Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins Page 0,39
bites her lip.
“Oh, I see,” I say, breaking out into a grin. “You were already getting sweet on me, weren’t you? Made you a bit nervous, did it?”
“It’s so crazy,” she laughs. “If you’d have told me back then that we’d end up together, end up happy, end up with things going so damned well, I’d have thought you were crazy.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in happy endings, now? You, Miss Pragmatic?”
“No,” she says, her smile mischievous and genuine, “I don’t believe in happy endings. But I believe in happy lives.”
I lose myself for a few moments once again in how amazing she is. How perfect she is. How lucky I was just to meet her, and how proud I am to call her mine. It’s a thought I think every time I look at her, and it makes me want to be better. It makes me want to do everything I can to make her happy.
We lean toward each other and kiss slowly, the lights in the theater going completely black just as our lips meet. I’d have said it was a coincidence not long ago, but now I believe in things like fate, in things happening for a reason. Now my reason is Gemma.
I sneak glances throughout the movie at her, preferring to watch how beautiful her face is lit up by the giant screen, rather than seeing myself acting. I stroke her hand tenderly, softly, the fact that we’re in public – and not in the back row – driving me crazy.
Once the movie’s done I leave her for a while to sit on a Q & A panel with Christopher and some of the other actors. There’s a good vibe amongst the reporters and writers who gather in front of us. The questions come thick and fast – and mostly for me.
“Hey Dylan, Tom Baser – LA Times. The movie was great – really great job. I think it’s fair to say your career was stagnating before this picture, and I really just wanted to ask what made you want to do a movie like this again.”
“Two things,” I say, leaning into the mic. “One was Christopher, who came to me with the script, showing a lot of faith in me, and realizing what I had to give. And the other was Gemma, my girlfriend, who believed in me, put up with a lot of shit, picked me up when I was down, kicked me up the arse when my head was in the clouds, and really dragged me through this production by being the most amazing person on the planet.”
There are murmurs throughout the room as the reporters take notes, and I can tell they’re thrown and maybe even a little impressed by my heartfelt answer, by the new leaf I’ve turned. A year ago I’d have told them all to fuck off, or shown up to a panel like this drunk out of my mind. I’ve come a long way, and I’m proud to be here.
“Hey, Sarah James, USA Today. I have a question for Dylan – hi. The movie’s fantastic, and there’s a huge amount of buzz that’s saying you’re a runaway favorite to win another Oscar for it. How important to you is it to get that kind of recognition?”
“Absolutely fucking irrelevant,” I say with a smile that makes everyone laugh. “I won an Oscar before – and you saw how that turned out!” Another laugh. “I guess, if I win an Oscar for this movie though, it’ll mean something different. It won’t be about me, it’ll be a testament to the people around me, and the wonderful way they supported me.”
I see Gemma in the crowd, standing toward the back of the room, behind the cameras, the boom mics, and the crowd of faces. She winks, and I chuckle a little.
“Sam Gallagher, Wall Street Journal. Dylan, now that you’ve essentially made a ‘comeback’ – and a pretty big one at that – what’s next? What kind of movies are you going to make in the future, what’s next for Dylan Marlowe the actor and the man?”
I laugh a little as he finishes the question.
“Dylan Marlowe the actor – has already found a very promising script written by a talented young woman that he’d like to work with. As for Dylan Marlowe the man,” I say, looking again at Gemma tucked into the corner of the room, “he’s taking it one day at a time. Tomorrow, he’ll be going to a Caribbean