Kissed Blind (Hot Pursuit #2)(84)
The journalist adjusted her glasses resting on the tip of her nose and began with her questions: “A picture was released earlier today of Oliver leaving a notorious divorce attorney’s office. Is there something you and Oliver plan on announcing to the media tonight?”
Camille kept a stony smile and sold her ignorance. “Excuse me?”
“Are you and Oliver splitting up?” she persisted.
Camille laughed. “Oh, please! That? Oliver is a workhorse. He’s always studying his next roll. He was gathering research for an upcoming project. That’s all. I assure you all is well with us.”
“What about Oliver and...” She looked over at me. “Recently, allegations have surfaced about Oliver and another woman, would you care to comment?”
Camille looked over at me and then back to the journalist. “This line of questioning is rather insulting considering this is an event to celebrate Acts of Desperation. Now, do you have any relevant questions, or is this interview over already?”
Without flinching, the journalist launched into more standard questions regarding the anniversary of Acts of Desperation, and the progression of her career over the past twenty years. Camille regurgitated answers I’d heard and read a thousand times before: “I’m so very fortunate to be able to do something I love,” “I’m blessed to have had the success I’ve had and am forever grateful for Martin Rubenstein for taking a chance on me so many years ago. He’s an amazingly talented director, and I’d be nowhere without him.”
As Camille finished her last statement, a commotion erupted behind me. I spun and saw a man clinging to Oliver’s lapel, his body draped across the rope. Vance was already pulling the man off. As soon as Vance had him righted on his feet, the security on staff escorted the man off the premises. When the man was tossed out, the crowd erupted into cheers and clapped.
Camille had seen the disruption and commented back to the journalist. “Looks like another fan wanted to take a piece of Oliver home. Sorry about their luck, he’s all mine.”
The woman leading Camille along cut off the interview and took Camille to the next photo opportunity and interview location. Oliver eventually satisfied the crowds and joined Camille on some of the interviews and even posed for pictures. They fielded similar questions as they moved down the line and disregarded the allegations as easily together as Camille had done alone. After what felt like an eternity, and what would have exhausted any normal person, the energetic couple stepped inside.
We were surrounded by more famous faces. Actors that had worked with both Camille and Oliver struck up conversations with them like old college friends. How surreal it was. The conversations were all so surprisingly normal and not the least bit snooty. I would have thought they would have discussed caviar and diamonds, maybe the designer of their dresses and suits, but they swapped stories like it had been too long since they’d last seen each other. They were just real people whose faces happened to be on TV. It was crazy. It was awesome. And it was a million other things I didn’t have words for.
We ambled down the red carpet in a hall with arched ceilings. The walls were lined with framed posters of all the roles Camille had played over the years. The poster for Acts of Desperation was one of my absolute favorites and was twice the size of all the other posters. Camille was naked down to her waist and shown from behind, her hair twisted in an intricate chignon of sorts, and hands laced at the base of her neck. It was an elegant yet powerful image that captured the essence of the many struggles in the film. Camille had done such a phenomenal job with the role.
Vance and I hung back at our locations and watched everyone and everything. The socializing went on for a while longer, and Camille and Oliver made their rounds circulating through the room. Soon large doors were opened and everyone was led into an inner dining hall. Round tables were set up throughout the room with white table cloths, and small bouquets in short vases sat in the center of every table. The chatter of hundreds of different voices mixed with the theme music from Camille’s films playing in the background.
Camille and Oliver tucked themselves in a semi-private corner away from the crowd, and Vance and I stayed off on either side of them. A waiter approached with a tray of fluted glasses filled with champagne, and they each took one.
Camille faced Oliver. “Even though we might have our differences, we rose to our heights together. For tonight and forever, let’s celebrate that.” She lifted her glass to Oliver. “To you, my husband, and to your constant, unwavering support.”
Oliver’s eyes glazed with a vacant look as if a million different thoughts tumbled around in his brain. His extended silence added more tension. “Yes, support I have given. And were it not for your role in this movie, I would not be where I am. But all good things must come to an end. So, to happy endings.” He lifted his glass to meet hers, but not the smallest hint of a smile existed on his lips.
For a second, Camille’s skin grew splotchy and red, but she sucked in a breath through her flared nostrils, and it slowly faded away. “Well, I’m not sure what to say to that.” Her glass remained lifted in the air but neither was about to drink.
“Say you’ll sign the papers.”
“You’re unbelievable and you’re timing impeccable. Tonight? You have to do this tonight?”
“There’s never a perfect time for something like this. Since this movie is where we got our start, it’s an appropriate place for it to end.”