by N. K. Smith
As Danny moves toward the first reporter, almost leaving me behind, I slip my arm through his. He remembers that I’m there and pulls his arm away from mine to wrap it a little more possessively around my waist. With my shoulders rolled back and my breasts jutting out, I feel more confident. Danny’s solid presence beside me gives me even more strength. It’s easy to pretend that all of these people are here just to see me instead of here to see all the real stars.
Collette Stroud and Devon Maddox are right in front of us. I want to jump up and down and scream their names the way the fans are doing, but I remain composed. They don’t seem fazed by the noise or lights. He has his arm around her, with his hand resting on the curve of her hip. Just before they get to another journalist with a microphone, she whispers something into his ear. He laughs, and I can only imagine how many magazines and papers will run that snapshot. I can’t see the full smile, but I’ve seen it onscreen enough to know what it looks like.
I wonder what Danny and I will look like in the magazines.
“Miss Willows! Mr. Wise! Over here!” A guy in a poorly tailored tux we were already headed toward waves a hand at us.
I widen my smile when we’re in front of him. I have no idea who this guy is, but he’s got a cameraman behind him and a microphone, so he’s somebody.
“Andy Clare, Action Eight News!” he says. “You look stunning! Who are you wearing?”
And so it begins.
He asks superficial questions about what we hope the ceremony will be like. It’s not until I get to Angie Davenport from Jeremy Locker’s blog and show, Locker’s Confidential, that I get to answer real questions.
“Yes, I’m so happy and pleased to be here tonight.” My stomach rumbles. It reminds me how hungry I am since I threw up everything. This brings my bony hips to mind. Elsie hadn’t wanted me to wear a shawl. She always says people like seeing skin at these things, and that I looked glamorous. I run my hand over my sunken tummy and curl it around my side as if I can cover up the gangly mess my body is currently in.
“Adra?” Danny’s voice cuts into the wild downward spin of my mind.
I look up at him and brighten my false grin. “Hmm?”
“She asked you about your current role.”
I can’t believe I missed it! I turn back to Angie. She’s staring at me with expectation but doesn’t seem to care that I just zoned out. “Yes, thank you for asking! I’m playing a woman named Lola who is having a rough time of life at the moment, but through hard work and—”
I’m cut off by a loud roar. I turn to the line of cars and see Liliana stepping out of a limo. She’s wearing an amazing silver dress with a plunging neckline, slit almost all the way up her left leg. She looks perfect. The fans are screaming her name and photographers are going crazy, each taking a million pictures per minute.
Angie says something, so I return my focus back to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“I was just wondering if your weight loss was for the new movie.”
A sharp pain rips through the inside of my mouth, and I realize I’m biting down on the inside of my cheek. I continue with a slight taste of blood on my tongue. “Yes, it is. Don’t worry, I’ll regain it as soon as the film wraps.”
The journalist places a hand on my forearm. “Good. We’ve been a little worried by the recent pictures. Some of us at Locker Confidential thought you might be sick.”
The muscles in my face tighten as I struggle for control. All I have to do is spin it; Elsie tells me to do all the time, and it’s what Liliana has learned to do. She can make any negative comment play out into a positive for her. “Aw, that’s sweet,” I say, “but, no, I’m not sick. Sometimes roles require a sacrifice, and I—”
Again, I’m drowned out by the roars. When I look again, I can see Lili waving and hamming it up by blowing kisses over her shoulder.
I’m thankful the contest for the Golden Reel isn’t based on popularity. That means I’m on even footing with Liliana. Rhonda Taggert is going to win, but on the off chance she doesn’t, at least I know Liliana’s chances haven’t been enhanced by her easy relationship with fans and the press.
Chapter 11
My mind is dulled by the alcohol I’ve consumed. I have a glass of something hard, not light and bubbly like celebratory champagne, gripped tight in one hand. The weighted bottom of the tumbler rests against my hip because both my arms are wrapped around my midsection.
I’m well beyond buzzed, and I completely missed tipsy. Truth be told, I’m five feet beyond falling flat on my face drunk, but it doesn’t matter. I still finish off the harsh liquor.
Something drapes around my shoulder. At first, I think maybe Elsie finally got me a shawl, but I remember she took off to mingle a while ago, which means she’s somewhere getting high. Whatever is around my shoulders is a bit scratchy and stiff, but the smell coming off it is comforting. I look up and see Peter, without his suit jacket. I love Peter’s smiles. They are beautiful, even when it’s a worried one. “You okay?”
“Of—” I stop to hide a burp. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He looks forward and nods. I follow his gaze back to where I’ve been staring for the last God knows how long. Lili stands, all smiles, inside a circle of admirers. She’s chatting up a storm and using her body to charm everyone around her. I follow the line of her arm down to where she grips the big golden reel sculpture. Being awarded the Golden Reel is like having the whole world of Hollywood at her feet. While it’s not as sought-after as an Oscar, like a Golden Globe, the Golden Reel legitimizes actors instantly. Recipients always get their pick of scripts and can set their asking price per movie to a ridiculous amount. She’ll be a Hollywood legend for sure now.
“I’m happy for her.”
Peter looks down at me and locks his eyes with mine. “I know you are, but are you okay? I know you want—”
“Fuck it, Peter,” I say as I link my free hand his. “Lili’s a better actress than I am.”
“No, she’s not.”
I push my brows up. “I distinctly remember you saying to the both of us when we were teenagers that we were of equal talent, but that you couldn’t say who was a finer actress.”
He leads me over to a quieter corner of the ballroom, and I lean against a table. There are tons of people at this after-party. Hollywood heavyweights—of which Lili can now claim to be—mingle with newbie nobodies, all in one room.
“I did say I wouldn’t express my opinion to the both you, but since she’s not listening, I’ve always thought you were better at acting.”
I laugh. It’s a little dark, so his smile fades. “That’s nice of you to say, but she just won the Golden Reel, Peter. Obviously, she’s better than I am.”
“Not true.”
“Then why does she have the award?”
I blink, and in that moment, I feel his big, warm hand cup my cheek. I open my eyes, and I feel like he’s penetrating my soul with his deep brown eyes. “Because you haven’t sold out yet.”
“Shows what you know. I take my clothes off all the flippin’ time, Peter.”
“Not the same thing.”
“The ballots weren’t cast by people easily swayed by popularity. The members of the World Entertainment Association weren’t looking at how many fans she had. They felt she was a better performer.”
Peter gives me a hard look, before he softens his expression by raising one eyebrow. “If you think the voters didn’t take the box office figures of her combined films into account, you’re being naïve. Yeah, she was fantastic in Unlikely Friendships, but she didn’t have to stretch to make that role work. Your portrayal went beyond what you normally do. Just the physicality of your role—”
“Again, that’s nice of you to say, but obviously she showed something in that performance that I didn’t in mine.”
“You’ve built your career on playing complex characters. She’s been in one of those kinds of films once in the past ten years. Stop comparing your
self to her.”
“I can’t. Believe me, I’m trying, but it’s hard. She’s doing everything right. You say that she’s sold out, but selling out and being in huge movies—regardless of their context or content—is way better than hawking your body for chump change.”
“That’s not what you do.”
Widening my eyes, I search his. I can’t tell if he’s being honest or if he’s being ignorant of the situation on purpose. “Now who’s naïve?”
His hand falls away from my cheek. “Then stop. Don’t do it anymore.”
“Once I’m done with this one, I’m not going to.” I hope my voice conveys my conviction, but I’m not sure if the alcohol allows the confidence to shine through. Although, perhaps it’s only the alcohol that’s giving me any determination.
Peter looks away and takes a deep breath. “Not until Elsie talks you in to doing it again.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. The rush of anger coupled with annoyance results in an immediate defensive tone. “What does that mean?”
“It means Elsie’s going to talk you into doing another film that highlights your . . .” Peter pauses and lets out a long breath before continuing. “Another film that highlights your body in a way you keep saying you don’t want. Elsie—”
“What is it with you and her? Why do you hate her so much?”
Peter straightens his body and pushes back his shoulders a bit. “I don’t hate her.” I make a noise of disbelief, and it spurs him to continue. “But I don’t think she’s doing you any favors.” I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up a hand to cut me off before I even get a word out. “I get why you’re loyal to her. We don’t have to have that conversation again, but, just like your mom didn’t have your best interests at heart, I don’t think Elsie does either.”
The heat within me boils until I feel like I could burst. How can he compare the two of them? “Elsie’s nothing like—”
“I don’t want to argue, Adra.”
Completely ignoring his words, I say, “I’m in control of my career, you know? You and Lili can think what you want, but Elsie’s not . . . I mean, if I say I’m going to choose different roles, then you should believe that. I’m not some dumb kid. I’m not—”
Peter takes one of my hands. “I know.” His voice is soft and sincere, and it makes me forget my anger at being challenged by him. “You put enough pressure on yourself. I’m not trying to heap on more.”
The alcohol and the quick emotional shift have me a little confused. Maybe I just need a change of scenery to get out of this funk. I sit my empty glass down on the table. “I need another drink.”
As I take off toward the bar, I trip on my dress. I am saved from the embarrassment of losing the award and falling flat on my face by Peter. His strong arms encompass my body, so I close my eyes again. “I’m not mad she won, you know.”
“I know.” He brings me upright.
“I’m mad I lost. I was proud of my performance.”
“I know, and you should continue to be proud of it.” He lets go of me. “I know I’m biased, but you were phenomenal. Other people couldn’t pull off that role, but you made me and tons of reviewers believe you’d had mobility problems all your life. You made that part yours, and it’s a great achievement, with or without an award.”
“I’m a horrible, sore loser; I like being drunk though. I should be drunk all the time.”
Although he’s smiling, his eyes show his concern. “I don’t recommend it, Adra.”
“I like how you call me by my name. Not babe, or baby, and Adra sweets. Just Adra.”
“I respect you enough not to call you cutesy little pet names. You’re not my toy or my puppet. You don’t have to be anyone’s toy or puppet.”
All the clarity of a moment ago has washed away, and I feel smashed. With a frown on my face I try to figure out what he’s implying, but I can’t seem to. Peter is a master at subtext, and I’m usually good at reading him, but not so much when I’m drunk, I guess.
Peter tilts his head toward the veranda. “Instead of a drink, want to grab a refreshing blast of cool fresh air?”
I stare at him for what has to be a full minute, thinking about how handsome he is, how kind, intelligent, and compassionate he is, and how I want to kiss him. Peter has always been my friend. He’s always been someone who gives me sage advice and helps me sort things out. Once when I had to decide between a bit part in a big movie or the lead role in a small, indie film, he sat at a café with me for hours. He didn’t tell me what to do; he just asked questions about what I wanted to do.
I’m convinced Peter is perfect, but just as I rise up onto my toes to kiss him, I remember that he’s just my friend. I can’t let kisses, sex, and recklessness ruin one of the few solid and good things I’ve got going for me. Besides, neither of us is available.
I lower myself back down. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
“Mingling with the standard Hollywood types.”
“We’re Hollywood types,” I say.
“Yep. I’m the dashing leading man and you’re—”
“The sloppy drunk sidekick.”
He laughs as he nudges me toward the veranda. “No. You might be sloppy drunk, but I assure you, you’re the leading lady.”
Being outside anywhere always makes me feel like I’m being watched, but tonight the veranda is nearly empty except for a kissing couple. I can’t tell who it is though. Most journalists aren’t allowed in the party, and even the few who are here with their spying eyes aren’t allowed to have cameras. Only the invitees are allowed to snap pictures.
The night air feels crisp and cool, even though it’s still summer. We stop when we’re at the stone railing.
“You know what I love about you, Adra?”
I look up at Peter with wide, wondering eyes and can’t stop myself from pushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “What?”
“That you care so much about everything, but you know what I don’t like?”
I swallow hard and turn my gaze from him down to the beautiful courtyard.
Peter places a single finger on my chin and turns my face to him. “I don’t like how you see yourself. You’re not a sidekick. You’re not just some actress who will take her top off to sell a movie. You’re not a Lili wannabe. You’re your own person, Adra. You can be whoever you want to be, just stop thinking of yourself as . . . as not enough. Your mom shoved that into your brain, but it’s not true.”
Giggling from below distracts me, and I’m thankful for it. I don’t want to hear his pep talk right now. We’re on the second floor, so I can see Summer Mayes laughing at someone out of sight. It’s a guy. I can see the shoulder of a tux as he leans against a stone pillar.
“You’re so bad!” Summer says and takes a swat at the guy’s arm.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Thank you. Isn’t my dress gorgeous?”
“It’s lovely, but not quite as lovely as you.”
Summer gives her man a twirl in the moonlight. “Thank you.”
“God, it’s nice that you can take a compliment.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I told you that you were beautiful, you just thanked me. You know you’re gorgeous and didn’t feel the need to argue with me about it.”
Again, Summer giggles. “Why would I argue about that?”
“Never mind. So, how about it? This party’s a little lame, do you want to go somewhere quiet?”
“It’s quiet out here.” She glides over to the shadow and the guy rests his hands on her hips. “Seriously, are you really living with Adra Willows or is it one of those contractual arrangements?”
All of the sudden, I’m freezing, despite Peter’s coat. I look over to Peter to see if he’s heard what I’ve heard, and by the look on his face, I can tell that he has. “Can you see him?” I whisper.
Peter nods, his face pale and etched with worry as he studies me.
I move closer to him and look b
ack down. Sure enough, I see Danny in his Pierre Gardiner tux, with his hands on Summer’s sexy, curvy hips. “Listen,” Danny says so softly I have to strain my ears and lean forward.
Peter puts his hand on my lower back. “We should—”
“Shhh.” I strain harder to hear Danny.
“Let me worry about Adra. It’s never going to work out with her anyway. It’s just a matter of . . .”
I stand up straight and turn back to the ballroom. “I think it’s time for another drink.”
I don’t wait for Peter to say anything or to follow. I head straight for the bar and order another whiskey.
Chapter 12
Somehow Elsie finds me, somehow I stumble out to the waiting limo, and somehow I explain what I overheard on the veranda.
“Oh, Adra sweets,” she says as she pulls me into a hug. “Don’t cry over some guy. That’s rule number one. Sweets, your mascara’s running all down your—
“I don’t care about my make-up. Do you see any fucking cameras, Elsie?” I sniffle as I use my fingertips to wipe at the rivers of black trailing down my cheeks. “Rule number one of what? Not having a heart?”
The hug ends and she holds me at arm’s length. Elsie’s hazel eyes lack color tonight. They’re all pupil, which means she’s done a lot of coke. “Rules of how to focus on important things, sweets. Danny?” She shakes her head. “Not important.”
“But he’s been my—”
“Distraction for two years, yes, I know. But he’s not loyal to you, obviously. He’s off getting a very young—and terrible—actress out of her cheap dress. Now, listen. You and I both know you’re not going to stay with him, so it’s very important that you end it first. We need to make sure all of his shit is sitting outside for him by mid-morning.” Elsie glances at the clock. “It’s two now. I think we can get it done before he rolls on home like he didn’t just fuck up his life.”
I sit back against the cold leather and stare out of the window. This was not the ending I’d imagined for our relationship. Of course I’ve known it couldn’t last. Nothing good lasts for long, and even if it wasn’t a perfect relationship, it was still better than being alone and completely unloved. I guess I just figured simultaneous films that put us on the other side of the planet from each other for too long would end our relationship. Or, best case scenario, we both became too famous and in-demand to make it work anymore.