BTW, where are u?
Men’s room.
Taking a dump?
No. Just texting u.
No shit! LOL!
:-D
Shit!
What’s wrong?
They’re about to announce the Best Actor in a Television Series…Drama!!!! They mentioned ur name!
Fuck!
I leap up from the toilet seat and dash out of the bathroom.
Jet-propelling myself back to the ballroom, I dig my hand into my breast pocket to retrieve my acceptance speech should I win. Except it isn’t there. I fucking forgot it!
My heart beats into a frenzy as I speed dial Zoey. Panicked, I shout into the phone. “Email me my speech!”
Silence.
“Zoey, what’s going on?”
“Hmm…can’t find it.”
“What?”
“It must not have saved. Just wing it.”
“Balls!”
“Oh my God! You just won. They’re looking for you! Hurry!”
“I’m almost there!” I end the call and slip the phone back into the pocket.
My heart is practically beating out of my chest as I race into the ballroom and sprint up to the stage. Applause and cheers boom in my ears. I can’t believe it. I won the Golden Globe!
Breathless, I accept the award from my presenter, Kevin Spacey. All eyes are on me. I take a deep, calming breath, but my heart’s still beating a hundred miles a minute. Clutching my award, I manage to get my brain to communicate with my mouth.
“WOW! This is amazing and so unexpected. Thank you members of the Hollywood Foreign Press. Um…uh, I also want to thank Conquest Broadcasting and Blake Burns for believing in Kurt Kussler…my incredible producer, Doug DeMille and his stellar production team…my talented, wonderful co-stars, Kellie Fox and Jewel Starr…my outstanding fellow nominees…my dear parents, Phyllis and Edward, and my mentor, Bella Stadler…and last but not least, I want to thank my beautiful assistant, Zoey Hart, for all you do for me. Love you!”
I triumphantly hold up the award and soak in the audience. Holy shit! A standing ovation! Everyone is applauding and cheering wildly except one person. Katrina. She’s in her seat, seething.
What the hell?
Zoey
Jumping up and down on my bed, I’m literally doing a happy dance. I don’t even care if I break a spring and the mattress crashes to the floor. I can’t believe it! Brandon just won the Golden Globe and thanked me on national television! In front of a gazillion people! Called me beautiful! And then said, “Love you.”
My cell phone rings. The strings of my heart go zing. It must be him. I hop off the bed and make a beeline for my phone. A tinge of disappointment. It’s Jeffrey. We’re on FaceTime.
“Girl, that was so exciting!”
“You’re watching the awards?” My TV’s still on, but I’m not paying attention.
“Of course. You’re practically a household name. You’re already trending on Twitter.”
I laugh and then laugh harder when he tells me about Katrina.
“Did you see the expression on Katrina’s face when Brandon thanked you?”
I tell him I missed that.
“Don’t worry. I recorded everything. There was a camera on her. Everyone in the audience stood up and gave Brandon a standing ovation except her. She was fuming. I thought she was going to throw a plate at the lens.”
My laughter dies down, but a question burns on my tongue. “Jeffrey, I have to ask you something.” I can tell him anything. And you can always count on a gay guy to tell it like it is. Brutal honesty.
“Shoot, Zoester.”
“You know, when he said ‘love you’? What do you think he meant by that?”
“Honey, this man’s going to sweep you off your feet.”
The breath in my throat hitches. In the corner of my eye, I glimpse the Kurt Kussler poster I shattered in a fit of madness. It’s leaning against a wall. I still haven’t fixed it, and now I regret my actions. Before I can get down on myself, Jeffrey’s boyfriend Chaz gets on FaceTime and makes me laugh again. He berates Katrina’s red carpet performance.
“Oh my friggin’ God! I wanted to barf. That bitch was in everyone’s face. I wanted to slap her! And can you believe that dress? It was so vomiticious! Oh and when Brandon blew you a kiss, she practically blew a fuse.”
I’m laughing my head off. I so love Jeffrey and Chaz. They’re my equivalent of Cinderella’s chattering, adorable, supportive mice. We watch the rest of the Golden Globes together, and we all squeal when Kurt Kussler wins for “Best Drama Series” near the very end. The cast and crew rush to the stage and swarm a blown-away Brandon. Executive Producer Doug DeMille speaks for them all. What a night for the show! What a night for Brandon! What a night for me! I only wish I could be there with Brandon to celebrate.
After Tina and Amy congratulate all the winners and thank everyone for watching, I bid Jeffrey and Chaz goodnight. In no time, I’m hugging Teddy, dreaming of my Prince Charming.
The subconscious is a strange place. When I doze off, all of tonight’s events come together in a fantastical dream that plays out in my head like a surreal fairy tale.
It’s the night of the most anticipated event in Lalaland. The Golden Globe Ball. Everyone who’s anyone will be there. A glittering gathering of Hollywood royalty. It’s being given by Prince Brandon, the most eligible and handsome bachelor in the land. Rumor has it he’s seeking the woman of his dreams—his princess bride. He’s my idol. My sigh master. The love of my life. I long to attend, but my chances are nil.
“I’d like to go too,” I plead to my evil stepmother, Enid, already dressed to the nines and hopeful that my stepsister will be the one to marry Prince Brandon.
She rolls her eyes. “Puh-lease. Peasants don’t attend balls.”
Her equally evil and done up daughter Katrina snorts with wicked laughter. “Mommy, she probably couldn’t even find a ball gown to fit her.”
Their words sting me like a hornet. She’s right. I can’t even fit into my beloved late mama’s beautiful vintage dresses. In her haughty voice, Katrina demands that I zip up her coral ball gown. Reluctantly, I do as bid when what I really want to do is rip the dress off her back.
Not even a thank you.
“Now, Zoella, while we’re gone, I want you to mop the floor and polish the furniture,” pouts Enid as she heads toward the front door, arm in arm with her stunning daughter.
I sigh silently. I’m more of servant than a stepdaughter. I’m thanklessly worked to the bone. Expected to tend to their every whim and need. Dear Papa had no clue when he married Enid and left her his two cents.
Their imposing black limo awaits them outside, leaving me behind with Katrina’s sweet little white mutt, Gucci. Weighted with gloom, I sink into the couch. Life’s so not fair. The fluffy pup dances around my feet, licking my ankles in an attempt to cheer me up. With tears in my eyes, I gather him up in my lap.
“Oh, Gooch, it’s futile. They’re right. I’m just a no one.” My tears give way to uncontrollable sobs. I squeeze my eyes shut while my body heaves. I don’t know how long I’ve been crying when Gucci barks madly, hurtling me out of my misery. My eyes blink open and my jaw drops to the floor. Standing before me are two boyishly handsome men dressed alike in flamboyant sequined jumpsuits. Each holds a sparkling wand.
“Who are you?” I gasp.
“We’re your fairy godmothers,” says the slightly taller of the two. “I’m Jeffrey and this is my life partner, Chaz.”