Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins Page 0,38
me feel ten feet tall, like I was more than a man – an icon and a giant.
Not anymore. Only Gemma makes me feel like that now.
I straighten my clothes, checking once again for any scuffs or wrinkles caused by the fact that we haven’t been able to take our hands off each other for the whole limo ride, and offer her my hand to help her exit the car. When she steps out, wearing her knee-length silk dress – the one that made me fall in love with her all over again, and is now making the crowd do the same – the flashing lights go into overdrive, flickering and blinding us until we feel like we’re living frame-by-frame in the unreality of the scene.
Despite the noise, the lights, and the hectic surroundings, we look at each other, losing all sense of time and place, the connection of our souls steadying us against the nerve-wracking and chaotic backdrop of the red carpet on the premiere of our movie – and I always call it ‘our’ movie now. They might put my name first on the credits, but behind Dylan Marlowe is a very strong, very beautiful, and very capable woman now.
“You ok?” I say, as we turn to the cameras and pose for pictures.
“Sure. Just take your hand off my ass. This is the last situation I want to get horny in.”
I laugh and smile at the cameras. She leans in for a second, still showing her pearly-white teeth and those gorgeous lips.
“Plenty of time for that later,” she whispers huskily.
I stick my hand in my pocket and readjust my pants – I’ve always liked doing it in places I shouldn’t.
We move toward the crowd, microphones emerging from it like a tentacled monster. I see a familiar a face, a sassy glamour critic who has a dirty mouth and a dirtier sense of humor, and move toward her.
“How are you?” I say, giving her the full Hollywood smile and pretend-casual tone.
“Dylan Marlowe! I would ask what you’re wearing, but frankly you could be wearing a Speedo right now and I wouldn’t notice. This woman next to you is gorgeous!”
“This is Gemma, my partner.”
“You two look fabulous together! How does it feel to be back on the red carpet? For a minute, we thought you were gonna slip off the radar there – I’ll be honest!”
She says this last bit with her head facing the camera behind her.
“I still might!” I smile.
“Do we get to see you with your shirt off in the movie?”
“Would you still watch it if I said no?”
“Probably not, I’ll be honest!”
“Tell you what. You watch it, and I’ll give you a private show after. How about that?”
She turns and screams at the camera, and we move on.
“Wow. Are they always like that?” Gemma leans in and mutters to me as I go down the line, sign a few autographs, and pretend not to hear any more questions.
“Pretty much. To the media I’m just another piece of meat to be eaten alive,” I sigh melodramatically. Gemma giggles. “But you get used to it, and you just shrug it off.”
I look at her again, her blue eyes holding me and pulling me into some wonderful place, away from all the madness, where it’s just me and her.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand and leading her up the steps of the theater.
We wave to the crowd and walk through the doors, making small talk with all the familiar faces in new suits and dresses, as we find our seats at the front and settle in.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her, as we gaze at each other in the dimness of the theatre.
“I’m fine,” Gemma nods, smiling. “Why do you keep asking?”
I lean in closer to her. “Last time we went to a movie – that Lars Von Trier one – you seemed pretty put off by the whole ‘A-list’ scene.”
She grimaces. “Was it that obvious?”
“Kinda. To me, anyway. I just want to be sure you’re alright with all this…craziness.”
I take her hand and hold it tight. “Like it or not, this fame shit is probably not gonna go away anytime soon. And I know this isn’t your world but I want you to feel okay while you’re in it, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. Because you belong here, with me. I don’t want to do it without you.”
Gemma pauses, considering. “It wasn’t just the scene,” she says, “I was…you were…” She