She’s very beautiful. She’s wearing a gold gown. They must’ve just come out of some kind of a ball in this part of the script. She’s very exotic, like Bebe. Long, dark hair. Striking amber eyes. Olive skin. And a body most eighteen-year-old girls would be jealous of, even though she’s about the same age as Vaughn.
They talk briefly on set, and then there’s a call for quiet and the stage people do their thing.
I strain to hear what’s happening, I’m not really that close, but my whole world goes silent when I witness what happens next.
They are kissing.
Vaughn leans in, cupping her face, his mouth covering hers in a kiss so passionate I almost want to faint from the steam. I move a little closer to get a better look. As he kisses her, it feels familiar. It feels like he’s kissing her the way he kisses me.
Then his hands are all over her body, grasping at her tits, her ass, and then he roughly grabs one of her gown straps and pulls until it breaks. He yanks her dress down, exposing her breasts, all the while his mouth never stops its assault on her lips.
I’m stunned. I’m picturing our rough sex the other night and I swear to God, I think he uses some of these moves on me!
I’ve watched him kiss countless women on screen, but he wasn’t my husband. I turn and walk away, following the dimly lit hallway back to where I entered, then make my way outside.
It’s dark now. I click the keychain and my car beeps, so I head in that direction, still trying to process what I saw and how I feel about it.
I sit in the car for a few moments trying to wrap my head around things.
This is his job. I realize that, but I can’t come to terms with the idea that my husband gets to have a rough makeout session with his ex-girlfriend and call it work.
I program the GPS for home, just in case I get lost again, and then drive off the lot. Security waves to me as I leave, but I can’t even pretend to be normal and wave back.
The drive home brings me no clarity. In fact I’m more confused than ever. I don’t feel like going to that Black Bash, but I feel… duped for some reason. I feel like there’s a whole other world that exists outside my little bubble of isolation. Like the Twitter stuff. It’s a world where people are talking about me. Like the Tiffany’s stuff. A world where people recognize me in a city where I know like four people with any amount of intimacy.
And what else are they saying? How much of what they are saying are things I don’t know about?
I pull into the garage just as my phone dings. A text from Vaughn.
Still working late. Don’t wait up.
Yeah, don’t wait up, my ass. I grab my shopping bags and take them inside, passing by Vaughn’s office to get to our bedroom. The phone rings in there just as I pass.
Figures. More things to make me uneasy.
I drop the bags off on the bed and head back to the office just as the message starts to play.
“Vaughn?” a woman asks on the other line—Valencia? “We’re still on for tonight, right? I wasn’t sure if you were still into it. So I’m gonna assume you are. Meet you at the Bash. You’re still Bogart, I’m still Bacall.” The message ends.
Wow. Just wow. My husband is going to this big party after denying it in front of everyone yesterday at Thanksgiving dinner, and not only that, he’s going dressed up as one half of an iconic Hollywood movie couple. And I’m not the other half.
I take a deep breath.
I’m going to that party. I need to know why my husband is acting so strange. I need to know what this Black Bash is all about. And I feel like Vaughn is trying to hide it from me. Maybe it’s something personal with him. Or maybe he’s trying to protect me. But either way, I don’t want to be left out of his life because he thinks I can’t handle things.
He’s been there for me, so if this is about him, then I want to return that gesture.
And if it’s about me… then I want to fight my own battles.
I like the prince, but I’m not helpless and that’s how I feel right now.
I rummage through my closet until I find the Halloween outfit Vaughn bought me. We went to Larry’s house for a party, but ended up going home after a few hours since I was not really up for parties back then.
I pull it out. It’s Cleopatra. He was dressed as Mark Antony. This is the only costume I have, so it will have to do.
I squeeze into it, crushing my girls into the bustier, and turn to look at myself in the mirror. That makes me smile. Because I look damn good in this costume. I grab the accessories—an elaborate headdress, some costume jewelry, a black wig with pretty beaded braids. And then I do the heavy eye makeup à la Elizabeth Taylor.
If Vaughn is going as one half of an iconic Hollywood couple, I’m going as Cleopatra.
I grab my phone, pull up the invitation via email, and then head to the car.
I have no idea what is happening at this party tonight, but I’m definitely going to find out.
I get in the car and program the address into the GPS and then head out. The place is in downtown, and it’s actually not far from where I got lost this afternoon. But I’m not gonna let fear prevent me from going.
I need to figure out what’s going on.
Chapter Twenty
#StarOfShameThatsMe
“HOW do I look?” I ask Valencia.
“Perfect, as always, Vaughn.” she coos. “But”—she’s frowning now—“I think it’s a bad idea. I mean, what if Grace finds out?”
“Grace is at home. Where she’s been for the last three months. I told her not to wait up for me.”