Kissed Blind (Hot Pursuit #2)(83)
“Be careful up there,” Basil warned. “There might still be venom in the air.”
“I’m all too familiar. Ginny, Basil, thanks so much.” She disappeared from the kitchen. A few minutes passed, and Cici walked back in. “Vance and Diana, I need you both in the hallway. The car’s arrived.”
Out in the other room, bitter words were being exchanged between Camille and Oliver, echoing through the corridors.
“After this, after all this, this is how you treat me,” Camille said in a hushed tone, but the acoustics allowed the sound to travel without effort. “You’re ungrateful.”
“Just sign the papers and we can end this easily.” Oliver’s voice hardened.
“I won’t. Our image and everything we’ve built will crumble. Is that what you want?” She spoke in a tremulous whisper.
“We won’t crumble, you will. Sign it, or I’ll tell everyone what you did.”
Her tone dropped deeper. “No one will believe you.”
“I have proof.”
“You have nothing. It was twenty years ago, and you’re just as guilty as me.”
“I’m not guilty of anything.”
“The hell you’re not. Drop it and I’ll forget you mentioned this.”
“It’s over.”
“No, you’re over. Utter one word and I’ll destroy you.” The threat ricocheted off the halls.
Cici, Vance, and I crept into the foyer. Camille stood at the bottom of the stairs in a bright rubicund chiffon dress that pooled at her feet. She turned slowly as we entered and gave us her Hollywood smile.
“Oh, there you are. Shall we go?”
A broach of crusted jewels pinched the fabric below her bosom, spilling it like a bloody waterfall from her breast. Her hair fell in waves down her back, held up at her temples with what looked like a string of diamonds. Looking at her pale skin and red lips one would have thought she were an angel.
Twenty-Eight
The car ride to the event was silent—dead silent. No one dared cough, sneeze, or clear their throat. The five of us were seated in the back of a stretch Suburban. I glanced around a few times as we rode along and everyone stared off in their own directions, avoiding eye contact of any sort. It looked like we’d all go on pretending we hadn’t just heard what we’d heard. Which was what exactly?
What had Camille done twenty years ago that would be such a big deal now? Drugs? Prostitution? A brief stint in the porn industry? There were endless possibilities, but with as much as everyone loved Camille, would they even care about whatever it was?
However their relationship ended, which seemed imminent, I hoped Oliver and Camille would reach a peaceful resolution. I loved the happily ever after they’d represented until now. I’d seen enough bad divorces in Hollywood and all the mudslinging that went along with them. I didn’t want to watch that happen to Oliver and Camille, but my gut told me Camille wouldn’t let them go down without a fight. Oliver was her everything. The embarrassment of such an epic failure would consume her.
We approached the event and muffled cheers sounded off in the distance. A flutter of excitement grew in my belly as we got closer. We pulled to a stop. Vance scooted toward the end of his seat and put his hand on the handle to exit.
“I’ll get out first,” Camille barked. “They’ve been waiting for me, not you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Vance nodded. He shot a quick glance to Cici; this wasn’t the plan. “Please.” He extended his hand.
As the seal broke on the door, the noise level burst to decibels I could have never imagined. The crowds chanted Camille’s name. We filed out after her; Oliver first and then Cici, Vance and then me, the caboose, or ass end as he referred to me earlier.
When my heel hit the carpet, the energy of the crowd charged my skin like I’d had four shots of espresso. Vance caught up closer to Camille, and Oliver and I hung back.
Photographers and fans were herded behind red velvet ropes. They all leaned over shaking phones, pads of paper, cameras, basically anything that would grab the actor’s’ attention. A woman approached Camille and welcomed her with a kiss to each cheek. She did the same with Oliver. She spoke into a headset and began to lead them through a set of stations for interviews and photo opportunities. I walked along digesting the scene trying to contain my amazement. The clothes, the jewels, the people, the lights—it was incredible.
Camille came to the first stop and paused in front of a backdrop advertising one of the sponsors of the event. She struck a pose and held a smile as cameras clicked away. Thousands of shots were taken within seconds. Oliver was waved into the frame but stood back instead and allowed Camille the spotlight.
I took a brief moment to look around. Wherever I turned, I saw celebrity after celebrity: Rhys Black, Corrigan Jain, Scarlet Zen, Patricia Farrow, Cannon Jet, they were all around me and dozens more. The top actors and actresses in Hollywood were circulating within arm’s reach. It was unbelievable.
My eyes rounded back to Oliver, and he leaned toward Vance, saying something into his ear. Vance nodded and Oliver began walking away. Vance followed him over to a crowd of people behind the velvet rope where Oliver took photos with fans and signed autographs.
A journalist stepped up to Camille. Her first interview was about to start. It was something special to witness in person, given I’d only ever seen things like this from a thousand miles away glued to my television. I leaned in to get the full experience, not just the highlight reel.