Page 12 of Anyone But the Superstar
‘Fun?’ Em snorts, grabbing her gold satchel bag off a shelf behind the red tape nearest the buffet table. ‘I have a feeling that after just one day with Hollywood types, I’ll be a lot more thankful for dealing with one of our astronauts causing an occasional tabloid ruckus.’
I hold back from asking after a particular astronaut ruckus, one about my sister that happened a few years go. Instead, I wish Em good luck as she hikes her bag onto her shoulder before setting off, leaving me to mentally pull up my big-girl panties and make my way through the crowd toward my professor.
I reach him just as a woman my age wearing a coral-colored halter top which pairs perfectly with her flawless tan gazes at Professor David Mirales like an enraptured puppy. ‘Have you met Felix Jones before?’
‘No, sadly, I haven’t.’ David shifts back to make room for me. ‘But I heard from Ron that he’s on site for the press junket.’
The crowd hums excitedly, whether from the intel David justgave them or the fact that he’s on a first-name basis with the director, I’m not sure.
The director, Ron Allen, is David’s friend from college. A fact I’m less awed by and more thankful for as their friendship provided me the internship and chance to meet my half-sister.
Coral Halter Top lifts her eyes to the tall guy next to her. ‘Do you think all the rumors are true?’
The guy shrugs, his normal-sized t-shirt lifting above his belt. ‘You never know, man.’ His shoulders drop, lowering his shirt back down. ‘I mean sure, celebrities date all the time, but these days the tabloids will print anything.’
‘Yeah, but didn’t he take her to an award ceremony after-party?’ Coral Halter Top counters.
Tall guy shrugs.
‘Guys, guys.’ David holds up his hands as if to call a truce. ‘If you’ll spare an old man a moment to impart some advice?’
I’d bet the remaining limit on my credit card that David’s lengthy pause has nothing to do with waiting for a collective answer and everything to do with soaking up their adoring gazes.
‘While it’s always good to be informed about the people you are working with—’ Halter Top throws Tall Guy a haughty look ‘—it’s also good not to believe anything you hear or see second hand.Especiallyin this business.’
The girl’s haughty look falls and Tall Guy smirks.
Feeling the need to play peacekeeper, a habit long-engrained from a lifetime of doing the same for my brothers and our –their– father, I speak up. ‘Who’s Felix Jones, anyway?’
It works. The tension evaporates as all eyes turn to me, their corresponding mouths gaping.
‘Whois Felix Jones?’ A different, though equally tanned woman repeats my question in disbelief.
‘Are you serious?’ Halter Top adds.
‘He’s the biggest action star in Hollywood,’ one of the group says.
‘He’s been in every summer blockbuster for the past five years,’ another crew member is quick to inform me.
‘I don’t really watch action films.’ Growing up, my weekends were filled with charity events and social gatherings that my parents deemed more appropriate. And when I finally had a say in my own schedule, I liked holing myself up in my room to draw or read more than going out with my classmates – fellow children of the social elite.
Also, living in the city with the largest US theater district, I found I’d much rather see a show on Broadway than a bunch of explosions on screen.
‘Yeah, but he’s thelead actorin the movie.’ Tall Guy shakes his head. ‘Didn’t you do your research?’
Thanks for the judgment, Paul Bunyan. I will my skin not to reveal my embarrassment, but with the way my cheeks heat in the arctic air-conditioning and how Tall Guy shifts uncomfortably in his checkered Vans, I’m positive I failed.
I also fail at overcoming my long-learned unwillingness to speak up for myself. Because Ididdo my research.
I spent the small amount of time I had between David offering me the internship and leaving for Texas downloading and mastering all the necessary graphic design applications David uses for storyboarding. I may have switched my master’s from art history to graphic design after I no longer felt the need to appease the man I once called father, but even with all the courses I’ve taken under my belt, I still have a lot to learn. I wanted to be as prepared as possible.
Because Ihatebeing the center of attention. And nothing makes you the center of attention more than being caught unawares.
And yet, even with my late nights learning new stylus techniques and panel formatting, the group’s shocked collective makes me feel like my time would’ve been better spent poring over back issues ofPeoplemagazine instead.
David chuckles, thankfully drawing a few eyes his way. ‘Anne is my student.’ He drops a hand on my shoulder. ‘She’s here to earn hours toward her master’s degree in graphic art.’ He gives me a reassuring squeeze.
He may have good intentions, and I’m grateful he remembered to call me Anne and not Liz, but I can see the group retreat even further at the knowledge that I’m not really one ofthem.
