Page 43 of All That Glitters

Chapter thirty-three

Premieres and Parties

The premiere for The Frat was a full-blown Hollywood spectacle.

The street in front of the historic Chinese Theater was shut down, transformed into a pulsating artery of flashing lights and screaming fans packed behind velvet ropes.

A river of red carpet flowed toward the grand entrance, flanked on either side by a gauntlet of reporters and photographers shouting questions and snapping pictures in a continuous, blinding pop of flashbulbs.

A sleek black limousine, longer than Tony’s entire apartment, purred to the curb. A valet in a sharp red jacket opened the door, and Tony stepped out, looking dazed and slightly terrified in a rented tuxedo. A moment later, Carrie emerged, and the roar from the crowd intensified.

She was pure glitter. A vision in a shimmering silver gown that caught the light from a thousand angles.

Her hair was a cascade of perfect blonde waves, her makeup flawless.

She was every inch the movie star, the queen of the red carpet.

She gave Tony a quick, reassuring squeeze of his hand, a silent ‘we’re in this together,’ before plastering on her practiced, dazzling smile and stepping into the whirlwind.

They moved down the carpet as a team, a slow, surreal procession through a wall of noise and light.

“Carrie! Over here!”

“Tony, who are you wearing?” a reporter shouted. Tony looked down at his rented tux. “Uh... a guy named Steve sold it to me?”

Carrie laughed, leaning in to whisper, “Just smile and wave. They don’t actually care.”

She posed, turning this way and that, a master of her craft.

Tony just stood beside her, blinking in the flashbulbs, feeling like an imposter who had wandered into someone else’s dream.

As Carrie turned from one bank of photographers to another, her gaze swept over the roaring crowd beyond the ropes. And then, she froze.

Her movie-star smile dissolved, replaced by something raw, real, and vulnerable.

Her eyes locked on a spot deep within the throng of yelling fans.

Tony followed her gaze and saw them. A middle-aged couple, looking completely overwhelmed and out of place.

The woman was clutching her purse like a life raft, and the man beside her wore a slightly-too-tight sport coat that looked like it had been saved for special occasions for the past twenty years.

“Mom?” Carrie whispered, the word swallowed by the din. “Dad?”

Before Tony or the publicist at her elbow could react, Carrie did the unthinkable. She broke protocol. She abandoned the performance.

“Carrie, the E! News camera is waiting—” the publicist began.

But Carrie wasn’t listening. She hiked up her expensive gown, ducked under the velvet rope, and pushed her way into the screaming crowd. A security guard moved to intercept her, but Tony instinctively put out an arm. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s her family.”

The crowd parted around her as she reached the couple. Her father’s face was a mixture of awe and disbelief. Her mother’s was already wet with tears.

“Hey, Daddy,” Carrie said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Care-Bear,” he said, his voice rough. He smelled of Old Spice and hard work, just like she remembered. He smelled like home.

She threw her arms around him, burying her face in the shoulder of his inexpensive sport coat, and she didn’t care that her thousand-dollar makeup was getting ruined.

She hugged her mom tightly, the two of them clinging to each other, a silent, tearful apology for four years of lost time passing between them.

“We’re so proud of you,” her mom sniffled, cupping her flawless cheek.

“No,” Carrie said, pulling back and looking at them, her eyes shining with unshed tears of her own. “I’m proud of you.” She squeezed their hands. “Please, you have to come to the after-party. I want you to meet my friends.”

She looked back toward the red carpet, a world away, and her eyes found Tony’s. She gave him a small, grateful nod. She was home.

Back on the carpet, Tony watched the beautiful, heartfelt reunion, a lump forming in his throat. He felt a profound sense of pride for his friend, for the incredible woman she had become. He was so lost in the moment, he almost didn’t hear it.

“TONY!”

The voice cut through the roar of the crowd like a lightning bolt. It was a voice he could pick out of a million. He spun around, his heart leaping into his throat.

There, on the other side of the rope, squeezing past a man holding a ‘Marry Me Carrie!’ sign, was Debbie.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. She was wearing a simple, elegant black mini-dress she’d borrowed from Veronica, and her hair was down, curled just right. She was that perfect blend of beauty and an impossible cuteness that came together just right.

Tony rushed over to the velvet rope just as Debbie squeezed her way to the front of the crowd.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping her in a warm hug over the rope, and nearly lifting her off her feet in his exuberance.

When he pulled back to speak, he did a literal double-take.

His smile faltered, replaced by sheer, unadulterated awe.

The look on his face said it all. After all these years, he was finally seeing her.

Her smile, and the sparkle in her eyes, still held the charm of the girl and best friend he’d known for years; and yet now that charm was packaged in this incredibly beautiful woman who completely stole his breath.

A blush crept up Debbie’s neck and flooded her cheeks, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “What?” she asked, her voice a little shaky from the admiration in his eyes.

“Nothing,” he stammered, completely lost for words. “I mean... wow. You look, wow. I’m really glad you came.”

Debbie couldn’t wipe the smile — or blush — from her face. “Veronica said something about you washing my car in your cell phone costume. Or washing my cell phone in a car costume. It was one of those.”

Tony laughed. “I’ll do both. Listen, I have so much I want to tell you, things I should have said a long time ago, but you know what an idiot I am. Will you meet me at the after-party and we can hang out and talk?”

“And you’ll wash my car?” she teased.

“And polish it.”

“Okay. Where’s the party at?”

“The Beverly Hilton. Tell them you’re a guest of the production.”

She smiled and nodded. “Right. Disavow any knowledge of knowing you.”

He laughed. “You’re catching on.”

He wrapped her in one more excited hug, nearly smothering her this time. But she didn’t mind. For the brief moments he held her, the world around them seemed to vanish. It was just them.

He finally had to release her. “I gotta get into the premiere, but I’ll see you at the party.” He started off down the red carpet toward the theater, then stopped and looked back. “Did I mention you look amazing?”

The blush was back in her cheeks. She smiled. “I think you said ‘wow’.”

“Add ‘amazing’ to that ‘wow’.”

The Beverly Hilton was five stars of pure, unapologetic luxury. Gleaming marble columns held up a grand portico where uniformed valets whisked away exotic cars. Stretch limos longer than most apartments pulled up to the curb, and out stepped celebrities onto the red carpet.

Then, a cloud of dark smoke announced a new arrival.

Carl’s rusted, battle-scarred truck rumbled up to the grand entrance, its engine chugging and backfiring like a shotgun blast. The hotel’s five-star rating took an instant nosedive.

The valet stared in mute horror, fanning away the exhaust smoke as the executive board of Rif Raf Produkshuns piled out in a chaotic clash of leather, denim, and tattoos.

Carl, oblivious to the stunned faces watching them, handed the stunned valet the keys.

“She’s a little sticky in second, but you’ll get the hang of it,” he said as he and the gang headed inside.

If the outside was luxury, the inside was a palace. The lobby was a vast expanse of polished marble walls and gleaming brass furnishings. Oil paintings in ornate frames looked down on velvet furniture that probably cost more than The Frat’s budget.

Tony strolled in alongside Carrie, who now had her parents, Dale and Mary Thompson, on either arm. Dale looked around at the opulence with wide, curious eyes, while Mary just looked at her daughter, her face beaming with a pride that outshone every crystal chandelier.

They spotted Eli surveying the scene with the jaded eye of a seasoned veteran.

“Eli!” Carrie called out. “I want you to meet my parents, Dale and Mary.”

Eli, ever the professional, pasted on a charming smile and shook their hands. “A pleasure to meet you both. You must be incredibly proud of your daughter tonight.”

“We always have been,” Dale said with a simple sincerity that seemed to momentarily short-circuit Eli’s Hollywood programming.

“Any word yet on what the critics thought?” Tony asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

Eli took a sip of his martini and patted Tony on the shoulder. “Screw the critics. It’s what the vloggers think that matters, and they’re going nuts over this.”

Tony’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. First reviews went up about a half hour ago on YouTube, and it’s getting solid recommends across the board.”

Carrie shifted nervously, smoothing her dress. “Did they say anything about me?”

Eli almost did a double-take. She looked like Carrie Thompson, but there was a softness and vulnerability radiating from her he had never seen before.

“They loved you, Carrie,” Eli said, and this time, his smile was genuine. “They said you were a revelation. I have two producers ready to make offers on studio films. Good ones. And you’re trending on IG and X.”

The breath caught in her throat. Carrie could only stare for a moment as a tear misted her eye. She looked at her parents, who were beaming, then threw her arms around Eli in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said softly in his ear.