“Do I have to go?” she asked, sounding skittish.
“Do you know how many women would give their right arm, left leg, and several other body parts to go with me?” he said, teasing her. She laughed. “Come with me. If it’s too big a mess, we’ll leave. I promise.” He had always kept his promises to her so far.
“I have nothing to wear.” The time-honored, all-purpose excuse.
“Then go shopping. That’s easily remedied.”
“I have a paper due.” Another excellent excuse, and he knew it.
“I’ll write it for you. Now go buy something to wear. If this is a once-in-a-lifetime appearance in a film, you have to go!”
She followed his advice and went to Bergdorf the next day, and found a simple black velvet evening gown with a rhinestone jacket that made her look like a czarina. She bought rhinestone earrings too, and she had a small black velvet clutch. All she was missing were the shoes, and she found those at Bergdorf too. She had everything she needed. She’d used some of her money from her summer job to pay for it. She liked the simplicity and clean lines of what she’d chosen, and her figure was sensational, and the dress showed off her tiny waist.
He picked her up the next day at five-thirty. She had put her school assignments aside. He had allowed half an hour to get uptown to the theater, and he felt a little odd picking up a schoolgirl to go to the premiere. He was wearing an impeccably cut tuxedo and looked like a movie star himself.
When they got to the theater, there were banks of photographers outside held back by red velvet ropes with security guards to keep them in line. Inside, there were even more photographers, and waiters were serving champagne and caviar hors d’oeuvres. There was a long area roped off as the red carpet, with a backdrop that would work well in photos. Assorted stars were lined up to be interviewed by newspapers, magazines, and TV.
Hamish and Antonia made their way decorously down the expanse of red carpet, and had almost reached the theater itself, where they would view the movie, when the press realized who she was and started shouting her name. She felt foolish posing for photographs with such a small part in the film. But the press didn’t care. They wanted her. Antonia and Hamish posed for a few shots and then walked into the theater to claim their reserved seats. Hamish could feel her shaking as she held his arm, and she looked spectacular in the black velvet dress and rhinestone bolero. A hundred flashes went off in their faces as they walked into the theater, and he could feel her flinch.
“Can we go now?” she whispered, looking terrified.
“No, we have to see the movie first,” he said gently. “You’re safe. You’re with me.” She nodded, too nervous to speak, and they found their seats quickly and sat down. It took another half hour for the theater to fill. Several members of the cast came to say hello to them. And then the movie started.
She could see that Hamish was right about the scene she was in. The brief moment was crucial in the film.
“You’re great in it,” Hamish reassured her, and they sat back to enjoy the movie. He was very happy with it. It was a beautiful film, with major stars in it. On the way out, the press was even more excited about Antonia, once they all realized that she was the ingénue in the film. It took them half an hour to escape into the limousine, to drive to the Plaza, where the photographers kept shooting them every step of the way. They’d been photographed enough, and only stayed twenty minutes, and left, and the limo drove them back downtown. Antonia let out a huge sigh once they escaped the press.
“How do people stand that?” she said, leaning her head back against the seat. It placed her throat in a graceful white arch, and Hamish had to pretend not to notice, in order to keep his hands off her.
“Some people actually like it.” He smiled at her. “I don’t enjoy it either, but that’s what premieres are for, to get lots of press for the movie.”
“I love the film,” she said, smiling at him, and he couldn’t resist teasing her.
“I’ve never taken a date back to her school dormitory before. I feel like a cradle snatcher.” And in a sense, he was.
“I’m not a date, I’m an employee,” she corrected him comfortably. She felt surprisingly at ease with him.
“No, you’re not. You were an employee last summer. Tonight you’re a date, and a star.”
“Oh. How soon will the reviews be out?”
“By tomorrow morning.”
He wanted to take her out for another glass of champagne somewhere, but she said she had an early class in the morning.