***
On the way home, I was unable to stop thinking about my secret meeting with Carter. Images and thoughts of our past took over my mind like a parasite.
“So where were you last night?” Ruth asked as we sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 15 freeway.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not dumb. I woke up, and you weren’t in your bed. Did something happen you haven’t told me about?”
“No.”
“Liar. I think you’re upset because you didn't get to see Aiden again.”
I breathed in heavily and said, “Okay, if I tell you something you can't tell anyone—not even Scotty.”
“Okay, just spill it.”
“When Aiden walked by me in the club, I said something that triggered his memory. The next thing I knew, his bouncer slipped me a note.”
“No way. What did it say?”
“It was from Aiden, asking me to meet him at his suite at The Wynn hotel.”
“Oh, so that’s where you really were this morning?” Ruth asked. “Oh no, Alexa. Did you—”
“Nothing happened, Ruth. All we did was talk.”
“Did you happen to forget that you’re married?”
“Which I made very clear to him,” I said. “Look, it was just closure—something I needed thirteen-years ago. I’m never going to see him again.”
***
Our trip was completely over once we got back to my house. I gathered my luggage from the SUV and bid Ruth farewell. I stood staring at the front of my house with my hand clasped tightly to the strap of my overnight bag. Some burning need to get in my car and drive back to Vegas overtook my body like an alien life force. I had no desire to be at home living my normal life or greet my wonderful husband. I needed to pull myself together and get back to reality. Playtime was over.
I walked in the door and found Scotty entranced by the television.
“Hey, kid,” he said, getting up to greet me. He held me tightly, as if he never wanted me to slip away. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I responded weakly.
He brushed his lips across my eyes and asked, “What's wrong? The job didn’t go so well?”
“No, it was fine. I’m just exhausted and want to go to bed. We'll talk in the morning, okay?” I said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.
“Oh all right,” he said as though I hurt his feelings.
I might have made it home in one piece, but emotionally I was like one big plate of scrambled eggs— like that old, “This is your brain on drugs,” commercial. I undressed and slipped into bed with my mind flashing back to memories of the past weekend. I ended up softly crying myself to sleep—something I hadn’t done in a long, long time.
***
“So how was it?” Isabella asked.
After a sleepless night, it was no surprise that I still wasn’t feeling like myself.
“Unbelievable.” I sat in that famous ratty plaid chair of hers. “One of the best experiences of my life.”
“Well, I'm glad to hear that,” she said. “Are you okay? You seem preoccupied.”
“I'm just still trying to get back to reality. Las Vegas really messed with my mind.”
“Yes, it can be a little overwhelming on your first visit, but focus. I have another project for you in Los Angeles next week on a movie set,” she said, handing me a document. “You'll be the assistant makeup artist on this assignment.”
“Oh, tell me more,” I said, intrigued.
“Something with Hugh Jackman and Drew Barrymore. I'll know more in a few days.”
Isabella had some magical gift that could momentarily make me forget about all my problems. My career was the one thing in my life where I found solace, and much to Isabella’s credit, she made me feel like I was valued.
***
I allowed myself to forget about Carter and move on with my life, for the second time.
I got ready to go to the set in Los Angeles one morning when Scotty came up behind me and nuzzled at my neck.
“Good luck today,” he said, kissing my left shoulder.
I stared back at him through the vanity mirror. He wore a white collared shirt and his tie hung loosely around his neck.
I forced a smile and said simply, “Thank you.”
“Hey, let's celebrate tonight,” he suggested. “I’m getting off work early.”
“It depends on how long they need me. My day could be as long as fourteen hours.”
“I miss you, kid. It seems like things have been a little distant between us.”
My cell phone rang after Scotty walked out of the bedroom.
“Well, hello there, Miss. Alexa,” said a male voice that sounded vaguely familiar.
“I'm sorry—who is this?” I asked.
“Seriously?”
I quickly closed the bathroom door and brought my tone of voice down to a whisper. “Carter?”
“I know, you probably thought I forgot about you. Honestly, I've just been swamped.” His sigh was wistful and I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“No, it’s great to hear from you.”
“So listen, I wanted to invite you to a party in Los Angeles tonight. It’s just a little get together. You can bring your husband if you want.”
I tensed at the mention of Scotty, knowing he was the last person I wanted to think about while Carter was on the line. “He's actually busy tonight, but I'll be in L.A. working on a project today anyway.”
“So should I take that as a yes? Am I going to see you tonight, old friend?”
“You better believe it, mister.”
Chapter 14: It Begins
A blinding ray of sunlight illuminated the parking lot of Paramount Studios. I arrived that late morning at the back lot, fantasizing about the stars I’d be working with. Prior to arrival, I found out from Isabella that the movie was a Western. Talk around Hollywood was that it was supposed to be one of the most highly anticipated films of the year.
A chubby girl with bleach-blonde hair and fifties-style glasses finally came to my attention.
“Alexa Logan?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“Follow me please.”
She was polite, but firm, not bothering to make small talk on our way to wherever she was taking me. We walked to a series of trailers and ended up stopping at one with a star on the door above a nameplate that read, Hugh Jackman, in glittery gold letters.
“Um, are you sure I'm the right person? I was sent here by Isabella Bellini.”
“Weren’t you informed that you are to be Mr. Jackman's makeup artist for the next fifteen weeks?”
“Fifteen weeks?” I repeated.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, no. Of course not.”
“Good. Here is your parking pass. You’ll need to get an I.D. badge before you leave,” she said.
A decked-out trailer with plush leather couches, flat-screen televisions, and small a dinette area left me mesmerized. First chance I got, I took a peek at Hugh Jackman himself. He was getting his hair done in the back room of the trailer.
Production was in the middle of a gun battle scene. Hugh was to look like he had part of his cheek blown off. Of course that was right up my alley. Hugh was an absolute joy, and more down to Earth than I had ever imagined. He struck up a conversation as soon as we met, and was more than willing to speak freely about his wife and two kids.
I was off and on set throughout the day giving Hugh touchups whenever he needed them. As I stood to the side and watched the movie being filmed, an element of excitement surrounded me. This was the first time in my whole career that I had worked on a movie set. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine myself getting up close and personal with all the magic of the silver screen.
Filming didn’t wrap up until eight thirty that night, and in the cool darkness, I thought about how I was skipping out on Scotty’s celebratory dinner invitation. Surely, missing one dinner wasn’t going to hur
t him. There was plenty of time for dinners with my husband, but an encounter with Carter only came once in a blue moon.
***
A massive line of people waited in front of the entrance of the Skyline club. Apparently, it was the club of choice for most celebrities. Five bouncers wearing charcoal blazers and matching slacks kept an eye on the crowd. I stood in the back of the line, utterly confused. I had no idea how I was going to get inside without waiting in line like everyone else. My last resort was to call Carter. He was already inside the club from the beat of the base in the background.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“What? You're gonna have to speak up. I can hardly hear you.”
“It's A-l-e-x-a,” I yelled back, irritated. “I’m standing in line!”
“I'll be right out.”
I squished in between a pack of girls desperately trying to impress the bouncers with their toned stomachs and glistening belly rings. Each of them wore overdone, caked-on makeup.
Fed up with the whole charade, I walked out of line with the intention of going back to my car. A rolling thunder of screaming started from the front of the line just as I inched myself away from the crowd. Paparazzi joined the throng of cheering onlookers by furiously snapping pictures. Carter could sure drum up commotion. He squinted and scanned the crowd as he stood at the entrance. I vigorously waved my arms in the air with the intention of trying to get his attention. The next thing I knew, I was being escorted to the front of the line. I caught the looks of jilted girls as I passed by, and for once in my life, I was the one who was important. I have to admit, it felt good for a change.
Once we were inside the club, Carter led me through a mob of glamorous partygoers. Everyone was lost in conversations, laughing, and dancing amongst the strobe lights and music. We arrived at what I assumed was the VIP section. I silently contemplated the wide array of expensive bottles of alcohol set up on the tables before us.
“You need a drink,” Carter said. He handed me a glass and poured some Vodka into it. “I hope I'm not being too forward when I say you look great tonight.”
I didn't mind the comment. Quite the contrary, I welcomed it.
“Thanks,” I said, looking around and feeling out of place. It would take some time for me to believe I was in the company of one of the most famous faces on the planet. “You look great too.”
“Aw, shucks.”
“So how long have you been in town?” I asked.
“A month, but I won’t be here for long. I'm going to Sweden in a few weeks.”
Before I could mention our recent encounter in Vegas, two girls dropped by unexpectedly and interrupted my train of thought.
“Hi,” said the young blonde with a ridiculous giggle. “Aiden, my friend and I wanted to know if we could take a picture with you.”
“Of course,” Carter replied.
“Oh my Gosh. Thank you sooo much,” said the brunette who was practically giddy.
The two girls looked like porn stars (and for all I knew, they were), with nearly exposed gigantic breasts and rail-thin frames. Someone quickly snapped a photo of the three of them after a lengthy session of airheaded idle chitchat. Naturally, both girls clung on to Carter well after the photo opp. I was surprised how easygoing he was about everything, but then again Carter had always been that way.
“We just love you, Aiden,” said the blonde, blowing him a kiss as they walked off.
Carter turned his attention back to me after they had left. “You seem tense,” he said, sitting down next to me. “Loosen up. Maybe you should have another drink.”
“Sorry, I’m just a little overwhelmed right now.”
“Don’t be. Come on, it’s just me,” he said. “The only thing different is that a lot of people know who I am now. I’m still the same guy. You know this.”
“It’s just that all the attention you’re getting is making me really nervous.”
“Well, only another drink can fix that,” he said, pouring me another glass of something foreign. The drink tasted more potent than a shot of eighty-proof vodka. Surprisingly, I enjoyed it and helped myself to two more.
Throughout the night, many strikingly familiar people walked over and struck up a conversation with Carter. I stared at him, mesmerized by his brilliantly shaped face and dirty blond hair. I envied the way he interacted with people around him. He could be so engrossed, yet he still found a way to be witty. None of that compared to that infectious smile he passed on to anyone graced by his presence.
I didn't want Carter to leave my side. God knows I wanted spend the whole night drinking in the scent of his spiced cologne. Admittedly, what I was feeling was wrong. All the sights and sounds made me feel like I was in one hypnotizing dream—the kind you don’t tell your husband about.
Before I realized it, I had been consuming one drink after another. It got to the point where the room started spinning. The apprehension and guilt about my whereabouts that evening vanished shortly after my first drink. Carter and I laughed and joked around as if we were suddenly the only two people in the room. In some ways, I felt like I was fourteen again, reliving our first date.
“You're drunk,” Carter said, amused.
“Me? Drunk? Nev...neverrrr,” I slurred.
“I like you this way. It reminds me of the young Alexa.”
“She didn't drink at fourteen.”
“True, but she was fun like this.”
“What time is it?” I asked, completely unaware of anything happening around me.
“Almost time for us to make like a baby and head out,” Carter said. His words were difficult for me to make out, thick and muddled to my inebriated ears.
The last thing I remember on that moonless dreamy night was Carter holding me by the waist as I staggered through the front door of the club—then everything went black.
***
I opened my eyes the next morning and found myself in an unfamiliar bed. An ocean of acid churned in the pit of my stomach as I looked over to see someone other than my own husband lying beside me. My eyes focused intently on the milky white, tattooed-laden back of Carter Storm. My immediate first thought was to make a run for it. Instead, I shot up from the bed in haste.
“Oh my God,” I said aloud.
With a disoriented look on his face, Carter said, “Whoa. Are you okay?”
“I don't know. You tell me,” I said with my heart hammering.
Carter chuckled. “We didn't do anything. Cross my heart.”
I leaned my head against the pillow and let out a long, exasperated breath. He had to be telling the truth. I was still fully clothed, and in the same dress from the night before.
“You were so funny last night, Alexa. I can’t believe half the things you said.” Carter shifted his body closer toward me. My attention was drawn to the sight of half a dozen tattoos plastered all over this torso. “You’re a wild drunk.”
“Oh God,” I responded, slapping my forehead in embarrassment. “Don't tell me. I don't want to know.”
I tried to gather up the memory of the previous night, and then took a second to think about the consequences I was about to endure in the aftermath of my carelessness. A mind-numbing alarm went off inside my head when I asked, “What time is it?”
Carter yawned and looked over at his nightstand clock. “It’s only ten thirty.”
“Shit, shit, shit!” I said, immediately jumping up from the bed.
“What's wrong?”
“I was supposed to be on set two hours ago. What the hell is wrong with me! ” I scrambled to find my car keys. “Where’s my purse? My keys?”
“You left your car at the club, which was probably smart since you weren’t capable of driving. I'll drive you back there to get it.”
Carter’s wide king-sized sleigh bed shook like it was hit by a small earthquake when he sprung to his feet. He was clad in black and green plaid boxers, and I had to pry my eyes away from his heart-shaped bottom.
“I'm a married woma
n, I'm a married woman,” I silently said to myself.
I didn't have much time to check out Carter’s house, but it was definitely the typical high-end celebrity home. Around every corner, hanging on every wall, were framed copies of magazine articles about himself or his platinum albums.
I jolted back into the ugliness of reality in Carter’s car, and I checked my cell phone for the first time in eight hours. Scotty and Isabella had called more than a dozen times. I was in deep with both of them.
Carter pulled into the parking lot when we reached the club, and put the car in park.
“I want to apologize. It was wrong of me to let you drink so much last night.” He looked adorable with his bed head—so naturally handsome.
“No, none of this is your fault. I knew what I was doing. I’m a big girl.”
“That you are, Alexa. But you've got to admit you had fun.”
I found the door handle and eased it open. He was right. I did have the time of my life. I just wished it didn’t have to end so soon.
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Carter. I'll give you that.”
Carter leaned in close and kissed me on the cheek. “Take care, Alexa. Let's do this again sometime.”
I didn’t expect our farewell to be so hard on me. After a brief interlude, I got in my car and tried to brush it off. I sped down the highway, dreading what was to come. Fatigue hit me hard, and I strangely resembled someone who hadn’t slept for days. I had rats’-nest hair, and the dark bags hanging under my eyes were big enough that I could have checked them in at the airport.
I got to the studio and speed-walked to the trailers. The same bleach-blonde girl from the day before blocked me from entering Hugh’s trailer.
“Nice of you to show up,” she said in a discourteous tone.
“I wasn't feeling well last night. I think I caught the flu.”
“Well, you're going to have to learn that in this industry, it doesn't matter what your problem is unless you’re on your deathbed—and even that’s not good enough sometimes. People like Mr. Jackman have no time for excuses.”
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