The Actor's Secret

by Susan Stevens

  She smiled, taking his hand. "Don't you think I'm old enough to make that choice by myself? And not have someone else decide whether to break my heart?"

  "Sephora, I never meant to hurt you," he said, tears filling his eyes. She squeezed his hand, nodding through her own tears.

  "I know, babe. You think I don't know you well enough to figure out when something is up?"

  He grinned at her, stroking her hand. His fingers caught on the ring, and he looked down in surprise.

  "You're still wearing it? I would have thought you'd take it off and thrown it in the river by now."

  "Pppht," she rolled her eyes. "Actors are fickle. I figured I'd give it a few days. Now, what's going on with you? Are you going to be alright?"

  He nodded.

  "It's just dehydration, they think. I've been an idiot."

  She tried to nod, hoping that this time, he was telling the truth.

  "Sephora..." he was intently focused on the ring. "Will you let me replace that with something better?"

  She raised an eyebrow.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean..." he took a deep breath. "Will you let me put a real diamond on your finger? Will you do me the honour of being my wife? For as long as this life lasts?"

  She felt her heart almost stop beating in her chest. Her mouth went dry, and she opened and closed it a few times before speaking.

  "Well...as long as it's an addition. I don't want you to replace it."

  "Oh," he said, shocked that her answer was so honest. She grinned.

  "Because I love it. It's the beginning of us. And yes, I will. I do!"

  She leaned in to kiss him on the lips. Already, she could see the colour returning to his cheeks as they spoke.

  "Being a Hollywood wife...It's not going to be easy," he said. "I mean, you know that, don't you? You can have whatever you want, you can do whatever you want, you can even quit working if you'd like to...but no one said it would be easy."

  She shrugged.

  "And dealing with you hasn't been easy all along? I think whatever the world throws at me, Garrett, I can handle."

  "You sure?" He searched her eyes. "Because you still have time to back out of this."

  "I'm sure," she nodded.

  "You wouldn't rather have a free life, partying it up, kissing random boys?"

  "No," she shook her head. "In the town I came from, there was only 1 eligible boy. I never thought I'd be able to kiss another one."

  He laughed, giving her a little shove. And he knew, whatever would come to pass, this marriage would be built on laughter and on love. For however long they had let.

  Chapter 4

  Reincarnation

  This was it, her wedding day. As a child, Sephora had been one of the rare few children who never thought of her own wedding, never dreamed of it. She had been a tom-boy, growing up in a small town and preferring ripped jeans to dresses.

  Of course, even if she had planned her wedding from the time she could walk, she would never have planned anything like this. Marrying a Hollywood superstar was the last on the list of possibilities, and yet here she was, in a $20,000 wedding gown, about to walk down the aisle.

  It hadn't been an easy road, to get there. When she came to big city Toronto to work as a production assistant and climb the ladder of a behind the scenes career, she had expected to get coffee and run errands. Instead, by a stroke of luck, she was assigned to Garrett, one of the show's leads and one of the most difficult people on the planet, or so his reputation claimed.

  But Sephora saw a different side of Garrett and soon learned he wasn't a diva at all, but a desperate actor trying to hide his failing body. There were bad days, but they never outweighed the good ones, with shining eyes and dazzling smiles.

  He had tried to push her away, to shield her from it all when she worked in Victoria for three months, and it almost worked. However, she knew him too well to think they would be apart. They were destined for each other.

  "Almost ready?" her father asked her, sticking his head in the bridle room. Sephora nodded, as her mother placed her veil on her head.

  According to society, she was young to get married, and especially young to stay married in Hollywood, but she didn't care. Garrett was her soul mate, her one true love, and she was only sorry that they didn't get married the day they met.

  "Ready," she replied.

  She knew that the church would be packed to the rafters, both with people she knew and people she only recognized from television. In addition, Garrett had auctioned off a row of tickets to raise money for Rhabdomolysis research. He hadn't yet made the announcement public, but he planned to after they were married. And so, somewhere in the church were 6 lucky fans of his work, who had paid a hefty price to watch their wedding.

  It wasn't supposed to be such a terrible disease, it was supposed to be curable and one was supposed to move on. But Garrett's hung on with a fierceness that they had never seen before, returning with vengeful symptoms that robbed him of strength and life. Just two days ago, he had collapsed in her arms and she had rushed him to the hospital, wondering, not for the first time, if they'd have to say their marriage vows there.

  Her father held out his arm, and she went to it, taking a deep breath. This was really happening.

  Her bridesmaids were already out in the hall, tittering amongst themselves. Most of them had never been outside their small town before today, and Toronto was so big and so overwhelming. Sephora had threaten to slug anyone who she caught being star struck.

  The music started and one by one, her bridesmaid began walking down the aisle, in time to the beat. She closed her eyes.

  "You know, you can still run away now," her father whispered. She nudged him.

  "Really, Dad?"

  "I'm joking."

  Finally, the last bridesmaid went and Sephora took a deep breath, and then a step forward, and then another, walking through the huge doors as ‘Here comes to bride' began to play.

  The entire congregation rose. Through her veil, she could see that the church was packed. Her family and friends lined one side, and Garrett's on the other.

  She was right about it being star-studded. On Garrett's side, she had to stop herself from asking for autographs. There were faces she had only ever seen on the silver screen, smiling down at her and wishing her good luck. It seemed so surreal.

  She turned her focus to the end of the aisle, where Garrett was standing, staring at her.

  He looked stunning, in a slick black suit, open at the collar of his white dress shirt. They hadn't wanted to go formal, and she had always liked it when he dressed like that.

  He had his hands clasped formally in front of him, and his eyes were fixed on her, a wide grin spread across his features as she neared. She grinned back at him, obscured by the veil. She was marrying him, and would, for all eternity, be his.

  She turned to her father, who lifted her veil, kissed her cheek and passed her on to Garrett. She took his hands, shaking with excitement.

  The priest looked at both of them for confirmation, and when they both nodded, he opened his book, and began to read.

  "I love you," Sephora mouthed to Garrett.

  "I'm hungry," he mouthed back, making her roll her eyes. When he was romantic, he went the whole nine yards. But when he felt like being silly, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

  They had written their own vows, instead of exchanging the traditional ones. Garrett had felt that their relationship was so different, and so untraditional, that nothing else would do. And he had been firm on insisting that ‘till death do us part' was taken out. For him, death was too real to be able to say that, not when he often felt like it could strike at any moment. And so, both of them promised to be together ‘in this life and any other'.

  The rings were plain, gold circlets that represented eternity and simplicity. Life was going to be so complicated for the Hollywood star and his wife, so simple needed to exist somewhere.

  Finally
, they came to the end of the ceremony and the priest looked down on them.

  "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

  And so, they did.

  ***

  The reception was even more star-studded than the wedding. Garrett had insisted on renting the largest hall they could fine, to accommodate anyone who couldn't fit inside the already massive church. Sephora had to shake herself a few times to make sure it was all real.

  "How do you know all these people?" she hissed at him as they entered the hall, smiling.

  "Facebook," he muttered back, making her laugh. She squeezed his hand.

  "We're married, Garrett. We're actually married."

  "I know, I was there," apparently he was feeling good today, the sense of humor in full force.

  "I didn't think it would ever be like this," she said, looking around. "I mean, I always thought I'd marry a small town boy, settle down and have 13 kids and raise them on a farm."

  "We can still do that," he turned to her. "But we better get cracking on the 13 kids. I suggest triplets at the least, less stress for you."

  "I was thinking 2," she replied, even though they had already had this conversation a hundred times. He shrugged.

  "2 could also work."

  "Well, I suggest we get started on that tonight then," she leaned in, kissing him full on the mouth. He didn't answer, absorbed in his lovely bride. As they broke apart, they were startled by a pounding on the window outside.

  "Paparazzi," Sephora said, holding tight to Garrett. "Do you want me to ..."

  "No," he looked into her eyes. "It's time."

  "Are you sure?" she quirked an eyebrow. "I thought we weren't going to announce this until later."

  "Let's do it now, get it over with and enjoy the evening."

  She thought a moment, and then nodded.

  "Alright then."

  Doubling back, they circled around the hall and outside, flanked by a few wedding guests. Marcy, the head P.A. on Garrett's show, walked in front of them, arms crossed, ready to make sure nothing got out of hand. Sephora was so grateful for Marcy, who had brought them together from day one. She had been the one to assign Sephora, than a young and inexperienced P.A., to Garrett. And, a year and a half later, when they had broken up, she had been the one to make the long distance call and demand Sephora come home. Now, she waved her arms to get the paparazzo's attention.

  "Alright, listen up. These two have something to say. When they are done, you can have precisely four and half minutes to ask them questions and then they are off to enjoy their wedding day. Anyone who tries to disrespect that will be sorry."

  And looking at the look on Marcy's face, every single one of them believed her.

  Garrett cleared his throat, getting the crowd to stop shouting. Flashbulbs were going off left right and centre, but there was nothing they could do to stop that.

  "So...thanks for coming. I hope you brought us a wedding gift," he said, to the titter of giggles from the female paparazzi members. "So it's true, you can write it down, Sephora and I are married and I wouldn't have it any other way."

  "Garrett, it was extremely generous of you to donate tickets to your wedding for a cause. Why did you pick that one?"

  Garrett held up his hands.

  "Woah, I'm getting there. Hold questions until the end." He was kind about it, but Marcy, always tough as nails, had other methods of making them behave.

  "Stop talking!" she barked, and there was silence.

  "So..." Garrett looked at Sephora, who gave him the tiniest nod of encouragement. "We chose that cause because it's something that is very close to my heart...as in literally close to my heart...because I suffer from it. This disease is wretched, and it's the reason I left Broadway. I could no longer perform 8 shows a week. I am grateful to the TV show, of course, for working around my body's demands, and to Sephora...to Sephora..." he looked at her, eyes shining. "That's how we met. She was assigned to me as my P.A., and I was difficult, as you all know I am...and she could have thrown up her hands, and left, but she did not. She stuck it out, and she found out my secret, that me being a diva had nothing to do with attitude and everything to do with a desperate attempt to hide my symptoms. And so she helped me do it. Brought me pain drugs and Gravol, made sure that I wasn't called to set three early mornings in a row, claimed I was stuck in traffic when I couldn't get out of bed. This girl has been my light in the dark, my life saver, and I couldn't have come this far without her. Moving forward, I only hope that the time we have left is spent with more good days than bad."

  "Do you plan to have children?" someone called. "Isn't this genetic?"

  Garrett shrugged.

  "It can be. But it also doesn't have to be. Each of us are born with so many chances to fail, and yet we thrive if we are meant to. We do plan to have children."

  "Sephora, is this a marriage for money then?"

  Her jaw fell open and she looked to the offending reporter, shocked.

  "No, of course not. I love Garrett with all my heart and I hope that we have a hundred years together. He is my anam chara, my soul mate, in Irish."

  "What about your career?"

  Garrett swivelled his head, to find the source of the question.

  "I hope to continue my career as long as I can. And with the support of Sephora, and Marcy, and the others around me, I think that will be much longer than if I had to struggle alone."

  "Do you intend to do more charity work?"

  Sephora nodded.

  "We do. Now that we're out of the closet, so to speak, we hope to raise awareness and funds. We've got a few things in the works...but right now I'm starving, so maybe if we can...cut the questions off..."

  She looked to Marcy, who nodded. The couple posed one last time for the sea of flashbulbs, and then turned their backs, blowing a kiss. Their secret was out and now it was time to move on.

  ***

  The first day back on set after the big announcement was different than normal. Sephora had kind of been hoping that everything would go back to normal, but she could see that it wouldn't. Only a few members of the cast and crew had known, and had kept Garrett's secret. Now, however, everyone knew and went out of their way to make sure he was alright. As well, being his wife, and still his P.A., they kept Sephora on the payroll but let her do as she pleased. Which she tested one day by sitting on the floor at the base of his chair, texting while he read his lines.

  He glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow when she was still there after lunch.

  "How long are you going to keep this up?"

  "Until they start acting normal," she replied, not looking up from her phone. "Look at them. The only words people have said to us all day were to make sure you were ok and that you had everything you needed. No one has told me to get to work or stop lazing around. Did we get married and I became a ghost or something?"

  "Well, you're a Hollywood superstar's wife," he winked at her. "Technically, you don't have to work at all."

  She looked up at him, finally putting her phone down.

  "You know that's not what I want. I need to have my own career."

  "I know that, and you know that, but do they know that?"

  "Guess not," she shrugged. "I'm actually itching to do something, I'm just waiting around to see how long it takes them to start respecting me again."

  "I think the problem isn't disrespect, but overly respected," he said. "Also, if you really want to do something, you can take this script to writing and tell them I want this line cut."

  "I'm your wife, not your slave," she replied, her huge diamond wedding ring catching the light and making her smile. Her Claddagh ring was still on her other hand. She had refused to take it off, the symbolism too strong. To her, that was the real wedding ring, the real day she knew Garrett was committed to her. Even if he tried to push her away, to shield her, she knew the truth. "And what line?"

  "This," he pointed it out. "Tell them I'll say Shag, or rut, but I'm not say
ing that word on national television. When did this show get so trashy?"

  She grinned, taking the script from him and standing up.

  "You're just an Irish prude."

  "Seriously. I'm not saying it."

  "Garrett," she rolled her eyes. "Your character isn't Irish. Saying anything but the F-word doesn't make any sense."

  "No," he crossed his arms and she laughed. This was one of those moments that was truly a diva reason and had nothing to do with his disease.

  She ran the script over to writing, sticking her head in and explaining the situation. Tara, the head writer, looked like she wanted to tear her hair out, but signed off on the word change anyways.

  "You don't have to if you don't want to, " Sephora said. "I mean, he needs someone to stick it to him."

  "Tell him to say Shag. I'll add a line later about someone mocking him for it," Tara gave her a tight smile and Sephora grinned, taking the newly edited script back.

  Garrett was no longer alone in his chair, but surrounded by two tall broad shouldered men. On approaching, Sephora recognized them as Nick and Kale, two actors from Kingdom, which filmed one set over. She had met both of them several times, the boys often playing video games in the shared back lot, like children. Unlike most children, however, they had the newest most expensive games, systems and modifications known to man, things that often didn't appear on the market for months later.

  "Hey, what are you guys doing here?" She asked, approaching and standing between them.

  "Hey, girl, how's it going?"

  "Good," Sephora smiled at Nick and handed the script back to Garrett. "Say Shag. But I'm not sure you'll like the consequences."

  "Shag? Really? How about this?" Nick rattled off about one hundred other synonyms, which made even Sephora cover her ears. Kale just grinned.

  "Ok, we're not here to embarrass you. My charity is doing a fund-raiser ball in June, all fancy dress and rich widows. It's supposed to be for Cancer, but I realized that is overdone. So I thought I'd come over here and see if you two had any suggestions." He winked, and Sephora looked to her husband.

  "Yeah, we could. Do you need anything from us?"