Starlight

by Alexandra Richland

  Aidan bowed his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking past her without even saying hello. He might as well have spit in her face, given the hurt he caused her.

  Beth exchanged concerned glances with Nathan and Olivia. No one else in the theater besides the three of them seemed to notice his torment. They were all too busy praising Aidan Evans, the actor, to care about Aidan Evans, the man. But Beth cared and vowed not to let him walk away from her again.

  “Aidan!” she called.

  He paused in mid-stride, but didn’t turn around before continuing on his way.

  Purse in hand, Beth moved past Olivia and Nathan and pushed her way up the aisle, ignoring the crowd’s protests. She kept her eyes locked on the back of Aidan’s head. When he left the theater, she quickened her pace, not wanting to lose him.

  Outside, all of the fans were gone, the red carpet rolled up, and the spotlights put away. All that remained were pieces of crumpled notepaper on the ground, as well as vacant bleachers and the brass poles that had secured the velvet ropes earlier.

  “Aidan!” Beth’s voice was lost amongst the commotion as people chatted about his performance and got into their cars. She followed him across the road.

  Aidan tugged at his tie and walked faster. Upon reaching the other side of the street, he turned right. Beth’s determination to catch up to him didn’t falter, despite his refusal to acknowledge her. She wasn’t the same woman who ran after him at Romanoff’s months earlier. She was wiser and her decision to follow him wasn’t irresponsibly impulsive. This time she was on a mission for his good, not her own selfish reasons, and she wouldn’t allow him to take the cowardly way out.

  When he turned left down a side street, Beth sped up to a jog, in spite of her uncomfortable footwear. She rounded the corner as he took off his suit jacket and dumped it into a nearby garbage can. His white dress shirt was yanked from his pants next, his tie loosened.

  Aidan hopped on his motorcycle, keeping his gaze lowered as he fiddled with the key in the ignition. He jammed his foot down on the starter pedal and cursed when nothing happened. He tried again to no avail.

  Beth marched up to him. “Why are you running from me? I’m trying to help you!”

  Aidan stopped trying to start his motorcycle and bowed his head until his chin touched his chest. Although Beth couldn’t see his face clearly, by the grace of the streetlamps she noticed tears falling from his eyes to his dress pants.

  “Aidan, please.” Her tone was softer now. “What’s wrong? Don’t shut me out again.”

  Aidan lifted his gaze. The torment in his eyes almost brought her to the ground. “Just leave me alone. Please.”

  “Why would I leave you alone?” She gestured to him in protest. “You approach me whenever it’s convenient for you, never asking me if it’s all right. You hide out in the shadows, watching me during rehearsal and learning goodness knows what about me, but when I want to find out anything about you, you run away.”

  Aidan cast his pained gaze down the street. “I’m no good, trust me.”

  “No good? How? Why?”

  He didn’t answer

  “What do you mean? Does it have something to do with your film?”

  Aidan shook his head. “Just drop it, Beth.”

  “No, I won’t. You need to tell me what’s wrong. I can help you.”

  “I’m beyond help. I thought I was good enough, but—”

  “Good enough for what?” Beth placed a gentle hand over his on the handlebar.

  Aidan yanked his hand away.

  “Not what.” His voice sounded low and detached. “Who.”

  Beth’s lower lip trembled.

  “Help me understand,” she begged, willing her tears to remain at bay.

  Aidan said nothing and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his mask of stoicism intact again. Although Beth felt frustrated with his behavior, she was also aware she had to take advantage of this opportunity. She didn’t know if she would ever get another one.

  She searched for her next words carefully. Only two times came to mind, aside from tonight, where he looked this tortured: in the commissary after his incident on set and when he admired the piano in the Venus Rising rehearsal theater.

  “Something else made you break down on set.” She met his despondent gaze. “You weren’t just having a bad day.”

  Aidan drew in a sharp breath and looked away. “I’m leaving. Please forgive me.”

  He hastily attempted to kick-start his motorcycle again.

  Beth folded her arms across her chest. She’d obviously touched on something substantial. “I’m leaving for New York in two days to begin my promotional tour, but I’ll be returning to Los Angeles in three weeks. Find me if you’re ready to talk then.”

  The engine came to life. She stepped back, preparing for his imminent departure.

  Aidan’s stormy eyes met hers. “I’m sorry, Beth.”

  He gunned the engine and took off in a roar of speed, turning right onto Hollywood Boulevard.

  Beth took a few minutes to compose herself before walking back to the theater, where Nathan, Olivia, Matthew, and Connie sat in the back row, waiting for her.

  Olivia eyed Beth warily. She smiled in return, letting her friend know she was all right. She had faith that Aidan would take her up on her proposition eventually. Their connection was much too deep and important, and her offer too heartfelt and true, for him to forget about her.

  Olivia stood and took Beth’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

  Nathan joined them in the aisle. Matthew and Connie looked confused, but didn’t ask any questions as they followed the three of them out of the theater to the waiting limousine.

  The ride home was as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances. In between some awkward moments of silence, the group discussed Aidan’s performance, as well as the movie in general. By the time the limousine parked in front of Beth and Olivia’s apartment, Beth was relieved Matthew and Connie didn’t look as concerned as before.

  Nathan and Olivia said their good-byes, and Connie insisted that Beth call as soon as she returned to L.A.

  Upon entering their apartment, Beth shared what transpired between her and Aidan on the street with Olivia, leaving out the specifics of why she believed he took off in the first place, as well as his emotional state when she caught up to him. Olivia was pleased with their progress and predicted Aidan would reach out to her after she returned from her promotional tour.

  When Beth headed into her room to pack, Olivia came with her and pulled her in for a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Tears stung Beth’s eyes as she hugged Olivia back. “Nathan will be here for you. Plus, you have lots to keep you busy at the studio.”

  Olivia sniffled and pulled back from her. “I know, but it’s not the same. It was awful being apart from you when you were up in Monterey.”

  “We made it through the last time so we can do it again. And it’s only three weeks this time. I’ll be back before you know it.” Truthfully, Beth was going to miss Olivia more than she let on.

  “Don’t forget to call me.” Olivia’s face brightened. “Or better yet, I’ll get the numbers of the hotels you’re staying at from Nathan and I’ll call you from his office. That way, Mr. Mertz will be stuck paying the long distance bill!”

  Beth giggled. “That sounds like a great plan.”

  “At least you’ll have Will Everett to keep you company while on tour.” Olivia winked at her on her way out of the bedroom.

  Beth cringed. Perhaps three weeks would seem a lot longer, after all.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Three days after the Spike Rollins premiere, Aidan still agonized over what happened between him and Beth. He hadn’t expected her to follow him out of the theater and he certainly hadn’t been prepared to explain what was wrong with him. She begged him to tell her, but he acted like a coward and ran away. Once again, he was ashamed of his behavior.

  After sneaking into his sea
t in the front row of the theater under Mr. Mertz’s livid stare, Aidan realized he’d arrived just in time for the final scene—one that was full of hope and joy, but reminded him of how much he had failed his mother in real life. Luckily, the theater was dark, hiding the tears glistening in his eyes.

  Once the film finished and the lights came on, Aidan figured he could maintain his composure long enough to give Beth a quick hello and leave before anyone noticed something was wrong. However, as he got closer to her, he felt he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together. The wall he’d so carefully built around himself over the years crumbled whenever he was near her.

  Stupidly, he walked past her without saying a word, thinking she’d leave him alone like she did in the commissary after his incident on set. He assumed she wouldn’t want anything to do with him from then on, but he didn’t know what else to do at the time. Instead, she ran after him and demanded he talk to her.

  As Beth stood before Aidan in the moonlight in her elegant pink gown, the streetlights illuminating the kindness in her brown eyes, he was astonished by her strength and beauty. Similar to their encounter in the commissary, he knew he would do anything to protect her innocence, including withdrawing from her for good if he had to.

  Yet now that he had time to reflect on what had occurred between them, he realized his behavior was selfish and immature, and he could no longer rationalize what he did to her. He was a despicable excuse for a man, plain and simple. He’d hurt Beth by shutting her out—the one person who cared enough to ask what was troubling him, the only person who noticed he was troubled in the first place.

  Aidan had spent so many years trying to keep his pain to himself, utilizing acting as his only coping mechanism, that it was difficult for him to consider sharing his past with another person now that it was an option.

  Even if he wanted to try to explain the truth, or apologize for his behavior, Beth was currently across the country in New York, far out of his reach. She said she’d return to L.A. in three weeks, but Aidan didn’t even know if he’d be here then.

  Although he thrived professionally, he still hadn’t secured his next film project and toyed with the idea of returning to the east coast permanently to escape the suffocating Hollywood spotlight. He was also well aware that even if he did stick around and told Beth the truth, there was no guarantee she would still want to know him, anyway.

  Aidan cursed and stood from the bed. He was desperate for a distraction from his over-analyzing and self-loathing. After grabbing his keys and sunglasses, he headed downstairs and into the parking lot. He was hungry and his icebox was empty, so he had no choice but to leave his apartment, even though he was afraid of what he would experience in the outside world.

  Aidan sat down a nobody in the Egyptian Theater and stood up a star. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. While most people in his position would’ve felt overjoyed, he hated everything that accompanied the transformation.

  Sure, he was happy Spike Rollins achieved the biggest one-day opening in Hollywood history and that the film continued to break box office records, but he believed he didn’t deserve the public’s personal interest. The movie’s success was due to the brilliance and complexity of his character, Preston’s direction, and the solid script. It had nothing to do with who Aidan was in real life.

  The way he saw it, an actor’s job was to portray a character that resonated with his audience. He didn’t like that people were so fascinated with him personally all of a sudden, when they didn’t care about him at all before Spike Rollins’ release.

  Teenagers—the generation movies never catered to until Spike Rollins hit theaters—were especially interested in Aidan. They were able to identify with him because he was so far removed from the studio machine than what they were used to, more like a regular Joe than a manufactured Starlight Studios star. He represented their unrest and need for rebellion, especially because he was closer to them in age than the other popular Method actors in motion pictures who didn’t follow Mr. Mertz’s rules.

  Aidan was real, tormented, and as much as he hated to admit it, vulnerable. Not only that but he was playing a teenager and actually looked the part. He didn’t have a baby face, but because he was only twenty-three, it wasn’t a stretch for him to play a seventeen-year-old. Actors like Brando and Clift wouldn’t have been able to pull it off.

  The biggest draw for teenagers was that finally, after years of feeling ignored by the film industry, they had a motion picture, character, and performer they could call their own. Spike Rollins was a smash hit throughout the country. At last, their voices had been heard.

  The teenagers’ important message—which Aidan delivered through his character to their parents and society, whom they believed truly didn’t understand them—was that they were people, too, with depth and opinions, and they should be respected and taken seriously.

  Much to Aidan’s discomfort, he was their hero, their defiant, unpolished, and undisciplined leader in the fiery red windbreaker. His only solace was that even though the public now felt like they understood and related to him, they were none the wiser to his real inner pain. That, at least, he still had all to himself.

  Opening day was the biggest shock to Aidan. He hid out in his apartment, but was eventually so consumed by hunger that he was forced to venture outside. He hopped on his motorcycle and rode to a diner that evening, trying to ignore his face plastered on the front of every daily publication in the city. When he arrived at his destination, fans mobbed him. He signed autographs and posed for so many pictures, he actually panicked when anybody had approached him since.

  Unfortunately, he would most likely have a repeat of that today, which only fueled his interest in leaving Hollywood permanently and focusing solely on theater and television work in New York. He was still undecided on his next move, though, because all in all, he found making motion pictures oddly fulfilling. Ultimately, he had to weigh whether or not fame and paranoia were fair compromises for getting to expand his acting horizons.

  The sad reality was that if Aidan did stay in L.A., he wasn’t even safe in his apartment. Over the last several days, he was inundated with telephone calls and telegrams from directors, reporters, producers, actors, etcetera, all wanting to congratulate him on his performance and talk to him about future projects. Now everyone wanted a piece of him professionally.

  To cope, Aidan removed his telephone jack from the wall and stopped answering his door altogether. A collection of telegrams had gathered on the floor in the foyer because deliverymen were now shoving them under the door when he wouldn’t respond.

  One of the first messages Aidan actually read was from Nathan, who mentioned an agent and financial guru named Saul Stern, who could handle his finances now that he had more money than he knew what to do with.

  Aidan didn’t want an agent—he’d gotten along fine so far without one—but he felt that financial guidance wasn’t such a bad idea. If he ended up staying in L.A. awhile longer, he would entertain the offer, especially because Nathan had recommended Mr. Stern. It meant the man was trustworthy.

  Since Spike Rollins opened, Preston was the only person Aidan reached out to. He wanted to congratulate the director for making the film such a success. Before they hung up, Preston told Aidan that Mr. Mertz wanted to speak with him about his absence on the red carpet. Aidan replied he did his job by starring in the film and that the box office numbers spoke for themselves. He refused to discuss the matter further. Preston agreed to relay the message and he hadn’t heard anything since.

  In the parking lot at Googie’s, Aidan latched his sunglasses onto the collar of his T-shirt and walked inside. Patrons recognized him immediately. A young man, who looked around seventeen, approached him at the counter as he ordered a ham sandwich and black coffee. The teenager had adopted Spike Rollins’ style of jeans and a T-shirt, which Aidan noticed had become a fashion trend in young men since the film opened.

  Aidan lit a cigarette as the kid slid onto the stool nex
t to him, grinning broadly.

  “Hey, Spike! How’s it going, man? Great movie. I’ve seen it five times. By the way, my name’s Wally.”

  Aidan ignored Wally’s offer of a handshake and took a long drag on his cigarette.

  Wally dropped his hand, but didn’t look any less enthusiastic after the attempted brush off. “Hey, where can I get a red jacket, you know, like the one you wore in the film?”

  Aidan blew a large cloud of smoke toward the countertop.

  “Dunno,” he muttered. “The studio gave it to me.”

  Wally’s face fell. “Oh, I see. Well, can I have your autograph?”

  Aidan decided to play nice, hoping Wally would leave him alone afterward. “Sure, gotta pen?”

  With the cigarette suspended between his lips, Aidan scribbled Spike Rollins on a napkin, certain Wally wouldn’t notice or care that he didn’t use his real name. Aidan Evans and Spike were probably one and the same to him.

  “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” Wally slapped Aidan on the back like they were the best of friends and left.

  The server behind the counter placed Aidan’s food and coffee in front of him.

  “It’s on the house, Spike.” With a wink, the man walked away.

  Aidan ignored the courtesy. He was never offered a free meal before the release of his film—when he was broke and needed it a lot more—so he wasn’t about to accept any handouts now.

  After stubbing out his cigarette, he took a bite of his sandwich. Mid-chew, he heard a shriek behind him. He cringed and dropped his sandwich to his plate.

  “Oh my, you’re Aidan Evans!”

  Aidan swallowed hard and glanced over his shoulder. A teenage girl with blonde hair secured in a ponytail approached him, smiling widely.

  “My name is Fiona and I’m President of the Aidan Evans Fan Club.” A blush rose in her cheeks. “Well, one of your fan clubs, but I’m trying to get mine to be the biggest in the country.”

  Aidan forced a half-smile, appalled by the notion he had a fan club. “Uh, good for you.”

  Fiona squealed. “No one is going to believe I met you!”