Page 55 of Faking the Pass

Off Script

R osie

Smiling politely at the seat-filler next to me in the Dolby Theater, I glanced down at my phone again, hoping for a last-minute miracle.

Just as it had been a few minutes ago, the screen was free of any notifications—no word from Presley.

I hadn’t been able to get through to him, my calls, texts, and even a long, heartfelt email going unanswered. I’d even tried reaching out to his family members.

No response.

It hurt to know they’d all cut me off, but how could I blame them for standing in solidarity with him? They were a loyal family, and I loved that about them.

Still, I was determined to rewrite this story—or at least do everything in my power to make sure Presley understood how I felt about him.

How I’d always felt.

As the house lights went down, and the orchestra began playing the theme music for the Academy Awards, I slid my thumb across the screen, looking at my Hail Mary throw, a boarding pass for a flight to Rhode Island tomorrow morning.

The host strode out and welcomed everyone, and I put my phone away, swept up in the magic of the moment.

I’d attended the ceremony last year with Randy, but his surprise proposal from the stage had pretty much smothered my other memories of the night.

This year was different in every way. I was standing on my own two feet this time, and my upcoming movie with Elka made me feel like I actually belonged in the room.

Professionally, anyway.

My heart? It belonged wherever Presley was.

I just hoped his heart could be convinced to give me another chance.

Hopefully he or someone who knew him was watching tonight, and what I was about to do on live TV would make a difference when we saw each other face to face tomorrow.

The ceremony passed in a buzzy blur of nerves and anticipation until it was my turn to present.

I stood backstage, waiting for my cue to walk to centerstage and introduce the nominees in my category.

An assistant smiled at me, reaching for my evening bag. “I’ll hold that for you, if you like, Miss James,” she said.

I tucked it up underneath my arm. “Thank you, I’ll just hold onto it.”

She looked a little perplexed but nodded and stepped away.

And then the commercial break ended, and a stage manager gave me my cue. Hands and lips trembling, I walked to my mark and smiled at the very intimidating audience.

One of the sound guys in a pit at the front of the stage pointed at me to indicate the mic I was wearing was now live.

I opened my mouth… and went completely off script.

“The last time my name was mentioned on this show, it was the start of one of the craziest rides of my life,” I said.

There was a rumble of good-natured chuckles throughout the auditorium. Most if not all the industry people in attendance were aware of my real-life drama.

It had been hard to miss.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask anyone to marry me tonight,” I joked. “We already did that, and besides, I doubt he’s even watching.”

Off-camera in the pit in front of me, I saw one of the associate directors dive for the show script, probably wondering how the hell the wrong thing had gotten onto the teleprompter.

He started speaking rapidly into his headset.

I went on with my plan, hoping I got to finish without the executive director abruptly cutting my mic and cuing the orchestra to play me off the stage.

Opening my purse, I pulled out the divorce papers, which I had never signed.

“But I’m also not going to divorce him,” I said. “Not when I love him with my whole heart. In fact, I’m going to beg him to stay married to me.”

In my peripheral vision, I could see stage managers freaking out, waving wildly to get my attention.

I was running out of time. Someone was going to come out and drag me offstage any second now.

Ripping the pages in half first, I finally righted the ship and started reading from the teleprompter, finishing the short category introduction with, “And the nominees are…”

Movie clips began playing on the enormous screen behind me and the ones to either side of the stage.

I winked at the shell-shocked associate director, who currently had his hands in his hair, and held up the sealed envelope, showing him I was prepared to announce the winner without further deviation from the program.

Which I did, then I handed the golden trophy to the ecstatic winner before scurrying backstage and back to my seat in the auditorium.

Sadly, my phone stayed dark for the remainder of the broadcast.

Afterward, it was time to face the consequences of my actions.

I’d been proud of myself tonight for walking the pre-show Red Carpet alone and answering the reporters’ questions with confidence. I did the same in the media area after the show, where people shouted questions at me about my ad-libbed presentation speech and about Presley.

“Have you heard from him?” one of them asked.

“No, not yet,” I said. “I’m not giving up though.”

“So the marriage was real then?” a female reporter asked with a smile on her face.

I told her the absolute truth.

“It was for me—I’m completely in love with him and have been nearly all my life. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“What about him?” someone else asked. “Do you think Presley loved you ?”

Before I could answer, a deep voice rose above the sudden commotion happening at the rear of the media throng.

“I can answer that one.”

The crowd split, and Presley stepped up to the front.

He looked devastatingly handsome in midnight blue tux, but I wouldn’t have cared if he showed up in gym shorts and one of his muscle t-shirts.

I was just overwhelmed to see him there.

I didn’t realize how dopey and lovestruck my smile was until several people around me mentioned it. And I didn’t care.

Let them talk.

Let them snap pictures and put whatever caption on them they wanted to.

This smile, this giddy laughter, this incandescent joy… it wasn’t for them.

It was for my husband.

Coming to stand beside me, Presley took my hand and leaned down so his mouth was close to the stand microphone.

He spoke directly into it.

“Yes.”

The adamant word seemed to echo through the room.

And then he turned to me with shining eyes and that dazzling smile he reserved just for me.

“I got your messages.”

I smiled back, tears already overflowing my eyelids and wetting my cheeks. “You took your sweet time replying.”

“We were doing our annual family camping trip. I had no signal until late this afternoon,” he explained. “But honestly, some things are better said in person.”

Cupping my face in his big, warm hands, he said, “Thank God you love me, Starfish, because I was one miserable bastard without you.”

“There are live mics all around us,” I whispered.

“I don’t fucking care,” Presley said, speaking even louder. “I am hopelessly, permanently, ridiculously in love with my wife, and I want the world to know about it.”

And then he kissed me in a way that left no room for doubt, for those watching— and for the woman experiencing it.

When our mouths parted, Presley added, “But later, when we’re alone and there are no microphones or cameras around… I’ve got something important to ask you.”