Piper Day's Ultimate Guide To Avoiding George Clooney

by Vanessa Fewings

  “I met him on the lot,” I said. “It was my first day. I had no idea who he was.”

  Jamie lowered his gaze. “Arthur’s one of the most powerful men in the industry.”

  “Had he told me his last name,” I said with a shrug, still reeling over how kind he’d been.

  “It’s good to have friends in high places,” Jamie said. “Should you ever want to switch careers.”

  “I’m very happy with my career.” I studied his face, trying to work out what he’d meant by that.

  Outside, there was yet another red carpet. This one led the way into the Vanity Fair Post Oscar Party, where we were headed.

  Jamie cocked his head. “We can talk now,” he said, throwing a glance at the closed window behind which sat the chauffer.

  A thrill of excitement sent shivers up my spine. I wondered what Jamie wanted to share.

  “Well?” he said, his voice low, serious.

  “Well what?” I barely said, teetering on the edge of vertigo.

  “What did you think?”

  “Of?’

  “The winners?” He slid his iPhone back into his pocket.

  “Oh, I thought their speeches were great,” I said, feeling a little silly that the conversation lacked any romance.

  Jamie was waiting for me to go on.

  I rested my hands in my lap. “It was quite something to see the winner’s reactions so close up.”

  His gaze narrowed as he read a text. “I suppose there were no surprises.”

  The car came to a stop.

  There was a line of photographers capturing everyone who was heading into the party. The idea of having to face the paparazzi again caused my stomach to flip. Amongst the crowd, I recognized the face of a young actress, though couldn’t remember her name. She was arguing with the concierge, who was refusing her entry. He shook his head apologetically. I felt for her and glanced over at Jamie, wondering if he might be able to her get in.

  Jamie had pulled out his iPhone again and was staring at the screen; his eyes flared in surprise. “It’s my publicist,” he said, peering up to view the line of guests. “She’s here.” He knitted his brows together in a frown. “What?” He texted back.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Piper, I’m so sorry.” His face flushed with embarrassment. “She’s only got two tickets for the Vanity Fair Party. She wants to drag me around and introduce me to all the A-List directors.”

  “It’s a perfect night for networking,” I said, understanding where this was going, and wanting to make this as easy on him as possible.

  “Pretty much sums it up.” He pointed. “Look, they won’t even let Helen Harper in.”

  That was her name, Helen Harper, the actress from Saving Siren on the WB. And she was making a scene, clearly upset she couldn’t get in.

  “Ridiculous.” He twisted his mouth. “I’m going to be working the room anyway. So you and I would hardly see each other.”

  “My shoes are killing me.” I twisted the truth a little. “So you’ll be doing me a favor.”

  “Do you hate me?” he said, looking sympathetic.

  “I’ve had the most amazing time.” I pressed my hand to my chest. “These memories will stay with me forever.”

  Jamie stared out of the window again and then his face lit up. “Wait here.” He opened the door and trotted toward the concierge, completely missing the line of photographers.

  With merely a glance from the doorman, Jamie disappeared inside, much to Helen Harper’s annoyance.

  I wondered if Helen might want to catch a bite to eat with me, though when I saw her final launch of attack on the concierge, I pretended that thought had never formed. Our impending alliance thankfully crumbled.

  Jamie reappeared in the doorway and jogged steadily back to the limo. My window automatically lowered. The chauffeur had intuitively guessed what was happening.

  Jamie leaned on the window frame to better see me. “Here you go.” He raised the golden wrapped chocolate covered Oscar.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking my consolation prize from him with a smile. Still, it was pretty awesome. I slipped it into my purse.

  He glanced behind him as though taking a moment, reluctant to leave. Then faced me again, saying, “My driver will take you to my place if you like.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked in a daze.

  “My driver?” Jamie looked thoughtful. “Terrance.” He checked his watch. “I should be done in a few hours. There’s snacks in the fridge.” He cocked his head cheekily. “Hands off the air con. I keep that place at 60.” He glanced over at the growing line of celebrities. “You can go for a dip in the pool if you like.” He arched an eyebrow, his deep brown eyes meeting mine. “We can go skinny dipping later.” He gave a boyish smile.

  I felt myself melting, the idea of it warming me from the inside out. My laughter sounded nervous and to save my embarrassment I gave a, “Yeah.”

  Jamie nodded, having failed to detected my reticence.

  “I’ll see you later.” He waved goodbye and took the few short steps needed to reach the driver’s window. “My place.”

  Jamie strolled back toward the waiting photographers, hands in pockets, and this time with a nonchalant stride.

  The limo pulled away, the increasing speed forcing me back against the headrest. A strange feeling settled in my solar plexus, a ripple of nerves like a misplaced thrill.

  I sighed, trying to fathom why the idea of going to Jamie’s didn’t cause a wave of happiness to descend upon me. It should have made me dance in my seat. Surely being inside Jamie Hale’s home would be a real treat? Something to tell the grandchildren. Our grandchildren?

  These ripples were morphing into a knot, and if I knew one thing it was to listen to that quiet, still voice within, whispering a truth I’d known from the first time I’d met Jamie.

  I knocked on the tinted glass separating me from the chauffer. He buzzed the window down and we locked eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “Change of plans,” I said. “Can you take me to Burbank?”

  “You want to stop off and pick up some things?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “I’d like you to take me home.” I sat back. “I won’t be going to Mr. Hale’s place tonight.”

  The window buzzed up, and as it did so I caught a crinkled smile of approval in the driver’s eyes.

  I tried to wrap my brain around why I felt so elated to be turning down one of Hollywood’s most desired actors.

  Then it hit me.

  Jamie Hale was certainly dashing, gorgeous and heavenly even, but I’d fallen for the actor and not the person. Fallen for the man I’d seen on television who’d masterfully memorized the lines crafted for him by a screenwriter.

  I hardly knew the real Jamie Hale, but what I did know about him was he loved the spotlight.

  And our time together had been filled with too many silences to count.

  I was filling in the blanks, wanting to be in a relationship so much I’d ignored all I held dear. The harsh truth being that Jamie and I lacked any chemistry.

  More time would be needed before I skinny dipped in his pool, or shared his bed. My crush on him was all too real but my feelings weren’t.

  I’d been swept away by the Hollywood glamour and seduced into a world so different from mine it had addled my brain, and warped my perspective.

  The epiphany swept over me like a tidal wave of truth, providing the most profound realization.

  My life had purpose.

  Being there for others was the only true fulfillment there was. Everything else was transient.

  Back there on the red carpet, I’d questioned whether I was worthy to be amongst those iconoclasts. The answer was of course... yessssss.

  Stunned by my aha moment, I sat quietly, even though the limo had come to a complete stop outside my home.

  I wanted to savor this moment.

  Stillness lingered, reaching some part of me, as though for the first time
.

  The last few days unraveled in my mind like a movie. Just this week I’d tried to persuade a world-renowned singer to give up drugs, diagnosed a life-threatening disease, and helped saved a colleague’s life with no thought to my own.

  Sarah Thompson’s actions, though cruel, had resulted in me wearing Marilyn Monroe’s dress. Something good came out of something terrible. Both old and new friends had come to my rescue, turning a horrible experience into an incredible one.

  I felt safe. Complete. Empowered.

  I didn’t mind not going to the Vanity Fair Party. I was pleased to spend the rest of the evening with the one true person who really knew me.

  After thanking Terrance, I hopped out, lifting my gown and trotting toward the front door of my apartment. Ellie leapt up from the couch when I burst through the front door. Teddy barked his excitement.

  “It’s me,” I said, happy to see her.

  Ellie took a moment, as though looking at me for the first time. “What are you doing here?” she said, her gaze roaming my dress. “Piper, you look fantastic.” She hugged me.

  I squeezed Ellie back, thrilled to be home.

  She grabbed Teddy’s collar to stop him from jumping up on me.

  Ellie was beaming. “I saw you on the red carpet. You looked amazing.” She pointed at my dress. “Did Jamie buy that for you?”

  “A dear friend lent it. It’s kind of a one night deal.”

  Her expression changed to confusion. “Aren’t you meant to be at an Oscar Party?”

  “Jamie had to work the room.”

  “What does that mean?” She folded her arms, her inner best friend warrior rising to the surface.

  “I’d much rather spend the evening with you, anyway” I said, jumping up and down with excitement to see her.

  She jumped up and down too. “Let’s go to Sky Bar.”

  I landed and took a breath. “Let’s not. Let’s have a girl’s night in.”

  “I’d love a girl’s night in!” She was jumping up and down again. “Let’s go buy some snacks.”

  My expression felt cheeky. “Rome’s.”

  “Chocolate chip.” She waved her hands, excited. “When we get back we’ll watch you on the red carpet.” Ellie grabbed her handbag from atop the kitchen table.

  We made our way down the stairs toward her waiting blue Prius parked on the street.

  Within a minute we were inside, clicking on our seatbelts.

  “Love the purse,” Ellie said, eyeing my Swarovski crystal bag. “Oooooo.” She looked at me. “What was it like?”

  “Pretty dreamy.”

  “I want to hear all about it.” She turned the key in the ignition and steered us toward Rome’s. “Was Jamie nice?”

  “Very.”

  She glanced over at me and then navigated the Prius onto Olive.

  “He was pretty caught up with promoting his next movie,” I told her.

  “He had his hands all over you on the red carpet.” She lowered her chin. “He looked like he was really into you.”

  I found comfort in Ellie’s words, reasoning that perhaps I’d read Jamie wrong and he really liked me. Though he’d been pretty preoccupied with working the event. I considered myself lucky to have been able to relax and enjoy the evening without having to face all those interviews.

  “Did you see Tom Hanks?” Ellie broke the silence.

  “No. There were a lot of people there.” I lowered the window to let in some fresh air. “I saw Jack Black.”

  “Yay.” She waved her hand. “I love Jack Black.”

  “Me too, but I didn’t get to chat to him. Everything was like a whirlwind.”

  “Did you see what Amy Trent was wearing on the red carpet?”

  “Up close,” I admitted, remembering the actress’s see-through gown.

  “Some people will do anything to get their next job.”

  “Like wear stripy tights?” I said, with a crooked smile.

  “Leave my tights alone. They may have landed me my biggest job yet.”

  “Or caused irreparable damage to the casting agent’s eyes.”

  Ellie raised a finger. “The art of war.”

  “The element of surprise.”

  We burst out laughing.

  Once inside Rome’s, Ellie and I made a beeline for the frozen food section nestled in the back of the store. We took the usual short cut down the magazine aisle. We passed a young woman pushing a shopping cart and her gaze locked on me.

  Still dressed up in couture, I was drawing unwanted attention. Self-consciously I placed my head down and sped up.

  Behind me, Ellie was perusing the selection of charitable George Clooney products: bobblehead, notepad, pen set, bookmark, coaster, mouse pad, lighter, magnet, mints, lip balm, and chocolate bars.

  Ellie reached out.

  I grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her toward the back of the store.

  “All proceeds go to charity,” she said.

  “You have plenty of mugs. And the last thing we need is to set anything else in motion.”

  “Wait. What?” She trotted beside me, looking puzzled.

  “Oh look,” I said, “Choco-Chips are on sale.”

  “Ooh.” Ellie’s eyes widened. “Let’s get two.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Resident Hero - Day 60 OF 60

  Call Time: 08:00

  Shooting Call: 08:45 am

  Weather: Sunny

  Location: Stage 9

  My smile was relentless.

  Last night, I’d spent a fun evening with Ellie. We’d watched the Oscars all over again but from the comfort of my Burbank apartment, catching glimpses of me strolling down the red carpet in the most elegant of frocks. I’d marveled at how well put together I’d looked. How glamorous.

  This morning, Ellie had emailed a photo of me at the event. She’d found it somewhere online. Sitting here on Gemstone’s paseo bench, I found myself staring at it again, savoring the feelings of having worn such a gown.

  Half in a dream, I checked my phone admittedly for the fiftieth time this morning, hoping to see a message from Jamie. Navigating past my screen photo of Teddy, I gave a sigh when I saw there were no messages.

  Nada.

  It’s 10 A.M. I reassured myself, Jamie’s probably still asleep in his luxury home, the temperature set at 60. I didn’t like the sound of that. Whenever I was over there I’d have to wear a sweater. I looked frumpy in sweaters. I hoped his pool was heated.

  Jamie had told me I could sample the snacks in his fridge. I wondered what kind of food he had in there. Had I taken a peek, I may have been able to gather more intelligence on him. Was he a quiche man? That could point to a privileged education. Perhaps he was into caviar? Would I be able to hold my own with such sophistication? Or maybe the fridge was almost empty, hinting he ate out. But where and with whom? Perhaps he was just out of a relationship with an A-list actress? One he’d managed to keep out of the press? Had he invited me to the Oscars to get back at her?

  I felt like a miserable Miss Marple, trying to piece together imaginary clues. This was torture.

  I checked my phone again.

  Movement from down the paseo caught my eye. Arthur was heading my way.

  “Mr. Gemstone.” I stood to greet him.

  He narrowed his gaze. “Morning, Piper. And it’s Arthur.” He gestured for me to sit.

  I beamed a smile. “Arthur.” I sat beside him. “I had the most amazing time last night. Thank you so much for everything.”

  “My pleasure. Glad I could help.” He offered the contents of his paper bag. “Pastry?”

  “Oh, no thank you.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to hearing how it went.”

  “It was amazing,” I said. “I’m still pinching myself. The show was spectacular. I was in the front row and saw everything up close.”

  “Did you see Kate Winslet?” he asked. “She’s a favorite of mine.”

  “Actually, I saw her in the loo,” I said with an En
glish accent.

  Arthur laughed.

  “The dresses were all gorgeous. It was like being at a fashion show.”

  “I’m sure you out shone them all,” he said with a smile. “Did Jamie take good care of you?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Good to hear.” He nodded.

  “I took the dress up to your office. Wasn’t sure about having it dry cleaned or not, you know, considering who it once belonged to.”

  “Our costumers will take care of all that,” he said. “You looked marvelous in it.”

  “I got so many compliments.” I stared off down the paseo, though not really seeing it. “I still can’t believe I wore Marilyn’s dress.”

  “Marilyn would have loved for you to have worn it.” Arthur eyes crinkled into a smile. He peeked into his paper bag. “You sure you don’t want some of this? I can’t eat it all you know.”

  “I’m still full up on excitement,” I said. “Thank Lilly for me, won’t you? She made me feel so beautiful.”

  “She was happy to do it,” Arthur said.

  “Lilly had a way of making me feel beautiful before I even put the dress on.”

  “Europeans have a knack for natural.”

  “How did you know I’d ruined my dress in the Baybridge flooding?” I asked.

  Arthur scrunched up the top of the paper bag and rested it in his lap.

  I turned in my seat to better look at him. “Was it Jamie?”

  “Let’s just say the individual in question, who I’ve known for some time, and who I’ve found to be quite an outstanding young man... has a thing for ‘Cats in hats.’ Arthur stood up. “I have a meeting with the director of Resident Hero. He’s showing me their latest footage.” He smiled down at me. “It’s their last day of filming.”

  “I know.” Realizing I sounded too happy, I added, “I’ll miss those guys.”

  Arthur chuckled. “Oh, I’ve revoked Sarah Thompson’s pass. She’ll have a hard time getting on the lot.”

  “Because of what she did to my dress?” I leaned forwards. “Arthur, I’m not completely sure it was her.”

  He pointed into the air. “This place is strewn with cameras.”

  “Can they see into our reception area?”