“If she has green eyes, I’ll name her Aurora,” I said. Then a short moment later, “Whatever color her eyes are, I’m naming her Aurora.”
At fourteen-months, Aurora was still too little to come to the film festival in California with me, but I knew she would be happy spending a few days with Aunt Greta and Uncle Hans.
There was a great variety of films in competition at the festival. Ultimately the jury gave its prize to a film which, in their own words, “demonstrates an exhilarating combination of passion, adventure, and sensitivity, all while engaging and informing the viewer.” That film: Wars of the Sun, our film! Not a Vampire Chick Production, but a Vampire Chick Production in collaboration with The Savage Seven.
I had no expectation of winning. I was simply thrilled that our film had been selected to participate. But looking back, I’d say winning was even better.
We watched a lot of films, as one does at a film festival. But we also attended a lot of parties over the six days we were in Los Angeles. The parties were fun and glamorous, but none prepared me for the Closing Ball.
Sasha had brought me a present, but she waited until the day of the ball to give it to me. She didn’t hand me a wrapped box. But in Sasha’s extravagant style, she had me blindfolded and led into the bedroom of her hotel suite.
“You can take off the blindfold, now,” said Sasha. Her voice was full of bubbling excitement, and so was I.
There, lying on her bed, was the most exquisite and elegant dress. My eyes went from the dress to Sasha. She was beaming. Her hands balled into fists; it was as if she were using all her energy to keep from jumping up and down. “Try it on! Try it on!”
The dress was made from fine silk, shimmering black with silver straps and a silver border on the hem. It conformed to my upper body as if I’d been poured into it while the skirts hung free and softly brushed against my legs as I walked.
“You look amazing!” said Sasha.
“I feel amazing! It’s like being under a shower of feathers.”
Sasha looked no less amazing in her red, backless gown. And we went to the ball, each accompanied by our seven hunky escorts. Talk about making an entrance!
I met and talked with so many people at a dizzying pace. Each had a kind word to say and a kind smile to give.
“Congratulations, Bonita.”
“I absolutely loved your film, Bonita.
“You look spectacular, Bonita.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
Trevor took me by the hand. “They’re playing our song.”
I glanced over at the string quartet then back at Trevor. “I don’t know what song they’re playing. I didn’t even know we had a song.”
Trevor smiled. “I don’t know what song they’re playing, either. But I know how badly I want to dance with you.” He bowed slightly and motioned to the dance floor. “Shall we?”
I thought the quartet played a waltz—at least that’s what we danced, in the way you improvise dancing the waltz when neither you nor your partner has ever danced the waltz before. I glided across the dance floor, my feet barely touching the floor, holding on to Trevor and looking into his happy eyes.
“May I cut in?” Landon asked. And I continued to glide and spin and twirl, my feet barely touching the floor, holding on to Landon and looking into his happy eyes.
“May I cut in?” Christian asked.
I laughed, and I danced. I was held in the arms of my beautiful man. I spun and twirled and returned to the arms of a different man, just as beautiful and just as much mine.
“You’re absolutely stunning, Bonita,” said Noah.
“I know,” I said. And I spun, and I twirled, glided across the dance floor from the arms of one hunk into the arms of another.
The Savage Seven were looking particularly refined and elegant at the ball. And they acted like perfect gentlemen. But that was okay. I was sure that after the ball, back at the hotel suite, they would honor their well-deserved nickname.
THE END