After All

by Karina Halle

  Holy crow. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how to feel. My heart is blossoming inside me, opening like a flower to the sun.

  Don’t catch the feels, I remind myself. But I think it’s already too late.

  “Anyway,” he says after a moment, letting go of my hand and running his fingers through his hair. “That’s the way it is now. You spend your whole life wanting one thing and then you get it and realize it’s not what you want at all.”

  I clear my throat, still gobsmacked by his confession. “Maybe because what you want and what you need are sometimes totally different.”

  “That’s true. So tell me, when this is all over…I mean, in the future…and you have what you want,” he means the money, “will it really be what you need?”

  I shrug and watch as the tall spires of downtown LA roll past. “I won’t know until I try. But I have to try. And you had to try too. You’d never know otherwise. You have to go up for the role you want to find out if you need it in the end.”

  “So clever, tying this all into an acting metaphor.”

  “A clever blonde,” I joke. “So rare.”

  “No,” he says, his fingers pressing against my chin and tilting my face toward him, “You’re rare, Alyssa.”

  The way he’s looking into my eyes, so deep and searching and startlingly intimate, unnerves me to the core. I’m not even sure how to handle it.

  “I’m not used to sincere Emmett,” I joke, feeling like it’s all too much. “When does the dirty-talking one come back?”

  For a moment, I think I see a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but then they melt, all warm and crinkly at the corners as he breaks into a cheeky grin. “That will come later.”

  First though, we have a party to attend. Our plane landed in the afternoon, so as soon as we’re checked into our poolside cabana room at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood, we immediately started getting ready. And by we, I mean me. I ordered a Glam Squad crew to come over and do my hair and makeup while Emmett relaxed out on the balcony, sipping on beer. And of course, all the girls wanted to talk about is Emmett.

  I know I should have waxed on and on about our relationship and how great he is and how he’s changing and all the things I’ve been getting used to saying. But the truth is, I didn’t want to say that shit anymore. It didn’t quite feel right. I didn’t feel like I had to explain that Emmett was “better” with me, when he was fine before, just acting like a human being. I didn’t want to go on about how in love we are, because suddenly the real concept of love between us seemed so fragile and sacred. Once upon a time, it didn’t seem like a possibility at all, but I’m starting to realize that these feelings I’m trying so hard not to catch might be no match for my body in the end. I always assumed my heart had built up some sort of immunity but I’m no longer sure that’s the case.

  He’s in my veins, in my system, slowly working his way to my heart.

  I do have to say, all their questions and comments about Emmett made me forget how nervous I am about tonight, especially when I see the finished product in the mirror. I look pretty much as I did at Jackie’s wedding, the night I first snagged Emmett, but a lot more…spicy.

  “Wow,” Emmett says to me as he steps in from the balcony, casually holding a Corona by the neck. “You look fucking fantastic.”

  The Glam Squad girls all coo and blush, as if he’s complimenting them. I mean, I guess he is, it’s their handiwork that’s transformed me from average girl to Brigitte Bardot, but from the way his eyes stay fixated on me, I know I’m all he sees.

  Then they leave and we’re alone.

  My pulse starts to quicken and I can’t figure out if I’m nervous again because of the event we’re going to or that for the first time I’m alone with him in a hotel room.

  “I should get dressed,” I say to him and start heading for the closet where I hung up my dress. I went shopping the day I found out about this event. Emmett was insistent on paying for it since it’s his event and all, so I gladly took his credit card and had a field day at the mall. In the end though, I eschewed the high-end designer labels (that’s more of Jackie and Will’s thing) and settled on a long, neon-yellow dress from the department store. I know it’s super bright but I figured it’s LA and I’ll probably stand out anyway in a sea of size zeros, so why the hell not make a statement?

  But as I’m going, he grabs my arm and pulls me to him so I’m pressed against the hard muscles of his stomach and chest. Damn. I can practically feel the ridges of his abs against my skin.

  “Would you be mad if I messed you up beforehand?” he asks me, a lazy look in his eyes. That look that actually means the opposite of lazy. Sex with Emmett is anything but.

  “Then who will do my makeup and hair after?” I ask him as he grins at me, his mouth just inches away. “You?”

  “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Maybe we won’t go to the party at all.” He places his lips at my neck and my bare skin breaks out in gooseflesh. “Maybe spending the night right here will be far more entertaining.”

  I smile, my lungs breathless as his lips gently suck down the length of my neck, heading for my collarbone. Somehow, I manage to press my hand against his chest and push him back. “You have to go. It’s in your contract. And by default, in mine. And I am not wasting my dress or this hair and makeup job.” I pause, biting my lip before I realize I’m scraping off my orange-red lipstick. “Then we’ll see what happens after.”

  He looks surprised. “Oh really. What happened to the whole ‘we shouldn’t do that again’?”

  “I said we’ll see,” I remind him and hope he doesn’t bring up the other thing I said on the boat. That I didn’t want to develop feelings for him.

  ALSO, my brain starts to yell, remember he said that he’d probably hurt you in the end. You can’t forget that!

  And yet I kind of did until that moment.

  Things are getting dangerous.

  I step away from Emmett, needing to get out of his orbit before it warps me. “I’m going to get ready. Are you putting on a tux or just going to stand around all day like that, drinking beer?” I take the dress from the closet and head into the bathroom to get changed.

  I run the tap and take a good long look at myself in the mirror. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me, the one with the thick, shiny, Pantene hair and perfectly contoured face. But I do recognize the look in my eyes.

  Fear.

  Fear that maybe Jackie was right. Maybe the end isn’t just a wall signed with ink. Maybe it’s a cliff I have to jump off.

  And what if I do something crazy, like throw myself off of it before I’m ready?

  What if what I’m feeling is completely, horribly…unstoppable?

  His words ring through my head. In the end, I’d probably just hurt you.

  I just have to remind myself, once again, like I’ve been doing from the start, that I’m in it for money. I’m in it for fun. I’m not here to fall in love. I’m here because it’s my ticket to a life I’ve been too afraid to go after. I mean, hell, here we are in LA, the one place I always thought my dreams would, or at least could, come true, and I’m going to a party with all the actors and crew and producers of a big network. Focus on that.

  Not Emmett.

  Never Emmett.

  But that changes once I slip on the dress and step out of the washroom.

  His eyes light up as he sees me and he lets out a low whistle. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  I’m such a lost cause. It took a second and I’m totally giddy from the way he’s looking at me. “What about you,” I say, smacking him on the shoulder. “Mr. wears a tux like he was born in it.”

  “Such a complicated name,” he says, still looking me up and down, soaking every inch of me in. Then he glances at his watch. “Too bad our ride will be here in a few minutes.”

  “Good,” I tell him, quickly slipping on a pair of bright magenta heels. “I’m ready for whatever the night brings.”
>
  And the night turned out to be completely unforgettable.

  It started off with a walk down the red carpet to the event, a red carpet lined with cameras and benches of screaming, yelling fans. It was totally different than it was at the airport. This time, I absolutely relished all the eyes on me, maybe because I was feeling good about myself, maybe because I felt I was in control. Maybe because Emmett didn’t let go of my hand once. By the time we reached the end of the carpet, I actually felt like a total pro.

  Then once we got inside the building, a huge ballroom, I was shuffled with a drink in hand over to every single power play and actor in Hollywood that you could think of.

  Okay, that’s kind of a lie. I mean, it was everyone that was part of the CW network. But even so, I saw a lot of the actors I crushed and drooled over (and by that, I mean masturbate to when I can’t sleep at night), which was beyond cool.

  What was also cool was the way that everyone flocked to Emmett. I know he feels like the world might not respect him in the way he wants, but even big-name actors were fawning over him, talking about his days on Degrassi with nostalgia, then congratulating him on his comeback. I still think the term comeback should be used rather loosely but the fact is, his peers look up to him, not necessarily as someone who is the master of their craft, but as someone who has consistently worked and never given up.

  Later, when I’m done acting like a fangirl and have had one too many glasses of champagne, Emmett pulls me aside.

  “I’m over all this,” he whispers, holding my arm. “Are you over all this?”

  I nod. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

  “But you had fun right?”

  “Oh, hell yeah I did. This was,” I gesture to the ballroom where I think I might be looking at Archie from Riverdale, “a dream come true. I don’t even think it’s sunken in yet.”

  “I liked the way you handled yourself,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Like you’ve been doing it your whole life. Perhaps this acting thing really is in your blood.”

  “Hey, I told you I was serious about it. Serious enough to date you.”

  He chuckles and the sound makes me week at the knees. As does the amused grin he has on while he looks at me. “We don’t fly out until late tomorrow night. How about we hit the beach in the morning, then in the afternoon see if we can do some improv.”

  “What do you mean, do some improv?”

  “I have connections, sunshine. Ever heard of the Uptight Citizens Comedy Brigade?”

  “Uh, yes.” Like, totally one of the best incubators for comedians there is.

  “Maybe we can get you on stage for a bit. I’ll do it with you.”

  “You’re joking,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head. “I’m not. I think it would be good for you.”

  I can hardly believe it. “Remind me in the morning…if you still mean it.”

  “You know I do,” he says and pulls me away. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel.”

  But when we leave the venue and get back into the Suburban, Emmett wants to stop at a late-night taco place he loves.

  While the Suburban waits around the corner, we get in line with the rest of the drunken patrons. The menu is pretty simple and I settle on a deep-fried chicken taco with pickled vegetables.

  “So, I guess you know LA pretty well,” I tell him, inching forward a step as the line moves.

  “Did a lot of auditions here, even during Degrassi days.”

  At that, the person in line turns around to look at us and see who’s doing the talking. Once they spot Emmett though, who just smiles at them, they frown, like they’re disappointed, and turn back around. They were probably expecting Drake.

  “Anyway,” Emmett goes on. “I lived here for a few years before I moved to London. Did a lot of bit parts, some small roles, pilots, indie films.”

  “Would you move here if you had to?”

  “Of course. I love LA. Love the sunshine. Love the vibe.”

  “But you still prefer London?”

  He nods. “I know they’re polar opposites but I think deep down, theatre speaks to me so much more than film or TV acting. It’s…real. You’re in the moment. It’s scripted but it doesn’t feel scripted, know what I mean? You’re living it, like it’s a reality. There is no performance, only passion.”

  No performance. Only passion. His words sink into me like stones.

  Is that what we are? Are we living this, us, like it’s a reality? Are we starting to throw the script away and just improvise on the fly?

  It’s so fucking hard to tell.

  “So, when was the last time you went on an audition?” he asks me.

  I know he expects me to say like ten years ago or something but that’s not the truth at all.

  “Um, last year?”

  “What?” He’s taken aback. “Seriously?”

  I nod sheepishly. “Yeah. I go every now and then. Take a sick day, don’t tell Will,” I add. “I do it just to see if I still like it, to see where it could go. I still keep my headshots up to date too.” I pause. “Obviously it never goes anywhere, but it makes me feel better. Like I’m feeding my soul, just a little bit. Honestly, I would take a Tampax commercial if they’d have me.”

  Emmett bursts out laughing. “I can just see it now.”

  “I’d be perfect,” I protest. “I play bitchy so well and who the hell is happy on their period? Um, no one.”

  Emmett suddenly leans over and kisses me quickly on the lips.

  “What was that one for?” I ask him. The oddly tender way he’s looking at me makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  “I have a feeling you don’t tell anyone that. Not just your desire to be in a tampon commercial, but that you’re still going on auditions. Still trying.”

  He’s right. I haven’t told a soul. My mother would support me no matter what I do, but she’s been through so much and she was so happy when she found out I had gotten a steady job all those years ago and had put acting aside. My sisters don’t really speak to me much, but they always thought acting was a joke. As for Tiffany and Jackie, I just get the feeling that they wouldn’t understand. Or maybe they would, but they’d start asking me about it and cheering me on and I don’t want that. I want it to just stay this private, secret thing.

  Only now Emmett knows.

  “I won’t tell a soul,” he says in a low voice, as if he can read my mind. “But for the record…I think it’s great. Really. It takes a lot of nerve and courage to keep a dream alive when it’s so much easier to give up on it.”

  I give him a shy smile. “Thanks.”

  Then it’s our turn for tacos. We eat them at a brightly-colored picnic table under a buzzing streetlamp, the air warm and comforting. I don’t even mind the smell of exhaust.

  I’m just about to scrunch up the empty wrapper after I’ve scarfed down the last bite, when a man in a trucker hat with long, scraggly hair and a big belly stops at the foot of the table, camera at his side.

  “Hey,” he says loudly to Emmett and Emmett looks at him sharply. “You’re Emmett Hill, right?”

  “Who’s asking?” Emmett says, not smiling.

  The guy pats his camera. “Does it matter? I just have a question for you.”

  And then he raises the camera up and starts filming.

  I glance at Emmett, not sure how he’s going to handle this.

  Emmett slowly gets to his feet. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t film us right now. My girlfriend and I just want some time alone.”

  “Girlfriend,” the guy snorts but then doesn’t elaborate. “Hey so, let me ask you something.”

  By now, some of the people in line at the taco stand are looking over at us.

  Emmett stares at him with hard eyes, his patience starting to wear thin. I get to my feet and walk around the back of the table until I’m at Emmett’s side. I take his arm, partly in comfort since this guy’s vibe is totally messing with me, partly because I don’t
want Emmett to do anything dumb. Last time something like this happened, he broke someone’s phone. If he does it to this guy’s camera, he’s going to raise a real stink.

  “What?” Emmett asks deliberately, his jaw tense.

  “Your mother,” the man says and Emmett visibly stiffens, like he’s just been punched. I hold his arm tighter as the man continues, “she was a heroin addict, died of an overdose. You’re the one who found her, right?”

  I stare up at Emmett. Holy fuck, is this true?

  Emmett doesn’t say anything. I don’t think he can. He looks like he’s frozen on the spot, every inch of him immobile.

  “I’m just saying, you never talk about it and I was wondering if I could get a soundbite. Like, was she just a junkie or was she also a prostitute and was she on drugs when she had you, because -”

  The man doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence.

  Emmett lunges at him and with one swift, powerful movement, he grabs the camera with one hand while punching the man square in the face with the other.

  It happened so fast, I couldn’t even hold him back.

  “Emmett!” I cry out. Not because I think he’s in any danger, I mean, Emmett is strong like a bull and could probably take a beating and like it, but because he’s throwing another punch at the side of the guy’s head, just as the camera drops to the ground, parts breaking off.

  If I don’t do something, I’m pretty sure Emmett will kill him.

  Somehow, I manage to wrap my arms around Emmett’s waist and try and pull him back while an excited crowd starts to gather around. I’m pretty sure some of them are either chanting “Bruiser” or “Cruiser,” I can’t tell.

  “You son of a bitch!” the guy yells, hands covering his bloody face. “I’m pressing charges!” He points at everyone around us. “I have witnesses, you’re all witnesses! He attacked me! He attacked me!”

  “Emmett, we have to go,” I tell him, trying to pull him back. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes wild, I’m not even sure he’s hearing me right now. “Please, please, let’s go.”

  “He’s not going anywhere blondie,” the fat pap says to me as he fishes his phone out from his pocket and starts to dial. He turns his back to us and talks into it. “Yes, I’ve just been a victim of assault.”