“Ready?” he asks.
“Ready.” I tuck my gold clutch under my arm.
He takes my hand and together we face the red carpet.
“Chaser, over here!”
“Chaser, can we grab a photo?”
“Mallory, will you win Video Vixen?”
I wave at the reporter. “We’ll see!”
Chaser stops in front of a different reporter and answers a few questions. Someone else comes up on my side.
“How badly do you want to win Video Vixen, Mallory?” he asks.
“Oh, I’m just thrilled to be nominated.” I smile brightly, even though I’m already tired of the question.
Chaser answers questions and stops for pictures while continuing to move us forward.
Inside, we’re herded into a room with a bar and tables overflowing with snacks and desserts.
“You want something?” Chaser asks.
“I’m too nervous.” I smooth my hand over my dress.
“Let me get you some water.”
I tighten my grip on his arm and lean up on my tiptoes. “No water. I don’t think I can unlace this dress on my own, so I don’t want to have to pee later.”
He closes his eyes and snort-laughs at my predicament.
“It’s not funny.”
“If you’re this nervous here, how are you going to survive when you get nominated for an Oscar?” he asks.
“I’ll already have practice from going to these things with you.”
“Hey, lovebirds,” Jacob calls out. “Think you can cool it for a minute?”
“Aw, they’re so cute,” Vickie coos. I’m not sure if she’s Jacob’s or Garrett’s date tonight, but she joined us at the last minute.
“Chaser!” Andrew bellows behind us.
“Christ,” Chaser mutters under his breath.
Andrew embraces both of us before I have a chance to take in his outfit.
“Are you wearing…zebra stripes?” I ask when I pull away.
“Yeah, isn’t it rad?” He holds his arms out and turns in a semi-circle to show off the black and white vest with nothing else under it and skin-tight leather pants. “Pammy picked it out.”
“It’s…something,” I say.
“Come on. I made sure we’re all sitting together.” He waves for us to follow.
Chaser briefly closes his eyes. “Three months of this,” he says low enough that only I can hear him. “Three months.”
“Maybe he’ll let you borrow his spiffy vest,” I whisper.
He pinches my butt and kisses my cheek. “Careful,” I warn. “I’m wearing about a pound of makeup.”
“You’re beautiful.” He signals to the guys that we’re going to find our seats, and we head down the aisle.
The show starts with Best Breakout Video.
“Shit,” Jacob mutters.
The guys are all tense while each nominee is announced and a brief clip of the video plays. Chaser’s holding my hand so tight, I have to give it a shake, so he loosens up.
“And the winner is…Wishing Well for ‘Fear Nothing!’” the announcer shouts.
Chaser sits back. Disappointed or relieved, I can’t tell.
Alvin mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath.
“What a dick,” Andrew says loud enough to be heard by half the theater.
I glance over at him, and he flashes his middle finger to Brent from Wishing Well. Pamela covers her mouth and giggles.
Chaser stares straight ahead at the stage, ignoring the spectacle next to us. I lean against him. “I guess Andrew’s manager didn’t give him the gracious and humble speech.”
Chaser cracks a smile. “Guess not.”
I don’t have time to catch my breath from the excitement of Kickstart’s first nomination.
“And now the nominees for Best Video Vixen!”
Blood roars through my ears. Of course, they choose the scene from ‘Candy Jar’ where I’m getting hosed down. I cringe and close my eyes.
“Fuck yeah!” Andrew whoops.
“Mallory Dove for ‘Candy Jar’ by Kickstart!” the announcer screams into the microphone.
My ears buzz. They did not just call my name.
“Mallory.” Chaser tugs on my hand.
We both stand, and I’m frozen in place. “Chaser, please come with me,” I whisper.
“No way, babe. This is all yours.”
Everyone’s staring at me now. The instrumental version of ‘Candy Jar’ thunders through the theater, calling me to the stage. “I’m afraid I’ll trip going up those stairs,” I admit.
Concern darkens his eyes, and he gently guides me out of the row and to the edge of the stage. I stare at the steps. I never ever expected to win, so I didn’t put a lot of thought into things like tripping over my four-inch stilettos and landing flat on my face in front of five thousand people. Chaser doesn’t release me, though. I gather the long skirt of my dress in my free hand, and he slowly leads me up the stairs.
“Go on,” he whispers when we reach the top. “This is your moment.” He presses a kiss on my forehead.
There’s a collective “Aww” from the audience and heat stings my cheeks.
Projecting as much confidence as I can, I cross the stage to the podium. The long, heavy skirt of my gown swirls and swishes around my ankles. The presenter holds out a stubby silver statue, and I accept.
“Congratulations, Mallory.” She leans in and kisses my cheek.
“Thank you.”
What little girl, who wants to be an actress when she grows up, hasn’t stared into the mirror and thanked the academy, her parents and God himself for recognizing her talent? None of that prepared me for this moment. Sure, it’s not an award for my acting skills. And I hate the video. But it’s still an honor and something I never expected.