’ve purchased a full-length red dress. It’s cut very low on the back and goes all the way up to my neck on the front. My hair has been delicately up styled.
The makeup artist has done a brilliant job too. Sophisticated, sexy, and beautiful. I force a smile to my lips.
“Enjoy the night,” I tell myself and turn away from my reflection. The pain of not going to the most important event of the year with Todd is buried deep down, but I can still feel it.
On the way out, I grab a matching purse and spray my favorite perfume in the air to walk under it.
Mason whistles when he sees me. Like a true gentleman, he opens the door of the limo and helps me glide into the seat. Before I do so, he gives me a little kiss on the cheek—a great friend and true gentleman.
At the venue, our limo joins the queue of other limos, and for a few minutes we creep along before it is out turn to alight. I watch the street lined with keen onlookers.
We link arms and walk along the red carpet. I can’t believe I’m really here at the Oscar’s with my loyal film crew, hoping to win not one but maybe two or three Oscars.
“Pinch me, will you?” I whisper to Mason, who puts his arm around my waist. I’m happy he agreed to escort me—at least I won’t feel like a widow tonight.
We pose for photographs and soak in the atmosphere. All the big names are here. I feel like Cinderella at the ball.
Briefly I even manage to forget my broken heart.
Reporters are shouting questions, but I try and ignore them. Someone yells something about Todd and my affair, but I’m determined not to let anything ruin my night.
A loud cheer erupts from the onlookers, and I see a black limo pull up with one of the superstars. She’s wearing a daring nude-colored dress. Several of the men in the vicinity start to drool.
I keep walking along with Mason. The red carpet seems to stretch on forever.
This time there’s an almighty roar, and I see another limo unload another A-list superstar.
I catch a glimpse of a designer suit. The actor looks familiar, but I can’t recall his name.
The girls are shouting at him, and I think someone is throwing a pair of panties at him. On his arm hangs a half-naked, big-busted blonde. Briefly I wonder if he’s hired the girl or if they are an item.
Superstar after superstar arrives. Thankfully I still haven’t seen Todd.
All around me cameras are clicking away and flashlights are going off constantly. I hope my dress won’t feature in one of those trashy headlines of Oscar’s worst dresses for the year.
Mum chose it with me, and she’s an expert in what to wear to these occasions. In all her years by my father’s, she has never received a bad rap for her sense of dress.
Mason says something and points. I can’t understand him over the deafening roar of more cheering.
Whoever just pulled up must be a real crowd favorite. I’m swept away by the wave of excitement.
This is my night. I’m at the Oscars, and my film has been nominated for no less than five categories. Alice, Eric, Mason, and I watched the announcements on TV, and it was a fantastic night.
When Dad heard the news, he was thrilled. He told me to just enjoy the night and not get too upset if the film didn’t get the awards it had been nominated for.
I touch my clapperboard pendant. As usual, I have it around my neck. It’s my pride and joy…and my connection to Dad.
Finally we’re at the entrance to the Oscars. Just inside is a life-size statue of the smaller version we all vie for. My heart beats a little faster. I smile at Mason.
Alice rushes toward us.
“Can you believe it?” she squeals and grabs my hands. “You look amazing, Sophie.”
“Thanks, Alice.” I give her a brief hug. “You look just gorgeous. That dress is you.”
Alice spins three hundred and sixty degrees. She is in a long black V-neck tight-fitting dress. Around her neck is a gold necklace with a glass sand-art heart pendant, her eighteenth birthday present from my family.
She’s also wearing the matching earrings. They complement the outfit perfectly.
“I’ll show you where we are sitting.” She leads the way. We walk past little groups of huddled people. The hubbub is amazing.
As usual the night starts with a quirky, interesting, funny, and slightly controversial opening.
I laugh loud at the jokes and the digs. I’m carried away in the moment. All too soon, the emcee starts introducing actors to read out nominations and winners.
I clap enthusiastically for the winners, and I feel for those who lose.
And then the big moment arrives.
Best male actor. The nominations are announced. Todd is one of them. I resist the urge to crane my neck and find him in the larger crowded room.
As each name is read out, there’s a little film clip of various scenes of their film on the oversized screen. My heart beats a little faster as I’m taken back to filming times…to happier times.
As the emcee opens the envelope, every muscle in my body tenses. I’m on the edge of my seat. For Todd’s sake, I hope he wins.
; “Please let him win,” I mutter over and over and squeeze both thumbs tightly.
A hush falls over the crowd as the emcee reads first to himself before announcing the winner to the crowd.
“And the winner is Todd Alexander.”
The audience erupts with applause. I join in.
I can’t help but be happy for him.
Todd
I sit in my chair and try and ignore the feeling of insects swarming in the pit of my stomach. So far, I’ve refused to have a drink. If I’m going to do this, it’s got to be done properly.
I reckon I’m only going to get one chance, and that chance might be tonight. If I blow it, I can kiss my dreams, my life, goodbye.
Occasionally I glance around, but I can’t see where she’s sitting. It probably doesn’t matter. It might even be better not to know where she is.
I’m sitting alone tonight, and a small army of reporters has already questioned me about it. Emma wanted to tag along, but I just gave her the biggest fuck you I could muster.
We’re at the Oscars now—the control she had over me is now gone, and I don’t give a fuck about her. I never did.
There’s only one woman I care about.
Only one woman I love.
“And now, distinguished guests, for the moment we have all been waiting for.” A dramatic pause by the emcee, drum roll, and he continues, “Best male actor nominations...”
I tune out to the ramblings of previous winners and nominations. I’m only interested in one thing. Am I the winner?
I hold my breath as he opens the envelope and holds the paper in front of his face, clearly reading it to himself before announcing.
“And the winner for this year’s best male actor is Todd Alexander.”
I punch the air. Yes. I fucking did it.
I get up and take a little bow. All around me, people are applauding and some are standing.
With a spring in my step, I bounce toward the stage. I wave, I bow, and I smile. I need to look the part.
As I approach the emcee and microphone, all I think of is the woman of my dreams. Only one person is on my mind—Sophie.
Images of Sophie drown out everything else. She’s in my mind, large as life on screen as a scene from the movie is played.
Sophie.
This better work.
I need to go big or go home.
I accept the little gold Oscar and hold him up in the air. More applause, more people stand.
Now I wish I could see her. Is she applauding or is she hanging on Mason’s arm?
I clear my throat and smile.
“Thank you,” I start, and a hush falls over the audience. I have the floor. It’s now or never.
I feel as if I’m auditioning for my very first acting role. Butterflies are multiplying rapidly in my stomach, and the palms of my hands are sweaty.
I’m staring out at a sea of dark shapes. Try as I might, I can’t make out anyone I know.
“Like everyone else, I want to assure you I’m not going to keep rambling on up here. I know we are all mindful of the time and there are plenty of more important awards to be handed out yet.”
Polite laughter.
“First, I want to say how lucky and privileged I feel for my acting being recognized by such a distinguished authority as the Oscars. It’s a real honor to be joining some of the true greats we saw a few minutes ago.”
More applause. I smile and rest one hand on the lectern. If it wasn’t for my inner turmoil, I think I’d really enjoy this.
“Of course, there are many people to thank, and let me tell you right now I’m terribly sorry if you do not get a mention—it is not deliberate. We all know making a movie takes an enormous amount of people, and each and everyone from the runner to the producer is important. I thank you all.”
Laughter and applause. I’m building up to it. Get on with it, says my inner voice, and I do.
“Of course, I would be nothing without Jordan, my right-hand man, best friend, and human extraordinaire.”
I see a close-up of Jordan in the audience as the camera zooms in on him. He gives a little wave. Briefly I register there is a petit woman sitting next to him.
Mental note to self, ask who his female companion of the night is.
“Of course, I also need to thank my manager and the film crew of this amazing film I was privileged enough to be part of.”
I take a deep breath. Here it goes.
“As I said already, it takes many hands to make light work. I want to thank everyone on this film from the hair and makeup team, to the producer, the writer, and assistant director.”
Silence.
“But there really is one person I need to single out, one person who needs to be thanked separately because she’s the reason I’m holding this award right now.”
The camera has already found Sophie, and I see her displayed on the large screen to my right.
I can’t gauge her reaction. She looks divine. Her dress is out of this world.
It takes me a few seconds to compose myself.
“If it wasn’t for Sophie Palmer, I wouldn’t be standing here tonight, receiving this distinguished award.”
The crowd is going wild.
“Sophie believed in me when others didn’t. She taught me so many things during this film, both on and off the set. She is an amazingly talented woman. Not only did she do a fantastic role as director, she was an awesome lead actor in the film as well.”
Sophie is wiping something off her cheek. Alice is whispering in her ear, and Mason is patting her on the back.
“Sophie,” I say and look directly at her. “I want you to know I’ve been an ass. But you should also know not everything is as it seems and everyone deserves to give an explanation. I know I had choices, and I may have made a mistake, but it was done with the best of intentions and only one person in mind: you. All I ask is that you give me a chance to explain. Don’t jump to conclusions. Hear me out and then make up your mind. Please.”
The emcee points to his watch, and the music plays. And I know it is time for me to get off the stage.
As I walk back to my seat, I take deep breaths.
Has it worked? Will she hear me out? I hope so.
After all, I just asked for a minute of her time on live TV, my plea reaching millions of people all around the world.
If there’s a God, I sure hope he’s smiling down on me tonight.
Sophie
Cameras are going off like machine guns, flashlights assault my eyes, and I try hard not to blink. I can’t begin to describe how I feel.
I stand next to the life-size statue of Oscar and hold up my own. Best film. I did it.
Did I step outside the Palmer shadow, or did I live up to it? I’m not sure, and right now, I don’t care. I am holding an Oscar, my very own.
Reporters are scrambling to get me to give them an interview. I’m in demand, and I’m enjoying it. Part of me wants to dwell on Todd’s speech and work out what he meant, but the other part, my ego, wants to revel in the glory of winning an Oscar.
As I walk back to the red carpet, people I’ve never met before are congratulating me. It feels amazing; I love it, I love it, I love it.
Alice hugs me again, her arms wrapped tight around me, and there’s a giant smile on her lips.
Dizzy with excitement and pleasure, I see my parents come toward me. Mum looks like a goddess. Dad is in a black designer suit, as usual, and doesn’t look his age at all.
He’s the first to wrap his arms around me and give me a huge bear hug.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers in my ear, and now I feel tears run down my cheeks.
“Mr. Palmer, Mr. Palmer,” shouts a reporter, and Dad releases me.
“How do you feel about your daughter winning an Oscar?”
Dad puts his left arm around my shoulder and smiles.
“I’m the proudest father in the world.” He gives me a kiss on my temple and pulls me close toward to him. “With this
film, Sophie has proved she’s not just a Palmer, she’s bigger than that. She has proven to everyone she is a huge talent. Sophie brings her own talent and enthusiasm to movies, and tonight the entertainment world has confirmed Sophie has her own name and style—a name and style we will hear and see a lot more of in the future.”
If I was ready to burst with pleasure and excitement before my Dad’s little speech, I think now I’m going to explode with happiness for sure.
For years I’ve longed to hear Dad tell me he’s proud, and right here, right now, in front of a huge television audience, he has said so much more than I expected. It’s my turn to hug him.
As I put my arms around him, I see Todd. He’s on his own. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I realize he’s walking toward me.
I kiss Dad.
“There’s something I’ve got to do,” I whisper, and I walk toward Todd. Questions are swirling around my mind like bees around a beehive.
At the very least, I deserve some answers.
“Come to the car,” he tells me right away and takes my arm.
His fingers on my naked flesh send little electric shock waves through my body. Oh, how I have missed his touch. I ignore shouts from people I don’t know.
My parents will understand why I have left. Alice is too busy celebrating with Eric.
Briefly Mason’s face pushes its way into my mind. Poor Mason. I hesitate, but Todd keeps walking.
“Mason,” I start, not quite sure what to say.
“He’s a grown-up boy. I’m sure he can look after himself,” growls Todd.
At the car he opens the door, and once I’m in he slams it shut.
I have no idea where he’s driving to, but I say nothing. When he finally speaks to me, I just want to look into those gorgeous eyes of his.
He stops the car.
I look up and see a park. We’ve come here before, on one of our days off. A romantic at heart, Todd.
“Sophie,” he says as he takes my hands and looks me in the eyes. “I don’t know how to start or what to say.”
My heart is racing, and I’m glad I’m sitting down. My knees are jellylike.
The Other Brother_A Billionaire Hangover Romance Page 97