Page 87 of All That Glitters
“TONY!”
The voice cut through the roar of the crowd like a lightning bolt. It was a voice he could pick out of a million. He spun around, his heart leaping into his throat.
There, on the other side of the rope, squeezing past a man holding a ‘Marry Me Carrie!’ sign, was Debbie.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. She was wearing a simple, elegant black mini-dress she’d borrowed from Veronica, and her hair was down, curled just right. She was that perfect blend of beauty and an impossible cuteness that came together just right.
Tony rushed over to the velvet rope just as Debbie squeezed her way to the front of the crowd.
“Hey,” he said, wrapping her in a warm hug over the rope, and nearly lifting her off her feet in his exuberance. When he pulled back to speak, he did a literal double-take. His smile faltered, replaced by sheer, unadulterated awe. The look on his face said it all. After all these years, he was finally seeing her. Her smile, and the sparkle in her eyes, still held the charm of the girl and best friend he’d known for years; and yet now that charm was packaged in this incredibly beautiful woman who completely stole his breath.
A blush crept up Debbie’s neck and flooded her cheeks, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “What?” she asked, her voice a little shaky from the admiration in his eyes.
“Nothing,” he stammered, completely lost for words. “I mean... wow. You look, wow. I’m really glad you came.”
Debbie couldn’t wipe the smile — or blush — from her face. “Veronica said something about you washing my car in your cell phone costume. Or washing my cell phone in a car costume. It was one of those.”
Tony laughed. “I’ll do both. Listen, I have so much I want to tell you, things I should have said a long time ago, but you know what an idiot I am. Will you meet me at the after-party and we can hang out and talk?”
“And you’ll wash my car?” she teased.
“And polish it.”
“Okay. Where’s the party at?”
“The Beverly Hilton. Tell them you’re a guest of the production.”
She smiled and nodded. “Right. Disavow any knowledge of knowing you.”
He laughed. “You’re catching on.”
He wrapped her in one more excited hug, nearly smothering her this time. But she didn’t mind. For the brief moments he held her, the world around them seemed to vanish. It was just them.
He finally had to release her. “I gotta get into the premiere, but I’ll see you at the party.” He started off down the red carpet toward the theater, then stopped and looked back. “Did I mention you look amazing?”
The blush was back in her cheeks. She smiled. “I think you said ‘wow’.”
“Add ‘amazing’ to that ‘wow’.”
The Beverly Hilton was five stars of pure, unapologetic luxury. Gleaming marble columns held up a grand portico where uniformed valets whisked away exotic cars. Stretch limos longer than most apartments pulled up to the curb, and out stepped celebrities onto the red carpet.
Then, a cloud of dark smoke announced a new arrival. Carl’s rusted, battle-scarred truck rumbled up to the grand entrance, its engine chugging and backfiring like a shotgun blast. The hotel’s five-star rating took an instant nosedive. The valet stared in mute horror, fanning away the exhaust smoke as the executive board of Rif Raf Produkshuns piled out in a chaotic clash of leather, denim, and tattoos. Carl, oblivious to the stunned faces watching them, handed the stunned valet the keys.
“She’s a little sticky in second, but you’ll get the hang of it,” he said as he and the gang headed inside.
If the outside was luxury, the inside was a palace. The lobby was a vast expanse of polished marble walls and gleaming brassfurnishings. Oil paintings in ornate frames looked down on velvet furniture that probably cost more than The Frat’s budget.
Tony strolled in alongside Carrie, who now had her parents, Dale and Mary Thompson, on either arm. Dale looked around at the opulence with wide, curious eyes, while Mary just looked at her daughter, her face beaming with a pride that outshone every crystal chandelier.
They spotted Eli surveying the scene with the jaded eye of a seasoned veteran.
“Eli!” Carrie called out. “I want you to meet my parents, Dale and Mary.”
Eli, ever the professional, pasted on a charming smile and shook their hands. “A pleasure to meet you both. You must be incredibly proud of your daughter tonight.”
“We always have been,” Dale said with a simple sincerity that seemed to momentarily short-circuit Eli’s Hollywood programming.
“Any word yet on what the critics thought?” Tony asked, his voice tight with anxiety.
