Film Star

by Rowan Coleman

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What do you think?” Mum asked anxiously.

  “At last,” I said without looking up from my magazine. We had all gone to the same hotel I had my second audition in, the Waldorf, to get ready for the premiere, and Mum and I had our own room and even our own hair and make-up lady, Maxine, who Art had hired just for the evening.

  I had been ready for ages, waiting for Mum and Maxine to come out of the bathroom, sitting patiently in my blue dress and diamonds, my hair just left long and natural and with hardly any make-up on at all, despite me trying really hard for some blusher. As I waited, it felt strange to be looking at a magazine full of properly famous people walking up red carpets, knowing that very soon I would be doing the same thing. It felt strange but sort of not real, which meant I probably wasn’t nearly as excited as I should have been.

  I turned around and looked at Mum. I’d expected her to make an effort but I hadn’t expected her to look the way she did.

  “Mu-um!” I exclaimed in shock. “What do you think you look like?”

  Mum’s face fell, and I knew instantly that I had hurt her, that somehow she thought that a long green satin dress cut far too low in the chest area and worn with matching high heels she could never walk in in a million years were appropriate for a woman of her age. A woman and a mother of her age.

  She had gone totally over the top. Mum clasped her hand to her chest and looked down at herself with dismay.

  “Do I look terrible, really?” she asked me.

  I looked her up and down. Since Dad had left she’d been to a slimming club, so at least she fitted into the dress without too many bulges. And the green colour did suit her complexion and newly auburn hair, which Imogene’s hairdresser had dyed for her so that no grey bits showed any more. And at least she wasn’t wearing too much make-up; in fact, Maxine had somehow managed to make her face look sort of glowy, if a bit miserable.

  “It’s not that you don’t look nice…” I began, feeling a bit mean and maybe ever so slightly wrong. “It’s just that…”

  There was a knock at the door. I looked at Mum, who stared at me with an expression of terror.

  “Ruby, if I look really terrible I don’t want anyone to see me…”

  “The door was open,” Jeremy Fort said as he entered the room, “so I just thought I’d pop in and see if you needed an escort…” He stopped and looked at my mum standing by the window.

  “Janice,” he said, his deep voice almost a whisper, “you look stunning.”

  I watched my mum’s face light up as if the sun had just risen inside her head. I looked at Jeremy looking at my mum and thought what an amazing actor he was. He looked at her like he really meant it, like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  “And you too, Ruby,” Jeremy said, still looking at my mother. “Quite wonderful. May I escort you downstairs? They have various limos waiting for us. I wish you were travelling with me, Janice, I’d love to walk you down the red carpet looking like that—but I’m afraid they have a separate car for parents and guardians that will take you to a side entrance.”

  “Oh, well, of course,” Mum said, fluttering her lashes. “I mean, who am I? I’m no one.”

  “Nonsense,” Jeremy said, hooking her arm through his. “You are Janice Parker and there’s only one of you in the whole world.” I followed them to the lift, trying to look anywhere except at my mum giggling like an idiot at every word Jeremy said and wishing that he wasn’t quite so kind, because really he was only giving my mum false hope.

  As we walked out into the chilly evening, Sean was waiting by one of four limos in a pale blue suit and white shirt.

  He was wearing sunglasses even though it was dark. On anyone else it would have looked idiotic; on him it looked totally cool. When he saw me, he smiled that famous smile, and for a moment my heart did skip a beat. Because from a distance, in that suit and with that smile, he wasn’t my friend Sean, a fifteen-year-old boy bored out of his mind with acting and movie sets and all of that rubbish, he was Sean Rivers, heart-stoppingly-handsome teen-movie star.

  Suddenly I realised that Sean was two people—that despite his claims to the contrary he really was a true movie star because he could do what only true stars can: when he needed it, he just turned his starriness on like a thousand-watt light bulb, shining as brightly and as far as a beacon, making it clear as day that he was not just an ordinary person.

  For the first time since I had met him, he had turned that light on.

  “Steady on,” I whispered to myself under my breath. Because even though there was no way I could fall for my friend and fellow actor, Sean, I didn’t think it would take very much at all for me to get really silly over the gorgeous star of The Underdogs.

  “Hey, Ruby Parker!” he called out. “You’re in this car with me!”

  I tried turning my own star quality on as I walked over to meet him, but when I did it felt more like next door’s toddler’s nursery night-light in the middle of a power cut. Whatever it was in people like Imogene or Sean that made it impossible for people to stop looking at them—I didn’t have it. And that was a fact.

  Sean looked at me over the top of his shades as I approached. I braced myself for him to say something romantic and flattering like Jeremy had said to Mum, because I knew if he did my knees would give out and I would need resuscitating.

  “You look like a Christmas fairy,” he said, winking at me. Not exactly the response I had been expecting, but on the bright side at least I could still walk and breathe. He opened the door and I climbed into the back of the car, discovering that it is far easier said than done in a long tight dress. Sean got in next to me and took off his shades.

  “Our own limo,” he said. “Awesome! Lisa told me they want to highlight the young actors in our film, get a teen audience interested. So we’re on our own, kiddo.”

  Sean looked around the interior of the car, found and opened the fridge.

  “Want a Coke?” he asked me, holding out a bottle. I shook my head.

  “Lip gloss,” I said by way of explanation, not wanting to tell him I was scared that if I drank too much when I was really nervous I’d end up really needing the loo and would have to run instead of walk up the red carpet to make it to the ladies.

  Sean grinned at me. “Can’t get used to you all dressed up,” he said, peering at me. “Are you in there somewhere, Ruby Parker?”

  I let out a breath and laughed. I was relieved to see that in the back of the car he was just Sean again and I didn’t fancy him at all. Sean sat back in his seat and sipped his drink.

  “So,” he said, “I’ve worked on our escape plan for later. First we do the red carpet thing and then…” His words washed over me as I thought properly for the first time about walking up that red carpet. Suddenly my heart was thundering in my chest and my stomach was clenched as tightly as a fist. In a few minutes I’d be doing the “red carpet thing”. I’d be walking up a red carpet and thousands of screaming fans from all around the world would see me stepping out of a limo, look at me and think, “Who is that?”

  “Ruby Parker?” Sean seemed to be repeating himself. “Are you listening?”

  “I’m having a mild panic attack,” I said, sounding as if I had inhaled the contents of a helium balloon. Sean laughed.

  “Seriously, don’t worry,” he said. “No one is going to be looking at you.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but realised that actually he was probably right. No one would be looking at me. It did sort of take the pressure off, even if it was a bit disappointing.

  “Sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Sometimes I go all over the top about things. So tell me your plan.”

  Sean peered out of the window. “Too late,” he said. “I’ll have to tell you later. We’re here.”

  I looked out of the window just as the limo pulled into Leicester Square.

  Rows and rows of people were lined up behind barriers, three or four people deep, and
all of them cheering and shouting. Some girls had a banner held up, a bit like the one that the girls outside the café held up for Danny, only much bigger and much better made.

  “Blimey,” I said.

  “I know,” Sean said, chuckling. “Blimey.” He peered out of the tinted window at the crowds. “Imogene will go in first with the other actors from Lizzie Bennet—you know that English guy that’s in all of your movies? The one with the floppy hair and the stupid voice?”

  “Oh, him,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Sean said. “And some other grand British thespian, oh, you know, what’s her name? The one that’s a lady, or a duchess or something?”

  “Dame Judi,” I said, biting my lip at the thought of one of my all-time heroines and forgetting completely about my lip gloss.

  “That’s her,” Sean said. “Then it’ll be Harry, Art and Jeremy. And then us.”

  Sean rolled down the window a crack and we listened as the cheers grew. From where we were parked we couldn’t see the length of the red carpet, but we knew who was on it by the names the fans called out as they went by.

  “Imogene always talks to as many fans as she can,” Sean said. “So we’ll be here ages while people get her to pose for photos and phone up their grannies and things like that.” He wasn’t wrong. It seemed like an eternity that we sat in the back of that limo, listening to the crowds cheering as I chewed every last bit of lip gloss off my mouth and dug my short nails into my palms.

  And then suddenly the limo door opened and the noise was magnified by about a hundred million times.

  Lisa Wells was there telling us we had to get out of the car. As I stepped out she looked me up and down and then, pulling a tube of lip gloss out of her bag, she reapplied some to my mouth.

  “Don’t look so scared, Ruby,” she told me. “You look great. Off you go.”

  “Off I go where?” I asked her, but before I knew it Lisa’s team of publicists had swept me away from the safety of the shelter that standing in Sean’s shadow provided and they propelled me forward the last few metres until I was suddenly all alone.

  All alone at the end of the red carpet.

  It seemed to me as if everyone and everything fell silent. The crowd, the press, the traffic, the pigeons—they were all quiet—as if God had pressed the mute button on his cosmic remote control. The whole world was silent, frozen still and waiting for me. Waiting for me to move.

  I tried to but I couldn’t. Every time I tried it felt as if I was glued to the spot. I tried to turn on some star quality, like Sean did. And when that didn’t work I tried to just smile my average smile, but even then nothing happened. I was like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming juggernaut. All I could do was stand there and stare at it getting ready to run me down.

  Somewhere in the tiny part of my brain that was still working I realised that the moment I had dreamed about for so long was going horribly wrong. That tiny part of me knew that my first—and at this rate quite possibly my last ever—red-carpet experience was a disaster, and that I’d be rooted to that tiny patch of red carpet for ever and ever like one of those dreadful mime statues you see hanging around Covent Garden.

  “Hey, Ruby Parker,” Sean’s friendly voice whispered in my ear. “I’m glad you waited for me. I could do with someone to hold my hand.”

  And in that moment it was just like when Prince Charming wakes up Sleeping Beauty with a single kiss. The sound of Sean’s voice in my ear had exactly the same effect, and before I knew it the deafening noise of the crowd rushed in all around me and I was back in the world again. Sean held tightly on to my hand and I knew that as long as he did I could make it from where we were standing to the other end of the red carpet in one piece.

  “Let’s knock ‘em dead,” Sean said, switching on his starriness, and we stepped out into the glare of the lights and glitter of flashbulbs, hand in hand, side by side.

  “Sean! Sean!” Hundreds of reporters called Sean’s name as we made our way towards the entrance of the cinema. Sean squeezed my hand and led me to the first in a row of microphones, each carrying a badge marked with a different TV station or show logo.

  “Sean.” The first reporter, Tilly James from Celebrity Central, grabbed Sean’s arm. I had done an interview with her once but she didn’t even glance at me. “Great to see you in London, but tell us, why are you here supporting Imogene Grant’s new film?”

  “Well,” Sean told Tilly, with a relaxed smile, “I’m working on a new film along with Imogene, Jeremy Fort and Ruby Parker here.” Sean nodded at me but Tilly didn’t take her eyes off his face. “It’s an action adventure called The Lost Treasure of King Arthur and we’re shooting it right now at the Elm Tree Studios. Imogene invited us along tonight, and you know I never like to miss a party!”

  “And what do you think of London?” Tilly asked Sean.

  “I love London, I love this country—especially the weather!” Sean said, laughing as a fine cold drizzle started at that moment. The reporter turned to the camera.

  “That was Sean Rivers talking exclusively to Celebrity Central, exclusively on…”

  We moved down the line from reporter to reporter, me standing behind Sean and waiting as he answered almost exactly the same question from each reporter with almost exactly the same answer and the same incredible smile.

  He must have repeated himself at least ten times as gradually the haven of the cinema doors grew closer. It was just as I thought we were nearly there that I realised we still had one last thing to do.

  Pose for the paparazzi—the ruthless pack of press photographers that followed celebrities everywhere they went and would stop at nothing to get a good picture.

  Sean led me out into the middle of the red carpet, and it seemed as if the crowd must only have been made up of girls like me because they erupted in a frenzied scream. Sean waved at them and blew them kisses, without letting go of my hand. In fact, holding it so tightly that I wondered if he hadn’t been joking after all when he said he needed someone’s hand to hold.

  Finally we walked past the bank of press photographers, their flashes ignited like a firework display. I’d seen soap actors and actresses doing this thousands of times—stop for the paparazzi, knowing exactly how to stand and exactly where to smile. I’d even done it myself once or twice on my way into soap awards, not that my photos ever appeared in any papers.

  But now I was here, living my dream, all I wanted to do was to stand as far behind Sean as I could and wait for it to be over.

  “So who’s your girlfriend?” one of the photographers called out. Sean laughed and pulled me forward so that I was standing, blinking in the full glare of the cameras.

  “Don’t you know?” he shouted back. “This is Ruby Parker! From Kensington Heights! She’s in my new movie too. Keep an eye out for Ruby; she’s the next big thing.”

  “Sorry, Ruby,” one photographer called. “Didn’t recognise you there in a posh frock.”

  “Give us a smile, Ruby,” another one called. So I did, and it didn’t feel too bad. I smiled again and the click of flashes went off every time that I did. By the third or fourth smile I was getting quite into it.

  But I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

  “Give her a kiss then, Sean,” a third one shouted, and before I knew it, Sean Rivers did kiss me. And it wasn’t Sean my friend, it was THE Sean Rivers. Kissing ME, Ruby Parker. In front of all those people.

  It wasn’t a romantic kiss or anything like that. Sean just put his hand on my waist and turned me towards him before landing a quick peck on my lips—it was over in less than a second. But in that second a thousand TV and photographic cameras were pointed at us, all of them capturing that moment and freezing it into an everlasting kiss.

  “Oh dear,” I said to Sean, who was giving the crowd one last wave. “What if they print a photo of us kissing?”

  “Does it matter?” Sean said, and I realised that in our whole week together I hadn’t talked about Danny once, a
nd he didn’t know I had a boyfriend who might get the wrong idea about those pictures. “Anyway,” Sean continued, “they’re not going to put you and me in the papers, Ruby, not when they’ve got Imogene Grant to put there. Don’t worry about it; it doesn’t mean anything.”

  Just then the rain really started to come down and at last Sean and I ran inside where Lisa was waiting for us.

  “Good job, guys,” Lisa said. “That kiss was very cute. I think you really drummed up some interest in our film. Now follow me and I’ll show you the way to the party.”

  “Don’t we get to see the film?” I asked her, still half-blinded by the flash bulbs and reeling from the intensity of the red-carpet experience.

  “Don’t be dumb,” Sean said. “No one who’s anyone ever sees the film at these things. We have our own so-called VIP party to go to, although they usually let in anyone who’s ever been famous for fifteen minutes. And then later the masses—competition winners and corporate groups who have seen the film—come in and try and catch a glimpse of us beyond the ropes. That’s how it works.”

  “Oh,” I said, a little disappointed. “I really wanted to see the film.”

  “Well, you’ll have to go another day, Ruby,” Sean told me as he bent his head close to mine. “Cos all we’re doing today is showing our faces at the party. We make our excuses and then we break out, head off to your friend’s crib and party hard.”

  “I did tell you it’s just pizzas and maybe a DVD, didn’t I?” I asked him. “It won’t be a party, party. It’s just Nydia, her family, Anne-Marie and my boyfriend Danny, he will be there. It won’t be an actual party.”

  “Ruby Parker,” Sean said, winking at me, “don’t you know by now—everything’s a party when I’m involved.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  When we walked into the roped-off VIP part of the premiere party, my mum and Sean’s dad were waiting for us. Sean’s dad had this huge grin plastered on his face which reminded me of Sean’s smile, only without any of the warmth and, well, the happiness that really should go with huge smiles.