Red Carpet

Tick – Tock. Tick – Tock.

He was looking at all of the stars at the event but only waiting for the big one. He did not want to pay attention to this watch, but he could not stop himself from constantly staring at it and feeling its vibration and noise in his head. It was louder than he had imagined it could be in such a crowd, especially with the shouting, cheering, camera flashes, instructions barked by those photographers at celebrities who knew the deal and some of the distant traffic noises. He had to wait for it. It would be perfect.

Tick – Tock. Tick – Tock.

He felt awkward in the suit and tie. It was right for the weather and he did manage to make himself look like a reporter for the night. The microphone he brought with him was very expensive. It was hooked up to a computer in his van with all of the sounds being recorded directly into a file he would save forever. Technology had advanced quite a bit since he had his first encounter with an athlete he admired and his Polaroid flashed far too close to his face near an underground exit. He still had the picture, the camera, and the restraining order in a box marked ‘Memories of ‘96’. What he did not have was her, or at least a real picture of her up close and intimate. 

Tick – Tock. Tick – Tock.

There were no initial responses to the emails, except a form letter that looked like it had been written by some unpaid intern (including the autograph he knew was fake). He did not blame her for that. She was one of the best and most popular actresses on the planet. All of her movies – with the exception of the first one (people at the studio simply did not understand her) – were popular and made a lot of money. She had awards, at least two biographies he could find (her autobiography would be out next year…perhaps), a son and daughter who were also in the business (neither seemed to have her talent or charm, especially when they made the mistake of appearing in the same movie), and two ex-husbands who were still quite friendly towards her (that was at least the game in public; they were also in the business and knew the importance of appearances). All of this research was up on his personal web site devoted to her. He had files to draw from stacked in his basement apartment and photos well-organized in many cabinets and flash drives he meant to check and reboot. And yet, there was still no personal photograph he could call his own (all copies from other sources; really not the same thing). And here he was…

Tick – Tock.

...And here she was. The whole event was just for her. They were celebrating her life in movies and television. That was the reason why all these so-called big names were here. That’s why, on the red carpet, press and the like were stopping every single one of them, asking them how they felt about the lady they were all waiting for. And here she was…

Tick – Tock.

Beautiful. As beautiful now as when he first saw her in a commercial for a brand of toothpaste he soon demanded his mother switch to next time they were at the supermarket. She was even better looking now than when she was in that made-for-TV movie where she played a woman during one of those world wars who suffered from temporary blindness and learned to ‘negotiate a new world of sensations’ (that program description never left his thoughts). And through two children and two husbands, rumours that the studios would not cast her in their projects anymore, she was still here, surviving and celebrating while being celebrated. What did the studios know? They could not touch her. No one could.

It was going to happen soon.

Tick.

He had the microphone out. It was very old-fashioned, he thought, like something he would see a host waving at a contestant as they bid on patio furniture. He compared it to the ones he saw her speak into as she walked slowly down the line with her minder and personal security (they were keeping all of the Q & A’s to a strict time limit). He checked his press pass (far easier to get than most of the other equipment). That had been so straightforward. And here she stepped towards him.

Tock.

Another stunning outfit for the occasion. Something gold with sequins… He did not really think it suited her, but it was her call. Or maybe it was her manager’s call? That fucking creep… He had met him just the one time and it almost ended with bruises, broken bones and the police when they tangled on the floor of that open-plan office. Nothing too damaged except his ego. Still, he did not want to deal with that creep tonight (no sign of him on the carpet; his research was right). Cool. Good. He could do this.

Tick.

Just a few reporters away now… His suit began to itch. It was right for the weather. It was right for the setting. It was totally wrong for him. Appearances did matter, and he knew that this was a big night, probably the biggest night of her life. It would also be the biggest night of his life if he did this properly. He looked at her as the reporter nearest to him ended their brief interview.

He turned everything on.

Tock.

*

Where was he? The suit was dirty and ripped. The microphone and pass were gone. He had been on the ground after she punched him in the face and security shoved him into the plush red carpet. The plan was that he would be taken into custody and then released on bail before the trial. She would drop all charges if he agreed to a restraining order and ‘other conditions’. Yes, those other conditions… She had a list ready in that office. He had to pretend to fight that creep of a manager, make sure that the staff in the office saw it all, and then prepare for the event (microphone, recording device, van that would be easy to locate and then remove from the scene). She had it all settled.

Yes, it was his van. Imagine a celebrity like that even knowing that he had this kind of van. She had shouted at him right on cue, saying exactly what she said she would (and was there a slight wink and smile there?). Then the punch (firm but not too aggressive) and the handlers pulling him away with just the right amount of physical cover so that there were plenty of photos taken with too many cameras. Still, he thought it was strange that she had to go this far for some sort of controversy. It was truly the biggest night of her life. The agreement they created would pay off his debts and he could keep the web site up (he checked his name and bank account online as the van sped up). And, of course, he would not be allowed to share the true story of this night with anyone. And who would believe him, anyway? He looked out the back windows, watching the klieg lights dance under the stars as the hills began to disappear in the darkness. He was just a fan, now and always.