“Taxi,” he called out. A yellow cab pulled up and Phil jumped in.
“Beverly Hilton Hotel,” Phil said. Then he added in classic Hollywood lingo, “And step on it.” If the 405 Freeway were empty, the drive would take only 20 minutes. But in the middle of rush hour traffic it was an hour or more. The taxi pulled away from the curb as Phil unzipped his bag and pulled out his slightly distressed shirt, tuxedo, and dress shoes.
“I’ve got to get to the Golden Globes before 6:00, or I’m a dead man,” Phil said.
“Why? Are you the emcee?” the cabbie asked.
“No. Just get there before 6:00 – it’s worth an extra $100 if you do.”
“Why didn’t you say so. Buckle up.”
The cabbie made a brave attempt as he weaved through heavy traffic, skimming the shoulder, cutting off trucks and SUVs, squirting from one lane to another. At 5:40 he exited the freeway onto Wilshire Boulevard, with only two miles left to reach their destination. But these last two miles presented the worst nightmare of all – a continuous line of black stretch limousines clogging the street all the way up to the Beverly Hilton. Traffic sat at a complete standstill.
“Sorry, buddy. I did my best,” the cabbie said. Phil was not ready to give up. He jumped out of the cab.
“I’m going to make a run for it,” Phil said.
“You’re kidding,” the cabbie said.
“I used to jog eight-minute miles. I got this.” He tossed a $100 bill in the window. “The name is Phil Branson. I’m staying at the Beverly Wilshire. Just drop my bag off there.” He lifted his invitation and ID badge from the bag and started hoofing it down the sidewalk. He drew curious stares from other pedestrians watching a tuxedoed gentleman high-tailing it - either late to a wedding, or a serious case of second thoughts. He tried calling Annie on his cell phone in full sprint, but got nothing but busy signals. He checked every log-jammed limo he passed to see if it might contain his precious Annie, but no luck.
He rounded the corner to see the Beverly Hilton in the near distance. He could hear the noise of fans cheering, horns honking, and saw the industrial search lights sending super bright beams of light piercing miles into the night sky. He approached the protective fencing and posted guards that circled the venue, and handed over his invitation and ID badge.
“Phil Branson – I’m with Annie Belmont,” he said, nearly winded. The guard scanned his clipboard to verify, then nodded and waved him through. Phil weaved through the crowd to find the sweet spot where celebrities, entourage, and interviewers all converge. Finally, he found the edge of the legendary red carpet at 5:55 p.m. Television cameras, flood lights, network interviewers, and Hollywood royalty all mingled. Phil stood off to the side, catching his breath and searching for that one familiar face. And there she was - Annie, standing to the side, anxiously watching and waiting for her man to appear. She looked so elegant in her cobalt blue evening gown with a sparkling clutch purse in her hand. Their eyes met, and a wave of overwhelming relief washed over Annie. The tense expression on her face instantly changed from dread and worry to a broad ear-to-ear smile. They slowly walked to each other to avoid any undue attention. They embraced.
“You made it,” Annie said.
“Well, I was in the neighborhood…” he said.
“I am so glad you came. I’m ashamed over how much I have ignored you and taken you for granted,” Annie confessed. “I don’t care about Hollywood fame and glory.”
“Annie, you don’t have to…” Phil tried to say, but Annie cut him off.
“No, let me finish,” she said. “I’ve learned a lot this week and grown a lot. And I’ve made some choices. I’ll ride this series till it ends, that’s all – no movies between seasons. And in the meantime, I want kids, so the scriptwriters are just going to have to suck it up and write it into the storyline. You and I are not going to end up on the garbage heap of Hollywood’s broken hearts and shattered dreams.”
“Now it’s my turn,” Phil said. “I’ve been thoughtless and selfish. I don’t know what to say other than I am so sorry for being stubborn and afraid,” Phil said. “I love you so much that sometimes I can’t breathe. And I know one thing for sure—love can last for a lifetime. I saw it with my own eyes today. So…” He dropped to one knee, produced his precious velvet box, and opened the lid to reveal a stunning, shimmering diamond ring. By this time network camera crews noticed this intimate side show in progress. Cameras swiveled to broadcast this not-so private moment. Fans, fellow Hollywood performers, and the worldwide television audience watched with voyeuristic delight.
“Will you do the honor of marrying me,” Phil said to the odds-on favorite to win the Golden Globe for Best Actress in a dramatic TV series.
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Annie answered. They kissed – not your standard Hollywood happy ending kiss, but a deep, aching, never-gonna-let-you-go kiss.
The crowd simply went wild.
Finney stepped up behind Annie and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Clay Devons asked me to remind you that he needs your answer before the night is over.” Annie loosened her embrace enough to look behind her.
“Tell Mr. Devons I’m not interested. Tell him I chose love.” An usher interrupted this romantic moment.
“Miss Belmont, the show is about to start. If you’ll follow me, I will take you to your table.” Through the open doors the rousing sounds of the orchestra could be heard playing the overture.
“I guess we better get inside,” Phil said. “We wouldn’t want to miss the show.”
“Not a chance in the world,” Annie said with a tingle of excitement.
THE END
“Lovers Reunited”
This romantic statue stands in Kiev, Ukraine, near the ‘Lovers Bridge’, memorializing the true-life story of Luigi and Mokryna, WWII lovers reunited after 60 years of separation. The statue tenderly captures them in eternal embrace.
If you enjoyed The Sanctuary II: Lost and Found,
explore the first book in this series.
The new manager of a Montana retirement community gets more than he bargained for when he uncovers a wrongful death that requires justice. A “Casanova” in Apartment 218 loves the ladies. Residents are being stolen by the competition. Bankruptcy looms. And a federal witness is hiding out from the mob in Apartment 185.
It’s all happening at The Sanctuary: Vol. 1, Larry Richardson’s romance/thriller series. And the clock is ticking. The mob has finally located their target and just sent three assassins to finish him off. Who knew retirement living could be so exciting?
Get your copy today in paperback or e-book on Amazon, and visit lkrichardson.com for more details and more novels.
The Sanctuary II: Lost and Found Page 19