Hollywood Stardust Supporting Roles - Wilson and Giselle

by Kim Carmichael

  “Sometimes you need to just get away from everything and everyone and start over.” More lights flashed, leaving him blinking to see.

  “But how did you hide your identity?” The question came from a male in the crowd.

  An easy one. “During the movie I wore prosthetics to appear more like the producers wanted the character and they asked me to stay in costume for public appearances. It was very easy to fade away once the costume came off…and the weight came off.”

  Some chuckles went through the audience.

  Yes, he was the chubby kid. During filming he lost weight, causing a whole host of issues for the movie. They had to keep adding padding to his costume to retain continuity. He hid for a while, let the fanfare of the movie die down and then went abroad for college. By the time he returned with a different name, no one ever put it together. He still found it incredible that he pulled it off. Maybe he was a real actor after all.

  “Have you kept in touch with your cast mates?” Another question barreled toward him.

  Drew glanced off to the side of the stage. While he might not be able to find her, his best friend, Logan Alexander, was always there for him. Logan nodded, giving him the okay to answer. “Only Logan Alexander.” The quote unquote villain of both the movie and of real life was one of the best people he knew. One might even say a hero.

  Some mumbles went through the crowd.

  “Drew, why did you decide to come back now?”

  Again, he looked for her. Where did she hide herself? On the other side of the stage he located Ryder Scott, their leading man. The poster boy for a movie star, he always had everything. After the film, Ryder went on to a successful career and now also dabbled in directing and producing. Additionally, he was a complete and total ass. However, Drew couldn’t locate the last of their four. The reason he came out of hiding.

  “I have some unfinished business.” He needed to go find her. “I can take one more question before we should probably let you all get back to the movie.”

  “Can we get a picture of the four of you together?”

  Well, the promise of a picture that would be all over the world should bring her out. He turned left and right. Ryder joined him first, shaking his hand and taking center stage to thunderous applause. Logan, who only moments before proposed to his fiancée on this exact stage, came out next and the clapping grew to the point where it vibrated the building.

  Logan shook his hand and raised his eyebrows.

  “Where is she?” Drew attempted to ask the question without moving his lips.

  “She’ll be here.” Logan patted his back and took his place.

  The crowd stilled as if holding its collective breath, waiting for the one female of the group.

  Drew ground his teeth together. After everything he just did, would she not reveal herself?

  And then she appeared.

  Damn him to hell for his breath catching at the sight of her. Though he followed her career, watched her in her movies, her television appearances, and even clips of her in a stage play, nothing compared to her in person.

  She stepped to the edge of the stage and the applause began once more. Yes, even with his news of showing up after twenty years, Erin Holland would always steal the spotlight.

  The color that overtook her cheeks would be gorgeous in the pictures, but he knew better. He knew the blush came from her being flustered, unsure and taken off guard. If they were alone, away from the scrutiny of the public, she would be crying. Not that it mattered. Crying, flush, with or without makeup, and even with twenty years behind them, he had never seen a more beautiful woman.

  Instead of tears, she nodded toward the audience and made her way to her once co-stars. Her silver form-fitting dress moved like liquid metal, fluid and flowing. She wore her blonde hair down, smooth and cascading over one shoulder, but pulled back from her picture-perfect face. Her doe-like blue eyes and heart shaped lips were all natural and the envy of many a teenage girl way back when.

  She stared into his eyes, asking questions, shooting accusations. In short, being Erin through and through. The one woman he couldn’t stand, but couldn’t get out of his mind. He could never move forward if he only looked back, and the second she came within reach, he held his hand out to her.

  “Drew.” She licked her lips, put her hand in his and gave him a hug. Her trembling betrayed her cool outward demeanor.

  “I came here for you.” He inhaled. Her perfume might have changed, but the aroma enveloping him was the same. It was just Erin. “We need to talk.”

  Without a word, she pulled back and took her position between Logan and Ryder. The three made up the love triangle of Hollywood Stardust while Drew’s character, Charles, was always left standing on the edge, just like him.

  Again, the lights flashed and he found himself posing with the rest of them. Old habits returned, subtle changes in his position to catch the light, show off a better angle, allow the photographers to get the ever-important shot.

  He needed to get to the person he came here for and raised his hand, the universal signal for stopping the show.

  “Drew, one more question before you leave,” a woman called over the mumbles, the claps and the oohs and ahhs.

  He waited.

  “What unfinished business brought you back? Is this a publicity stunt for the movie or was it something, or someone, else?”

  “It wasn’t a stunt. In fact, I didn’t even know I was going to do this until about an hour before I arrived.” He turned, wanting to catch Erin before she ran away licking her self-perceived wounds.

  As usual, he was too late. Erin had already vanished and he almost fought a laugh. Once more, he changed his life for her, and again she wasn’t around. “As for the rest, stay tuned.”

  On The Dotted Line

  A Heart Lines Novel

  A signature can change everything…

  Rather than silver, Randolph Van Ayers III was born with a platinum spoon in his mouth and plenty of strings attached. Faced with a list of specific goals he must achieve in order to earn control of his family’s banking empire, he’s accomplished each task and triumphed. One item remains on his list. He must marry by his thirty-third birthday and stay married for one year. However, when his so-called fiancée leaves him on the courtroom steps only hours before his deadline, he realizes he might lose for the first time in his life, and a Van Ayers never fails.

  Taught to rely on the universe for answers, Willow Day has always struggled in the material world, specifically her lack of material. With her small holistic store near foreclosure and without a home, she must do anything within her power to make the business work and take care of the woman who raised her. When the rude, yet gorgeous, Randolph the Third offers to fix all her troubles in exchange for one year of her life, she opens her mind and takes a chance.

  It’s the battle of the mystical over the money. Between a hidden pet who looks more like a cotton ball, performance artists with wings, and a woman who spouts advice like a living fortune cookie, everything from restaurant reservations to a trip to celebrate the winter solstice create clashes for the couple as they learn how to fit into each other’s worlds.

  With both their futures at stake, they must learn to accept reality, what the fates have dealt them and the consequences of falling in love from the moment they decided to sign on the dotted line.

  An Excerpt

  “Don’t get married for love.” Randolph Van Ayers III pressed two fingers to his left temple. The throbbing in his head reverberated throughout his body. Though he wanted to go home and lie down, if he came home with anything his mother considered an ailment, he would end up quarantined in one wing of the house no matter how many times he told the woman headaches weren’t contagious. The Mitchell Art Gallery presented him with a definite upgrade to being a medical pariah.

  “Maybe you should look inside yourself for love.” The owner of the gallery, Slate Mitchell, stopped in front of a photograph of the back of a man’s head
staring out into space. “However, I am still reeling that I didn’t get an invitation to your wedding, love or not.”

  “Don’t spew your rhetoric at me.” It took all his effort to shake his head at the oversized, overdone image. The print wouldn’t be worth anything in his lifetime. “I didn’t even want to attend, not that it matters since I didn’t get married today for love or otherwise. However, I do thank you for the party in my honor.”

  “Nothing like an impromptu birthday party to blunt being left on the courthouse steps with no bride.” Slate patted him on the back.

  “I appreciate how you’ve kept this low key as I asked.” His life had been reduced to a frat party in an art gallery. Earlier a keg was delivered.

  “It’s only small if the police don’t get called. I have some better ones over here.” Slate guided him through the wide-open space designed to be a showcase of the latest local artists. Anyone in the city with seven figures behind their name wanted to be the next person to discover the artist of the second, and the gallery was in the perfect spot in LA to make waves without the cost per square foot of more trendy or upscale areas.

  They stopped in front of another wall of photographs. “These would go with the sculpture of the birds you bought last month. Different artist, but similar feel. I can get you a discount for your special day.”

  He assessed the black and white photograph of a little bit of nature left in the Greater Los Angeles area. Mountains, clouds and birds in perfect juxtaposition of smog and the city. “A discount. Happy birthday to me.”

  “Well, it’s the least I can do for the man whose bank made it possible for me to become the new go-to gallery for poor little rich boys such as yourself.” Slate motioned toward the next photograph.

  “Remember until you pay off your mortgage, my bank owns you.” Randolph took a breath in an attempt to focus on the potential of the picture. “Maybe you should default on the loan, after midnight tonight it will no longer be my bank and I will no longer be rich.” While he considered Slate one of his better friends, he knew once the money ran out the friendship would follow.

  “Come on, that story you tell is just a pick up line. You can stop now.” Slate stopped and motioned toward the next piece of art, namely his girlfriend, Jade. “And here is a masterpiece.”

  “The story is totally true. Randolph told me the story when we were dating, it’s incredible, and true.” Dressed in a nude body suit with a hat made up of flowers Jade uncoiled her body, stretching her arms out and taking her time standing up. She came over, kissed them both on the cheek and hooked her arm in Slate’s. “I’m blooming.”

  “Baby, it’s a story designed to make girls have the expression on their face you have right now. You didn’t really date him, you only went as his plus one to that finance event when he was desperate.” Slate chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “You make a beautiful flower.”

  Randolph met the little piece of living art a few years ago at a financial conference when she donned her other persona as a property manager. Her parents owned some select buildings throughout Los Angeles and she took care of them when they retired. He invited her to accompany him to an event, but rather than a kiss goodnight he ended up with a friendship instead. However, the slight blush and smile on her face spoke volumes. Women loved his pathetic all too true story.

  If only it were a story.

  “Unless he got married by his thirty-third birthday and stayed married for a year, he would lose his inheritance.” Jade pressed her hands to her chest. “He signed a contract and everything.”

  Both he and Slate groaned.

  Jade let go of her boyfriend and flung her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. I would help you if I could.”

  “Can I borrow you for twelve months?” A plus one was better than nothing. He needed to face the fact he was never going to have a relationship for anything other than money. Hell, he probably got left at the courthouse for a man with a larger trust fund.

  “No, you may not. She is not on loan.” Slate pulled her away. “Plus, he doesn’t want to get married for love.”‘

  “Well, he may not want to get married for love, but getting married for money isn’t working for him either.” Jade returned to Slate and wrinkled her nose.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s over unless a bride drops into my lap in the next five minutes.” Since he created the situation, he would live with the repercussions. In the end, his father’s entire scheme had been built around his failure. At least for once he would prove the man right.

  “Can we study the art?” Slate walked backward, corralling them to the next piece.

  “I need to finish getting ready for the party and Willow’s here. She said she wanted to talk to me so I invited her.” She waved her arm. “Come here and say happy birthday to Randolph.”

  An ethereal cloud of yellow and white swirls materialized out of the corner of his eye.

  He tightened his jaw and finally did Slate the favor of staring at the next work. Maybe Willow Day would vanish if he didn’t look directly at her. Everyone knew ignoring the problem made it go away.

  “It’s Randolph’s birthday?” she asked.

  Her voice brushed over him, as soft and supple as her name. If only the rest of her matched. A new tenant in one of Jade’s buildings down the street from the gallery, he crossed paths with her a few times in the last couple of months, but the encounters were always the same. No, pretending a problem didn’t exist never made it go away. He squeezed his hand into a fist.

  “We’re having a party for him.” Jade dragged her over.

  With the woman standing directly in his line of sight, he needed to look. The way she gazed at him always made him think she was intrigued or interested. Again, her appearance didn’t match her attitude. Long, straight blonde hair literally floated around her as if she managed to get someone with a fan to follow her around. Unlike most women in Los Angeles, she wore little makeup, only enough to enhance her light blue eyes, petite features and glowing skin. He suspected she had a nice little body under all the flowing layers of clothes. She didn’t stuff herself into her wardrobe leaving little to the imagination. Someone would have to really search and discover. No, nothing on her was man made or artificial, everything natural. A rare find.

  “Well, Happy Birthday.” She graced him with a smile.

  The same smile sucked him in the first time he met her. Though it lit up her face, he sensed something beneath her upturned lips, something he wanted to get to know until he actually spoke more than two sentences to her. “Thank you.”

  “Scorpio.” She tilted her head. “I should have guessed.”

  Case in point. He swallowed. “I hardly think a bizarre alignment of planets and stars millions of light years away from me on the day of my birth have anything to do with my personality. Wouldn’t that mean anyone born on my birthday should be exactly like me?”

  “Let’s hope not.” While her voice came out soft and sweet, her words were hard and cutting. She gave Jade one of her multi-layered smiles. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll meet you back in Slate’s office.” Jade pointed.

  Without any more well wishes, Willow walked through the gallery.

  Jade glared at him. “I’ll be back for your party.” She spun on the ball of her bare foot and left.

  “What’s your poison?” Slate motioned toward the photo.

  “I want something different, something with some bite.” Everything presented to him seemed trite, done before. He longed for something unexpected.

  “I think you have enough bite for everyone.” Slate shook his head. “Especially Willow.”

  He exhaled. “She called me a Scorpio.”

  “How dare she call you your own astrological sign?” Slate tucked his notepad back into his pocket. “She’s such a meanie.”

  “It was the way she said it.” He stopped in front of the next photo. The artist quite literally took a picture of nothing. A big black square h
ung on the wall, creating a hole in the middle of the show. With a bit of metallic paint it might have potential, as long as the artist had the vision.

  “Aw, did Randy get his feelings hurt?” Slate raised his voice as if he were talking to a baby. “She’s having a hard time.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” He stared into the nothing. Maybe the artist was trying to depict potential rather than emptiness.

  “Everyone goes through ups and downs, some downs are just lower than others.”

  Damn it. He glanced at his friend. The few times he met her, their encounters were always the same. She would materialize, he would try to speak, something strange would come out of her mouth, leaving him no choice but to comment and she would walk away. “She’s back in your office, meeting with Jade.” In his distraction with his own situation, he neglected to pick up on the significance of the Jade meeting, especially if Jade was interrupting one of her art performances.

  “Yeah, Jade, her landlord. Go grovel, it will do you some good.”

  Money woes, one of the world’s great equalizers. “I’ll take this one. It speaks to me.” He strode through the gallery, stopping short outside Slate’s office at the sound of her voice.

  “I don’t have any money left, and you can’t keep extending my rent payment,” Willow whispered. “It’s not right, everything is off balance.”

  He put his back to the wall to listen.

  “Don’t worry about the rent, it’s fine.” Jade’s tone was one of compassion and authority. “Right now we are working on the barter system. Just keep me in products and tea and we are fine.”

  “I can’t do that. I just need to sell a little more at the shop.” Her voice was broken but not destroyed. “I did a little research.”