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Damian
EXTRAtainmentInsider!
Close Encounters with Damian Marshall Through the Years
More information is coming out about the recent run-in betweenShadow Leaguestar Damian Marshall and the film franchise’s director, Anderson Lind. According to patrons at the bar where the two met, Marshall had been there for some time before Anderson arrived. Bar staff say Mr. Marshall is a regular who always keeps a low profile.
It’s been a few years since Marshall has been seen in public like this. He’s better known for frequenting private parties and exclusive clubs, but fans who have met him have always said he’s happy to stop for an autograph or a picture, and he’s made a reputation for himself in Hollywood as the consummate gentleman.
@darealesttea on Twitter says, “Met @DamianMarshall in Saigon a couple of years ago. Nicest guy. He smelled so good.”
@ladyX423 also reports meeting the star. “Don’t hurt my boo @DamianMarshall. He let me do this prom pose with him at Comic Con for a photo. Best Day Ever!!”
Although the actor has never brought home an Oscar, he made headlines two years ago when he helped Best Director winner Amelia Wilson up the stairs to the stage at the Kodak Theatre when the director tripped on her vintage Oscar de la Renta dress.
Why Marshall’s behavior has turned frosty remains unknown.
* * *
I findmy way up to the third floor and stumble down the hall to Vin’s room, giddy with excitement, and pound on the door with shaking fists.
From the other side of the door comes a tortured groan. “What?”
“Open up!”
“Are you dying?”
I roll my eyes and bang again impatiently. “No.”
“On fire?”
“No.”
“Is anyone else on fire?”
“Vin, come on. Open up, or I’ll—” I’m cut off when the door swings open. Vin is wrapped in a fuchsia and turquoise robe. His hair is in his face, and he only has one eye open.
“What is it?”
“We’re going fishing.” I push past him. The heavy drapes over the floor-to-ceiling windows are down, and I yank them back, letting the bright glow of the rising sun flood the room. “God, it’s beautiful here. The sunrises are amazing.”
Vin’s sitting at the edge of the bed, arms and legs crossed, expression dripping with disdain. “Who are you and what have you done with Damian?”
“I’m serious. Come look.”
Instead, Vin moans and flops face-first onto the bed, his open robe spreading over him in a jewel-toned puddle.
“What time is it?” he asks into his pillow.
“Just after six. Come on, get up!” I pull open a dresser and toss a shirt at him.
“After six?” Vin rolls to glare at me, letting the shirt drop to the floor. “They don’t even start serving breakfast until seven. I’m not doing anything until I’ve had coffee and whatever the equivalent of a smoothie is around here!”
I crawl onto the bed next to him, ignoring him as he grumbles and scoots out of the way, and pick up the bedside phone.
“Good morning. Front desk, Marci speaking,” a female voice on the other end of the line says.
