Hollywood Princess

by Dana Aynn Levin

  “Juliette’s vegan,” Danny boasted. Of course she was.

  Juliette stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. Danny received her message and forced a smile. It was not the carefree smile he reserved for me.

  “Who wants my chicken?” he relented.

  Cam and Shane looked at each other. “We’ll split it,” Shane said.

  Danny lifted the piece of chicken and placed it on Shane’s plate. Shane cut it in half and gave one section to Cam. Danny dug into his spaghetti marinara.

  Amazing! Burgers and steaks had always been Danny’s go to staples.

  I wanted to laugh, but at the same time I wanted to cry. What was this girl doing to him? I wanted the real Danny back! I wanted my Danny back.

  “How did you meet Juliette?” I asked Danny.

  “After I left the library Sunday, I went to The Cellar. Juliette works there on Sundays.” Danny grinned, pleased with himself.

  “Sunday? Like two days ago?” The rapidity! I pushed the disappointment from my voice.

  Danny shrugged. “Sometimes things happen fast,” he answered, reading my mind.

  I wanted to wipe the grin off his face. Danny had to realize how hurt I was.

  “I live in the Exchange. We do our own cooking,” Juliette volunteered. “I’m only here tonight because Dan wanted me to meet his friends. I could never live on this stuff, and I don’t want you to either, Dan,” she purred. Purred?

  Should I smack her or kill myself? I deferred making a decision, hoping my carnivorous boy would soon come to his senses.

  Trying to be pleasant, I asked, “Where are you from, Juliette?”

  “Atlanta,” she answered. “If you’re Dan’s oldest friend, does that mean you’re from Los Angeles?”

  “Yes. I live around the corner from Danny.” He let my exaggeration slide.

  “How nice,” Juliette responded.

  I looked directly into Danny’s amused eyes and targeted him with my brightest smile. “Yes,” I said, “It is nice. It’s very nice.”

  I caught Rachel’s smirk. She knew exactly what I was doing. I was rather transparent.

  “What do your parents do?” There! I sounded both polite and interested. See, I’m not a jealous bitch.

  “He’s an executive at Coca-Cola and my mother teaches autistic children,” Juliette bragged.

  “That’s terrific,” I said sincerely. “I have a lot of respect for her.”

  I hated admitting that, but anyone who would devote themselves to a career of helping the disabled was a hero. I couldn’t compete against that. My mother’s career was far from saintly.

  “Thank you,” Juliette answered, taken aback by my sincerity.

  “Does your father send you freebies?” Shane asked. This levity cut through the tension, if only for a moment.

  Juliette smiled. “I can get you coupons.” Juliette turned back to me. “What do your parents do, Elizabeth?”

  I smiled at Danny with a look of defiance. Well, she’d asked.

  “Dad’s a movie producer and Mom’s an actress,” I answered nonchalantly.

  Shocked, Danny gave me a hard stare. Accustomed to my usual evasive answers, telling Juliette the truth was in sharp contrast.

  My friends wondered where this would go. They were sworn not to disclose my parents’ identities, but, hey, they were my parents. I could do whatever.

  “Who are your parents?” Juliette asked playing into my hand.

  “Michael Jacobs and Miranda Jordan,” I answered, filled with pride.

  Well, she had asked a direct question. I couldn’t help it if my parents were recognized world-wide, and hers weren’t.

  These thoughts were distasteful even to me. I was angry with Danny and envious of Juliette. And for once I didn’t care. This girl had come out of nowhere and stolen my man! So what if Danny wasn’t really mine for her to steal. If Juliette hadn’t appeared, perhaps Romeo would have become mine.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know who they are.”

  How did she not know who my parents were! Had she never heard of IMDb?

  “I only go to foreign films,” Juliette explained.

  I was dumbfounded. “Shame,” I answered, filled with contempt. “Danny spent last year working on his dad’s latest film. They were all over Europe and even spent a month in Africa,” I bragged. “I’m sorry you won’t see it. Steven only directs blockbusters. I’ll gladly report back to you when I return from the premiere.”

  Danny’s fork crashed against his ceramic plate. All eyes turned his way. His glare directed at me made me spasm. Shit! He was pissed.

  Much to everyone’s relief, dinner finally ended. I left with Chloe, relieved to leave Danny and Juliette behind.

  “What was he thinking having that girl dine with us?” Chloe asked as soon as we were far enough down the path that no one could hear us. “She was awful. ‘I only go to foreign films.’ Like she thinks she’s superior to us. You put her in her place.”

  “Not really. She didn’t know who I was bragging about.”

  “She had to. Your mother’s won two Oscars. Juliette wasn’t born in an art house.”

  “Thanks, Chloe. I’m not proud of myself. I’ve never done that before and I didn’t like it. Danny didn’t either.”

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. It had to hurt having this girl shoved in your face. What was Danny’s point?”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “It’s Danny’s way of telling me that to him I’m his kid sister and always will be.” My voice quivered. The tears I’d kept bottled inside through dinner released in a torrent down my cheeks.

  “You want more.” Chloe embraced me. “Oh, Elizabeth. I truly am sorry.”

  CHAPTER 8 - ELIZABETH

  It’s difficult finding time to spend together when you’re not a couple, and even more difficult when one of you is part of a couple. Now I treasured any time I spent with Danny even more than before.

  Danny was spending an increasing amount of time with Juliette, and a diminished amount with me. It took great effort to put on a believable happy face. Yet within moments of glimpsing those sapphire eyes, I could put Juliette out of my mind and enjoy the relationship I had with Danny, one she would never experience.

  One afternoon, a few weeks later, I was enjoying a cup of hot chocolate on the Café patio while Danny drank his usual black coffee.

  “Eli,” he began tentatively, playing with my fingers, “I’d really like if you and Juliette ate lunch together sometime.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” I asked curtly.

  The question had caught me off-guard. Other than to assuage his guilt, I couldn’t imagine why Danny thought I should socialize with Juliette. It was like asking your wife to lunch with your mistress. And I was the wife.

  “You’d like Juliette if you got to know her.”

  “I have no desire to do lunch or anything else with that condescending albino.”

  “Albino?” Danny laughed.

  “She’s completely colorless.”

  “Eli, Juliette’s my girlfriend and you’re like my sister. I want you to be friends.”

  “Daniel, I am NOT your anything.” I angrily turned away. My eyes stung. “There is not a single drop of Newman blood coursing through my veins,” I stammered.

  “You’re jealous!”

  Of course I was. Juliette had the one thing I’d always wanted. I fought the tears that were forming and fiercely looked Danny down.

  “Of Juliette? Never,” I said emphatically.

  I turned away. On the verge of crying, I needed my control back.

  “You’re jealous of me!” Danny gasped. Then he brought his cup to his lips to sip.

  “What? I don’t want to date Juliette. I’m not gay, Daniel!”

  Coffee sputtered out of Danny’s mouth as he choked on laughter. “Of course you’re not. I mean you’re jealous that I’m getting laid and you’re not.” He wiped his face with a napkin.

  How obtuse could Danny be?

  “I am
not jealous of you,” I said deliberately.

  What did Danny not understand? Or was he afraid to?

  By mid-October, there was only one flaw in my otherwise perfect relationship with Danny– I wasn’t in one. Danny remained with Juliette whom he wisely didn’t discuss. He enjoyed the best of both worlds: a strikingly beautiful woman he was sleeping with but had nothing in common with, and a strikingly beautiful woman he was not sleeping with but had nearly everything in common with.

  I worked this to my advantage, spending as much time with Danny as possible, but controlling my frustration so as not to piss him off.

  As weeks passed, Juliette was having an increasingly difficult time with my role in Danny’s life. Sorry Juliette.

  I thoroughly enjoyed the day Juliette caught up to us in the Café. Danny and I were next on line to order lunch when she appeared, ruining his gastronomic plans.

  I smirked at Danny’s frustration as he ordered, “Veggie burger with tomato and sprouts. No fries, please. I’ll have carrot sticks.”

  Juliette preened like a proud peacock. Holding back giggles, I smiled prettily and ordered, “Bacon burger, please, medium-rare, and extra crispy fries.”

  Poor Danny! The longing in his eyes was painful. He had to exercise every ounce of control not to leap across the table and steal my food.

  “Want a bite?” I asked, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

  The glare I received said it all and I smirked. The enticing aroma had to be killing Danny. The Café made the best burgers!

  I was poised to take my first juicy bite when Juliette interrupted my musings. “Elizabeth, you really shouldn’t. Beef is bad for your body.”

  Bad for my body? I’d show her. I jumped up, thrust my chest toward Danny, and slowly pirouetted so he would not miss a single curve on my perfect size zero figure.

  “Daniel, anything wrong with this body?” I asked while sending a flirty smile in his direction.

  “No, Eli,” he stammered. But Danny’s eyes couldn’t hide their pleasure.

  The following Sunday, Danny suggested we go to The Cellar after our study date.

  “Doesn’t Juliette work there on Sundays?” I asked. That would certainly ruin my night.

  “Not tonight. Juliette lives in that co-op. Tonight’s her turn to scrub the kitchen.”

  “I’m glad I don’t live there. When I get my own kitchen, it comes with a maid.”

  “Agreed. There is no glamour in housework.”

  Sunday was a slow night at The Cellar and we had no problem finding a table. Danny ordered a pitcher of beer. After the waiter served it, I poured us each a foam-free glass. We raised our glasses and tapped them together. “Cheers,” we toasted.

  The cold amber felt smooth going down. The tensions of the day vanished. Danny and I sat easily talking and laughing. We always had such good times together.

  “Eli, let’s dance,” Danny suggested after he consumed a couple of beers.

  Danny took my hand and led me to the dance floor. Fast rock tunes were playing and we danced non-stop through three songs. I laughed when Danny purposely bumped my hip and he laughed when I pivoted and tripped over my own foot. Two friends having fun!

  A slow song played next.

  “I love this song,” I told Danny, expecting him to lead us back to our table.

  Instead, Danny placed one hand on my waist and held my other hand up at his shoulder. I placed my hand around him and Danny held me close, our bodies touching. I gasped at the electricity. Danny grinned; he felt it too.

  A second slow song began. Dreamy happiness consumed me as I tilted my head upwards looking into his sapphire eyes. They smiled back with gentle pleasure. He was as content as I.

  Danny pressed me against his body. Powerful current made us inseparable and I gasped at feeling him harden.

  I glanced at Danny who was smiling. He moved our joined hands to where his knuckles lightly skimmed my cheek. Shivers ran through me. The intensity was so powerful our hearts were racing.

  Unexpectedly, Danny leaned toward me and tenderly kissed my lips. My head began to spin. I felt unfamiliar urges. The raw pleasure was all consuming.

  Abruptly Danny pulled back. “I shouldn’t have done that, Eli.”

  I followed his panicked glance. Juliette was approaching, steam spouting. She was not happy finding another woman enjoying her boyfriend’s arms. Damn you, Juliette!

  Danny immediately dropped his hands. Should I help Danny or make him suffer Juliette’s wrath? I had a split second to decide. The high road would serve me better.

  “Juliette! How nice to see you,” I said enthusiastically. “We thought you were working here tonight.”

  CHAPTER 9 - ELIZABETH

  Until arriving at Donnelly I believed I was a good dancer. At home I worked my way through the Royal Ballet curriculum culminating with principal roles in recitals. So when the professor demoted me a class level early in the semester, I was humiliated.

  Insecurities overwhelmed me. Had my academy not properly prepared me? Should I have attended a more competitive program? Worse, had another student been more deserving but their parents weren’t famous?

  The professor assured me that “fine-tuning” student placement happened every year. The bar at Donnelly was set higher. So here I stood, hard work personified. I had never tried so hard in my life. My blisters spawned blisters. Some days I cried in the shower after class.

  Today we were learning a new combination. I didn’t need to master it. I simply needed to get it. Following the professor as she demonstrated, I seemed to get it, at least I thought I did. Instead, every time the pianist played the music, I became distracted by visions of Danny in a clinch kissing Juliette while in The Cellar last night.

  Concentrate, Elizabeth. Concentrate.

  The pressure was intense. I found myself concentrating more on the need to concentrate than on the combination. Sweat trickling from my brow and I wiped it.

  After a water break I was more determined than ever. Failure was not an option.

  Then came my turn to solo. The pianist began to play. This time I didn’t get confused. The steps came fluently. Three grand jetes and it would be over. Then two.

  “My ankle!” I cried out as I landed the second grand jete on a twist.

  CHAPTER 10 - DANIEL

  Professor Nash was lecturing on guns versus butter. A society with finite resources had to decide on the optimal utilization of its resources. Should it produce more guns or more butter? If country A more efficiently produced butter, then it should produce fewer guns and trade with country B which produced guns more efficiently and needed butter.

  As with so many macro-economic theories, a plotted line graph was at the heart of the discussion. Line A represented guns; Line B represented butter. Where they intersected was the optimal mix.

  While the class was discussing the factors that determined where the lines intersected, my phone vibrated. I glanced down. Eli! Why was she texting? She knew I had a class.

  I grabbed the phone and pressed the link to our thread.

  “911. Infirmary,” it read. “May have broken ankle.”

  Broken ankle! “On my way,” I texted back.

  As I pressed the send button I felt Professor Nash glaring.

  “Daniel,” she admonished as I closed my laptop, “There’s no texting here.”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Nash. It’s an emergency. My girlfriend just broke her ankle. I have to go.”

  I collected my computer and textbook. Without waiting for approval, I rushed out the classroom door.

  CHAPTER 11 - ELIZABETH

  “A bad sprain, Elizabeth.”

  The doctor delivered the grim diagnoses. Then he wrapped my ankle in a neoprene-covered brace.

  “Stay off your foot and come back in two weeks.”

  The nurse handed me printed instructions on how and when to ice it, a bottle of pain relievers, and my first ever pair of crutches. I studied them, confused by how to use them.

&nb
sp; With the nurse’s help, I mounted the crutches. Uncomfortable from the pressure under my armpits, I wondered, was I doing it wrong? I winced in agony. The ankle pain left me grinding my teeth. How would I survive the next two weeks?

  Urging me onward, the nurse opened the door leading to the waiting area. Danny was right by my side and I collapsed against him, quietly weeping, needing his strength, both physical and moral.

  “Baby, you’re hurting,” Danny said softly while stroking my back.

  “Are you Elizabeth’s boyfriend?” the nurse asked.

  “Yes,” Danny answered without hesitation.

  Had I heard right, or was it pain-induced hallucinating?

  The nurse handed Danny the instruction sheet.

  “See that Elizabeth elevates her ankle. She’s going to need these today,” the nurse instructed while handing Danny the bottle of pills. “Follow the dosage. They’re powerful. And keep them secure.”

  Danny steadied me. Then he picked up my tote bag, and I hobbled out the door to his car, parked illegally in the handicapped spot.

  Danny studied my face, wracked in pain. “Eli, I am so sorry. Let me take those.”

  I handed Danny the crutches and he leaned them against the rail. Without warning, Danny scooped me up in his strong arms, so cozy on my body. And I was wearing nothing but a leotard and cut-off tights! Then Danny carefully placed me in the passenger seat of the BMW and went back for the crutches to put in the back seat.

  No more than five minutes later, but feeling like an eternity, we arrived at Berkeley Hall.

  “Don’t move,” Danny ordered as he completed parking the car.

  My hands clenched. Hurting too much to even nod, and rendered incapable of making decisions, I was content to follow whatever Danny instructed.

  Danny was removing the crutches from the car when I heard him call, “Hey Shane! Some help here.”

  As Danny opened the passenger door, Shane caught up.

  “What’s going on?” Then Shane noticed the crutches and my obvious pain. “What happened to Elizabeth?”