Chapter 30
“What in the name of holy hell are you going to wear?” exploded Aunt Kitty.
Lily shrugged. The premiere was that night and she had not considered red-carpet wear when she packed, nor did she have money to buy something new.
Hanna and Kitty were happy to lend Lily anything she wanted from their supercool wardrobes, but Hanna was much taller and Kitty was two sizes bigger and neither of them had a taste for glamour.
“Seriously, it doesn’t matter,” Lily insisted. “No one will be looking at me anyway.”
Nevertheless, the three of them took some time to put together a simple look of Lily’s plain black dress and one of Kitty’s vintage coats that sat all right even though it was loose.
With good boots, a sparkly evening bag, and nice earrings, they felt they’d hit the mark.
Lily didn’t do much makeup, but she made the effort to blow-dry her hair so it didn’t frizz.
She felt pretty and elegant, yet still like herself.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” said Sigrid when Lily arrived. “It’s getting awkward,” she whispered in her ear as they hugged. She ushered Lily into the living room, where Cecilia was lounging on the sofa in a silk jumpsuit that plunged to her navel.
“Oh, hi! You look so cute,” Cecilia drawled with zero enthusiasm.
Behind Cecilia, hovering in a no-man’s land between the sofa and the window, was a middle-aged man in chinos and an unironed shirt and tie, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets and a look on his face that suggested he would much rather be somewhere else.
“Dad, this is Lily. Lily, this is my dad, Ehsun.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said gruffly, shaking Lily’s hand.
“Boys won’t be long,” reassured Sigrid as she filled a glass of bubbly for Lily and topped up her own and Cecilia’s. “They’re still doing their hair.”
“Can’t rush perfection,” joked Lily.
“Mine took thirty seconds,” Ehsun said without a trace of humor.
“Not everyone can be as efficient as you, Dad.”
“Never took your mother this long.”
Lily and Sigrid shared a glance in which they silently apologized to each other for not knowing what to say. Cecilia, who hadn’t been listening, inadvertently came to the rescue.
“This champagne just isn’t it,” she complained. “I always get jittery before red carpets, I don’t know why. It’s not like it’s my first.” She threw a glance at Lily, then unfolded herself from the couch and wandered toward the kitchen. “Can we do shots?”
Sigrid winced as Ehsun’s disapproval visibly deepened and Cecilia began opening and closing cupboards in search of something stronger.
“My dad doesn’t drink.”
“Oh, me neither,” said Cecilia as she took a last swig of champagne before tipping the rest of it down the sink. “I mean, it’s so bad for you, all that sugar. If it’s not, like, pure vodka, it just makes me feel sick.”
Luckily, Casey strode in at that moment, wearing a fab cream suit and a huge smile.
“Lily! You look so great!” He enveloped her in a bear hug.
“Sigrid, you are an absolute vision. Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Casey as he shook Ehsun’s hand.
Within moments, he had drawn Ehsun into a conversation about his manufacturing business and successfully steered Cecilia away from her hunt for alcohol.
“Thank God,” whispered Sigrid to Lily. “Now, if we can just get out the door without any more drama—”
“Dad!” exclaimed Dorian as he strode in, red-carpet-ready in black, looking so devastatingly handsome that Lily had to momentarily look away and pretend to be interested in the view. “It’s a formal event, Dad. I said formal.”
“I am wearing a tie.”
“You look like you’re going to work.”
“I’ve been at work all day.”
“I tried to tell him,” Sigrid said with a sigh.
“This isn’t a staff meeting, though, is it?” said Dorian in a tone Lily had never heard him use before. Was the great Dorian Khan actually being a little petulant?
“You said to wear a tie,” returned Ehsun. “I am wearing a tie, I look professional.”
“But it’s not your work. It’s mine. My profession.”
“I think you’ll find that acting is more of a trade.”
Sigrid’s eyes went heavenward as Ehsun folded his arms and Dorian looked thunderous.
“Look, we’ve got twenty minutes before the car gets here,” Sigrid began. “Do you have something else he could wear?” she asked her brother.
“I have no desire to wear something else,” announced Ehsun.
“I think you look great,” put in Casey.
“It doesn’t really matter; no one will know who he is,” slurred Cecilia. “No offense.”
This sparked a fresh round of discussion about the appropriateness (or not) of Ehsun’s outfit, whether he could change, whether he should, and whether he wanted to.
Which he most certainly did not. Lily couldn’t help thinking that the whole scenario was one that had played out dozens of times on her front deck, with her own mother.
She understood Sigrid and Dorian’s frustration.
There was nothing worse than trying to get your parent to act according to social nuances that they had already decided to ignore.
But she also shared Ehsun’s reluctance to yield to theatrics.
This was just a performance after all, and like Ehsun, Lily only wanted to participate on her own terms.
Finally, with the help of a stylist who magically appeared from another room, Ehsun allowed his shirt to be steamed on the understanding that it wasn’t really necessary. He followed the stylist into a bedroom.
“Parents,” said Sigrid with a shrug.
“If only we didn’t owe them our lives,” laughed Lily.
“Yes,” Dorian agreed without smiling, and in that admission Lily heard a vulnerability that was almost like an apology. She could see him regretting how he had judged her family, and she herself regretted that she had judged him for doing it.
“So tell me,” she said, turning back to Sigrid, “I’ve never been to one of these things before. What’s going to happen? Do we have to curtsy?”
“Oh my God, are you serious? No!” burst out Cecilia, whose hearing was particularly selective today.
She launched into a description of what it would be like, with plenty of caveats targeted at the unsophistication of the Australian film and media industry.
She rambled on with dos, don’ts, and anecdotes of previous occasions in which other people had made fools of themselves while she had emerged unscathed and largely triumphant.
The rest of the party were relieved that they didn’t have to find other conversation, particularly after Ehsun reappeared in a crisp new suit and nobody commented on it.
Cecilia rambled on right through proceedings as a PR manager sporting spiky, black designer heels and a tense expression took them in the elevator down to the lobby and out to a waiting limousine.
Miraculously, the same PR manager met them ten minutes later in the driveway of a luxury hotel and escorted them to a function room for the private preshow event.
They plunged into an atmosphere thick with power talk, perfume, bare shoulders, impeccable suits, and champagne flutes.
Dorian and Casey were instantly surrounded, the ever-present PR manager at their elbows piloting them around while keeping one eye on her phone.
Cecilia tried to cling to Dorian’s side but was soon edged out.
She took refuge with Sigrid and Lily, to whom she complained about the PR manager’s unprofessionalism and the tackiness of the décor.
Ehsun surprised all three of them by recognizing a well-dressed couple and engaging them instantly in confident, comfortable conversation.
His success inspired Lily. She felt safe in the glow of Sigrid’s friendship and started to enjoy herself.
She watched Dorian shake hands, smile, and chat with an endless stream of eager strangers, with the precise intensity of a surgeon.
She could see that he was not comfortable, but it wasn’t obvious to anyone who didn’t know him.
She had new appreciation for the energy it required for him to be sociable, and the pressure of such intense scrutiny.
As she was watching Dorian, a familiar figure loomed out of the crowd beyond him.
Stacy Black. The PR manager drove off anyone within striking distance.
“Hey ho, ladies, are we ready for this?” Stacy Black inquired of Casey and Dorian as she air-kissed them.
She scanned Dorian up and down with much approval, then Casey with a little less.
Cecilia took advantage of the space around Stacy to breathe her way into the inner circle. Stacy noticed the cool move.
“You’re Casey’s sister, aren’t you?”
Cecilia gave her most languorous smile but Stacy’s gaze had already gone past her to Sigrid.
“Oh, hello there!” And then she spotted Lily.
“And you’re here too.” An expression of mild disappointment crossed her face.
“Well, yes, I suppose you’re Australian, that makes sense.
Okay, so let’s get out there and do this thing.
After I have a drink. Skinny martini,” she demanded of a frightened-looking waiter who subsequently shrank and disappeared.
“God, Australia would be so much better if the service was good.”
“I know, right?” gushed Cecilia. “And it’s so far away.”
“I swear I was on that plane for a week. But then you still run into people you know.” Stacy flicked a glance at Lily.
“Isn’t it weird?” gushed Cecilia. “Everyone I know is on the Gold Coast. Like, half of LA.”
“Well, it’s an American movie,” said Casey.
“But not just people working on the movie! We see people we know everywhere,” Cecilia protested.
“No we don’t,” laughed Casey.
“Yes we do! Dorian! You know. What about that guy at the beach—what was his name?”
“Who?” asked Casey.
Lily knew exactly who and so did Dorian. Stacy’s attention was wandering but Cecilia persisted.
“You know, that guy who used to be Dorian’s friend. Andrew? Alex? Alex.”
“Alex who?” said Stacy, her voice like metal.