really need some sleep. I still can’t remember his name. “Handler” seems like a great alternative. I should have asked Handler to work in at least two breaks today. The fans have been great, making me laugh and even embarrassing me a little with their requests. I’ve signed everything from glossy photos to T-shirts and canvas bags. One woman, at least seventy years old, insisted I sign the back pocket of her jeans. When she shimmied her rear in my face as I tried to scribble my name, I was both entertained and mortified. She, was neither. Proud and flirtatious was more how she felt.
Glancing down at the first major gift I bought myself that proudly adorns my wrist every day, I note there are only about twenty minutes left in this session. I’ll have a little time to relax and get my mind ready to finish out this day with a big smile on my face.
Uncapping my water, I lift the plastic bottle to my lips as the next person steps up. The first thing I notice is the pile of blonde curls and big brown eyes that are the size of half dollars as she approaches me. A dazzling grin is spread across her pretty face, one I return as I recap the bottle. Then she stops.
What is she doing?
Looking into the large bag crossed over her body, she’s mumbling, and I think cussing herself out as she rummages through the satchel. Tilting my head, I watch her, fascinated as she appears to argue with herself. Just when I think she’s about to give up on whatever it is she’s searching for, she lets out a squeal and lifts her eyes to me.
“Hi.”
That’s why I get paid the big bucks. I’m full of all the great lines.
“Hi. Oh wow. This is happening. Holy shit. Oh! Sorry.”
Chuckling at her word vomit, I lift a brow and immediately regret that as thoughts of my forehead creases comes to mind. “What’s happening?”
Her cheeks pinken as she gets closer to where I’m standing. “This. You. Here. Ohmygosh. I’m sorry. I’m not normally this weird. Hi. I’m Celeste.”
Extending my hand, I introduce myself. “Hunter Stone. Thanks for coming today. I hope you weren’t waiting too long out there.”
“Nope. I actually just got here. Thanks for the VIP pass, by the way.”
VIP pass? Who did I give a VIP pass to?
It takes a few beats before her words make sense. My new buddy, Matthew, reached out to me a few weeks ago for a pass to this con and I’d completely forgotten about it.
“Oh, you’re Matthew’s friend. Nice to meet you.”
“Celeste. I already said that. Shit. Sorry,” she rambles before finally catching herself and her word vomit. “I wouldn’t say I’m Matthew’s friend, but he is marrying my best friend, so I guess we’re going to be friends by marriage.”
Pointing at the plastic in her hand I inquire, “What do you have there?”
“Oh!” she shouts. The room we’re in is small which makes the sound much more amplified than one would expect. “Sorry,” she whispers.
I’m not. This woman is hilarious and a breath of fresh air. She seemed a little nervous when she walked up but no longer. I realize I’ve been smiling the entire time I’ve been talking to her. Not the actor smile but the real me smile. Natural and sincere.
The calm I feel around her overrides Handler’s impatient toe tapping. I know it’s his job to keep us on track. And I know this interaction is taking longer than he deems appropriate. I just don’t care.
“It’s a playbill. I’ve been following your career for years. I saw ‘Get Up’ three times in the six weeks it ran and knew one day you’d be here. Well, not here here. I mean, if you’d asked me then I never would have guessed you’d be playing a vampire on television. A duke or earl in a period piece? Absolutely. A vampire? Nope.”
Blown away by her declaration, I open and close my mouth a few times before gathering my wits to ask, “You saw ‘Get Up’?”
“Yep. I’ve been saving this playbill for years. Will you sign it?”
Looking down at the table where she’s placed the aforementioned yellow pamphlet, I note she never relinquished control of it to any of the volunteers and has it safely secured in a plastic sleeve. Wow. This woman is serious about her memorabilia. Cautiously, I slide the playbill from inside the plastic and quickly thumb through the pages. Nostalgia hits