It was as Vernon had said. We got out, to a hush followed by a roar, when I followed Cas from the car, hand in hand — then we waved and smiled and ignored every yell for Cas.
Nix was also right, there were not just a few shouts of, “Where is Gray?”
People are set up for interviewing some of the actors for the movie, but we just waive them off if they look like they are approaching, and Caleb carefully places himself between them and us.
Once inside, we are escorted from madness to decadence. The theatre is quiet, with soft muted tones and drinks offered as we are taken to our seats.
Caleb disappears, but something tells me he’s watching everything like a hawk. Graham, his former boss, is here too, although I haven’t ever laid eyes on the guy. He might as well be a ghost or the guy in front of us, except the guy right in front of us looks so much like James Franco, I begin to suspect that is exactly who it is.
It’s not loud or sociable, but I’m guessing the time for that is after the film. So, some people nod or wave at Cas, but that’s about it.
When the actors in the film arrive to sit down at the front, everyone claps and gives them a lively welcome.
I try to catalog the experience so I can explain it to Piper. She loves this kind of thing, and she’s the only reason I know what’s happening. She dragged me to the first movies in this franchise.
But, it’s hard to get past Cas in his brocade Tom Ford ensemble to focus on the movie that hasn’t started. He’s not in a suit or a tux, but some sort of Harry Styles-esque masculine in a playful fabric. It’s a twist on one that I saw on the runway, dark blue brocade against a blue background. The color is doing nice things for Cas’s eyes, and I realize I must be staring when Cas knocks his head back against the seat and turns to me, a wicked smile still on his face.
The house lights are dimmed, but not completely. His hand grabs my own suit, and pulls me close. Cas’s lips meet mine and we share a kiss probably not appropriate for public consumption.
After the film, everyone files out of the theatre. I’m surprised at how few people hang around, but as Cas points out, it’s all about the after party from here, and some of the cast have to give their reactions to the screening in an interview and then arrive at the party fashionably late.
So, it’s the hurry up, stop, hurry again pace of LA that drives me insane. We drove halfway across town to the theatre, only to fight traffic back to The Easton, to change clothes again, to drive out to the artfully reclaimed warehouse space that is the venue for the after-party.
This party is sponsored by a vodka I recognize only because Cas did a campaign for them a few years ago and I would see it on the shelves at Black Diamond.
Slowly, just exactly who Caswell Vaughn is starts to sink in. He’s a celebrity. The pictures of him are endless, the way people look at him in awe. And he’s cranking it out tonight. I have watched that devil-may-care look morph into charm.
We start along the line to the party, different step and repeat back drops line the way, and guests pause, get photographed and move along. Our arrival was timed to the minute.
“Is it always like this?” I ask him.
He smiles and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Everything in LA is choreographed,” he says as he holds out a hand for me to follow.
I take it, and we are once again led where we should go.
Standing in the line for our turn to walk and be photographed, questions get shouted at Cas.
What are you wearing? That one I know, because it’s more Tom Ford.
Who are you with? Which gets a smirk from Cas, and he wraps himself around me and gives me another cheek kiss. Laughing into my neck he whispers, “They will hate that shot, too many people in the background.”
And that is when I realize that he is toying with them. The press, the paparazzi, all of them. That look, that attitude I knew that said Cas was ready to fuck shit up, it’s been transformed to part of the persona of Caswell Vaughn. A little aloof. A little untouchable.
A rockstar.
We make our way to the entrance, and I hold back with Nix, allowing Cas to be photographed alone, which I assume everyone would prefer, but he doesn’t allow that. Instead, he practically poses me in seconds, controlling the look of every picture that is taken of us.
I am about to grind down my molars with the questions that keep getting thrown at him, but Cas just smirks, the look on his face angelic, but in the way that reminds people an angel can be Gabriel but Lucifer too.
He saunters with an easy grace through the line, managing somehow to look badass and like my date all in one.
“Impressive,” I whisper to him once we are at the end, ready to enter the space.
Cas raises an eyebrow at me. “What do you think I have been learning for the past thirteen years, Bee?”
And fuck me, I don’t know. I knew that the lifestyle must have its ups and downs the money and the fame being perks, but tempered of course by plenty of things that might not seem so wonderful.
Cas hands me a glass of champagne and we start to move around the room when Nix joins us. I have to admit, she’s a hell of a PA. She makes sure that we meet the people we should be here to congratulate.
