Russ:“It shook me up.”
Maybe it made Cherry more of a foolnotto watch the trailer...
Not to know how the whole world saw her.
Not to understand why they were laughing.
She went downstairs to get her laptop. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it on a decent-sized screen. Stevie tried to follow Cherry back upstairs, and Cherry let her—she even helped the dog onto the bed. She’d make sure to change the bedding before Tom came home. He thought Stevie’s new privileges were a terrible development—“Her hair is already everywhere.”
“So is mine,”Cherry had argued,“and I’m allowed in the bedroom.”
Stevie stretched out at Cherry’s side. Cherry crossed her legs and balanced the laptop on her thighs. She rested a hand on Stevie’s ruff and scratched it.
“It can’t be that bad, Stevie,” Cherry said. “He wouldn’t let it be that bad.” (Tom wasn’t cruel. Or careless.)
Cherry found the trailer on YouTube. She clicked to expand the window and pressedplay.
The screen was black. White type appeared:
FROM THE STUDIO THAT BROUGHT YOU
‘ALL OF OUR DAYS’...
A Christmas song started playing. Bells. Indie piano. A guy singing with a Scottish accent.
White lights twinkled on. A scene came into view:
Women in beautiful dresses swished past the camera, their faces cut off by the frame. Men in black suits drank cocktails. The camera was moving through them.
A girl appeared.
All in black.
Under an archway of fairy lights and flowers.
Faith had lied—the actress was very pretty. Thinner than Cherry (and Baby), even though she seemed to be wearing padding over her belly and hips.
The girl was underdressed for the party, but her hair was shiny and her cheeks were flushed. The lights shimmered in her eyes. She swallowed.
Across the room, under another arch—this house was even nicer than Meg Jones’s—was Jesse Plemons. De-aged. Possibly also wearing padding. And a cheap-looking suit.
He was watching the girl. He waved.
She looked anxious. She waved back.
The Scottish singer hit a plaintive note.
This was apparently one of those trailers with one long scene instead of a montage or an overview.
Jesse Plemons crossed the room.
The song jangled. The backup singers“ooh”ed.
“Nobody told you this is prom for rich white people,” The Guy said.
Baby shook her head. She looked luminous. They must have made her pupils bigger with CGI to add all those stars.
“Do you want me to help you leave?” he asked. “Or do you want me to help you stay?”
