Page 165 of Faking the Pass
Smiling politely at the seat-filler next to me in the Dolby Theater, I glanced down at my phone again, hoping for a last-minute miracle.
Just as it had been a few minutes ago, the screen was free of any notifications—no word from Presley.
I hadn’t been able to get through to him, my calls, texts, and even a long, heartfelt email going unanswered. I’d even tried reaching out to his family members.
No response.
It hurt to know they’d all cut me off, but how could I blame them for standing in solidarity with him? They were a loyal family, and I loved that about them.
Still, Iwasdetermined to rewrite this story—or at least do everything in my power to make sure Presley understood how I felt about him.
How I’d always felt.
As the house lights went down, and the orchestra began playing the theme music for the Academy Awards, I slid mythumb across the screen, looking at my Hail Mary throw, a boarding pass for a flight to Rhode Island tomorrow morning.
The host strode out and welcomed everyone, and I put my phone away, swept up in the magic of the moment.
I’d attended the ceremony last year with Randy, but his surprise proposal from the stage had pretty much smothered my other memories of the night.
This year was different in every way. I was standing on my own two feet this time, and my upcoming movie with Elka made me feel like I actually belonged in the room.
Professionally, anyway.
My heart? It belonged wherever Presley was.
I just hopedhisheart could be convinced to give me another chance.
Hopefully he or someone who knew him was watching tonight, and what I was about to do on live TV would make a difference when we saw each other face to face tomorrow.
The ceremony passed in a buzzy blur of nerves and anticipation until it was my turn to present.
I stood backstage, waiting for my cue to walk to centerstage and introduce the nominees in my category.
An assistant smiled at me, reaching for my evening bag. “I’ll hold that for you, if you like, Miss James,” she said.
I tucked it up underneath my arm. “Thank you, I’ll just hold onto it.”
She looked a little perplexed but nodded and stepped away.
And then the commercial break ended, and a stage manager gave me my cue. Hands and lips trembling, I walked to my mark and smiled at the very intimidating audience.
One of the sound guys in a pit at the front of the stage pointed at me to indicate the mic I was wearing was now live.
I opened my mouth… and went completely off script.
“The last time my name was mentioned on this show, it was the start of one of the craziest rides of my life,” I said.
There was a rumble of good-natured chuckles throughout the auditorium. Most if not all the industry people in attendance were aware of my real-life drama.
It had been hard to miss.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask anyone to marry me tonight,” I joked. “We already did that, and besides, I doubt he’s even watching.”
Off-camera in the pit in front of me, I saw one of the associate directors dive for the show script, probably wondering how the hell the wrong thing had gotten onto the teleprompter.
He started speaking rapidly into his headset.
I went on with my plan, hoping I got to finish without the executive director abruptly cutting my mic and cuing the orchestra to play me off the stage.
