by Torrest, T.
About midway down the carpet, I gave his hand a quick squeeze before releasing him out into the wild. At my insistence, we’d made the plan ahead of time for me to fade into the background for a few moments, in order to let Trip be him for a while, soak up some of that spotlight on his own. After all, this was his world. I was simply along for the ride.
He was almost immediately intercepted by a certain up-and-coming starlet, and I recognized her from the tabloids as one of the many young women Trip had been linked with over the years. She was pencil-thin and beautiful, but had a big, poofy mop of hair that reminded me of Tina Yothers. The flirty way she talked with him confirmed that there was some history there. Thankfully, he kept the conversation to a minimum, and made his escape before she could tear off her Vera Wang and jump him right there on the red carpet.
He paused at the grandstand, listened to the screams from the women in the bleachers, and stopped for a few quick interviews with hosts from various entertainment shows.
At the end of the run, he reclaimed my hand again and we chatted with some of his industry friends who were gathered near the entrance. Introduction after introduction, I watched people’s faces go from Who’s this chick crashing our party? to Awww, really? Your high school sweetheart?
I got completely tongue-tied while being introduced to a particular silver-screen hottie who shall forever go nameless, in order to protect my cool. But I had the hugest crush on this actor growing up, and I kinda lost my shit to find myself standing there actually talking to him. Well, I guess talking is a relative term. I don’t even know if I was speaking English to the poor guy as I babbled my hellos.
Finally, finally, we made our way inside the building, and I went to give Trip a look of relief. But his mouth was set in a firm line, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his eyes narrowed at me in a scathing glare.
“What?” I asked.
“Clooney? Really, Layla?”
His jealousy made me giggle as I answered, “Sorry. I used to crush on him pretty hard when he was on Facts of Life. Did you ever notice that he had the same mullet as Jo Polnachek?” Trip didn’t find that amusing, so I leaned up to whisper, “But I’m kinda partial to blonds these days, anyway.”
That thawed him out. “Good thing. Because he seems to be partial to anything with a pulse these days.”
* * *
I sat there with sweaty palms all night. It’s not like I was the one waiting there, listening for my name to be called. But that sadistic camera shot when they showed every nominee as the envelope was being opened… Christ. I didn’t know how they could stand it. And then to have to sit there with a smile still plastered to their faces when their name wasn’t called? Ouch.
Presenter after presenter, envelope after envelope. All night, I was a nervous wreck.
I was even worse when it was Trip’s turn to get up there. Someone had come down to our seats to escort Trip backstage, and I found myself sitting next to some hot young tuxedoed stud. I wondered how someone went about obtaining a job as seat-filler and debated asking him about it. But before I knew it, Trip was being announced.
“Ladies and gentlemen… Three-time Academy Award nominee and Oscar winner for Best Actor in a Leading Role… Please welcome… Trip Wiley…”
And there he was, amidst the applause, strutting out onto the stage and taking his place at the microphone, preparing to address his peers. The thing of it was, though, is that no one was among his peers. Trip Wiley had no peers.
He was confident, polished, incredibly talented, undeniably hot. I was sure that the men in that room would give their left nut to live his life for even one day; the women would sacrifice anything to be in his bed for one night. He may have lived this part of his life with them, but he was most decidedly not among them.
He smiled as the cheering died down and his smooth voice proceeded to give a brief explanation of the category he was presenting before announcing the nominees… for cinematography.
There could be no more perfect category for that man to announce. He made sure to become familiar with the work of each and every nominee, subjecting me to an endless viewing of The Proof Beyond, where he paused practically every frame, pointing out “the brilliance” in every shot. It took about four hours to watch that movie, and I’d still really like to see it someday. My vote laid squarely with Anya’s Garden, however, and it was a much-discussed debate between the two of us all week.
But sure as shit, he opened that envelope—and I swear his eyes flicked toward me for a split second—as he smirked and announced, “And the Oscar goes to… The Proof Beyond.”
Oh, he was going to be impossible to live with after this.
A few minutes later, he was back in his seat, grinning smugly, but staring straight ahead at the stage. I flipped him the ten bucks I owed him, and he didn’t even so much as glance my way as he wordlessly stuck the bill in his front breast pocket.
Jerk.
Just for that, I leaned my face in close to his ear and whispered, “Congratulations. But there’s something you need to know. I took my panties off before putting on this dress tonight.”
That was a lie. I was totally still wearing my undies.
I sat back in my seat and waited for his reaction. I wasn’t sure if he had heard me, because he was still staring straight ahead. But I noticed that his bottom lip had dropped just a fraction of an inch.
A whole five minutes went by before his mouth was at my ear, whispering, “Did you leave the garters on?”
I pursed my lips to keep from cracking up, then mouthed the word, “Yep.”
He was staring straight ahead again, but I watched a muscle working in his jaw and felt his hand tighten on mine as he shifted in his seat.
Ha! Sit on that, Fonzarelli!
Chapter 19
SEX, POLITICS & COCKTAILS
The after-party was at Château Blanco, and the vibe in the place was positively electric. For all the formality and nervousness before and during the show, it was replaced with relief and laid-back after. The men all loosened their ties and some even ditched their jackets. The women had changed into comfortable shoes, and I wished I’d known that that was a thing so I could have been more prepared. But seeing as it was Trip’s first time at one of those things, he didn’t know to give me the heads up.
We said hellos to a million people and were introduced to a million more before we found a booth along the wall that we could claim as our home base. Not that we sat for very long. There were elbows to rub, introductions to be made, asses to kiss. I’m not going to name-drop here, but let’s just say I was blown away to be in the same room with most of those people. Faces you’d know; names you’d recognize. From rising stars and veteran actors to acclaimed directors and legendary producers. At one point, Trip pointed out Harvey Weinstein, and I thought I was going to bust a rib cracking up.
“You think he’s forgiven you for dumping that pasta in his lap ten years ago?”
Trip raised an eyebrow as he shot back, “I know he hasn’t.”
We laughed at that as Trip excused himself to hit the bathroom. I kind of had to go, too, but there was no way I’d be able to get out of my dress on my own. Thank God I knew I’d have some help with that later, wink wink.
I saw that he’d gotten tied up talking to some people, so I went to the bar to grab him a club soda and lime. I couldn’t find him after that, so I just decided to wait in the alcove near the restrooms.
“Well, hello, there!”
I turned and registered the lecherous man who had just greeted me. The look on his face and the way he was licking his lips made me feel like a triple-decker hot-fudge sundae. And not in a good way. I gave him a polite smile and said, “Hello.”
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”
He extended his hand, so I took it, but before I got the chance to introduce myself, he added, “But I sure as hell look forward to it.”
Ewww.
Again, I merely gave him the briefest of smile
s, my expression and my body language clearly screaming not on your life, pal.
Only, he wouldn’t release his death grip on my hand until I pulled it out of his grasp. It was all I could do not to dig out my bottle of Purell right there on the spot.
He gave a quick scan to our surrounding area before leaning in, still licking his lips like a lizard, so close I could smell the cognac on his breath as he sneered, “I’d almost say it would be worth a million dollars to find out.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, waiting for me to take the bait.
Now. I should mention that while this guy totally skeeved me out, I didn’t know who he was. As obnoxious as his indecent proposal was—and dude. Seriously? We’ve all seen that movie—I didn’t want to create any problems for Trip if this were some major player. I also didn’t want to create a scene in the middle of the party. But even still, I didn’t realize my free hand had been clenching into a fist at my side until Trip appeared.
Good thing he did. Apparently, I was gearing up to go full-on knuckle sandwich on this guy’s ass.
“Robert. Good evening.” Trip slipped his arm around my middle, never breaking eye contact with Robert the Lizard as I handed him his drink. It was enough to get the disgusting man to take a step back and resume life outside of my personal space.
Robert tried out a jovial tone. Aren’t we all just a bunch of silly friends, here. “Mr. Wiley! I was just getting acquainted with your…”
“My girlfriend, Bert. My very serious, very last girlfriend. Get the picture?”
Every second I had to spend in that lecher’s presence was worth it to hear those words come out of Trip’s mouth.
“And she’s not interested, so take a hike.” Trip took a swig of his drink, staring off beyond Robert, already bored.
“Now, Trip. You don’t think I’d have tried anything if I knew she was with you! I just saw this lovely creature standing here all by her lonesome and thought she might like some company. Isn’t that right…”
I guessed that was the part where I was supposed to offer my name. But where did that smelly ballsack get off trying to get me to vouch for him? Who the hell did he think he was?
When I didn’t fill in the blank, he staggered a bit as he added, “And it’s not like I wasn’t willing to pay.”
There he went, treating me like some streetwalker again! As infuriated as I was, I could tell that Trip was about to blow his top. His entire body tensed, his eyes turned to ice, and his jaw was clenched so tightly, I thought he must have been grinding his teeth into a fine, white powder inside his mouth. He started to lean in Robert’s direction, but I constricted my hold on his hand as The Lizard finally wised up from the look in Trip’s eyes. He put his hands up in defense and said, “Hey. Whoa, there. Okay, okay. I hear ya. No need to get all up about it.”
Trip took that step anyway, inches from Robert’s face, staring him down with unleashed fury. “If you weren’t such an old bastard, I’d pound your face into a pulp for the way you just spoke to her. Seeing as we may be working together soon, I’m going to refrain from kicking your ass.”
Wait a minute. This was Bert Goldblatt? The director Trip had been meeting with?
Bert’s eyes darted around the room, looking for someone to save him from a well-deserved ass-kicking.
Trip’s voice didn’t even sound like his own as he demanded, “Apologize.”
“Trip. You’re taking this all the wrong—”
“Apologize. Now.”
I wanted to step in and tell him it wasn’t necessary. I wanted to just get the hell away from the guy. But Bert turned toward me, sticking his sagging chin out a bit smugly as he said, “I’m sorry.”
He finally chose to take his leave, but tossed over his shoulder as he did, “I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to taste those tits.”
Trip turned into the Hulk before my eyes. He slammed his glass down on a nearby table and lunged at Bert, but I was in the way. Bert jumped back and smiled, but there was fear in the weasely man’s eyes. I put my hands on Trip’s chest, trying to keep him from killing the guy. “Trip! Stop! Please don’t do this. It’s over, okay? Please!”
Trip looked from the man’s retreating back to me a few times, still practically growling. I knew if he really wanted to go after him, I was no match to physically hold him in place. My words had already halted him, so I continued with that tactic. I put my hands to his face, and turned the focus of his eyes to mine. “Trip! Baby. Please don’t. He’s a pathetic excuse for a man. Please don’t ruin tonight over him, okay?”
Trip’s need to kill Bert was being overshadowed by his need to not destroy our evening. I could see the slight shift in his expression and used that line of logic to my advantage. “It will ruin our night, okay? Please don’t let him.”
He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t go after Bert, either. Instead, he grabbed me by my wrist and practically dragged me around the corner, slammed me against the wall and opened his mouth on mine.
Whoa.
I was caught off guard, but it didn’t take me long to melt into his forceful kiss. Our tongues tangled as he groped at my breast, his other hand gripping my gown at my thigh, lifting and gathering it in his hand until he could slip his palm underneath and grab my ass. His hips jacked into mine, his hardening length grinding against the front of my dress, causing the body parts underneath said dress to clench from the heat he was creating between us.
I should have been more concerned with someone catching us, right there in a shallow alcove, where anyone could turn the corner and find us at any second. But Jesus, the kiss was freaking hot.
I grabbed his lapels in my hands, pressed myself against him, and I could feel how hard he was, that amazing fifth limb of his straining against the fabric of his pants. He let out with a growl and teased his fingers against the edge of my garters, pulling one of the straps away and letting it snap against my thigh.
“You’re mine.”
My brain had shut off, stealing my ability to form actual words. “Mm hmm.”
“You called me ‘baby.’ I like that.”
“Mm hmm.”
“You little liar. You’re still wearing your panties. But not for long.”
That one jogged me out of my trance as I giggled and answered, “Mmm hmm.”
“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now? Feel this. Feel what you’re doing to me.” He took my hand and pressed it against the front of his pants. “It’s torture, knowing what you’ve got on under this dress. You’re leaving the garters on.”
Note to self: Always, always let Trip see what I’m wearing under my clothes at the beginning of the night.
I was coming unhinged, right there in a restroom alcove in the middle of Château Blanco. I mean, the guy wasn’t just sexy. He was sex.
“Jesus,” he hissed, exasperated. “We gotta get out of here. Unless…” He pointed to the restrooms nearby, and I took note of the signs on the door: Men’s Room. Ladies’ Room. Men’s and Ladies’ Room.
“Ewww. Is that one for what I think it is?”
“You didn’t see that yet?”
“No! Do people really…”
“Well, they’re not really supposed to, but it doesn’t stop them.”
“Grody! Let’s just go back to your place.”
“Good idea.”
Walking back into the party, some boobified blonde intercepted us and wedged herself between Trip and me, her back in my face. “Trip Wiley,” she purred, trailing a hand down his arm. “My, my, my. Where have you been hiding yourself, handsome?”
Ugh. Nice line, hosebag. Where did this chick get off? He was obviously there with me, yet she chose to completely ignore that small fact in her quest to make time with my boyfriend. Again, from the looks of it.
Smelly pirate hooker. Go back to your home on Whore Island.
Trip very politely excused himself from her clutches and led me over to our booth to grab our stuff. I’d been looking forward to diving into the SWAG
bags as soon as humanly possible, but suddenly, I could care less about them. I was way too pissed to be curious about a sack of free tchotchkes.
Trip put a hand at my elbow, and the contact served to break my control. I spun on my heel and snapped, “Is there anyone in this city you haven’t fucked?”
His shoulders sunk as he registered the broken look on my face, the barely restrained tears. “Layla, come on. That was before. You and I weren’t together for a long time.”
“Oh, but ‘you never stopped loving me’. I was ‘always with you’.”
He slid his hand up and down my arm. “You were. You are. Babe. Don’t do this. Don’t be one of those crazy jealous girls. It’s not who you are.”
I don’t know where he got the impression that I wasn’t a jealous person. I guessed we just hadn’t ever been a couple long enough before to be able to find out.
The truth was, I was feeling pretty green right at that moment. Not just green-eyed in a monster-like capacity, but green about this entire world of fast and loose sex.
Green-skinned as I became sick to my stomach.
Trip was looking at me hopefully, unsure of just exactly what to say. He raised a hand to my face and brushed a thumb against my cheek. “I love you.”
I let out a conceding breath at his words. “I know. I know you do. This is…” just so much to handle. “This is just not how I pictured the ending of our night. When I see hints of your life as him, it’s kind of confusing for me. Understand?”
“Oh, Lay,” he chuckled and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly against his chest. “It’s not real. We are. I’m sorry if all this made you doubt that.”
All this. The glitz and the glamour, the flashbulbs and the phoniness. I shouldn’t have been doubting him. Just because he was playing Trip Wiley all evening didn’t mean that’s who he was to me. I’d have to do a better job of reminding myself I was in The Land of Make Believe. To be honest, it felt as though I were playing some sort of part, too. The jealousy thing was a tad out of character.
