“There. I’m done,” I announced as I zippered my case closed.
Danny folded the case in half and clasped it closed. He had already loaded his luggage, and a backpack filled with books into his car.
It felt odd to first be driving to New York City on a Sunday, but tomorrow was the East Coast premiere of Steve’s latest film. Danny had worked on this film last year.
Steve was landing at Teterboro Airport later this afternoon. Ellen had a head cold and had stayed at home. When we’d spoken yesterday, she appointed me Steve’s escort. I would be pulling double-duty at the premiere. Now I was even more pleased that Mom’s stylist, Romey, had sent me a dress.
Earlier in the week, as I returned with Chloe to Berkeley Hall after lunch, two sizeable boxes were waiting for me at the reception desk.
“What are those?” Chloe had asked.
“The big one’s from my stylist. I don’t know about the other.”
“You have a stylist?”
“Romey works for Mom, but for special occasion she shops for me too.”
I flushed. Average Donnelly students did not have stylists.
I was expecting the box from Romey containing my dress and accessories for the premiere. The other box was a complete mystery. I had no idea what was in it, but Chloe instantly recognized the logo on the shipping label.
“Nola Lee!“ she gasped. I shrugged.
Nola Lee was one of my favorite designers. Chloe’s too. Her eclectic designs made of fabrics you loved to touch, were beloved by fashionable young women everywhere. Like me, Chloe bought several pieces each season.
I tore into the box. On top of the soft pink tissue paper was an envelope with my name hand-written on the front. The accompanying note was on Nola Lee’s personal stationary and I read it aloud.
“’Elizabeth, Romey tells me you’re a fan. Next time you’re in New York, please stop by the showroom. Meanwhile, enjoy the pieces I’ve selected for you. Best of luck with your studies.’ And it’s signed, “Nola.”
I smiled and put the card down.
“I can’t believe designers send you clothes,” said Chloe.
“It’s good for her business. Now Nola is hoping ‘Miranda Jordan’s daughter’ will be photographed wearing her clothes and her sales will increase.”
To hold up my end of the implied bargain, I was wearing one of the Nola Lee outfits. Not only was comfortable for the three-hour car ride, I knew as soon as we met up with Steve, cameras would go off.
After checking in to The Regency Hotel, Danny and I unpacked and tried studying. Rather Danny tried studying. I had no interest, so I cuddled up beside Danny on the bed.
Danny’s long legs stretched out, and he sat with his Economics text in his lap. I reached for his face and kissed him.
“E, c’mon.” Danny sighed. “I’m studying and you should be too.” It was like Vermont all over again.
I was in love with the coolest geek in the world! So I compromised. I let Danny study while I remained cuddled against him, enjoying the feel of his body against mine. And if he changed his mind… He didn’t.
Monday was an exciting day, but first I was a good girl. After breakfast, I joined Danny at a quiet corner table in “The Library”. Between meals, the bar was virtually empty, making it the ideal place to study.
At four o’clock, before the crowd filtered in, we returned to our room. Once I dropped off my books, I collected my Swarovski crystal encrusted hair clips. Then off I went to a nearby salon to have my hair styled. Tonight I wanted my auburn waves to tumble over my shoulders with the clips keeping them off my face. The stylist would ensure that my hair was soft and silky, not frizzy.
Back at The Regency, I found Danny showered and shaved. We had an hour until the limo would take us to the Ziegfeld Theater, more than enough time to primp.
“Perfection takes time,” I teased Danny.
I gathered my lace-trimmed thigh-highs, shoes, pashmina and garment bag. Then I kissed Danny on the cheek and disappeared into the bathroom. He could get dressed in the main room.
Forty minutes later, satisfied with my appearance, I emerged from the bathroom.
“E!” Danny exclaimed as his eyes, wide as saucers, examined me from head to toe. His face lit up. His eyes twinkled like blue diamonds. A smile stretched from ear-to-ear. I did a full pirouette. Danny more than liked what he saw.
“Eli, you’re gorgeous,” he said breathlessly. I giggled and smiled shyly.
My form-fitting dress was elegant cream-colored silk shantung covered with scattered small magenta and light pink rose buds. Above the knee, but not mini in length, it featured a strapless sweetheart-style neckline. Not too revealing, the waist-nipping bodice only hinted at what lay beneath the fabric.
The back was cut only as low as where my bra strap normally crossed and my hair covered most of my bare skin. I wore high open-toed magenta Jimmy Choo pumps and carried a small Judith Lieber clutch. For the moment, my pashmina of lighter pink cashmere was sat low, nearly at my waist.
In my ears I wore medium-length gold hoops of carved roses. Around my neck of course, lay my gold heart. On my wrist was the gift Danny had brought me from Miami. The gold charm bracelet had only two charms, an Assistant Director’s clapper, and a banana.
I had laughed when Danny gave it to me. Then he reminded me that I had told him to bring me back a plantain. A small, gold banana charm was his idea of a plantain.
Tonight was the evening I’d waited all my life for! I was the girlfriend of Steven Newman’s son, and I was substituting for Ellen. Eyes would be on me as I entered on the arm of the most important man of the evening and his very impressive son.
Danny’s appearance took my breath away. My heart did flip-flops. Seeing Danny every day, I almost forgot how handsome he was. With broad shoulders and slender hips emphasized by the well-cut suit, his hair brushed perfectly into place but still tousled, Danny could have been mistaken for a model.
I felt shy, as though it were a first date. I even blushed as Danny smiled and took my hand. His looks were intimidating.
Danny was dressed equally well in a blue-grey suit from Gucci. He wore a darker blue-grey shirt and a midnight blue silk tie. The blue-grey hues highlighted his sapphire eyes. Danny wore gold cufflinks, engraved with his initials “DMN” in italics. At his waist was a narrow black leather belt and Danny’s shoes were black leather ankle boots. Both were Gucci.
The suit, his massive smile, and the killer twinkling eyes combined to thoroughly captivate me. I was speechless. It confirmed why I had fallen in love with this man so many years ago.
I plucked a microscopic piece of lint off his shoulder. I was beaming with pride that I was the girl accompanying Danny tonight.
Finally I recovered my ability to speak. “You’re perfect, Daniel. Steve will be very proud, as am I.”
The drive to the Ziegfeld Theater was short, but the inside of our limo was filled with nervous energy. Already the film was generating strong positive buzz from early reviews. Last week’s Los Angeles premiere had been an unqualified success.
“What if I trip?” I fretted in anticipation of our red-carpet arrival. I did have a recent history of clumsiness.
“Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.” Danny tried to reassure me but I could see he was trying not to laugh. Then he returned to his conversation with Steve and I sat clutching Danny’s hand, only half-listening to them.
As the limo approached the theater, I was like a debutante making her entrée into society. Only instead of entering a ballroom dressed in a long white gown, I was entering a theater in a short cocktail dress. Which group would be more forgiving if I messed up?
Tonight I would be recognized as an adult. Hollywood would see that Miranda and Michael’s daughter was no longer a kid. My reward for a good performance; inclusion on the A-list under my own name. Did I want that? Who wouldn’t!
In front of the Ziegfeld was a swarm of activity. Uniformed police were controlling crowds and traffic. Muscu
lar security personnel in business suits and wearing Secret-Service style earpieces were controlling the human traffic on the sidewalk.
Additional security contained crowds armed with cameras, paper and pens behind a low gate. Personnel allowed ticket holders to pass to the entrance via a narrow ribbon of sidewalk. A red carpet led from the theater halfway down to the corner. Protected from public view by tall panels, television crews and credentialed photo-journalists lined the carpet’s perimeter where the celebrities would pass.
Complete sensory overload greeted us when our limo pulled up to the curb. Both Steve and Danny could sense my trepidation. Steve leaned across and kissed my cheek.
“You’ll be fine, Elizabeth. Enjoy it.”
“Remember, you’re with us,” Danny added.
He meant to be reassuring. Usually a reminder that I was under the protection of not one, but two Newmans, would be comforting. Not tonight. Being with the Newmans was what had me at the eye of the storm.
Showtime!
The driver opened the passenger door of the limousine. A beefy security man stood to the side of the door to keep away any unauthorized person who tried to approach. I heard the cacophonous fans and felt the stares directed our way as nobody could as yet identify that this was Steven Newman’s car.
Danny kissed my hand, releasing my fingers. Steve confidently exited. At forty-five, Steven Newman cut an impressive figure in an impeccably tailored charcoal grey suit. Steve was as tall as his son, but not as slender, though he didn’t have an ounce of fat. Steve had spent years working out with a trainer. With dark, straight hair mostly still on his head, he didn’t look like Danny, but he did have those mesmerizing blue eyes.
Experienced from being at the top for nearly two decades, Steve was as relaxed as ever. Tonight was his night, but he’d been through this many times before.
Steve turned back toward the car and reached for my hand. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. As I rose, Danny patted my rear. As he knew I would, I couldn’t help but turn and smile. In return, Danny smiled and flashed me thumbs-up. I knew everything would be all right.
With Steve guiding me, I exited the limo. The warmth of his fingers, so similar to his son’s, put me at ease. My confidence returned as I acknowledged that this was my night too, the first of many.
A television reporter pounced on us. I recognized her as a pariah from the gossipy cable program that always sought out the bad side of the industry and capitalized on scandal.
She starred wide-eyed, not recognizing me. Instinctively, Steve protectively cupped my shoulder. The reporter stopped short, blocking us in a well-practiced move. We had no choice but to stop.
“Steven, does Ellen know about your date?”
Her rudeness struck me as so absurd that I found myself giggling. Steve squeezed my shoulder and smiled at my immaturity, but hell, I am only eighteen. Biting my lower lip kept me from dissolving into full-fledged laughter.
“You think it’s funny being with a married man?”
She shoved her mic in front of me. Steve removed his hand from my shoulder and grabbed it. My eyes searched for Danny. Thankfully he was just steps away.
“This is Elizabeth Jordan-Jacobs,” Steve said with authority.
He merged my middle name with my last and created a very impressive hyphenate. The woman examined my face. Finally, recognition.
“Miranda Jordan’s daughter?” she asked cautiously, in case I wasn’t. She couldn’t risk being incorrect on camera.
Danny was now at my side and I moved a step closer to him to take his hand.
Steve nodded. “And my son Daniel’s girlfriend. Ellen is home with the flu. I’m flying solo. Sorry to deny you a scoop.”
Steve led us past the dumbfounded woman to the sheltered red carpet as photographers stopped to our take pictures. For a father, Steven Newman was hot! It wasn’t surprising that the reporter could mistake me for being his date. Steve was incredibly attractive and women often showered him with attention. Many starlets would die for the chance despite his marital status.
In front of a lit screen emblazoned with the film’s logo, and those of the evening’s corporate sponsors, Steve posed alone and then with Danny and me. We stood beside him as he answered reporters’ questions about the film and then he introduced us.
The reporters were pleased to snap photos and capture us on video. The flurry with which they posed us barely contained their excitement over Miss Jordan-Jacobs being coupled with young Mr. Newman.
After the formal poses were completed, and we had walked a few steps away, Danny placed his hands on my shoulders and faced me.
“You were great, Eli,” he whispered, and he gently moved his hand to cradle my face. I no longer felt insecure. “I love you, babe,” and Danny leaned in to kiss me. Several cameras captured the candid of the night.
Upon entering the disproportionately long auditorium, an intern led us to the seats Steve had chosen on the left center aisle, two-thirds of the way back, the optimal location.
The large theater was nearly filled. There were executives in business suits and dresses. There were actors, including the film’s leads and co-stars dressed to the nines. And there were assorted members of the New York film community. Just your typical industry crowd, but New York style. I’d never seen so much black clothing at an event that wasn’t a funeral. It made my cream-colored dress an instant sensation.
As the lights dimmed and the curtain on the wide screen opened, Danny took my hand and kissed it. It was his first time seeing the film he had worked so diligently on.
What an amazing film! I was so proud of Steve. His month of filming in Africa had been challenging, but it was well worth it. The beauty and grandeur of Botswana became the third co-star of the story that was essentially an international intrigue adventure with secondary love plot.
Other segments of the movie had been filmed in Prague, London and New York, but they were inconsequential. Now I fully appreciated the importance of Danny’s gap year. He had travelled to such marvelous locations. If only I could have joined them. I felt a tinge of jealousy.
Once the end credits began to roll, I quickly hugged Steve and kissed his cheek.
“Amazing, Steve! I loved it!” I told him with complete sincerity.
Danny leaned across and reached Steve’s arm. Steve wore a huge grin.
“Dad, home run,” Danny whispered.
“Thanks, Danny,” he replied and then added, “Don’t miss your credit.”
Normally, Steve would have already left, but he wanted to share his son’s big moment. The credits continued rolling. A big budget film such as this with its multiple international and visual effects crews had a seemingly endless list of credits.
“There it is! Danny, it’s you!” I exclaimed.
Steve joined me in tradition by applauding Danny’s credit.
“Stop it,” Danny laughed as he put his hands over mine to stop my clapping.
“I’m proud of you.” I pulled my hand away and touched his cheek. “I really am.”
Danny pressed my hand against his cheek and kissed my palm. “I’m glad you’re with me tonight, Elizabeth.” Then he smiled.
As the credits concluded, Danny stood and brushed by me to reach Steve who was also standing. I enjoyed watching my men embrace.
“I love you, Dad. It was great,” Danny said softly.
“Hey, Danny. I love you too, son. I couldn’t have done it without all your hard work. I mean that.”
They smiled at each other and embraced again. I filled with their love.
Soon we were back in our limo en route to the party. I leaned against Danny. His arms wrapped around me for the short trip to the venue, my rock supporting me.
On the outside, the Metropolitan Club appears to be a diplomatic outpost such as a consulate or United Nations mission, but in fact it had always been a private club. The building dated to the late nineteenth century. The Club was founded by New York City’s elite businessmen of the time.
It has the appearance of a Italianate mansion with its marble facade. Surrounded by modern towers, the proportions and grandeur of the property were unlike any I had seen that was not a museum.
The massive brass-topped, ironwork gates to The Metropolitan Club were open to ticket holders. Had I not entered on the arms of the Newmans, the premises alone would have intimidated me. My eyes were wide taking it all in. The cavernous two-story high main floor, its ceiling inlaid with marble, the walls and floors also marble and the sweeping staircases with carved banisters and trim, all magnificent.
At the same time, the Club was a pulsating swirl of humanity. I had no idea how many people were in attendance. This very large space was teeming with guests jockeying for social position and trying to find tables that were in short supply. Gloved wait staff were passing hors d’oevres among the well-dressed revelers.
We were ushered through several smaller rooms where endless lines formed by buffet stations, until reaching the less crowded VIP room. An elegant table set for eight with a card announcing “Newman” tucked amongst the floral centerpiece was ours.
The others at our table were New York area friends of Steve’s. I was thrilled to spend the evening with them. As soon as Steve introduced me to Marc, his wife Paula, and their friend Ray, I knew I was going to have a good time. They had gone to NYU with Steve and Dad.
CHAPTER 71 - DANIEL
I didn’t know which I was enjoying more, being at the heart of this throbbing social event, or studying my beautiful Elizabeth.
After returning from the bar with fresh drinks, I stopped inside the doorway and stared at her. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Eli. Elizabeth always looked great, but tonight… Incredible. Brimming with confidence, she moved among the guests as though she had been born to work a room. In a sense, I suppose, she had been. We both had.
Dad’s hand on my shoulder announced his arrival. He grinned watching me.
“Elizabeth’s an amazing girl, Danny.”
“Eli sure is. It’s great how confident Eli’s become.”
“Thank yourself. It’s your influence, son.”
Hollywood Princess Page 29