by Amity Cross
“We’ll try this one,” Jude said from behind me since I seemed to be incapable of human interaction.
“If you will excuse us, Mr. Atwood,” Veronica the sales woman declared, ushering him out of the room.
In a total out-of-body experience, I was pretty much helped out of my clothes and wrapped in a slew of fabric by a Photoshopped android. When she was done, I stared at myself in the full-length mirrors that surrounded us, feeling like Cinderella. Not the part where she turns up at the ball and everyone stares open-mouthed at her, but the part where it’s one minute to midnight and everything is about to turn back into a pile of crap.
This couldn’t be real, right? When had my life turned from obscurity into a fairy tale? I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I was waiting for the moment when the clock would strike midnight, and I’d find myself back in my dingy one bedroom flat in Melbourne, waking up at four a.m. to go into work and bake bread.
The curtain pulled back, and Jude slipped back in. As my gaze met his, I flushed. He stared at me like… I don’t know what, but he looked like he’d been knocked on the head and had a concussion. I mean, his eyes were wide and his mouth fell open. I wanted to tell him to shut it because he might catch a fly if he left it open too long, but we were in Versace and it didn’t seem like the place to take the piss.
The woman gestured for me to stand on a little stool in the middle of the room, and I did as I was told, my cheeks heating to boiling point.
“The skirt is mille-feuille,” she said as she checked the fit of the gown. “It’s the highest quality organza.”
“Mille, what?” I asked, feeling like a fool. Seriously, I was standing in the middle of Versace in Beverly Hills, 90210, sounding like a freak. I assumed it was a posh way of describing how the material bunched up in hundreds of layers, kind of like a cake.
“Mille-feuille,” she said with a slight pout. “It’s French, darling.”
Glancing at Jude in the mirror, he covered his mouth to hide his grin.
The woman made her way around me and fluffed up the skirt, checking the reflection in the mirror. “How do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” I replied. Because it was. I didn’t know squat about fashion, or designers, or Vogue magazine, or catwalks, but I did know that this dress was something special.
Leaning toward the woman, Jude said, “We’ll take it.”
Veronica beamed and clapped her hands. “Certainly!”
Once I was changed back into reality, I returned to Jude’s side out in the store.
“I think I made her pop an artery in her brain with my cluelessness,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“She certainly didn’t know what to make of you,” he said, giving me a wink.
“How much is the dress?” I asked, my voice hushed because Versace was quiet. It must be in their operating manual to keep the decibels to a minimum.
“Fifteen thousand, I think,” Jude replied absently.
Instantly, I choked on my own spit. “What?”
“Don’t worry about it. I got you some shoes, too.”
“Shoes? How much were—”
“Shh,” Jude whispered. “Stop waiting for the moment you wake up, Lux.”
“But—”
“No buts. You’re my guest, so it’s my treat.”
Some treat.
I began to wonder how much the necklace he’d bought me was worth if he thought fifteen thousand dollars was nothing when it came to fancy dresses made from pure organza and sewn together with unicorn hair, or whatever it was. Seriously, I would’ve been elated with a twenty-dollar sterling silver charm that he’d found on sale someplace in a shopping center.
Once Jude had paid with a very black looking credit card, a clerk helped us to the street and into a town car with the giant box of organza.
“I’ve got to do press tonight and tomorrow,” he said as we were driven back to the hotel. “Otherwise, I’d ask you to dinner.”
“That’s okay,” I replied, feeling kind of tired. I wanted to prepare for my secret meeting with Miles tomorrow anyway. “I can order room service. I’ve never had it before.”
“You’ve never had room service?” He was genuinely surprised.
“Nope. I’m looking forward to it. The little tray and silver cover and all the fancy little jars of condiments…”
He shook his head and laughed. “You’re such a breath of fresh air.”
My smile faded slightly, and I tilted my head to the side. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
At the hotel, the concierge had the dress delivered ahead to my room as Jude and I dawdled in the lobby.
“So, I’ll come by about five tomorrow,” he said as we rode up to our floor in the elevator.
“That’s really early,” I said, watching the numbers tick by.
“The red carpet is an event in itself. It’s as much a spectacle as the thing inside.”
“Okay,” I said, beginning to feel nervous about the whole deal. “Five it is.”
The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped out.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” he said, offering me some comfort. “Just follow my lead. They’ll ask you about your dress and probably about working on the show but nothing major.”
“Nothing major, got it.”
I knew that he’d purposely left out the million-dollar question the media would ask when they saw me show up with him. Were we an item, and where was Tessa Donahue?
As we separated in the hallway, he leaned close and whispered, “Don’t forget to breathe.”
His words brought back the memory of his first phone call to me way back when this adventure was first starting. He’d called me in the middle of the night to tell me that my flight from Melbourne to Atlanta had been booked, and he’d taken my breath away.
I took a deep breath, my chest rising.
Jude smiled softly, his gaze dropping to my chest and then back up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I echoed.
As I watched him walk down the hall to his room, I knew that when the sun rose, everything would change one way or another. With Starscape, FMC, and with our relationship.
Tomorrow, I’d tell him the truth.
Tomorrow, I’d tell him that I was falling.
Tomorrow…
* * *
FMC Studios was bustling.
I mean, Starscape was always a hive of activity, but this place was the epicenter.
I’d arrived for my meeting with Miles Schaffer fifteen minutes early, so I was asked to wait in reception until he was ready. I’d been offered a drink, which was everything from champagne to sparkling water, and pretty much the keys to the kingdom. The attention was a little unnerving.
When I was finally guided through the plush corporate space and into the office of my prospective new employer, I was not in the least bit prepared for the man I found in-between the desk and an epic view of the Los Angeles skyline.
Miles was this young, cool-looking guy with a full beard, perfect, swoopy, hipster hair, and warm brown eyes. He wore a slate gray shirt with the collar undone, sans tie, dark blue jeans, and Converse sneakers. He wasn’t at all how I’d pictured him, and I began to feel slightly overdressed in my black blazer and pinstriped dress.
He had what looked like my script in his hands, the corner worn where it had been folded around the staple holding the pages together. It had been read, and re-read, and probably would be read again. I guess he had to be sure I was up for the job.
“Lux Dawson,” he exclaimed in a broad American accent as I perched on the chair opposite his desk. “Miles Schaffer, nice to meet you.” He threw the script on the desk with a flourish, and my heart sank. He hated it. I mean, he’d just tossed it…
“Nice to be here,” I replied, my gaze following the paper that held my words.
“Amazing,” he declared, pointing at the script and shaking his head. “Un-fucking-believable.”
I blinked hard, feeling w
inded.
“What’s in the water down under because I want some of that,” he said, a wide smile appearing on his face.
“You liked it?” I asked, hardly believing this was happening.
“Liked it?” he scoffed. “You’ve only just walked through the door and I want to get on my hands and knees and beg you to come work for me.”
A smile tugged at my lips, and then I was grinning from ear to ear. They liked my work. Epic.
“I’m just going to come straight out and say that we want you to come work for FMC the moment you’re up with Starscape.”
My eyes widened.
“One season to start with because you know how these things go in TV land. They could can us after one season. It’s survival of the fittest out there. Then, we’d like first option to renew your contract if the show is picked up for a second run.”
“Okay.” Sounded fair.
“What are they paying you now?” he asked. “Standard?”
This was turning out to be a full-on negotiation, so I held my cards close and asked, “What are you prepared to offer?”
Miles laughed at my brazen question. “You’ll get on just fine in LA with an attitude like that. We’re offering ten k an episode. It’s a short run of thirteen, but it’s double the standard rate.”
That meant they’d be paying me the same amount as Starscape for half the work, and I could pick up another job for the rest of the year to fill the time. Or I could just take that extra nine-ish months to float and regroup between seasons or even concentrate on my novels. I’d be no worse off financially than I was now. It seemed like a brilliant offer.
But then there was Jude. If he felt the same, then I wanted to stay with Jude.
“I don’t think I can,” I said. “I’m pretty happy at Naturals.”
“I’m not taking your answer now,” he said, holding up his hand. “Think about it a couple of days and let me know. I’d hate for you to dismiss it now and wake up next week and decide you want to come over to the dark side.” He gave me a good-natured wink. “You’ve got all the specs, so take your time.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I said, “Thank you.”
And just like that, Lux Dawson had become a hot commodity.
As soon as I left FMC, I went straight back to the hotel to get changed for the awards.
I showered and shaved, straightened my hair, and patted on some makeup. Then I opened the Versace box, took out the dress, and wrapped myself in it. Now that I was all assembled, I wondered if the look Jude had given me the day before would be repeated. If he’d see me and realize the words that I was about to tell him.
I’m falling for you.
Dare I believe that he was falling just as hard? After everything that had happened in the last two days, my hope had been rekindled. I was done trying to bottle it all up. Tonight, I’d deal all my cards and see where the chips fell.
While I was waiting, I thought about my answers to the journalist’s questions about my gown. I Googled mille-feuille on my phone and found out that it was a style of layered cake. Layers of puff pastry with crème pâtissière in between. I could see how it related to the dress with its skirt of organza billowing out around me on the bed, just like it had when Carrie had worn it in that episode of Sex and the City.
My phone began to buzz in my hand, and I frowned when I saw Sharon’s name pop up on the screen.
“Hi, Sharon,” I said, answering it.
“Lux, last minute change of plans, doll,” she said, and my stomach dropped. I could already feel the disappointment sear through my veins. “We have to give your ticket to someone else. I’m sorry, but these things are a hot commodity.”
“Oh…” I stared at my reflection, the tiny crystals shining under the downlight as my entire body began to sag.
“I’m sorry, but that’s how things go. There’ll be another time, I promise.”
No, no there wouldn’t. This was it. This was my big moment with Jude. We’d have a magical night like we’d had in New York, he’d win his award, then I’d tell him how I felt, and then we may or may not live happily ever after.
“Enjoy the suite, and order some room service,” she went on, offering me the booby prize. “On us, darling.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
The call ended, and suddenly, I was Carrie Bradshaw waiting endlessly in a hotel room in Paris for a man who was never coming. For a man whose work would always trump their relationship.
Pulling up the messages on my phone, I found Jude’s name and tapped in the hardest words I’d ever have to write.
Me: I’m sorry, there’s been a last minute change of plans. I can’t make it tonight.
A moment later, he replied.
Jude: Is everything okay?
Me: I’m okay. Go, have fun, and wow the crowd.
Jude: Are you sure?
He didn’t seem to press the why too hard, and I knew he was down with how these things worked. He wouldn’t have a date, but he’d have a new seatmate chosen by the network. TV was more than entertainment after all. It was big business and big business called for strategy.
Me: I’m sure. I’m going to have another religious experience with room service.
Me: Good luck. xx
Episode Twenty-Four
The Agony and The Ecstasy
Standing in the bathroom of my hotel room, I stared at my reflection.
I couldn’t deny that I was bitterly disappointed. For the first time in my life, the image in front of me was beautiful, and I wanted more than anything for Jude to see me like this. At my best. At my most confident.
Thinking about the offer from Miles, I knew my time was limited at Starscape. I might not get another opportunity to tell Jude how I felt, and tonight had seemed like my only chance.
Sighing, I undid the dress, stepping out of the pile of organza and tulle. Placing it back into the box and folding it carefully in the tissue paper, I pulled off my bra and stockings and tugged on the comfy singlet I slept in.
Sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, I picked up the remote, turned on the TV, and found the channel that was broadcasting the awards. In a way, it was a moment of self-torture, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see the moment when Jude won because I knew he would. I hoped he did.
I watched the opening monologue from the host like I was underwater. I heard what he was saying, but nothing registered. I watched the first award being given out, and right after that, they showed a preview of what was to come over the night, which included a rundown of the nominees for the best actor award. The camera panned through the crowd and settled on an actor from an FMC show. Then the image panned and settled on Jude, and next to him was Tessa. That’s right. Tessa fucking Donahue.
So that’s who Starscape had given my ticket to. He mightn’t have been taking her, but I’d thought she wasn’t going despite the show being nominated. Turned out, she’d probably found out that he’d invited me and pulled all available strings to push me out of the picture and take my place. I couldn’t say I was surprised, but I couldn’t say that I wasn’t heartbroken, either.
As they announced Jude’s name, she wound her arm through his and smiled at him like a doting girlfriend. Snatching up the remote, I pressed the power button with a violent jab, and the TV went black.
Miles was right. I was reconsidering taking the job already, and I was glad he’d declined my decline. I was about to turn down the job of a lifetime for a man. A man who I couldn’t guarantee felt the same way about me. A man who still had a boatload of baggage with his ex-girlfriend. An ex-girlfriend who he still had to kiss and have faux sex with onscreen.
Scrambling off the end of the bed, I opened the door to the balcony and stepped out into the balmy night. Leaning against the railing, I stared out across the skyline, trying to decipher my next course of action. I felt so far away from home…wherever that was. So far away from being comfortable, and wanted, and safe.
The lights of the city
were so bright that when I looked up at the sky, the stars were nowhere to be seen. In this place, the stars were the people walking around Rodeo Drive. The stars were the people sitting inside the Beverly Hotel.
What did I want? I was so sure it was Jude, but now, even that felt like it was evaporating.
I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there, fighting back tears because of my stubborn pride no one was there to witness, when there was a knock at the door.
The sound echoed through the suite and out to the balcony where I turned, staring blankly.
Finally, I stepped inside and moved through the room, wondering who it was. I hadn’t ordered any room service or anything.
Opening the door, it was suddenly filled with Jude. Jude, who should’ve been at a theater in downtown Hollywood, waiting to see if his name was called for best actor. Jude, who should’ve been on the arm of Tessa Donahue, schmoozing the press.
His bow tie was undone and hanging around his neck, and his hair was wild like he’d been shoving his hands into it in frustration over and over again. My first thought was that he looked hot in a tuxedo, but it should’ve been something else.
“Jude? Why—”
He moved forward like lightning, pushing me back into the room. The door slammed closed, my back hit the wall, his hands fisted into my hair, and his mouth was on mine. He wasn’t drunk this time. He was in his right mind, and his touch had the same intensity it had the night of the party.
I wasn’t imagining it.
I shoved my hands into his shirt and parted my lips, my tongue darting out to meet his. I began to lose control of my mind as he pressed his thigh between my legs and began moving against me. My skin heated as he placed pressure against my clit, his kiss becoming wilder.
There was only one word was going through my foggy mind and it was more.
