He bowed his head, uncomfortable silence falling between us.
“But I can really use your friendship.” My eyes burned with tears. “It’s what I need right now.”
He nodded. “It’s my honor, Maggie. But with your permission, I’d like to stay hopeful we can be something more than that.”
I hugged him. “Hope is good. I can use some of that, too.”
Scene 90
Maggie
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
OSCARS NIGHT
The dreary sky of the afternoon had cleared, and the beautiful night was a few minutes away when the limo stopped in front of the Dolby Theatre. Jim climbed out first, fastening the button of his tuxedo jacket as he stood. Then I ambled out of the car.
I took his arm as our names were called from several directions, the pop and flash of cameras erupting, illuminating our skins.
“Maggie, this way!”
“Jim, quick! Over here!”
“Who are you wearing?”
“Are you here tonight as a couple?”
Jim and I smiled and posed for pictures, and then waved as we made our way on the red carpet.
He bent his head to my ear. “You’re good?”
“More than good. This is fabulous. Too loud but fabulous.”
He posed for more pictures. “You’refabulous. You look like a fairytale.”
My cheeks warmed. “Thank you. You look great, too.”
We took a few steps forward, and it was time for individual interviews.
“This is where we briefly part,” he said. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yeah. Go do your thing. It’s your day, Jim.”
“Mine and yours.” He smiled. “Wait for you by the stairs.” He stepped over for his first interview of the night.
“Maggie, how do you feel about being here for the first time?” A microphone was shoved in my face.
I grinned at the brunette in a black dress. “It’s amazing. Makes me feel very stupid for missing it last year.”
“We’re all glad you’re here. You look stunning. Who are you wearing tonight?” the interviewer’s eyes raked me from head to toe. The soft waves of my chin-length hair. The dramatic, retro makeup with dark red lipstick. The bare shoulders. The long-sleeved, A-line black gown, bodice embroidered with silver thread, regal velvet fitted to my waistline, black satin skirt with a pattern of intertwined hues of red, blue and gray, and a slit that reached up to the middle of my thigh. The cherry blossom bracelet. The black, suede wedge heels with three straps up to the ankle.
“Amira Vinito. She’s a new designer. Very talented. Made this especially for me to wear last year, but I disappointed her. I decided to wear it this year to make it up to her.”
“I think she’ll be more than grateful now. When you look like this, everybody is going to want to wear her gowns.”
“Thank you.”
I moved from one interview to another, treated almost like I was on my way to a coronation. More comments on the dress and the look. Someone said I looked like Ida Lupino, a powerful, hot actress and director in the forties.
