Romy Sommer - Not a Fairy Tale

“I have a much better idea.” Dominic’s grin was pure mischief. “25 Degrees at the Hollywood Roosevelt serves the city’s best burgers.”

Great, just what she needed. Not. But any self-respecting LA restaurant would serve salads, too, wouldn’t they? “Twelve too early?”

“Twelve is fine.” Dominic looked over her shoulder. “Your minder’s here.”

She turned to follow his gaze. Her publicist bore down on them.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Chrissie stopped before their sofa and frowned as she looked from Dom’s jacket around her shoulders to Nina’s bare feet, then back to the tumbler in Nina’s hand. Or at least as much of a frown as her perfect, botoxed forehead allowed. “The action is inside .” She waved towards the party. “The cameras are there and all the people who need to be reminded you exist.”

“My feet were sore.” Nina wiggled her bare toes and Chrissie’s frown deepened.

The excuse sounded as lame as it was. Nina was in the illusion business, after all. If she couldn’t stand for half a night in tight heels without hiding the pain, then she didn’t belong here. But admitting to an insane urge to throw something wasn’t going to go down any better.

An actor could trash a hotel room and everyone would call him a rock star, but an actress behaving badly would be labeled as difficult and would never work again. Ask Lindsay Lohan. Nina was struggling enough with the last bit as it was.

With an apologetic shrug for Dominic she slipped her shoes back on and handed him his jacket. He tossed the remains of his burger in a nearby bin and rose with her. “Yeah, this party blows. I’m gonna head over to Elton’s and see if that one’s more fun. Want to join me?”

Chrissie turned narrowed eyes on him. “Who are you?”

“Chrissie, this is Dominic Kelly. He was the stunt coordinator on Pirate’s Revenge . Dom, my publicist, Chrissie.”

Chrissie swept an assessing glance over Dom, her gaze lingering on the muscular chest beneath his dress shirt. A tight and not entirely pleasant smile curved her plumped lips. “You might want to hang around for the next ten minutes. There’s a show you shouldn’t miss.”

It sounded like a warning, but Nina couldn’t fathom why.

Chrissie turned to her. “Be quick. You’re needed inside.”

She hurried ahead and Nina followed more slowly, Dom keeping pace beside her. He sent her a questioning look and she shrugged. Chrissie clearly had something up her sleeve, but Nina had no clue what it was. The only thing she knew was that her stomach had clenched with an anxious sense of foreboding she hadn’t felt in years.

Back in the central party room, her nerves steadied. She looked out across the room heaving with bodies, hundreds of beautiful people making conversation and playing to the cameras. A carnival of glitter.

Party guests came and went from the specially constructed photo booths, and on the far side of the purpose-built, glass-walled structure, a group of dancers gyrated to a rock standard played by the live band.

The party hadn’t yet reached that kick-off-the-shoes-in-abandon phase that happened when celebrities partied together, relaxed in the safety of their own numbers and the absence of fans and hangers-on, but it was headed that way.

No matter which way she turned she saw stars. Actors, actresses, musicians, and singers, supermodels and fashion designers, directors and powerhouse producers. People who were desperate to be loved and admired, people who’d reached the top and who would do anything to stay there. Every single one of them famous and all of them driven. She belonged here and she’d do absolutely anything to stay a part of it.

She caught the eye of an actress she’d worked with a few years ago. The other actress blew her a kiss and Nina waved back. “Bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

Dominic leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I don’t think that kiss was meant for you.”

“You and Jordan?” she asked in disbelief. Ugh. She thought he had more class than that.

“Most adventurous eight hours of my life. Come to think of it, it was probably while the two of you were playing sisters on that TV show.” His grin widened. “Though that was before she started on the botox. I don’t have many standards, but I don’t do botoxed women. Now don’t frown at me like that. There’s a camera headed this way.”

She smiled as if her life depended on it. The urge to hit or throw something was back in full force.

“Would you like your picture taken?” the photographer asked, waving his camera at them.

She and Dominic did the cheek-press, smiling straight into the camera. It was practically an art in this town, but the soft rumble of Dominic’s mocking laugh vibrated through her, spoiling the effect. As the photographer moved on to the next group, she stepped on his foot, not hard enough to inflict pain but hard enough to let him know she didn’t enjoy being laughed at. Or reminded that, if the rumors were true, he’d bedded half this town. The entire female half, with the exception of her.

Dom only laughed louder. “Don’t take it so seriously. That picture will never see the light of day. When they’re sifting through the images to upload they’re going to ask ‘ who’s this nobody with Nina Alexander? ’ and hit delete.”

He didn’t sound the least perturbed. But then what little she’d seen of him, Dominic was a man so confident in his own skin he didn’t give a damn what others thought. She wished she knew how that felt. She’d spent a lifetime faking confidence.

Dom’s gaze shifted to the stage. “Your new boyfriend really does like the limelight.”

She looked, just in time to see Paul take the microphone from the band’s lead singer. He tapped the mic and a few heads turned. The hum of voices dropped as more and more heads turned at the unexpected interruption.

“Hi everyone, are you enjoying the party?”

The crowd murmured its confused assent. They were here to mingle, to see and be seen. Speeches weren’t part of the program.

“I’m Paul de Angelo.” As if he needed to tell them who he was. “I apologize for interrupting the party, but please bear with me. Would Nina Alexander please join me up here?”

What?!

As Paul looked out over the assembled guests, searching for her, Nina frantically looked for the nearest exit. The anxious knot in her stomach pulled suffocatingly tight.

But there was no hope of escape. The people around her turned and looked, and the crowd’s buzz started again, nearly drowning out the sudden buzz in her head. Then Chrissie was beside her, grabbing her arm and pulling her forward. “Get up there!” Chrissie hissed through impossibly white teeth.

Nina cast a desperate glance back at Dom, who suddenly seemed like an anchor in a tumultuous sea, solid and strong. Then he was swallowed up in the crowd as Chrissie propelled her forward.

On either side of her, people nodded and smiled and greeted her. It was almost like the walk winners did up onto the stage at the Dolby Theatre. Almost.

She couldn’t see their faces or hear their words. The sound between her ears had become a maniacal trill and the anxious presentiment she’d felt earlier sky-rocketed all the way from a knot in her stomach to throw-up territory.

She’d only felt this way once before in her life and that hadn’t ended well.

She reached the stage and Paul leaned forward, extending his hand to help her take the giant step up. Though her body had turned numb, she took his hand and he pulled. She’d dreamed of this night since she was nine, imagined the graceful glide up to the stage on Oscar night in a hundred different ways. This wasn’t how she’d pictured it at all.