“In just a few months, you’ll win for this, and I’ll win for The Righteous. And then the sky’s the limit.”
“Celia is going to be nominated, too,” I whispered into his ear.
“People are going to leave this movie talking about you,” he said. “I have no doubt.”
I looked over to see Robert whispering into Celia’s ear. She was laughing as if he actually had anything funny to say. But it was me who got her those diamonds, me who got her that gorgeous picture of the two of us that would make headlines the next day. Meanwhile, she was acting as if he was about to charm her dress off. All I could think was that he didn’t know about that line of freckles on her hip. I knew about them, and he didn’t.
“She’s really talented, Don.”
“Oh, get over her,” Don said. “I’m sick of hearing her name all the damn time. They
shouldn’t be asking you about her. They should be asking you about us.”
“Don, I—”
He waved me off, determining, before I’d even said anything, that whatever I had to say was useless to him.
The lights dimmed. The crowd quieted. The credits started to roll. And my face appeared on the screen.
The entire audience stared at me on-screen as I said, “Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents!”
But by the time Celia said, “We’ve got Father and Mother, and each other,” I knew it was all over for me.
Everyone was going to walk out of this theater talking about Celia St. James.
It should have made me afraid or jealous or insecure. I should have been plotting to one-up her in some way by planting a story that she was a prude or sleeping around. That is the fastest way to ruin a woman’s reputation, after all—to imply that she has not adequately threaded the needle that is being sexually satisfying without ever appearing to desire sexual satisfaction.
But instead of spending the next hour and forty-five minutes nursing my wounds, I spent the time holding back a smile.
Celia was going to win an Oscar. It was as plain as the nose on her face. And it didn’t make me jealous. It made me happy.
When Beth died, I cried. And then I reached over Robert’s and Don’s laps and squeezed her hand.
Don rolled his eyes at me.
And I thought, He’s going to find an excuse to hit me later. But it will be for this.
* * *
I WAS STANDING in the middle of Ari Sullivan’s mansion at the top of Benedict Canyon. Don and I had made it up the winding streets without saying much of anything to each other.
I suspected he knew the same thing I did once he saw Celia in that movie. That no one cared about anything else.
After our driver dropped us off and we made our way inside, Don said, “I need to find the john,” and disappeared.
I looked for Celia but couldn’t find her.
Instead, I was surrounded by brown-nosing losers, hoping to rub elbows with me while they drank their sugary cocktails and talked about Eisenhower.
“Would you excuse me?” I said to a woman in a hideous bubble cut. She was waxing on about the Hope Diamond.
Women who collected rare jewels seemed exactly the same as men who were desperate to have just one night with me. The world was about objects to them; all they wanted to do was possess.
“Oh, there you are, Ev,” Ruby said when she found me in the hallway. She had two green cocktails in her hand. Her voice was lukewarm, a bit hard to read.
“Having a good night?” I asked.
She looked over her shoulder, put the stems of both glasses in one hand, and then pulled me by the elbow, spilling as she did.
