Someone Else's Fairytale (8 page)

“That's impressive, that you can just add in another major like that and still finish on time.”

“Shows I didn't really know what I was doing,” I said. “I assumed a BS in archeology would've been good for forensics. You know, lots of digging and dusting and collecting evidence. I shoulda explained what I wanted for grad school to my career counselor sooner.” I hadn't really understood what a career counselor was for. I'd never met with one in high school. Little things like that made an enormous difference to me now. Book learning wasn't enough; college required me to learn a whole new culture. As it was, I'd only just talked to the grad schools I wanted to attend, and while they assured me a minor in bio would be enough to meet their science requirements, I was taking no chances.

“I'm sure the archeology will still help,” said Jason, “because what you said isn't wrong. And it'll make you unique.”

It was kind of him to say. I ate the last of my vegetables and rice.

“You get any time to read on the side?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you get a chance to read
Danger Fields?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I always read the book before I watch the movie.” I'd checked it out from the library that week.

“It was such a good book, I hope the film doesn't screw it up.”

“You haven't seen it yet?”

“No, not the whole thing, and-” he shrugged as he put his empty plate down “-what I see when I watch a movie isn't what you'll see. I know what's fake and how they did each effect and that there's the DGA trainee just outside the shot who's fanning smoke across the newly dug foxhole I'm in and all that. I don't really see the narrative anymore. The one thing I really, truly regret about my career. It's rare that I can just watch a movie.”

“That would be rough,” I agreed. “Worse than the screaming fans?”

“Yeah. Fans won't be around forever. Twenty years from now,
New Light
will be some campy old movie trilogy that teenagers mock to their parents, if anyone even watches it anymore. The stuff you learn, though, you never unlearn all the way.”

“Right.”

“Which isn't all bad, when you also take time to do stuff like visit Roman archeological digs.” He smiled at me. “You want more food?”

“I'm good.”

“Lemonade?”

“No thanks.”

He ignored that, though, and took my glass. At least Don had moved back to Lori. She didn't seem to find him anywhere near as annoying as I did.

“Uh, Chloe?” said Lori as we walked into our hotel room. It was a cheap room, but a clean one, with two queen sized beds and a fluorescent light with a really annoying flicker that made me feel like I was under a strobe.

“Hmm?”

“Jason Vanderholt... really likes you.”

“What? No he doesn't.” I switched off the light and switched on an incandescent floor lamp.

“Yes he does. You can't see it?”

“He's dating Corey Cassidy.”

“I don't think he is.”

“You're the one who told me that.”

“Maybe they broke up. Or maybe he's a player. I don't know, but he was definitely looking at you.”

I brushed that aside.

“No, seriously,” Lori pressed. “What are you going to do?”

“Do? Nothing. Even if what you say is true, and I don't think it is, what would I do?”

“You don't like long distance?”

Now Lori was talking craziness. I rolled my eyes. “There's more than geographic distance between us,” I said. “The guy's from a whole different planet.”

“One with nice houses-”

“Whatever.”

“Chloe,
ohmigosh. You can't just not care.”

“And yet, I don't. First of all, you're wrong about him being interested. Second of all, even if you were right about tonight, we leave for
Albuquerque
the day after tomorrow, and I probably won't ever see him again, and third of all, he is all wrong for me in every possible way. He's a lot older; he's used to female adoration. He'd put up with me for a week, tops. And the big house and fancy life and stuff, who cares?”

“Yeah, I think that's it,” said Lori. She sprawled out on her bed.

“What?”

“I guess you really offended Donovan-”

“Good. He's a jerk.”

“He came over after he tried to talk to you and said something about how you were impossible to impress.”

“Mmmm.”

“I mean, I think you really got to him. I think he thought you were, like, one of Jason's fans or something and he thought you'd fawn over him, but then you didn't care who he was. But the thing is, when he came over to talk to me, all grumpy, that's when Jason pulled his chair over to you. I think he likes that about you, that you don't care about his money and fame and stuff.”

“Well, whatever. There are other girls who don't care about fame and stuff. I'm sure here in LA there are a lot of people who spend a lot of time around the movie business and don't get all into whomever's hot at the moment.”

“Maybe.”

“I'm sure of it. Let's talk about something else. Let's plan something fun for tomorrow.”

The following morning Lori and I went to see the Getty Museum, then did lunch at California Pizza Kitchen in Westwood, then went back to our hotel and spent a couple of hours getting ready. I steamed the little black dress I'd brought – the one nice dress I owned – while Lori clipped the tags off her floral print number that she'd bought at a boutique in
Old
Town
. I never shopped that neighborhood, but hey, it was her money. At least she was removing the tags, which meant she wasn't doing the buy, wear, and return routine. I had no idea what to wear to a movie premiere, but Lori and I both thought it would be fun to dress up.

I showered and blew my hair dry. My phone rang as I was applying mascara.

“It's hiiiim!” said Lori.

“Then answer it,” I said. I dipped the mascara brush back into its tube and pulled it out again.

“Ms. Winters's phone. Hiiii! Uh-huh. Okay, hang on.” She pressed the phone to her chest. “There's an afterparty, he wants to know if we want to go to it.”

“Oh... um.”

“Here.” She stuffed the phone at me.

I put my makeup down and pressed my phone to my ear. “Hi.”

“Hi, Chloe,” said Jason. “So there's an afterparty at a private club, if you want to go.”

“Well...”

“Not your kind of thing?”

“Not really.”

“That's cool.”

“I want to go!” Lori called out.

“Yeah, she can come, of course,” said Jason. “Which means I guess one of you will need a ride.”

“I can drop her off and get her. It's no problem.”

“Well, okay. Let me give you the address. You got a pen?”

I fumbled around on the counter for one. “Yeah.” I took it down and handed the paper to Lori. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Of course. Look, I may not get much of a chance to see you guys tonight.”
   

“Totally understand,” I said. “I assumed it would be like that.”

“Cool, but I hope you have fun.”

“Yeah, this'll be great. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Meh. The red carpet walk.”

“Can't say that would be my thing either.”

“Yeah. I'm not sure it's anybody's thing. Not after the first few times. If my smile is looking kind of painful and forced, that would be because it is.”

I laughed.

“Don't get me wrong. I do love my fans and everything. I love my job. I love opening a new movie. I just have trouble sustaining the love for the whole length of that dang carpet.”

“Right. Can't say I've ever had to do anything like that.”

“What? You've given papers at a symposium.”

“That's paper, singular, and I didn't have to pose and mug for cameras.”

“I think my job's easier, really. Okay, I gotta run. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, later.” I put down the phone and picked up a tube of lipstick.

The premiere was a mob scene. We parked our car in a nearby lot and walked over to the theater, which had screaming fans and about a million photographers and reporters out front. At least the weather was fantastic. Seventy degrees, no wind, the sun casting long shadows across the streets of
Westwood
Village
. The theater scene looked daunting, but I found that with my ticket in hand, I was ushered along to the red carpet. Fortunately, the red carpet had a line of barriers down one side and an alley that Lori and I could walk down. It was the entrance for normal people, so the reporters knew to ignore us. We made it about halfway down before Jason showed up and the crowd erupted with earsplitting screams.

I clapped my hands over my ears and turned to look. Jason had stepped out of a limo and had Heather Reynolds on one arm.

“She plays his love interest,” said Lori.

“I know.”

“She's married to an Olympic skier.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I turned to keep walking.

“Man, it's going to take him half an hour to get down the carpet,” said Lori. “They keep stopping him for pictures and he's signing autographs.”

I didn't bother to look. We got to the theater and found a crowd in the lobby. Roughly half the people were all dressed up like we were, then the other half were just in jeans and t-shirts. Lori asked around and came back to report, “We wait here until the VIPs go in, but meanwhile they've got really nice
d'oeuvres and, like, cocktails and stuff in the concessions area.”

“I just want popcorn.”