The Stars Trilogy (3 page)

How he admired and envied the fucker. But he’d get there, too. Directing was a natural progression for most seasoned actors but it required another level of discipline. For the past two years, he’d been training with some of his director friends. Yup, he was taking it from the best players in the biz. He;d slowed down from acting and put in the time doing documentaries and short films. Soon, he’d be ready to direct his own full-length movie.

He exchanged a few pleasant words with George and went to greet Brad and Angie who were chatting with Clint Eastwood and Helen Mirren. He deliberately did this without Taylor by his side lest his esteemed colleagues in the biz would start thinking he was going serious with her. As it was, he was still very much married. To the public, Taylor and him were just casual friends, for lack of other polite words to euphemize fuck buddies.

Kelsey had been hounding him to finish his association with Taylor ASAP. His manager and publicist was a mean shark who meant business all the time. Kelsey did not mince words, too in their phone conversation last night.

“I know you need sex. I get that, you sex fiend. I know you need to be careful too, so they have to stay with you exclusively for at least six months. But this girl is playing the media coyly, Dare. She’s not abiding by the rules I strictly imposed on her. She’d been casually dropping hints to the press how serious you two are getting. Serious?! You?! Get rid of her soon or I will!”

“Aw, come on, Kels, she’s just a kid who wants to be famous. She’s quite popular now, I think.”

“Thanks to you, you single-handedly made her a hot property by just hooking up with her. She got three movie contracts a week after she became your latest floozy. And now you’re bringing her to the Oscars?! The fucking Oscars?! Are you trying to kill me, Dare? I have a list of superstars for you to escort here! Demi Moore is currently single, Scarlett Johansson is available, Kate Winslet-”

“Kels, relax on the kid. She’s pretty harmless.”

“Harmless?! She’s as harmless as a little mosquito! One bite and you get the Dengue fever!”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a deadly virus from the tropics!”

“I don’t want to blow her off just like that. She’s been nice to me.” And for a month, she made me chill with her creamy vanilla treats and curiously enough, prevented me from getting gangrene in the balls, he wanted to add but he reckoned Kelsey was too mad for his dirty humor.

“Okay, choose. Her nice to you or me nasty like a bitch about to pop out 12 puppies and snipping at your ass every damn minute!”

He couldn’t help but grin at that. He and Kelsey had been together for almost a decade now and she was probably the only woman who truly understood him. “I’m gonna tell her it’s over tomorrow. We’ll attend the Vanity Fair party and I’ll dump her on someone’s dick, I swear. I just need to look for a guy who’d take care of her better than I did.”

“Do that. And don’t say anything stupid to the press while you’re at it, okay? You have such talent for pissing off the entire feminist kingdom and I have reached my quota this month on my cleaning business with your inexhaustible shit, Dare. I need a break.”

“Okay, honey. I’m sorry. You want a trip to the Bahamas? Use my jet.”

“Bye!”

And now, he was at the Oscars with Taylor hoping somebody among the single and not-so-single actors, directors and producers present tonight had already started fantasizing about her jaw-dropping measurements. He’d give her a nine. Will some lecher give her a ten and take her from his hands tonight?

Is there a lecher prowling the Kodak Center worse than you?
bleated his fuckin’ conscience. He sighed. Just one horn dog rich enough to afford Taylor’s little designer dress-collecting hobby and he’d gladly lend them his villa in the Turks and Caicos Islands for a vacation.

He went back to collect Taylor who was already abusing her photo op.

“Oh Dare! This is the greatest night of my life!” Taylor gushed dreamily as she clung to his arm.

“I’m glad, sweetie. The press adores you.”

“Really? You really think so?” She waved her hand in all directions, enjoying her temporary stellar status in his company.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thank you so much, Dare, hunny. Sorry I was in a rush earlier. I was just so excited for this event. I’d make you so happy later, I promise.”

Her bedroom techniques turned to routine after a month of marathon sex. He’d rather sleep. Fuck, he was getting old. Wasn’t his motto,
I’ll sleep when I’m dead?

He felt Taylor stiffen beside him. “Oh my God, she’s here!” she whispered tensely in his ear. “I thought she was in London and couldn’t attend tonight. PopSugar is so wrong!”

“Who?”

“Your ex-wife!” she hissed.

“I have two, so far. Third divorce on-going.”

“Guess. She just got out of her limo.” Taylor was craning her neck to get a good look at the new arrival.

He didn’t need to look. He knew who it was. He glanced at Taylor instead. “Do you mind?” he asked her as if he didn’t care, but he could feel his skin prickle, his muscles clenching with tension.

Shit. Old habits die hard.

Taylor’s eyes were riveted in one direction. “Oh, she’s so beautiful, Dare and she’s forty-three! It’s so unfair! Did she get a boob job?”

He wondered if Taylor was still not happy with her expensive double Ds that contained all her earlier earnings as a bikini model. He would nearly drown in her boobs every time she was on top. Jeeez, women and their boob-size issues. “I wouldn’t know. We broke up almost a decade ago.”

“She’s walking behind us now.” Taylor moved closer to him. Her fingers tightened on his arm.

His first ex-wife did have this intimidating effect on lesser actors. Two Oscar best actress awards and countless similar trophies from other award-giving bodies had given her that revered status reserved only for the likes of Katherine Hepburn, Meryl Streep and Elizabeth Taylor. Tonight, she was nominated again, her 5th at the Oscars. She was a very prolific and critically acclaimed actress.

“Dare…” came the husky voice from behind them.

He slowly turned around to face his ex-wife.

Taylor was right, Alana Christensen would give women twenty years her junior a run for their money in physical beauty. She didn’t look 43 at all, more like a woman in her late twenties, statuesque and very confident in her own skin. She was a walking seductress who had men falling at her feet ready to do her bidding.

He was once a young man who blindly did all her bidding.

Fuck. Helluva time to be dredging up long buried shit.

Alana was looking at him with a hint of sadness in her famous, blue-violet eyes. It was shortly replaced by a radiant smile. “You’re looking gorgeous as always, Dare Montgomery,” she uttered in that legendary husky voice that inspired a new Rolling Stones song.

“Not as gorgeous as you, Alana Christensen.” He smiled at her rakishly for the benefit of the press who were no doubt salivating for a good shot of him and Alana. They were once upon a time the king and queen of the red carpet.

Alana walked closer to him, tall and magnificent as always, her aquamarine gown billowing behind her. Not minding the young woman in his arm, she leaned to whisper in his ear. “Shall we give them something to gossip about for a whole month?”

“You sure your Abercrombie model boyfriend won’t mind?”

“Who?” she deadpanned. She was known to date younger men, some young enough to be her sons.

He grinned. “Never mind.” He leaned and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Great to see you again, Alana. I’ll be rooting for you, of course.”

Alana’s hand crept to the back of his head and went for his lips.

Whoa! WTF is she doing? Maaan…shit…

Totally taken aback, he could only stand there and let her have her way with him.

She paused only to command, “Kiss me back.”

The cams were blinding, the shouts of the fans and the press echoing like a cheering squad in a football stadium.

This is mayhem.

Alana’s lips were on him again.

Okay…

And they went at it, tongues and all.

The press went plain berserk. Stunts like this happened at the Video Music Awards, not the Academy Awards. But two major A-listers doing it, one of them nominated for best actress, he’d guess the Oscar peeps would gladly look the other way. Alana had always been so provocative, always doing something out of the ordinary. She got her highs from being the center of attention.

They were both grinning from ear to ear after the kiss. He should be nominated tonight for best actor, too. French-kissing his ex-wife for the benefit of the press required all his acting abilities. He was grateful he only had to see her during awards season.

“Are you still in character? I have to say, Catleya can kiss as badass as her Kalashnikovs,” he said teasingly, referring to her movie character, Catleya, a hooker turned freedom fighter and then terrorist, in which Alana was nominated for best actress tonight.

She wiped some smeared lipstick from his lips. “You’ve seen it?”

“Clint asked me to see the director’s cut. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re incredible in that movie, Alana,” he said and he meant it. He had always admired her as an actress. The movie’s director, Clint Eastwood was their mutual friend.

Her eyes adopted a strange, glassy sheen and then it turned misty. “Thank you, Dare.” Her voice croaked bit. She was now looking at him with desperation in her eyes and he didn’t know what to say next, so he offered her his free arm. “Walk you inside?”

She swallowed and smiled and then hooked her arm around his free arm.

“Hi!” Taylor said to Alana.

Shit. Taylor! He’d totally forgotten about her!

Alana gave Taylor a frosty glare. Taylor straightened to attention like a chastised kid.

He kissed Taylor’s hair. The poor girl had remained utterly silent beside him the entire time, a beautiful blown-up doll with no voice and no power, made irrelevant by his and Alana’s undying fame. Together and apart, they set red carpets afire. People still cannot get enough of them.

“Shall we, ladies?” he drawled.

He walked with the two beautiful women into the Kodak Center, the screams of the fans and the rapid-fire clicks of the shutters following them furiously. He wondered what his manager will say in the morning after reading the rags. He hoped he won’t wake up to some bad news, like Kelsey screaming at his ass about a headline that said:
He does Dare go north and south, age-wise.

He wanted to shake his head. Alana was indeed a master of dramatic entrances.

Celine stared at the cover of US magazine and wanted to do a war dance.

He was kissing his first wife, the current Oscar best actress Alana Christensen!!!

Her heart sank like the Titanic. But she quickly floated back to the battleground. It was time for a major offensive. She had a very bad feeling about this. They may get back together!

No, no, no, no! She wouldn’t let that happen! Over her dead gorgeous body! She was in LA now, in the same city where Dare lived. It won’t be long before their paths will finally cross again. She was working on it. Working so hard.

She will be the next Mrs. Dare Montgomery. Carve that in stone!

She called her BFF and vented her spleen.

“You don’t say? You actually found a job? A lowly job.” Shavonne was dripping sarcasm, as usual. Her cousin relished taunting her. It must be her favorite hobby. She was in New York working as a stylist for several fashion magazines. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? Celine Lavega, the bratty heiress, is slaving her spoiled rotten ass off for love. Ooohhh, I’m so excited for you! I hope you get a happy ending.”

“Don’t look at me like I’m some lunatic!”

“Yes, you are. The textbook kind.”

She counted to ten. Her BFF can be such a bitch. Like her. Well, birds of the same feather…“I wouldn’t let that bitch Alana steal him away from me!”

“Steal?” Shavonne laughed. “He had never been yours, Celine. Alana was his ex. Did you suddenly get amnesia?”

“Whatever! He will be mine!”

“Really? And how do you propose to do that, pray tell? You’re dusting medieval costumes for a horror movie, for crying out loud. Really glamorous. Daredevil won’t even give you the time of day even if you fainted like a desperate, naked groupie, which you are, at his feet.”

“This horror movie happens to be directed by Tim Burton and starring Johnny Depp! It’s not an ordinary horror movie and I’m proud to be working in this production!”

“Is Johnny cute?”

“Dare is one million times cuter! Tim and Dare are very good friends so Dare might drop by here anytime.”

“Okay, what will you do when he does drop by?”

“I don’t know. Say hi, maybe…”

“Wow, that is a really awesome strategy to hook up with a megastar. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to let you dust his Berlutis.”

“Aw, shut up! You’re not good for my ego at all.”

“When are you going to give up your Darelusions, my dear? God knows I’ve been putting up with it for close to two decades now. Will you snap out of it already? It’s almost the end of the world!” Shavonne whined.

“Just a little bit more time, you’ll see–––”

“God help me, OF! I need to run. I have a photoshoot in a few. Bye!”

“Okay, bye, cuz,” she said glumly.

“Love ya! Mwah! I’ll call you!”

She sighed. Shavonne called her OF again. Obsessed Fan. Ah well, it was true. Shavonne had called her practically all the names in the lexicon of loonies.

She’d called her a scary shit CS (Compulsive Stalker). Well, she was guilty of that, as well, as she had been following Dare’s career and personal life for more almost two decades now.

Shavonne had also called her a DW (Delusional Wannabe) because she fancied herself in love with a Hollywood megastar and was actually dreaming of becoming his wife one day. Shavonne had teased her about this the most. She said many girls outgrow their silly romantic notions about celebs the moment they hit college and have a real BF, but she remained loyal to Dare.