The third one was in a metallic green dress so fitted it looked painted on. “Who has the flex to ditch one of the biggest movie events of the year?”
I stood there, drinking in the gossip. They were so deep in it they didn’t notice me.
“Do we think Odetta Olson is such a horrible bitch?” Red Jumpsuit said.
Green Dress grunted. “If only we could get into that damn party.”
“Carly Wolf is bringing her assistant, and they couldn’t letusin?”
Curly Hair shook her head, disgusted. She put the cap back on her lipstick and slid it in her clutch.
“How’d you even know that?” Green Dress asked.
My question exactly.
“Instagram,” Curly Hair said with a shrug. Then, finally, she saw me in the mirror. “You got rejected too?”
I shook my head. As an actor, I had significant experience in the field of rejections. I’d bathed in the humiliating sound of silence way too manytimes. But I’d always picked myself up and kept going.
That was the only thing I could do.
“I must have gone through the wrong door. Sorry!”
In the hallway, I checked Carly Wolf’s Instagram account. She’d just posted about being on her way (ontheirway) to their first Cannes event and had tagged the woman next to her outside their rented villa as they waited for their ride. I tapped on the tagged account:Ashley Todd, assistant to Carly Wolf, her bio said.
I’d flown all the way over to Cannes to get a front row seat to my big breakout. This wasmymovie,myparty. How could Inotbe invited? It was a misunderstanding; I needed to find a way to correct it.
I made my way back to the main entrance, silently praying that Carly Wolf and her assistant hadn’t arrived yet. I refused to let myself think about the poor victim of the crime I was about to commit. There was a greater purpose here. My brain buzzed with excuses as to why I’d given a different name before, but it turned out I wouldn’t need one. The universe had heard me. At the top of the line, Marnie—though I didn’t know her name yet or the important role she would come to play in my life—was handing her clipboard to a blond guy in an oversized suit. When it was my turn, I barely glanced at him as I muttered “Ashley Todd,” my heart racing. He nodded. I was in.
I’d never done anything like this before. In the last few years, Los Angeles had started to wear off on me. I’d gotten deep into manifestation. I’d read books on cosmic purpose. One might be eager to point out that stealing someone’s identity to get into a party was bad juju, but this was where I was meant to be.
As soon as I arrived on the rooftop, all was forgotten. The swirl of sights and sounds swept me up. Most women shone bright in saturated hues and vivid prints. Men wore slim-fitted suits and tie, shiny cuff linkson their wrists.
In the background, the last sun rays reflected on sea waves. A female DJ with a long side braid played, I assumed, French pop hits. A swimming pool sparkled in the center of the space. The air was crisp, the servers handsome, presenting their offerings on silver trays and spelling them out with that sexy accent. Plus the drinks were free.
Heading in deeper, I accepted a champagne flute like I did this all the time, but I ignored the oysters. I couldn’t be my charming self with my mouth full. Before this trip, I’d done my research on the people associated with the movie that I might meet or see again in Cannes. Now I had a hard time recognizing anyone.
Another server offered me a flute. I glanced down at mine, surprised to see I’d already finished it. I wasn’t a big drinker because I couldn’t afford to be (and alcohol is not good for your skin), but I swapped my glass for a full one anyway.
As I did, a man grabbed a drink as well and smiled at me. He was in his forties, with brown skin and a thick mop of black hair. His face looked familiar, though it took me a minute to place him.
“You’re Marshall Wild,” I said, as he was walking away.
He looked back at me.
“I’m Lou Ocean Utley. I mean Lou.”
I held out a hand and he shook it.
“You’re one of the producers,” I added, eager to make a good impression.
“Hi,” he said warmly.
“You’ve worked on some of my favorite movies of the last few years.Running Wild? Oh my god, I bawled my eyes out. Saw it three times.”
“We like to hear that.”
“AndExtinguished? So heartfelt. It was robbed of the Oscar, if you askme. Robbed!”
