by Vivien Vale
I relish the cool bubbles bouncing across my tongue. I wish Dad could see me.
My gaze moves across the faces of the people who have become my filming family for the last few months. When they reach Emma, I decide to go and speak to her.
“Well done, Emma.” I pat her on the back. “Great work.”
The woman looks me up and down but doesn’t smile. Her expression’s more akin to having eaten a sour lemon.
“Good luck with your next project and goodbye.”
I hold out my hand, but she doesn’t shake it. My heartbeat increases, and my elation is quashed just a little.
“Can you believe it?” Alice squeals into my left ear as she wraps her arms around me from behind.
We bounce up and down on the spot and act hysterically, like two girls at a rock concert.
“Can you believe it?” She grabs me by the arms and shakes me. “Possible Oscar nominations for more than one category?”
I nod.
“I bet you’ll be nominated for best director.” She grins from ear to ear.
“I don’t know.” Without meaning to, I find myself looking for Emma.
“Hey, Sophie.” Alice shakes me a little harder.
“Sorry.” I force myself to smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about what that cow said to you.”
I laugh.
“Alice.” I pretend to sound serious.
“What?” Alice lifts her shoulders in total innocence. “Sometimes you gotta call it how it is.”
Before we can say anything else, Todd and Eric join us.
“Here comes trouble,” jokes Alice before she wraps her arms around her boyfriend.
Todd puts his arms around me. He looks me straight in the eyes.
“You okay?”
I nod. He furrows his brow and gives me a gentle kiss on the forehead.
“You sure?”
With a deep breath, I push self-doubt away and nod.
“Todd will probably get a nomination.” Alice is still talking about the Oscars and who will be nominated.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Eric chimes in. “We still have some postproduction work ahead of us.”
I shake my head and laugh.
“At least one of us has his head screwed on the right way.” I punch Eric in the arm.
“So…” Alice turns to me, shooting a sideways glance at Todd. “You going to make it to your own end of filming party later or…” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but there is a glint in her eyes.
Todd squeezes me a little tighter.
“Of course I’ll make it,” I assure her and watch her and Eric head off.
I turn to Todd.
“Great job,” he says and takes my face between his hands. His lips caress my face like the wings of butterflies.
His forehead rests on mine. I’m tempted to pull him to my trailer and rip his clothes off. The animal in me wants him right now, right here.
“Let’s go to the party,” he whispers.
I let out a soft, slow moan.
“We’ll have time later.”
24
Todd
My reflection should be a happy one, but instead it’s grim. Dark rings are under my eyes, reflecting the kind of night I’ve had. As I button up my long-sleeve shirt, I can’t shake a feeling of unease; it started to haunt me this morning.
With a sigh, I pull up my pants and turn away from the full-length mirror. Briefly I glance at the bed, a bed with so many happy memories.
We didn’t even make it to the party. I bet the whole crew partied the night away, but me and Sophie…well, we fucked the night away.
And it was amazing.
Over at my dresser, I rummage around for my cufflinks. I pull out an unfamiliar object. I peer at it and recognize it as one of Sophie’s opal earrings; she must have left them here.
I smile at the thought of Sophie leaving something of hers behind at my apartment.
The longer I look at the earring, the more aware I become that I’d like Sophie to be here more often…fuck, in fact, I’d like her to move in with me.
An alarm on the phone reminds me it’s time to get going. But shit, why is it that my feet are refusing to obey my commands? It is as if they’ve grown roots in my bedroom.
“Come on,” I tell myself, “how bad can it be?” If my gut is any indication, it’s going to be fucking awful.
The reasons as to why I agreed to this charade in the first place totally escape me. Because you are a fool, an inner voice whispers.
“Fucking bitch,” I mutter to myself and take the elevator to the ground floor.
Purposefully I stride out of the Eleganza and head to my toy, my Porsche. I put the pedal to the metal and roar off. May as well get this out of the way as quickly as I can.
Outside 66 Heaven Drive, I hesitate. Maybe I shouldn’t go through with it? Ah, but what’s the worst that’s going to happen?
A giant lump of some sort has taken up residence in my stomach. Fool, fool, fool. I should have talked this over with Sophie.
Sophie. Her lovely face comes into vision.
I smile. I remember why I’m doing this; it’s because of Sophie that I’m taking this cow Emma to this stupid Hollywood party. Last night it was all about the crew, but tonight it’s about the movie investors.
It’s a fancy party, not a storm of whisky and tequila on some dive bar.
Fuck, I knew entering a deal with Emma wasn’t a wise decision. I was supposed to have dinner with her, not bring her as my plus one to this party—one where it’ll be almost impossible to escape from Sophie’s gaze.
I tried to say no, but then the threats started. A few calls from her, and she’d kill the movie. And that’s just after we wrapped up shooting. Yeah, Emma’s one crazy bitch.
I leap out of the car and head up the driveway. Any other time I might have admired the elaborate and very green front lawn and garden, but not today. I’m not in the mood.
I press the doorbell once and wait.
The door opens instantly, as if she’s been waiting right near it.
“There you are, my gorgeous spunk,” says Emma and takes me by the shoulders. Before I can stop her, those blood-red lips kiss me on the cheeks.
I pull back and retrieve a handkerchief from the pocket of my trousers to wipe off any remaining lipstick. Heaven forbid Sophie sees it; she’ll jump to the wrong conclusions for sure.
“Ready?” I keep my voice cool and clipped.
Emma nods and links arms with me and follows me to my car. The lump in my stomach is doubling in size every step I take toward my Porsche.
Dutifully, I open the door for her but do not watch her slide into passenger seat. If it was Sophie, I would. I love the way she folds her legs under her and pulls down her skirt.
I slam my own door shut and floor it again. As I’m maneuvering my vehicle through the traffic, I’m grinding my teeth. Why isn’t Sophie here with me?
I can’t get rid of the words fool, fool, fool.
“I still can’t believe you would even consider sleeping with Sophie,” Emma starts, and I try hard to ignore her high-pitched dribble. “I mean, she’s not much to look at, and has the personality of a moose…and I can’t imagine she’d be very adventurous in the sex department.”
Emma stops her speech and I breath a sigh of relief. Just as I do, she puts her hand on my thigh, and her fingers trail up to my dick.
“Trust me, Todd,” she purrs. “After tonight, you’ll be lusting after me and won’t give Sophie Palmer another thought.”
I push her hand away. She giggles.
“Pretending to be a prude, are you, Todd? I don’t know why. I’ve heard of your prowess in the bedroom.”
My eyes are fixed on the road ahead. After what seems an eternity, we arrive at the Black Rabbit. To my horror, the front entrance is swarming with reporters and photographers. I’ll never be able to enter with Emma unnoticed.
I park the car
and turn to my guest.
“I think it might be best if we walk in separately.”
Emma laughs, a high-pitched unpleasant—almost evil—laugh, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“I don’t think so, Todd Alexander. We will walk in together. Arm in arm. Screw it up, and the movie suffers. I have the connections to make it happen. Or have you forgotten our little deal?”
How could I?
As she takes my arm, Emma snuggles real close into me.
“After tonight, you won’t want to go back to your boring Sophie anyway, so relax.”
It doesn’t take long for us to be spotted by the vultures. Instantly a hundred or more cameras are snapping away madly, capturing each step we take toward the entrance of the Black Rabbit.
“So it’s over then, between you and Sophie?”
“How long have you been seeing Emma?”
“Emma, how do you feel being here tonight with Todd Alexander, the superstar of the movie?”
“Have you two been an item for a while now?”
Those and another hundred other questions are fired into our direction.
I ignore all of them, but it’s very difficult to remain cool, calm, and collected. My insides are burning.
Emma, on the other hand, is smiling brightly and waving at everyone. She even blows kisses in the direction of some of the reporters.
I scan the area. Where’s Sophie? I need to find her before she forms the wrong impression of what’s going on.
Fool, fool, fool.
There’s that darn inner voice again. It seems to be getting louder and louder. For the umpteenth time, I regret entering into this little deal with Emma.
25
Sophie
I push the oversized microphone away from my face. The overeager reporter has it shoved so close my nose it’s tingling from the fluff.
“Viewers,” she says as she smiles into the camera, which is also just inches from our face. “I have been lucky enough to secure a little chat with none other than Sophie Palmer.”
I bow my head a little and smile.
“Sophie has just finished directing her latest feature film. And not only did she direct it, she also played one of lead characters.”
I wish she’d get to the point and ask a question. The way this petit blonde is starring into the camera, I get the impression she’s more interested in being on screen than asking me any direct question. Her head bounces from side to side as she talks.
“We, of course, are all familiar with your dad’s work, the great Mr. Palmer.”
And here’s the inevitable comparison everyone interviewing me makes.
“Did your dad give you any tips?”
It takes me a second or two to realize she has finally asked a question (a rather stupid one), but at least I get to say something and not just stand here like a puppet.
“Just like I stay away from the sets of Mr. Palmer, he makes a point of not visiting mine either.”
She turns her head toward me and giggles. I wonder how many interviews she’s done.
“Are you looking forward to the film being released?”
I wonder what she would say if I said, “No, I hope the film never makes it onto the screens.”
“Any director looks forward to sharing their creation with the world,” I say instead, and I hope this interview will be over soon.
“Tell us, Sophie,” the woman lowers her voice a little, “what about the rumors that you are dating bad boy superstar Todd Alexander?”
Involuntarily, my smile widens. Brief images of Todd holding the car door open for me, Todd kissing the back of my neck, and naked bodies entwined in wild animalistic passion flash through my mind.
“Todd and I have been seeing each other for a while now.” I pause. There appears to be a commotion near the front door. “And things are going well between us. I enjoy Todd’s company and find him stimulating.”
Just then, I see Todd enter the room. I catch my breath. People and faces around me are going out of focus, and the world starts to spin.
Emma is by his side.
How could he do this to me?
I grab my gold pendant and run it along its chain.
“Well,” the voice of the reporter seems a long way away. “Nice chatting, Sophie, and good luck with the Oscars.”
How could Todd betray me like this?
Emma in her tight black minidress and high heels looks like a tart. Her victory smile speaks volumes.
I see the reporter make a beeline for the happy couple.
My knees are threatening to give way, and I swallow. How will I get through this night?
My words to the stupid interviewer come back. I just told the world things are fine between Todd and myself, and here he waltzes into the room with another woman on his arm.
How stupid was I?
“Watch him,” Mum said to me. She tried to warn me. I didn’t listen; I had become too confident.
I blink, partly to try and stop any tears, and partly to make sure what I am seeing is really what I’m seeing. For the briefest of seconds, I clutch onto the hope my eyes are deceiving me, but the scene hasn’t changed when I open my eyes again. Todd is still standing there with Emma on his arm.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to throw up. My insides feel as if they’ve been ripped out and trampled to pieces.
“You okay?”
The voice beside me startles me. It’s Alice.
Mechanically, I nod. I wish the earth would swallow me up.
“It’s okay.” Alice puts her arm around.
I find myself leaning into her.
“I can’t believe he would show up at your party with her.”
The venom in Alice’s voice is obvious. At times like these, it’s awesome to have my best friend so close.
“I…” I start but stop. I don’t know what to say. I want to leave, run out of here, and hide.
No, I want to walk over to the smiling bitch and punch her.
No, Jesus, what’s wrong with me? I’m not violent. Violence doesn’t solve anything.
I want to run out of here and go home.
My mother would be sympathetic, but she’d remind me she tried to warn me. And Dad.
“Here.” Alice hands me a tall glass of champagne.
I gulp half of it down. The cold bubbles make me cough. Once I get over my coughing fit, I take another sip, this time a smaller one.
“I don’t understand how he could do this to you.” Alice shakes her head. “It’s your party. And he brings her.”
Surreal, this entire scene is surreal.
If my heart hadn’t just been smashed into millions of little pieces, I might even laugh at it. A movie scene couldn’t have been written better than what’s playing out in real life.
Of course, that’s often the way, isn’t it? Life is stranger than fiction.
I don’t want to look at the happy couple, but I can’t help staring. Trouble is, Todd looks so goddamn gorgeous tonight.
We had planned to arrive separate but leave together. Somewhere our plans obviously diverted.
As I continue to stare, he looks over to me.
Try as I might, I cannot see remorse or even the slightest hint of compunction in his face. I also don’t see any attempt on his part to come over and explain what’s going on.
“Arrogant prick,” I tell myself, “he’s not worth crying over.” To drown my sorrow, I grab another glass of wine. This will be one long night.
“You look gorgeous,” a kind, familiar voice says from behind me.
“Thanks, Mason,” I finally force my eyes away from the awful scene and look at my dear friend Mason.
“That dress is gorgeous. Red suits you.”
I pat Mason’s arm, stand on tiptoes, and kiss him on his cheek.
26
Todd
Sophie keeps eye contact for what seems like an eternity, but then she looks away. My eyes plead with her, but she doesn’t seem to understand.
I will her to look at me again, but she doesn’t.
Instead, she turns toward Mason. Why would she turn toward him of all the people in the room?
I want to walk over and tell her it’s not what it seems, but Emma is holding tightly onto my hand. Unless I make a scene, I’m trapped here with the evil Witch of the West until who knows how long.
What’s wrong with Alice? Why aren’t any of them coming over to speak to me? And Eric, where the fuck is Eric? Eric, who allegedly knows all about this.
I’m clenching my teeth so hard it hurts. My hands are by my side and balled into fists. I curse Emma silently. She really is a class A bitch. I need to fix things before they get out of hand.
Fuck the deal—I’m going over to set things straight.
Emma doesn’t let go of me. Instead, she leans into me and whispers.
“You’re not going to renege on our little deal, are you? Remember, all it takes is a few calls and offhand comments to reporters for Sophie’s little film to become a shit show.”
There’s that over powering perfume again nearly making me sick.
I shake my head.
“Good,” she murmurs and her lips brush over my cheeks.
Repulse builds in me.
Somewhere across the crowded room, I see Jordan. I try to get his attention, so he could come over. I want to ask him to pass a message to Sophie, but the bastard is deliberately ignoring me. Has Emma let him in on the deal?
Emma works her magic around the room. She’s a pro at making her way from group to group, staying only a few minutes if the people bore her, and longer if she thinks they may be of use to her.
As we socialize, she makes sure she is making body contact with me at all times. Obviously, she’s flaunting being with me. Try as I might to keep a professional distance between us, Emma does the opposite.
She’s either resting her hand on my shoulder, or she puts her whole arm around my waist. A couple of times, she kisses me on the cheek. Each time, I wipe off the offending lipstick.
“Let’s sit down, darling,” Emma purrs and points to a black leather lounge in front of a small round table. On the other side are several mushroom type stools, all of them occupied.