I’ve worn this dress before to the premiere of The Truth of Life. It’s the only thing that I own that’s remotely fancy enough for Swann’s Lake, and I’m banking on the fact that not enough people know who I am that they’d recognize the dress.
I roll my eyes while looking in the mirror. Only in Hollywood is recycling the only gown you own considered a faux pas big enough that it can get you excluded from certain circles. It’s crazy. But I really like this dress. I liked it when I bought it, and I would be sad if I only got to wear it the one time.
It’s a deep blue that somehow doesn’t look terrible on me. As a natural redhead it can sometimes be a pain to find colors that make both my skin and hair look good, and this is one of them. The waist is empire, gathering the gauzy, flowing material together just under the bust, and the neckline plunges to that point, from two wide straps. It shows a lot, but isn’t sleazy, and I like that. From the waist it drops in a flowing A-line, and whenever I walk in it, I feel like some kind of sea goddess.
When I put the dress on I was excited, and I still love the way I look in it. I forgot that I’m going to see Peter in this dress, and the cleavage feels like too much. There’s a part of me that wants him to see it, for him to find me as sexy as he always did, and make good on that promise he made the other night that he would never give up. And there’s the part of me that knows that that can’t and shouldn’t happen.
For once in my life I honestly don’t know which of those things is going to win. I’ve always had good instincts, and even if I’m torn, I usually know deep down what I want. But not now. I’m evenly divided. But what my gut is telling me is that after tonight, I’ll definitely know which one is going to win.
My phone chimes, and I glance at it. My car is here. Even if I were officially cleared to drive again, it would be a pain in the dress and the heels, so in a car I go. It’s a big SUV, which isn’t the easiest to get into with my ankle, but I’m healed enough that I’m just using a brace and sucking it up. Fuck those crutches, I hate them.
After climbing into the car, the driver confirms the address and we head off. I’ve left myself enough time to get there comfortably. My agent and manager were vague about what this meeting was about, but the fact that they were comfortable enough with it to let me go with just Peter and Michael tells me that it’s nothing to worry about.
But that just brings my thoughts back to Peter and the dress and all the things I’ve been thinking about and remembering since his scene the other day. It’s like suddenly I notice him even when I don’t want to. And memories are emerging from the corners of my mind with alarming frequency. Some of the things I can’t believe that I forgot.
It takes just over an hour to reach the restaurant, and when I get out of the car, there’s a warm breeze coming off the water. I stand for a few seconds, letting it blow through my hair. I don’t come to the beach enough. I’ve been in Los Angeles for a year and I can count the number of times I’ve been to the beach on one hand.
There’s staff waiting by the stairs up to the restaurant, and when one of them offers to escort me up the stairs, I gladly lean on his arm. I haven’t even been out an hour and I already know that the heels were a mistake. But there’s no way that you can wear flats with this dress. It just won’t work.
There are a few people dressed like me in the lobby, some in clusters drinking champagne. I’ve heard that this lobby is the place in Los Angeles to be seen, and several big movie deals have been brokered over pre-dinner cocktails.
I take in the scene before my eyes, and really revel in it. It’s one of those rare moments when the weight of who I am and where I am hits me. I’m a director. In Hollywood. Mixing among the industry movers and shakers. Then I hear behind me, “Amber.”
I turn and I almost fall over in my high heels. Peter is walking toward me, and he’s in a tuxedo. A full-fledged fucking tuxedo, and everything about it makes my heart pound and my mouth water. He was made for tuxedos. There should be a law passed that says he’s not allowed to wear anything else.