Or France in general. I’m not going to be picky!
The three dots came and went several times. To be fair, I wasn’t really giving Liza a chance to respond.
We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? I’ll call you in the morning. You’re very talented and have a great career ahead of you. Don’t forget that.
Liza always knew what to say. But wait, something didn’t add up. I was about to respond that I’d see her at the premiere—right?—when the car came to a stop. We’d arrived. I’d gotten a few minutes alone with Dorian Fisher, and I hadn’t risen to the moment. It was fine though because I’dget another chance soon enough.
Dorian Fisher was out of the car before I could think of anything half-smart to say. Reporters and photographers immediately swarmed him. I slid over and swung my legs around, but I miscalculated my exit and my pointy heel caught on the edge of the car. Dorian Fisher heard my squeal and turned back, catching me just as I was about to fall flat on my face.
“You okay there?”
He smiled brightly, like he hadn’t completely ignored me for the whole ride. I exhaled, speechless, as he continued holding me in his arms. The cameras flashed around us, but I could barely make sense of what was happening. I was in Dorian Fisher’s arms. Could the day get any better?
“You saved me,” I said, sounding a smidge like an idiot.
He beamed, his face closer to mine than it needed to be. “Any time.”
His teeth were so straight, his breath minty.
And then he let me go. Ushers in black suits and skinny ties motioned for him to make his way up the steps. Everyone screamed his name.
“Look this way.”
“Dorian, Dorian!”
“Par ici!”
“Yes, merci!”
Another usher thoroughly checked my accreditation and instructed me to go up. This was my moment, something I’d dreamed about for an entire lifetime (and probably also the one before that). I focused on remembering what to do. Hold my head high, suck in my stomach. No white knuckling around my sparkly clutch. Tongue against the top of my palate. Smiling but not like I was so awed to be there. Because I belonged. I belonged, I belonged.
And so I climbed.
When I reached the top, Dorian was there, posing for photographs.An usher came to me.
“Miss, move along.”
She indicated the door to the palace.
“I just got here.”
“Please,” she insisted. “Keep going.”
I pointed at Dorian Fisher. “He didn’t have to.”
She made a face like,Come on, then was distracted by the sheer number of people trying to get Dorian Fisher’s attention.
I pulled out my phone and started recording a video of the steps, the red carpet, the photographers, the palm trees, the crowds. No way would I miss out on this most stunning view.
“Miss, you can’t take selfies on the red carpet.”
It was the usher, placing her hand on my lower back, ready to push me along.
“I wasn’t taking a selfie,” I mumbled as I quickly posted the video before shoving my phone back into my clutch.
***
The theater was mostly empty. Dorian Fisher must have been led to some VIP area. It was strange that he’d arrived so early, but he probably had his reasons. A sense of calm descended upon me. My bright, beautiful future was so close I could smell it on the velvet seats.
