Hollywood Love

by Jillian Dodd

  If you watched The Keatyn Chronicles movies, you will be a big fan of Keatyn’s Grandpa Douglas. I heard that he continues to invest in Captive Films, and he is also here with his lovely wife of more than fifty years. #swoon

  Over the course of the evening, I am able to interview Abby, who is totally gracious and forthcoming, but she would not give up the details on what designer Keatyn might be wearing tonight. She swore, she didn’t know.

  Something I didn’t know that she went on to tell me is that while, sometimes, celebrities collaborate with a designer to create a custom gown, other times, their stylist just wheels in a rack of dresses, and they decide right before they go. She told me that one time she switched gowns at the last minute because a jeweler offered to let her wear the most beautiful emerald necklace she’d ever seen, and the pink frock she’d planned on wearing didn’t go. Instead, she decided on a beautiful black Valentino ballgown. That may have been when I screamed and nearly peed my pants.

  Because don’t you remember sitting on your couch at home, watching the Awards, when Abby stepped onto the red carpet in that dress, looking like a million bucks? Actually, it was about 2.9 million bucks, based on the value of the jewels.

  The excitement here continues when Avery Stevens, the oldest of the triplets, shows up with a very handsome young man on her arm. I had not a clue who he was and even resorted to snapping a stealth photo of him and then doing an image search. When that didn’t work, I grabbed another champagne bottle off one of the tables and filled up their glasses. What I learn is that her adorable escort’s name is Kyle and that he works at the vineyard in event planning. They declined to comment on their relationship, but I can tell you that their relationship includes a lot of sweet kissing.

  Ah, to be young again.

  The next big entrances are the other two triplets, Ivery and Emery, sans dates but with their full girl squad. All looked fabulous and perfect in their short little skirts and skimpy club-like outfits and took many selfies.

  Just when I thought I was looking hot, some nineteen-year-olds have to show up and ruin everything.

  Gracie Stevens, who I ask if she gave her sister advice on what to do when you are nominated, simply shrugs, wraps her arm around her hot date, Summer Boy, Dylan, and escorts him over to their family table, grabbing a few glasses of champagne on the way.

  Live on the Red Carpet has been airing on the big screen with the sound turned off in lieu of festive music. I about drop my plate of appetizers when it switches over, and a loud voice announces that Keatyn has arrived.

  And holy shit. She’s always looked red-carpet worthy every time she steps outside. Constantly in the spotlight since she was only eighteen, she’s never made a bad fashion move. Her style—what I like to call edgy princess—always includes soft, luscious pastels or sparkly golds. Even when she was starring in the Trinity movies, playing a kick-ass heroine, she never wore black to an event.

  So when she steps out of the limo in black from head to toe, my mouth gapes open.

  A reporter immediately shoves a microphone in her face. “Keatyn, congratulations on your nomination. Tell us about your gown.”

  “A Kym and Gellen original. Jewels, Harry Winston. Shoes, Gucci.”

  “Uh, thanks,” the reporter says, clearly still in shock, too. She doesn’t even ask her anything else.

  Keatyn looks gorgeous. But different. Her eyes are smoky, her skin flawless. Her hair is pulled back into a tight, high ponytail, held in place by a band of rhinestones with black feathers hanging down from skinny leather threads—an accessory that is sure to spark a trend.

  The necklace wrapped around her neck is slightly asymmetrical, one side gleaming in a black metal and the other forming a feather of black diamonds. Her dress is black, strapless, and fluid but shimmers from every angle. Bondage-like leather straps wrap around her waist and hips, highlighting her curves. Her shoes are black and caged.

  She looks … fierce.

  And like a freaking winner.

  I’m calling it now. Best Dressed—is Keatyn Arrington!

  The Dolby Theater - Hollywood

  KEATYN

  The Best Actress in a Leading Role is the next award to be announced. I sit up straight in my seat and smile, knowing the cameras will be moving back and forth between us as we watch a video montage of the nominees. The scenes are poignant and heartwarming. And I really do feel thrilled just to be nominated.

  This film is special to me in many ways—the fact that it was a big risk for Captive, that it was as much a labor of love as being pregnant, and that it was something completely out of the box for both me and Knox. I’ve never lacked for motivation when filming. I always easily slide in and out of my roles, but this one was … more important, I guess. Not just because so much was riding on it, but also because, for the first time, I allowed it to get personal. To allow my relationship with Aiden to guide me. To pretend it was him I was looking at and not Knox.

  Aiden takes my hand in his, like he’s reading my mind and he knows what I’m thinking. I give it a squeeze back because he’s the reason I was nominated. He’s the reason I was able to portray a woman who loved the same soul throughout time—because she fully believed in true love, fate, and destiny.

  He leans over and gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek as the announcer says, “The envelope, please.”

  Dramatic pause.

  “And the Oscar goes to … Keatyn Arrington.”

  Knox leaps out of his chair, pulling me up with him, jumping up and down, and hugging me. Riley and Dallas join in the fray, and Knox practically has to push me toward the stage. I’m pretty sure I’m in shock. I look back at Aiden, who rubs his fingers together, signaling that he won his bet and I need to pay up.

  When I get up onstage, an award is thrust into my hand. I’m given hugs by the presenters, and then I’m left alone in front of the microphone.

  It’s then that I realize I’m supposed to say something. Aiden was right. I should have prepared a speech just in case.

  “I’m sorry, everyone. I didn’t write a speech because I never in a million years thought I’d be standing up here,” I confess. “In the industry, Knox and I were labeled as box office gold, but no matter how many fans lined up to see our movies, the critics never considered us serious actors. And, as I stand here in shock, I realize that I started to believe them.

  “I’d like to thank the Academy. And Knox Daniels, who, when he first let me read his script, told me that it was the kind of story that would win awards. I need to thank Riley and Dawson Johnson, Dallas McMahon, and Grandpa Douglas, my partners at Captive Films, and the whole Captive family.

  “And to our fans. You all know I’m a sucker for a good love story. Thank you for proving to me that critical and commercial success don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

  I find Aiden’s beautiful green eyes in the crowd and feel like time stands still. I could be at Eastbrooke, kicking a goal at his face; at the top of the Eiffel Tower, saying, I will; at an altar, saying, I do; holding our new babies and saying, We will; or sitting in a rocking chair, hoping we can.

  “And to Aiden. Thank you for being the control in my chaos. This is for you. Always. Only. Ever for you.”

  The music starts playing, and I’m escorted off the stage where I’m given a glass of champagne and told I will be escorted down the Winners Walk. But I won’t do either.

  Not yet.

  I set the glass back on the tray. “Can you hold this for me until after Knox wins?”

  “Of course,” my escort says with a sweet smile.

  Love Struck and Captive Films have had a surprisingly good run—winning Best Costume Design, Best Director, Best Original Screenplay, Best Original Song, and Best Picture besides my award. Now, it’s time to find out if we really will beat the odds and sweep the Oscars.

  Jennifer Edwards and a fellow actor walk out from stage left, opposite where I am, and take their place at the podium. They introduce each Best Actor in a Leading R
ole nominee, which seems to take forever.

  I nervously tap my toe.

  Finally, the envelope is handed to Jennifer.

  As she rips the envelope open, her fellow actor says dramatically, “And the Oscar goes to …”

  “Knox fucking Daniels!” Jennifer yells out and throws a fist pump into the air as she jumps up and down and cheers. “Whoop! Whoop!”

  I realize I was holding my breath. I let it out as Katie leans over and whispers in Knox’s ear before he stands up to take the stage.

  When he gets there, Jennifer gives him a sloppy kiss on the side of his face and hands him the award. Much like I did, Knox stands in front of the microphone for a few moments. But it isn’t out of shock. It’s because he’s choked up.

  It makes me start to cry, and the crowd claps loudly, giving him a standing ovation.

  “Thank you, everyone,” he says, composing himself. “Sorry, I had a speech planned. I was going to thank a bunch of people, none of whose names I can remember right now.” He shakes his head. “Did y’all see my beautiful wife kiss me and whisper something into my ear when they called my name? Yeah, well, she just told me she’s pregnant. I’m not sure which I’m more shocked about.”

  The crowd goes nuts.

  “Ohmigod!” I say out loud.

  “Shit,” Knox says, frowning. “Sorry, Katie, you probably didn’t intend for me to just announce that to the millions watching.” He does a fist pump into the air. “But fuck yeah! I’m going to be a dad!” Tears start to fill his eyes as he shakes his head in disbelief, looking at the award and then at Katie. “This might be the pinnacle of my career, but marrying you, sugar, is the greatest achievement of my life.”

  The music starts playing, indicating that his time is over, but Knox is just getting started.

  His joy is palpable as he throws his arms up in the air and yells out, “I love you! I know the music is playing, but I gotta keep going.” He looks offstage to where I’m standing. “Keatyn, damn. Has this been a long time coming or what? Riley Johnson, where are you, man? I love you! Dallas McMahon, buddy, love you! Dawson! I love you, man! Oh, shit, I can’t forget Missy! Missy, you are the best assistant ever. And Miss Bossy Pants, Vanessa. You are the bombest PR we could ever ask for. Damian, man, for the beautiful song! And, Mom, oh, Mom! I know you’re watching!” He taps his heart. “I love you!”

  He looks up at the ceiling, his words catching in his throat. “And to my late dad. I just want you to know that I do believe in the beauty of my dreams.

  “Thank you to the Academy. Thanks to the fans who went and saw the movie. Hell, thanks to everyone!”

  He holds the trophy over his head and then is escorted offstage as the host goes back out to end the telecast.

  When Knox sees that I waited for him, he pulls me into a hug. Then we share a tender moment, our foreheads touching, both of us crying.

  Knox has been one of my best friends for over ten years. Our stars hitched upon each other’s because of a crazy screen test that acting teachers now show as an example of what not to do.

  “Whose dick did you suck to win that thing?” I whisper in his ear, using the exact same words he said to me when we first met and he was pissed they’d called him in to do a screen test with a nobody.

  His head drops onto my shoulder as he bursts out laughing. “I was an asshole, wasn’t I?”

  “I’m pretty sure we were well matched in confidence levels,” I reply. “Can you believe we’re standing here? That we swept the fucking Academy Awards?”

  “Hell yeah, I can believe it. I told you that script was going to win awards. Your speech was beautiful for something that wasn’t planned.”

  “I had no idea I was going to win.”

  “That’s because I didn’t tell you that I wished on the moon for all of this,” he teases.

  “Very funny.” I can’t help but laugh. “And you’re going to be a dad!”

  “Now, that did fucking surprise me.”

  “Are you ready for your champagne now, Keatyn?” the steward asks, this time appearing with two flutes.

  “I thought it was a tradition that, after you won, they gave you a glass, and you drank it before you went to your interviews?”

  The steward laughs. “She said she wasn’t going to drink without you.”

  Knox nods, his eyes getting misty.

  I hold up my glass to him and whisper, “Here’s to us. And, while you are stuck at home, pampering your pregnant wife, you need to write another freaking script.”

  NEWS FLASH

  Live update from the Oscars Watch Party!

  Okay, tears are streaming down my face.

  A stunned Keatyn took the stage and gave an eloquent speech, one that should motivate future actors for decades to come.

  Knox won.

  Love Struck has swept the Oscars.

  And, yes, it’s wonderful that his former-schoolteacher wife is pregnant—sob!—but that’s not what’s made me completely lose my shit and start ugly crying.

  It’s the photo that just flashed on the screen.

  Taken backstage.

  Of Knox and Keatyn embracing. Their foreheads touching. Both overcome with emotion. About what they’ve accomplished together.

  And for those of us—and by us, I mean, me—who have been following this pair since day one, it doesn’t get any better than this. It’s the pinnacle of all our careers.

  Bottles are popping left and right, and I need to get in on that shit, so I’m signing off.

  I have also been flirting with a very handsome man who tells me that he is a gaffer. I have no idea what that means, but I am more than willing to find out.

  Happy Oscars, everyone! And congrats to the cast and crew of Love Struck! Here’s to hoping this gaffer gets love struck by me tonight! I am wearing the lightning bolt pin that was handed out at the door.

  The Dolby Theater - Hollywood

  KEATYN

  We’re escorted down what is known as the Winners Walk. It takes us out the back of the theater and into a nearby hotel.

  The first stop is the photo room where we pose with our trophies. And although, normally, this is something you do as individuals, we break the rules and stay together despite what we’re told.

  Next, we are escorted to the interview room where three hundred journalists with numbered paddles raise theirs in the hopes that we will answer their question. We stay until no one has any more questions. And, somewhere along the way, someone brought us shots.

  Eventually, we get to the Governors Ball where Knox and I get our nameplates screwed on to our awards.

  We make our appearances but very quickly head to the Captive Films party. Ariela and Vanessa worked long hours, setting up the viewing party for our employees, movie cast, movie crew, and all their families. And they invited all our movie industry friends.

  But it’s clear, when we get there, the celebration has been going on without us. We say a few words, pass around our shiny trophies, toast each other, then Aiden pulls me out to the dance floor.

  He’s beaming, and I know why. He won our bet.

  “What’s the smile for?” I ask him. “You thrilled for everyone at Captive?”

  “No, I’m thrilled for us.”

  “You tricked me, I think. Into this whole fourth-baby thing.”

  “Nah,” he says, sliding his hand up my back. “You didn’t think you’d win. I gotta be honest; I wanted you to win more than anything, and I thought you deserved it, but you convinced me that you wouldn’t. I was just screwing around, using it as a way to delicately broach the subject.” He lowers his head and nips at my neck in the most delicious way. “If you ask me, it was sorta like fate.”

  I smile, knowing he’s probably right.

  Fate definitely played a role in our path to love, although I did my best to fight it. I remember, at one point, when I was a teen, saying that I wanted to kick fate’s ass. I am pretty sure I even Googled how to do it. And, although much of what has happened in
our life has been due to hard work, a supportive family, and a whole lot of love, I can’t deny that fate has seemed to play a role.

  And I have been thinking about another baby. After all, my mom and Tommy had triplets and then had my little sister, Gracie, and I can’t imagine a life without her.

  “I disagree, Aiden. I don’t think it was sorta like fate. I think it was exactly like fate,” I reply.

  He increases the pressure of his lips, letting them stroll down my neck.

  “Would my award winner want to go home and allow me to collect on our bet?”

  “Hmm, not yet. We have too much celebrating left to do, but … I’m not opposed to a quick trip out to the limo.”

  He looks up at me, his green eyes shining with desire, then leads me off the dance floor.

  Saturday, March 5th

  Asher Vineyards — Sonoma County

  RILEY

  “I do—again,” Dallas says, kissing his bride, RiAnne, under a rustic arch covered in brightly colored flowers.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife … again.”

  “Woo-hoo!” everyone yells out as Dallas and RiAnne make their way down the aisle, their five children in tow.

  The sounds of happiness fill the air—kids screaming with delight, friends engaged in warm conversations, wine glasses clinking, and laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.

  I look around at the organized chaos that is Dallas and RiAnne’s vow renewal.

  “It turned out beautifully, don’t you think?” Ariela asks as she hands me a glass of a rich red cabernet.

  “You turned out beautifully,” I tell her, letting my eyes wander down the silky fabric flowing fluidly across her body. I touch my finger to her shoulder, sliding it across her delicate collarbone.