Page 44 of All That Glitters

When she released him from the hug, Eli looked more confused than ever. “Is everything okay? You’re not dying or anything, are you?”

She just smiled and wiped her eye. “Tell everyone at the agency I’m giving the Carrie with claws a break.”

Across the ballroom, Craig and the Rif Raf execs made a beeline for the open bar. Kevin squeezed in front of Roy, elbowing him aside to get the bartender’s attention.

“Hey!” Roy grunted. “I’s here first.”

“No you weren’t,” Kevin shot back.

“Was too.” Roy gave Kevin a hard shove. Kevin shoved him right back. It was a playground squabble in a palace of crystal and silk. Craig, with the weary authority of a father dealing with unruly children, shoved them both aside and flagged down the bartender.

“How’s about a round of whiskeys for me and the boys here,” he boomed.

The bartender, who thought he’d seen everything before that night, looked them over curiously. “Are you with the premiere party?”

“Hell, yeah,” Craig declared proudly. “We’s the filmmakers.”

At that, the bartender’s demeanor completely changed. “Coming right up, sir.”

Just then, Lauren from Hollywood Gossip spotted Craig and squeezed her way through the crowd, her cameraman Justin following like a pilot fish, lugging his bulky TV camera. She held a microphone up to Craig.

“Craig! Now that The Frat is finished, what’s next for Rif Raf Produkshuns?”

“Actually,” Craig said, looking thoughtful, “we’s thinkin’ about maybe doin’ some sort a romance comedy.

” He then spotted Preston Jordan slinking through the crowd, trying to remain invisible.

A wicked grin spread across Craig’s face.

“Excuse me a second, missy.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “HEY, PRESTON! GET YER BUTT OVER HERE!”

“Can we say butt on TV?” Justin whispered to Lauren. She just shrugged.

Across the room, Preston turned at the sound of his name.

His blood ran cold. The last people on earth he wanted to see were currently summoning him from the bar.

With the miserable reluctance of a man walking to his own execution, he headed over.

Craig immediately slung a beefy arm around Preston’s shoulder in a gesture that was meant to be friendly but almost sent him flying into a floral arrangement.

“You all know our partner here, Preston Jordan,” Craig announced to the camera. “We’s thinkin’ we’d include him in our next movie.”

Lauren, smelling blood, immediately shifted her microphone to Preston’s trembling face. “Preston. Are the rumors true about a sex tape featuring mannequins and farm animals?”

Preston looked like he was about to faint. He could just die right there, live on television. Craig shot him a cheesy, triumphant grin.

At the grand entrance, Debbie wandered in, her eyes wide.

She looked around through the throng of people, a sea of heads bobbing in a tide of champagne and chatter.

She couldn’t see anyone she knew. Spotting an ornate chair near the wall, she went over and carefully stood on it, craning her neck for a better view.

The problem was, the chair was antique, delicate, and a bit wobbly.

Nearby, a snotty Society Woman in a tight silk blouse watched this uncouth behavior with utter disdain. She turned to the man next to her, a sneer twisting her lips as she gestured discreetly towards Debbie.

Tony strolled over to the bar, finding Craig holding court with the press. Carrie and her parents joined them.

“Hey, Craig,” Tony said, leaning in. “You seen Debbie?”

Craig shook his head. “Not yet. But got the boys keepin’ an eye out for her. Told them they’d probably hear somethin’ breakin’.”

Craig then turned to Carrie and her parents.

“And there’s our star!” he boomed, his face lighting up as he wrapped her in an affectionate bear hug and swung her around.

Setting her down, he turned to her parents.

“And you folks must be the proud parents I been hearin’ about!

” He enveloped Dale’s hand in a grip that could crush walnuts.

“Craig Caldwell. Me and the boys have grown quite fond of that daughter of yours. She’s one hell of an actress. Tough as nails, that one.”

“Dale Thompson,” he replied, returning the handshake with the firm grip of a man who worked with his hands. “You boys are the filmmakers?”

“That’s us!” Craig declared proudly, introducing the whole gang.

It was a match made in heaven, with the Rif Raf team instantly hitting it off with Dale.

For the next few minutes, Tony and Carrie watched with amusement as the gang shared stories with Dale about the production’s misadventures.

Mary looked over at Tony and Carrie, and rolled her eyes with a smile.

Suddenly, a loud, piercing scream, followed by a crash and a splash, erupted from the other side of the room.

Craig didn’t miss a beat. He turned to Tony and pointed a thumb in the general direction of the commotion. “Think we just found Debbie.”

Tony excused himself and headed off into the crowd.

He squeezed his way through the dense pack of guests toward the source of the noise.

There, he found the Society Woman, staring down in horror at her now completely drenched silk blouse, which was clinging to her like a second skin.

A nearby waiter was frantically dabbing at a spilled tray of drinks on the floor.

“Did either of you see a short brunette in a black dress?” Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

The Society Woman shot Tony a glare that could have curdled milk, then looked back down at her ruined blouse. The man with her, however, simply nodded towards the open glass doors.

“I think she headed towards the patio,” he offered.

The night was cool and clear. Moonlight sparkled on the turquoise water of a massive swimming pool. Tony headed out onto the patio and saw Debbie standing at the far railing, her back to him, just looking up at the stars.

“You know,” he said as he walked toward her, “there’s this woman inside who looks like she’s ready to kill someone. So I’m thinking, only Debbie could get someone that pissed.”

Debbie turned at the sound of his voice. A small smile played on her lips. “Is that the same Debbie who’s about to kick your butt?”

He came to a stop in front of her. “It’s the same Debbie who looks incredible,” he said, his voice soft and full of the awe he’d felt seeing her at the premiere.

Whoa. Okay. She wasn’t ready for that. Her pretend frown melted away. “I guess I’ll let you live,” she said, and then she smiled, a real, radiant smile, and pulled him into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, Tony.”

He hugged her back, burying his face in her hair for a moment. “Don’t you mean shocked?”

“Okay,” she said, laughing as she pulled away. “That too.”

A comfortable beat passed between them. It felt easy. Real.

“I have some time before they need me to do interviews,” he said. “Want to go do some Tony-Debbie stuff?”

A playful grin lit her face. “Like what?”

“You’ll see.”

Back inside at the bar, Dale Thompson was laughing, a shot glass of whiskey in his hand. Craig had his arm slung around Dale’s shoulder like they were long-lost brothers.

“And then,” Craig was saying, “the dog runs past with a whole dang skeleton arm in his mouth! Funniest thing I ever seen!”

Dale roared with laughter. “Reminds me of the time my buddy’s beagle stole a whole rack of ribs off the grill at our Fourth of July cookout!”

Craig flagged down the bartender. “Another round for my new friend here! And get this pretty lady whatever she wants,” he said to Mary, who was smiling warmly at the chaotic camaraderie. They were her people.

Eli navigated the crowd and waved Craig over. “Hey! How’s about havin’ a shot with us?”

“Maybe later,” Eli said, his eyes scanning the room. “Have you guys seen Tony?”

“Seen him a bit ago,” Craig said, gesturing vaguely. “He gone off that way lookin’ for his klutzy friend.”

“Thanks,” Eli said, and headed off into the throng.

The wine cellar was cool and quiet, lined with walls stacked floor-to-ceiling with vintage wines. Tony and Debbie sat on the floor, their backs against a heavy wooden wine rack as they passed a bottle of very expensive-looking red wine back and forth. He took a long gulp straight from the bottle.

“Oh,” Debbie said, her eyes sparkling in the dim light, “and what about the time we tried to paint your tree house? And my hair got stuck in the paint can.”

Tony cracked up, shaking his head at the memory. “And David sawed it off with his knife.”

“My mom was so pissed at you guys.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he laughed. “I said we should just paint the rest of your hair. That’s back when you wore those goofy-looking braids.”

“They were not goofy-looking!” she said, nudging him playfully.

“You looked like Pippi Longstocking.”

She took a swig of wine. “And what about you, and those rice bowl haircuts?”

“My mom could not cut hair.”

“At least you didn’t have David doing it with his pocket knife.”

They laughed, the sound echoing softly in the cellar. Debbie looked at the wine bottle as Tony passed it to her.

“Remember the first time we tried alcohol?” she said.

Tony busted up. “Oh, yeah. And you laughed so hard it came out your nose.”

“Hey,” she said, playfully swatting his arm. “I was talking about the part where we thought we could make a parachute out of my bedsheets and jump off my roof.”

Tony laughed. “Not one of our brighter ideas.”

“Nope,” she said, taking a swig from the wine bottle and shaking her head. “Oh, and those fiberglass bat wings. Remember those things?”

He laughed, giving her a big nod. “We were just determined to kill ourselves, weren’t we.”

“Pretty much,” she said, smiling with a big nod.

“You know something,” he said, his voice taking on a softer, more reflective tone. “All my best memories have you in them.”

She nodded. “Mine too.”

“Do you really have to go to Europe?” he asked.

Debbie paused. “Veronica told you about that?”

“Yeah.”