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Slow walk, pose...
(Blakely)
I stepped from the back of the hired car onto the red carpet. I was wearing the velvet teal dress with a plunging neckline down almost to my navel. I glanced down, noting the tape holding the fabric to my breasts was still secure, barely skimming, as Jess put it, ‘the titillating parts,’ while exposing most of my breasts. Revenge on ex. Check.
I straightened my skirt. Ready. Check.
The skirt draped around my very high, dainty, silver heels. Straight, tall, confident. Check.
The fabric swished while I walked. Sexy. Check.
My eyes swept the crowds, Darren had already arrived and was up ahead — a gorgeous woman on his arm.
I scowled then corrected as Jess, my plus one, put her hand on my back. Support. Check.
She muttered, “Fuck him.”
Cameras flashed around us, but we were not truly celebs so they trained past us to the car pulling up behind us. My job, I had been advised, was to smile and wave and walk down the carpet as if I were important. If the onlookers believed I was. This was all good for business.
I said, “Thankfully I don’t have to fuck him anymore, looks like that lady has taken the job. Would it have killed her to wear more clothes? This isn’t her event, she should know to blend in—”
Jess said, “Fuck both of them. Shoulders back, chin up, you’re a haughty bitch, you’re the one that made this whole thing possible. You got this movie for Ainsley Potter and she’s the hottest actress around. It’s all on you, agent to the celebrities, the queen-maker.”
I gave her a once over, and brushed a piece of lint from her shoulder. “Talk through your smile, like this, so no one can tell what we’re saying.”
She smiled widely. “If I smile, can I talk smack about the paparazzi clamoring to get your photo?”
I said through my smile, “Of course, that’s what everyone is doing. And Jess, we’re together, but as we proceed up the carpet, step away a bit so you won’t be in every photo. You don’t want to be in the tabloids, it is not fun. I am going through a big divorce, so be close, not too close, and always keep posing, don’t let down your guard.”
Jess stepped away as a camera closed in on me and circled taking photos.
Then she stepped close again, I said, “Perfect, now keep smiling, walk slow, pose, you have to smile while you take abuse from these sadists. You have to look like you enjoy it, they thrive on your agony.”
“You make it sound like a competition.”
“Nope, it’s a war.” I smiled and twisted around and waved and smiled. “They’re trying to destroy our careers, we’re trying to make it impossible.” We walked slowly in the procession making a few more feet, the crowd lining the way cheered at someone behind us.
She said, “God this is mind numbing. I feel like breaking the rules.”
I smiled broadly. “The trick is to—”
She threw her head back and laughed uproariously.
Through my smile I teased, “What the hell was that, a guffaw? That there is going to be the lead in Variety tomorrow — Ainsley Potter’s premiere: a star agent in a terrible divorce, and then your photo, the caption: some random attendee guffawing on the red carpet.”
She said, “I’m mixing it up, trying to keep it exciting. My motto is Be Like Jennifer Lawrence.”
She pretended to accidentally trip.
I posed, a lot of photos were taken of me alone, then she sauntered back up. She yawned and stretched.
I said, “Man, you are going to be so embarrassed when you see these photos.”
“Not one of my photos is going to end up anywhere. They’ll crop me out.” She pointed at a photographer and mouthed, “Hey girl!” Then said, “I think I’m really getting the hang of this.”
I laughed. “Thank you for coming with me. This would have sucked by myself.”
“No problem.”
She fist-pumped into the air.
Then she stood on her tiptoes and frantically waved to someone she pretended to know.
I laughed. “Just keep smiling, slow walk, pose...”
“We’re almost to the stairs.”
I said, “Yep, that’s where the reporters are waiting to pounce.”
