Page 114 of Over & Out
“He plugged your store, baby!” Raph hoots at her before picking up the baby and swinging her around, making her instantly forget her startling. He’s a magic man with kids. He even finds a way to swoop down and kiss Lana square on the lips while Jess still giggles. Mac, upstaged, growls and pulls Shelby, who’s laughing, onto his lap. Then his baby girl.
“Hopper,” Rob says on screen, bringing us all back. I wipe the now happy tears from my eyes, feeling giddy. And in love. And like I want to pick up the phone and tell Hopper I love him.
I will. But I need to know how this ends.
“This has been your story,” Rob says, “and your life. We thank you for your candid telling of it.”
The camera pans to the audience, zooming in on a group of women in tears. One of them calls, “We love you, Hop!”
I don’t even think about being jealous. The world is finally seeing Hopper the way I do. As a good man under all that pain. As a man as beautiful on the inside as out.
“So now’s your chance to have your final say,” Rob says.
He does this during every interview, and the room collectively holds its breath. None so hard as me.
“Any last words?” Rob asks.
“Yes,” Hopper says. He looks directly at the screen, his eyes right on me, and says, “Over and Out, sweetheart.”
Chapter 39
Hopper
The screams are impossibly loud, even before I open the door to the limo.
“You got this,” Tru says behind me. “Just one official red-carpet interview, then we’re done.”
“Got it,” I say. I put on my best smile as I open the door. I don’t tell Tru, because I don’t want her getting any ideas and lingering at more stops than I have to, but I’m feeling lighter than I ever have at one of these events. I don’t even have to work to put on the smile.
When I step out onto the red carpet, the screaming turns atomic. Shit. I should have worn earplugs.
“Good lord!” Adrian yells beside me. “Promise you won’t do one of those interviews right before an event again?”
“That was a one-time only deal,” I assure him.
I sign a few autographs and pose for some photos. Not too many, though. We’re one of the last to arrive on the red carpet. The Iggies start in twenty.
“Hopper!” A woman in a glamorous gold gown with a mic stops me. I glance at Tru, who nods. This is our stop.
“Hey,” I say, smiling as a huge camera’s thrust in my face. Only this one, then I can relax inside and enjoy watching my colleagues get roasted and praised, depending on the award. I’m up for a couple too, and this year, I don’t mind. I’ve started calling some of my actor colleagues, or at least responding in a friendly way when we run into each other at industry things, rather than shutting everyone out. It was easier, keeping to myself, and I still do to some degree. But I went out for beers with the actor who plays a detective in a huge franchise the other night, because I heard he was chill, and he was. We had a great time. Might even be friends. I also had several more meetings with that indie production company and am about to sign on to the project Chris advocated for last year.
The interviewer gushes about my suit—a dark green velvet Len stitched by hand from a pair of thrifted drapes. I point out that it matches my whole teams’, and the camera pans to the side, where Tru stands in her high-collar dress and Adrian takes a bow in his weird but cool tank-top tunic thing. Cindi and Aziz are waiting inside. Tru’s only staying for an hour before she’s heading home to be with baby Samuel, who I already know is going to be another one of my besties—at least when he’s less interested in milk and more into cars.
Then the interviewer leans in and asks what I know she’s going to ask—the same thing everyone’s beenscreaming for in the columns and blogs and magazine covers.
“Hopper. Is now the time? Will you tell us who your mystery dream girl is? Because you know there’s alotof speculation out there that it’s Avione.”
Avione Lacroix is an English stage actor Adrian’s adamant should star in the next Duke film. She’s perfectly nice, and according to Adrian, in a top-secret relationship with a high-level politician over there.
“I’ll give you a definitive answer,” I say. The answer I want to give ishell no. Avione’s cool and all, but she’d laugh as hard as I would about that rumor. But I’ll be slightly more diplomatic.
The woman titters, almost jumping up and down. “A definitive answer? We’resoready.” She holds the mic under my nose, so close it tickles my mustache. But then…then the world goes quiet.
Because over her shoulder, back the way we came and partially obscured by clusters of people and other interviews, I see a familiar face looking earnestly at me. It’s Charlene, who I didn’t know would be here. And she’s calling my name, her face split in a grin.
“The hell?” Tru murmurs behind me.
That’s when I see Charlene’s not alone. She’s pulling someone through the throng. Someone dressed in green velvet, just like us. My heart rockets out of my chest then, because that someone’s dress is knee-length, sleeveless, and form-fitting, and it’s paired with pink Chucks. She laughs a little nervously before brushing her sexy strawberry blond hair out of her face.
