Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

I decided to ring her mum and tell her our agreement was now expired. My days of playing guardian were over.

24

Seeing Red On The Red Carpet

Jaxson

There was no rule I had to take a date to the Oscars. It was perfectly acceptable to attend unaccompanied. It was just that nobody did. I’d reserved two seats thinking I could take Emma. My visit to her house wasn’t about delivering Goldfish. I wanted to tell her I had changed my mind, that I wanted to take her to the awards. So now I had reservations, a freshly cleaned tux, and no date. For one nanosecond, I considered inviting Pinky. Fortunately, she told me she had a cold before I could open my sorry mouth. Then my mind turned to Harriet—how she’d gone on and on about her dream of walking the red carpet, cameras flashing in her direction, entertainment bloggers asking who she was wearing. She’d said all this to Jennifer Fairfax, but she was so animated, I couldn’t help but overhear.

She was over the moon and even more so when Stella sent her a few gowns to try. She sent Ari, the Gardiner Theatre’s resident costume designer, to Harriet’s house. Stella mentioned something about Ari becoming the next thing in fashion design, but I wasn’t paying much attention.

“The girl can’t very well go to The Oscars in a dress off the rack.”

I’d shrugged and didn’t give it another thought. But when my limo stopped in front of Harriet’s apartment complex, and she stepped outside, I made a mental note to thank Stella and Ari for their intervention. I couldn’t begin to describe her gown—it was a tan lacy thing that dipped down in the front. I could imagine some men might be distracted by that exposed skin, but it covered enough to leave something to the imagination. I supposed I spent so much time censoring Emma’s wardrobe that it had become a hard habit to break. It was Hollywood, after all. Modesty was in short supply.

“You look beautiful,” I said in greeting. That was a safe compliment. Women liked compliments. Children stopped playing on the sidewalk to stare at her climb into the limo like a modern-day Cinderella.

“Thanks. Annie taught me how to style my hair. Also, YouTube tutorials.”

“Well, it paid off.”

Harriet was beaming all over—hardly able to contain her glee. She reminded me of a tween girl at her first boy band concert the way she almost bounced out of her shoes.

In a way, The Oscars were a lot like that for her. I was glad I got to be a part of her experience. Emma would appreciate the gesture.

The moment Harriet stepped out of the limo onto the red carpet, however, no one would ever know she wasn’t a seasoned pro at waving to the cameras and flashing her teeth at just the right moment. I offered her my arm as a gentleman should, and she slipped her hand within the folds of my sleeve. She played her part well. Perhaps Emma saw potential in her I never cared to notice. Then again, there was a big difference between an actress who excelled in her craft and an actress who was good at playing the diva.

We were about halfway down the line of news reporters when I spotted Emma and Frank posing for a cacophony of flashing cameras and the racket of shouting reporters. The gunfire click, click, click of the cameras was only surpassed by a chorus of photographers shouting, “Emma, Emma. Frank!”

The sound assaulted my ears.

Frank smiled lazily and snaked his arm around Emma’s waist, his hand dipping a little lower with each cry of their names. Sarah Sloane from Hello Hollywood! took them aside for a quick interview, throwing a big microphone in their faces. Emma was all grace and poise, a vision of elegance as she answered whatever questions Sarah Sloane asked. At one point, Emma and Frank laughed and looked at each other with amusement, shaking their heads. What was so bloody funny? I clenched my fists at my sides. The way Sarah was wagging her brows, I could imagine what her assumption was regarding Frank’s involvement with Emma.

It made me want to pound my chest in protest.

Harriet and I weren’t quite as popular with the entertainment shows which was fine by me except it meant we’d move through the line faster. I wanted to linger a bit longer so Emma and Frank could catch up to us. Maybe switch partners or something.

To Harriet’s delight, That’s Entertainment asked us a few brief questions, but I was too distracted to give them much attention. Somehow the interviewer knew about the Field of Hearts project and asked about it. The mention was hardly a footnote in the trade publications, but the recent publicity with Frank and Emma brought more interest among the press. I had to reluctantly admit that could be a good thing to get more studio interest. The young woman holding the microphone seemed to know the whole scoop about Frank’s role in the film and had the gall to ask me if there was a budding romance between Frank and Emma. I could have quelled the rumours then and there—told the world to mind their own bloody business. But I decided not to let my jealousy show and deflected the question by introducing Harriet. I couldn’t remember what I said as I nudged Harriet toward the reporter. It was likely something about how much an integral part she played in the workshopping sessions. I stretched the truth a little. She did bring donuts once.

“You are an enigma,” I whispered to Harriet after a few interludes with reporters. She shone like a star in each one, answering their questions with dazzling candour.

“I am?” She bit her lip, acting every bit the bashful ingénue.

“Yes. I always thought you were shy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologise. It’s what makes you… endearing.”

She lifted her head, eyes brightening as she dared to look at me. “Endearing?