“You're on your way, Sia.”
“I’m trying. You’ve taught me so much, Carol.”
She feels soft when I hug her. “You’ve taught me as well, child. I’m so glad you came out here to see me today, but I’m afraid I have to go to work now.”
I smile at her. “Oh, that’s right! Well, I’ll stop by again soon. Promise.” Before I close her door, she stops me.
“Sia?”
“Yes?”
“I just . . . want you to know how thankful I am that our paths crossed. And that I got to play a part in your story. No matter what happens in the future, remember that.”
I give her a meaningful look. “I will.”
I smile as I head out the door, a smile that stays on my face for most of the way home. I smile because I want to be like that bag lady I’m sure I used to say rotten things about.
Life sure can throw some curveballs.
Fortunately, I’m learning how to catch them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It’s the afternoon before The Oscars, and I’m totally petrified. I’m sitting on my bed, staring at Mom’s designer gown. It’s hanging in the corner of my room. Soon I’ll be wearing that incredible gown to a major event, full of movie stars and celebrities. I’ll be chatting them up as if we’re all old friends . . . and asking for money.
What the heck am I doing? I yank my freshly manicured nails away from my teeth. This is crazy. I should cancel.
But Alyz phoned earlier to check on me. She must have sensed my nervousness, but I assured her I had the tickets, the right outfit, and the right date. She was breezy and laughing, telling me how wonderful it was going to be. Yet every word stirred more butterflies in my stomach. Really, she’s an old pro at all this. I’m a fraud. But when I told her that, she only laughed more freely and told me I have nothing to worry about.
Sure. Nothing to worry about. Beatriz says I watched The Oscars on television every year growing up. Some of those same celebrities have even been to our place for dinner in the past. The very idea of all those famous people being together in one place boggles my mind. Especially when I put myself in the midst of them.
“Sia?” Dad calls from downstairs. “I have to go a little early. I’m meeting that screenwriter at The Dolby.”
Still wearing my bathrobe, I go to the top of the stairs, look down, and whistle with admiration. Nothing is more attractive than a good-looking man in a tuxedo. “You look impressive, Dad.”
He chuckles and picks at his bow tie. “Impressive enough to get the screenplay, I hope.” He’s told me this could be the screenplay that saves our family, so I wish him all the luck in the world.
“John will be picking you and your date up at five o’clock.”
My heart jumps. My date. Five o’clock. The Oscars. This is really happening. I’m going to be in the midst of them, red carpet and all. After he leaves, I sink onto my bed and drop my face into my palm. I can’t help moaning.
A knocks comes at my door. “Sia? It’s Beatriz. You okay?”
I sigh. “As okay as I’m going to get.”
“Do you need help getting dressed?”
It’s probably smart to have a little company. “Sure. Come on in.”
Beatriz looks as excited as I should feel, so I try to put myself in her place. It’s easier seeing myself that way. “This dress—que bello!” she says, running her fingers over the sparkling material of the dress. “It’s lucky you’re the same size as your mother.”
Beatriz is skilled with a flat iron. She insists that we pull most of my hair up so the jewelry will pop. “I’ve done enough girls’ quinceañeras to know!” she chirps, trying to rouse my enthusiasm.
Eventually, I open up about how scared I really am.
She chuckles. “You will not be the only one scared tonight.”
“True. But those actors know what they’re doing. They’re supposed to be there.”
“Listen to me,” she says, setting the flat iron down. She crouches down so we’re face to face. “No one really knows what they’re doing. Yes, some of them are supposed to be there because they might win something, but I believe that you are meant to be there, too. If not, the idea would not have come to you. Everything happens for a reason. You are meant to go.”
Her serene perspective calms me down. Maybe she’s right. Maybe there is some kind of fate or destiny at work here. And maybe I lost my memory for a reason as well. “Thanks, Beatriz. That helps.”
“Just be yourself tonight.”
Soon, my hair is styled in an elegant, voluminous up-do with sweeping side bangs. I’m adjusting my gold earrings when I hear a light tap on my door.
Stacy’s head pops in. “I heard you need a makeup artist.”
“Stacy!” I can’t believe how happy I am to see her—on her own.
She grins at my reaction and steps in, carrying two silver boxes of makeup.
“You hardly need me,” she says. “You already look stunning.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her, and I can tell that means a lot to her. She’s trying. At least I’m able to step back and see what I’m doing with my life. Stacy, on the other hand, is still stuck in the middle of it all.
Her eyes flit to the gown hanging across the room. “Is that it?” she says, her voice soft with wonder. “Oh, Sia . . . it’s divine.” She squeezes her eyes tight in a grimace. “Amber would die if she saw you in that.”
Stacy gets to work on my makeup. She really is a whiz. When she’s all done, I carefully slide into the Versace. Beatriz fastens it up in the back. Then both my friends stare at me, grinning like idiots. I walk over to a mirror.
My reflection leaves me speechless.
Alyz had requested I be “breathtaking,” and right now I’m definitely struggling to breathe. Not because the dress is too tight, but because I can’t believe it’s really me in it. The luxurious fabric hugs my body like a glove. The gold shines and sparkles, as if I’m on fire. The thin straps of the halter top are studded with gems, and the same stones follow the low neckline. My face has been styled and painted expertly. I feel transformed.
When the doorbell rings, I smile. Kyle. That has to be him. I can’t wait to see his reaction.
“Right on time,” Beatriz says. She heads downstairs with Stacy and me right behind her. Just before she opens the door, she turns to me, smiling. “Ready, Princess Sia?”
“Yeah,” says Stacy. “Let’s see this Prince Charming of yours.”
Much to everyone’s surprise, Kyle looks dashing. His tuxedo is immaculate, as is the white shirt beneath. He’s topped it off with a neatly done black bow tie.
“Wow,” Stacy gasps. “You clean up nicely.”
Kyle doesn’t answer. He sort of gives her a nod, but I’m not even sure he hears her. He’s staring at me, his mouth hanging slightly open. I blush wildly and can’t think of a thing to say. Fortunately, he goes first. “You look nice,” he mumbles.
I realize he’s just as nervous as I am. Maybe even more.
“Shall we go?” he asks.
“Hold on, mister! Not so fast,” Stacy exclaims, watching us with interest. She produces a camera from her purse and points across the room. “It’s kind of like a prom, right? And you two make a gorgeous couple, I have to say. Over there.”
It’s awkward at first, walking together. It's like we don’t know how to talk now that we’re dressed so elegantly, but we gradually loosen up. Adrenaline is racing through me so that everything tingles. When I touch his sleeve, my fingers are all prickly.
We turn to face Stacy’s camera. He puts his arm around my waist, sending a thrill through my entire body. I can’t shake the feeling that something magical is about to happen. When I glance at Kyle, he’s looking at me, his expression soft. I have a crazy urge to kiss him right then and there, but he looks away. The moment’s not right. Too many eyes around. I swallow my disappointment. Perhaps another time. In a different place.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
> “So I know you don’t remember who you were, but do you remember who some of these movie stars are?”
We’ve mostly been quiet on the ride downtown, both of us staring out the car windows. John has donned his chauffeur cap. He is calm, working his way expertly through the swarm of limousines and taxis. Horns honk. Complete strangers yell out greetings to the passing cars. Fans wave and scream from behind barricades on either side of the streets. The night is thrilling, and the entire city seems in on it.
“Nope. I saw some of the pre-show coverage on TV today with Beatriz, but it didn’t help. I don’t remember any of them. Even the ones Beatriz said come over to our house regularly.”
“Hmm. That could be a problem. What will you do when those people approach you?”
“I’ll play along,” I say, shrugging. “I’ll act like I know them—schmooze, flatter, congratulate. But if you see me stumbling, make up some excuse and get me out of there.”
He laughs. “Sounds like a plan.”
The noise coming from the crowds outside the car is deafening. When we pull up at the end of the red carpet, John parks and opens my door while Kyle climbs out the other side. I stare at the throngs of celebrities, frozen in place.
Kyle appears beside me and leans in. “You ready?”
I shake my head, hyperventilating.
“Come on, Sia. You look . . . ” He takes a deep breath, then gives me a smile that just about sweeps me away. I had no idea he could do that. “You look like a goddess.”
He offers his arm, so I link my elbow with his, relishing the sensation of his body pressed against my arm. He is my support, and I am his. We walk quickly over the red carpet. We try to avoid the paparazzi, but they yell at us constantly.
“Over here!”
“Hey, golden girl! Look here!”
One guy reaches out from behind the barrier and practically grabs me. His eyes sparkle with excitement. “Pose for me, beautiful!”
“Me?” I laugh. “Oh no, no. I’m not famous. You don’t want my picture.”
Kyle is no help at all. Grinning devilishly, he steps away from me and gestures toward the crowd as if he’s saying, “She’s all yours.” I look at him in horror, but he just winks and mouths, “Goddess.”
“Sure, she’s famous,” he tells the photographers. “Her father is the award-winning director, Raymond Holloway. And her mother is Janet Holloway.”
“Good enough for me,” the guy says. He focuses the hugest camera lens I’ve ever seen on me and starts clicking away.
“Kyle!” I yell.
He moves away. “Give them a good show, Sia!”
I am practically blinded by all the flashes, but I manage to catch a glimpse of a couple of girls nearby who I assume are actresses. They are posing elegantly, staring into cameras with deep, mysterious gazes, and the photographers are yelling encouragement. I decide to copy what they’re doing. The photographers love this. Before long, I start to enjoy myself, too. It’s impossible not to be happy when everyone is yelling how beautiful you are. Even so, I’m relieved when Kyle eventually takes my hand and pulls me away from all the attention. I’d much rather be with him.
When we step into the Dolby Auditorium, my heart stops. The TV clips I’d watched earlier failed to capture its majesty. The plush red chairs have cushioned the bottoms of some of the most famous people on the planet; the spotlights have caught tears and laughter as those stars held up the trophy they’d always dreamed of; and the massive chandelier glitters over it all. Beside me, Kyle seems equally awed.
One of the hostesses at the door checks our tickets, smiles politely, then leads us to our seats.
“I have to be careful not to gawk too much,” Kyle whispers. “Look who's sitting there!”
Whether I know the stars or not, I can’t help but be thrilled. The air crackles with excitement. Kyle scans the sea of faces. When he points out specific ones, I don’t bother reminding him about my amnesia. His enthusiasm is all I need.
Dad’s not in his seat. That worries me because the chairs are filling up and the show’s about to start. I pull out my cell and dial his number. When he picks up, he can only talk for a second. The meeting’s gone on longer than he’d expected, which I hope is a positive sign. He says he’ll meet us at the after-party. I’m disappointed, but there’s nothing either of us can do about it.
All of a sudden, the room is plunged into pitch darkness, with no light other than the red glow of “Exit” signs along the walls. Then music starts, rising in swells from the orchestra pit. We hear a medley of pieces from nominated movies. My heart is racing, and I know Kyle’s is, too. His eyes are huge. He’s grinning like a little kid waiting for Santa. It’s like we’ve stepped into an entirely different world.
The night is spectacular, rich with emotional speeches and tears, singers, and dancers. During commercial breaks, we marvel at the amazingly complex set changes that occur. Everything is timed absolutely perfectly. During one of these breaks, Kyle almost shoots from his chair with shock.
“What is it?”
“Jett Blaze! It’s freaking Jett Blaze!” he whispers urgently in my ear.
The actor in question has stopped to say hello to one of the actresses in our row. She glows under his attention. I watch her blush when he kisses the back of her hand. After speaking with her for a moment, he does a visual sweep over the rest of the area, and his eyes stop on me. Working with the smooth ease of a true professional, he winds his way around to where I’m sitting. I’ve seen this act already, so I grin and lift my hand. Kyle has hooked his fingers around my thigh and is squeezing so hard, I want to slap him. I knock his hand away as the actor approaches.
“Hello,” I say to the actor.
“Charmed,” he says, kissing my hand. “And you are?”
“Sia Holloway,” I reply. “Raymond Holloway’s daughter. And you?”
The area explodes with laughter. They think I’m joking—everyone but Kyle, of course. Kyle holds out a hand to the actor, smiling with false confidence, and says, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Blaze. I’m a great admirer of your work.”
“Excellent,” says the actor. His dark eyes flash with humor. I get the feeling the man is exactly what I’m seeing in front of me, genuinely charming and cheerful. “And I’m a great admirer of your date,” he says.
Everyone laughs again and this time, I join in. Mr. Downey winks at me before he moves on. “Have a great time tonight, Miss Holloway.”
“Oh my God,” Kyle moans as the actor works his way up the room. “Jett Blaze is one of the best action stars ever. He's been in all my favorite movies. I can’t believe I just shook his hand.”
Glitz and glamour rule the night. We are both sorry when the award for Best Picture is finally handed out, signaling the end of the awards. For us, though, it’s really only the beginning.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The guests with passes to the Vanity Fair party are shuttled to the Sunset Tower Hotel, so Kyle and I join the shiny herd. It’s really crowded, with waiters and exquisitely dressed guests mingling all over the place. A huge dance floor in the middle of the room is vibrating with live dance music. It’s a bit intimidating. I stop just inside the door to collect myself. For a second, I consider grabbing Kyle and making a run for it.
“Sia, darling!” Alyz’s voice reaches through the wall of sound and grabs us. Alyz looks incredible. Her thin, cat-like body is poured into a seamless silver gown. Her makeup is dramatic and super chic—entirely right for her.
Instantly, I feel a surge of confidence. “Alyz!”
She gives me air kisses.
“Gosh, I’m glad to see you.” I gesture at the party. “This is wild!”
She nods, studying my gown. “Sia, that dress,” she says.
Panic seizes me. Oh, no. I’m embarrassing her. I dressed all wrong. I made such a mistake. What was I thinking? “You said elegant. This isn’t enough?”
Alyz clasps her hands together. “More than enough. You are perfe
ction. You will break many hearts tonight.”
I laugh nervously. “I feel so strange like this.”
She sets her hands on my bare shoulders and looks deep into my eyes. “I know. But you must put all that aside now.” She pauses. “Pretend this is movie, yes? And you are the star, the leading lady. Think confidence. Think beauty. Think grace. If you do this, people will see it and be intrigued. Can you do this?”
She’s right, of course. It’s just a concept that’s throwing me off. For days, I’ve been thinking about egos and the havoc my previously inflated one had caused. All of a sudden, I’m being asked to feed that ego. Reminding myself why I’m doing this helps put things in better perspective.
“I’ll do my best,” I promise.
She looks slyly behind me. “And who is this?”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Alyz, this is Kyle. He started the whole project.”
“Ah. He is handsome and brilliant!” She leans forward and kisses Kyle on both cheeks.
I try not to laugh as he turns beet red.
“It is my pleasure to meet you, darling. Sia says wonderful things about you.”
“I—I,” he stammers. “Thank you for inviting us tonight.” I let him sweat it out a bit. After all, he left me to the wolves on the red carpet. It’s only fair.
Alyz is eating it up. “Hmm. And polite. You better watch this one, Sia.” She winks at me.
I laugh. “I’m trying,” I assure her.
Kyle clears his throat, trying to compose himself and force the blood back from his cheeks to the rest of him. “So what’s the plan for tonight? Where do we start?”
Alyz waves a long, slender arm at the dance floor. “There.”
“What?” Kyle asks.
I’m just as confused. “Yeah, come again?”
“We are going to dance, Sia and I. It is that simple.”
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