Page 60 of All That Glitters
Debbie considered this for approximately three seconds. “I could trip and fall on him. I could accidentally set something on fire. I could get food poisoning and throw up on his shoes. I could—”
“Okay, okay!” Veronica held up her hands. “Bad question. But look, these tapes aren’t about turning you into someone else. They’re about helping you be the best version of yourself. The confident, funny, amazing Debbie that Tony already loves. You just need to help him see that love could be more than friendship.”
Debbie looked down at the tapes, then back at the chaos of her packing. “You really think I can do this?”
“I think you’re the only one who can do this,” Veronica said firmly. “You and Tony have something special, Deb. Don’t let fear keep you from finding out what that could be.”
Debbie took a deep breath and carefully placed the tapes in her overnight bag, right next to her toothbrush and the emergency stash of granola bars she always traveled with.
“Okay,” she said, more to herself than to Veronica. “I’m going to do this. I’m going to tell Tony Harding that I’m in love with him.”
“That’s the spirit!” Veronica cheered. Then she paused, looking thoughtful. “Although maybe we should pack you an extra shirt. You know, just in case you spill something on the way there.”
Debbie laughed despite her nerves. “Good thinking. Make it two extra shirts.”
“Better make it three,” Veronica said with a grin. “This is you we’re talking about.”
Tony’s motel room was everything you’ve come to expect and dread from a budget motel — faded carpet, a bed that sagged in the middle, and a TV that required repeated maintenance to get a clear picture. He’d cleaned up as much as the place would allow, changed into his least wrinkled shirt, and was pacing the small space like an expectant dad waiting for Debbie to arrive.
The knock he’d been expecting all evening finally came. Tony practically lunged for the door, his face breaking into a wide, anticipatory grin.
“Deb, you actually made it without getting into a wreck, or—”
He swung the door open, and his words died in his throat. Instead of Debbie’s familiar, slightly disheveled charm, he found himself face-to-face with Carrie Thompson. She was stunning in a calculated, Hollywood way — perfect makeup, perfectly styled hair, and a dress revealing several miles of tanned legs.
“Oh,” he said, his brain short-circuiting slightly. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” Carrie purred, giving him a smile that could have powered the entire motel. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“No, I... no.” Tony glanced past her toward the parking lot, half-expecting to see Debbie’s car pulling in. “What are you... how did you know where I was staying?”
“I asked around the set,” she said with a casual shrug. “You know, after that whole ketchup incident today, I realized you and I never got a chance to meet.”
From inside the room, the sound of the TV caught her attention. She peered past Tony’s shoulder, and her eyes lit up when she saw what was on.
“Oh my gosh, is that you?” She pointed at the TV, where Tony’s face filled the screen during his interview with Lauren Zales. The caption at the bottom read: ‘EXCLUSIVE: Writer reveals behind-the-scenes chaos on indie film set.’
Tony’s cheeks reddened. “Yeah, that’s... they interviewed me today. It’s pretty cringe.”
“Are you kidding? You’re on Hollywood Gossip!” Carrie’s excitement seemed genuine, though there was something calculated behind her sparkling blue eyes. “That’s so exciting! Do you mind if I come in and watch?”
Tony hesitated, glancing again toward the parking lot. Debbie could be here at any minute, and if she found Carrie Thompson in his motel room, the situation could spiral out of control quickly. And would likely result in bodily harm. To him.
But Carrie was already stepping past him with the confidence of someone who rarely heard the word ‘no.’
“I promise I’ll just stay for a minute,” she said, settling onto the edge of his bed with practiced ease. “I want to hear what you said about the production.”
On the TV, Tony was talking about some ‘creative liberties’ they had to take while doing his best to downplay the calamities. In the motel room, real-world Tony stood awkwardly by the door, unsure whether to close it or leave it open as an escape route.
Debbie was going to kick his butt if she arrived to find this.
“You’re really articulate,” Carrie said, her attention focused on the screen. “Most writers get flustered when they’re on camera.” She patted the bed beside her. “Come sit. Let’s watch your interview.”
Like a mindless, hormone-driven zombie, Tony walked over and sat on the bed, about as far away from her as he could without falling off.
She cast him a sideways look. “No. Here, silly,” she said, patting the bed right beside her. “I promise I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that kind of thing. Most producers are.”
Tony scooted over inch-by-inch until he was beside her, fumbling with his hands to give himself something to do with them.
