Holy. Fucking. Shit.
MY GOD, I’M COLD.Like can’t-feel-my-fingers-and-toes cold. But that’s the least of my worries as I stand backstage.
I can’t believe Nick and Molly talked me into this. Those Dirty Shirleys had me agreeing to their plan and scouring the racks at the costume shop at a quarter to midnight.
It seemed like such a good idea at the time, but as I stand here shivering, baring just about everything that the good lord gave me, I’m questioning my earlier wisdom. Let me tell you, the Princess Leia costume from the scene where she’s with that slug guy? Yea, it doesn’t hide much. Or anything, really.
I don’t have time to fret, though, because our plan was just set in motion. As soon as Molly saw the Yoda guy head for the stage, she intercepted him, pulled him backstage, and asked for his autograph. Miraculously, it worked, and he’s busy signing her bare breast (my god, that’s friendship) as the curtain rises.
There’s a collective gasp as the velvet drapes ascend and reveal me, instead of cinema’s sagest alien.
I’m going to attribute those gasps to shock and not to the fact that my ass is hanging out, and my boobs are three sizes too big for these cups.
See? Growth.
The lights blind my eyes as I step up to the mic. I raise it a bit and take a deep breath.
“I’m not Yoda.” My voice is shaking, but there are a few chuckles at my more than obvious statement. And a few catcalls, too, thank you very much. “Um, yeah, I guess that’s obvious.” I smile nervously. Gah. This is even harder than I thought it would be. “You see, Yoda is wise. And I’m not. At least, I wasn’t, until recently. I was foolish and self-absorbed. I let my own self-doubt ruin the best relationship I’ve ever had.”
There are murmurs throughout the crowd, and it looks like some people are moving, but I can’t worry about that, so I keep going. “And you’re probably wondering why my love life is delaying your movie, right? Well, I love Simon Walker.” Cheers go up through the theater, which is a good sign, but god, now I’m sweating. And kind of dizzy. I was clearly not cut out for the stage. “But I wasn’t brave enough to face it. And I always doubted myself. So, I’m here now to tell him, and um, all of you, how I feel. So there’s no doubt and no hiding. Because real love doesn’t hide. It’s brave. And fearless. And possibly a little crazy.” I smile because I did what I set out to do, but I really didn’t think the end through. “Um, how do I get off of here?”
I feel like I’m about to pass out when a figure jumps on stage and extends a hand. For a moment, I think it’s got to be security, ready to haul my bare ass out of here, but the unmistakable scent of Simon claims me, and I lean into his outstretched arms. His lips meet mine, and I feel like it’s been a thousand years since I’ve felt his kiss.
The crowd gets a little raucous. Apparently, they’re fans of love. Simon pulls back and leads me into the shadows offstage.
“You love me, huh?” His smile is wide, and his arms are warm.
“So much. And I’m so sorry. I couldn’t—I wasn’t—”
“Shhh.” His hand covers my mouth. “I get it. I really do, and it’s ok.” His hands trail across my back, and I remember that I’m standing in a public place wearing what amounts to a tiny bikini with streamers. It doesn’t seem to bother Simon, though. He pulls me closer, and I melt into his embrace.
“I love you, too, Lainie. Every part of you. God, I’ve been kicking myself for walking out like a coward last night. But when I saw you on stage? Looking like a fucking wet dream? And when I heard you say you loved me? That was it. It’s all I need to know. The rest is just details.”
“Details we can discuss at home, maybe?” My tone is hopeful because my ass is freezing.
He kisses me soundly. “Yea. At home.”
