Unlike Kerri, I’d chosen a gown I thought was beautiful. Part of the fun of award shows—especially as a nominated actress—was having designers send things for your consideration. The stylist I worked with pulled a dozen looks for me to choose from. The moment I saw the violet fit-and-flare gown, I’d known it was the one for me. Putting it on confirmed it. The sweetheart bodice and hand beaded silk straps were stunning, and best of all, it was moderately comfortable. The back had the most glorious little train—classy, nothing like the hot mess express who jingled her way up the carpet ahead of me.
A pair of Louboutin Cinderella heels so beautiful they almost hurt to look at and so high, they absolutely hurt to walk in completed my outfit. The shoes weren’t available to the public because only twenty pairs had been manufactured and all were given away, but my stylist had tracked down a pair in my size and was able to borrow them for the evening without having to barter a kidney.
I ignored the pain in my feet in much the same way I ignored Kerri, which is to say I continued to be dimly aware of both. I was lucky that I hit my stride once I got into the swing of the interview process. One of Dane’s assistants was in charge of moving me from interview to interview, which ensured I wasn’t in any one spot for too long.
I’d been looking forward to meeting Vaughn Corbett, jokingly known as Mr. Hollywood, because Vaughn interviewing you on the red carpet was a rite of passage. Thus, I was surprised to discover his absence from the carpet. There were whispers about why, but with the Hollywood gossip machine being what it was, there was no way to know for sure. I figured the reason had to be pretty big since he’d been interviewing people on the red carpet for the past seven years. In any event, the girl standing in Vaughn’s area conducting the interviews was an unfortunate choice. She talked about herself a lot and made jokes that fell flatter than the time I tried to bake a cake from scratch.
After forty minutes of interviews and photos on the carpet, it was finally time to head inside. Needless to say, I was relieved to get off my feet when we arrived at our table in the ballroom of the Beverly Hilton.
We were dead center in the front of the room. This was due to Gloria’s star power, not because I was nominated, but it was awesome anyway. Dane and Gloria were already seated, along with our producer, Garrett Riordan, and his wife, Shaelyn. She’d been the one to read the script and declare that it needed to be made. That made sense since Dimming Her Light dealt with the loss of a child, a pain she knew firsthand.
Allie squeezed my hand beneath the tablecloth when we simultaneously saw Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese arriving together at the table next to us. As their wives took their seats, both men came to our table to say hello to Gloria, Dane, and Garrett.
You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when Steven and Martin proceeded to address me directly, both men telling me what an outstanding job I’d done in Dimming Her Light. I’m not sure how I managed to keep from fumbling through the next several minutes like an idiot. I wanted to ask to take selfies with both but managed to refrain. Barely.
A few minutes after they left, a waiter came by with a tray of Moët-filled flutes. As I took my first sip of champagne, I finally spotted Jasper Conrad—my former co-star—taking his seat two tables over. Rising from my seat, I hastily made my way through the crowd to him. We hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks because his shooting schedule was insanity, but we sent text messages every week or so. If anyone ever got a hold of either of our phones, they’d quickly find out that we shared a love of memes and pizza.
Jasper was nominated for Best Actor in a television drama for his role in Doctors Without Orders. While I saw him only as a friend, I understood why women—and a few men—fell all over themselves to get near him. His piercing blue eyes, the dimple on his right cheek, and the surfer style of his brownish blond hair were panty droppers. I knew because he used to get panties in the mail daily. He grinned as he rose from his chair to greet me, and I threw myself into his arms with a giggle as he lifted me off the ground.
“Morgan! I was hoping I’d get to wish you luck before the show started.”
“I had the same thought about you.” I giggled as he set me back down on my feet.