Lou
The festival was almost over, and everything was unraveling. There had been another screening of the movie, which meant more people filling my direct messages with questions about what my role had been exactly.
I was running out of lies, out of time, out of dignity.
At night I lay awake, wondering why Odetta Olson had done this to me. She had chosen me for the role. She had given me hope. And then she’d ripped it all away from me without warning.
It became an obsession: she owed me an explanation, face-to-face.
That’s the only reason I agreed to go to one last party.
Marnie swore it was a huge deal. Very exclusive, with only the crème de la crème. And it was starting in two hours.
“What kind of crème?” I’d asked, dubious.
“I have the guest list in front of me,” Marnie said. “Dorian Fisher will be there. Odetta Olson. All the big names.”
The thought settled in my head. I would talk to Odetta Olson, and I would feel better. I wasn’t sure how or why, but I needed to do this.
So I dragged myself to see Constance.
I tried on a dozen gowns, pretending everything was fine.
I chose the most extravagant one of all, a bubblegum-pink shimmery confection, complete with a matching cape.
I looked like Batman’s bride, if Batman’s bride was Stereotypical Barbie.
This wasn’t about looking good or having fun.
It was about getting noticed. Getting revenge, maybe.
Who has fun on their own deathbed anyway?
Odetta Olson couldn’t ignore me in this dress.
I’d make her talk to me before I accepted that it was all over.
Later, I met Marnie in the marina, and we waited to have our IDs checked.
The yacht was anchored a few hundred feet into the sea.
We would be boarding a small boat that would take us there.
I may have attended a lot of parties in the last few days, but this was different.
The security was tight, the vibes subdued.
I didn’t recognize the guests ahead of us—the real celebrities would likely arrive later—but I could sense how important they were in the way they held themselves, in their whispered conversations.
We were in presence of real wealth, unlimited power.
Of all the places I hadn’t belonged to in Cannes, this was at the top of the list.
“Should we wait for Constance?” I asked, as we neared the front of the short line.
We’d gotten here early, almost unfashionably so. Marnie had insisted on it. Now I almost wanted to turn around. And if I’d known what would happen that night, I would have run away as fast as I could.
“She just texted me. She’s not coming. Said she wasn’t feeling well.”
“I was just with her. She was fine.”
But then again, I was fine, too, technically.
“I didn’t believe it either, but it’s her choice.”
Constance had dropped off a simple black dress at Marnie’s room. At least she could go unnoticed. She kept scanning the pier, looking tense, as if she was waiting for someone. Someone she maybe didn’t want to see.
We got onto the boat with only three other people. The salty breeze felt nice on my skin, and my hair still looked mostly okay once we arrived at the gigantic yacht. It was the size of an apartment building and had its own heliport.
On board, a uniformed woman handed us wet towels with a pair of metal tongues, so we wouldn’t spread our germs all over the leather upholstery.
The staff all wore earpieces and whispered seriously into walkie-talkies, sometimes even covering their mouths so no one could hear what they were saying.
There were three, maybe even four levels, though the party was concentrated in the main and upper decks.
A server was waiting to hand us coupes in the finest crystal I’d seen all festival. The champagne itself was the most delicate I’d had, and there was so much of it.
Not that I’m trying to blame what happened later on the alcohol. By the end of the party, everyone was drunk, but not everyone was a murderer.
Constance would be missing all of this, which was too bad for her but lucky for me. Lucky because, right before leaving my hotel room, I’d slid the diamond necklace into my clutch. I couldn’t leave it in a toiletry bag on such a special evening.
Now that Constance was a no-show, I could wear it, too.
Marnie gushed as soon as I pulled it out. “Oh wow! Where did Constance get this?”
It was a very good question indeed, but I wasn’t about to admit that this piece wasn’t part of Constance’s plan for my outfit tonight.
I stopped myself from wondering whether she’d noticed it was missing yet, if she’d been panicking, turning her room upside down, swearing out loud about where the fuck it might be.
I’d had the necklace for days now, and she hadn’t mentioned it at all.
Marnie leaned closer. “That is a lot of diamonds.”
“They can’t be real,” I said.
She studied the clasp. “It’s by Clapard. Of course they’re real. Damn!”
“Oh,” I said, unsure if that made the whole stealing thing better or worse.
Marnie grimaced but not at me. She was staring into the distance.
“I have to go,” she said.
She glanced in that direction once more, then rushed the opposite way, a look of panic on her face. The only person I recognized was Odetta Olson, who’d just stepped onto the yacht. I wasn’t ready for her yet.
Instead, I tried to clasp the necklace around my neck, but the mechanism was complex and I couldn’t get it to latch. After a few attempts, my fingers were cramping and I was quietly grunting to myself.
“Need help?” A man said from behind me.
The voice should have sounded familiar, but the music and the breeze muffled everything.
“Yes, please,” I called out behind me.
The man struggled with the clasp for a while, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck.
“There,” he said in evident relief when it was securely attached.
“Thank you so much!”
I turned around to face him.
His face fell.
Mine too.
It was Marshall Wild, the producer I’d (allegedly, but also for real) yelled at that first night.
His displeasure at seeing me crunched up his face. He glanced sideways, already looking for an exit strategy.
“Wait!” I said. “I’m glad to see you. I understand if you’re not glad to see me, but I have to say I’m sorry. What happened that first night was one big misunderstanding. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
His features softened a little. “Okay.”
“Let me explain. I had a small part in the movie, and I didn’t know I’d been cut.”
“Oh.”
“I thought this was going to be my big breakthrough, and now…”
“It’s a tough business,” he said, pensive. “Made tougher when you work with such creative geniuses. They have strong opinions about everything.”
“Yes, well. I’ve heard a lot about Odetta Olson’s ways.”
He looked around, making sure no one was eavesdropping.
“She can be challenging to work with,” Marshall agreed. “Though we can’t blame her for this.”
“Can’t we?” I said with a dry laugh.
He winced. “I’m sorry. I know how hard it can be for young talent who need that visibility.”
He sounded so sincere, I almost wanted to cry. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
“Good luck out there, okay?”
My heart rate sped up. I knew an opening when I saw one.
“Listen, I know I didn’t exactly make the best first impression but, is there any way you would consider… SHIT!”
Past Marshall, all the way at the back of the yacht, a fresh crop of guests had boarded. One of them was Constance. Constance, who wasn’t supposed to be here. Constance, who couldn’t see… I covered the necklace with my hand, the diamonds pressing into my palms.
She was coming this way. Shit, shit, shit.
I reached at the back of my neck, trying to undo the clasp, but of course it was just as hard to take off as it had been to put on. Marshall was eyeing me strangely.
“Can you please?” I asked, pointing at the back of my neck.
He didn’t move. I tugged at the necklace, harder and harder as his eyes grew wide.
“Get this off me!” I screamed.
Constance hadn’t seen me yet, but it wouldn’t be long until she did.
“But I just—” Marshall said.
“Now! Just freaking do it! I’m not supposed to wear this.”
Marshall exhaled sharply and spun me around. The necklace loosened around my neck just as Constance spotted me.
I turned to face Marshall, but his whole face had clammed up.
“I can explain,” I said.
“Please don’t. I beg of you.”
“No, wait! It’s just that—”
He shook his head and disappeared through the crowd.
Constance was less than ten steps away from me now. I slid my clutch down my arm and tried to slip the necklace back in, but my aim was off and it fell on the wooden floor.
Crap. I had to get rid of it. I couldn’t be a failure, a psycho, and a thief.
That was too much for one person. I quickly knelt down, grabbed it, then stepped toward the railing and leaned over, my knuckles white around the diamonds, holding on to the edge tightly with my other hand.
No one would find the necklace at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea. It would be like I had never stolen it.
“What are you doing?”
Constance was by my side and she was looking at my hands. It was too late.
“What is this?” she asked.
I was done for. Slowly, silently, I unclenched my fingers. The necklace sparkled so brightly in my hand.
Constance stared at it, perplexed. “Are you trying to recreate that scene in Titanic?” She studied the necklace with awe. “Who gave this to you?”
“I don’t understand,” I said carefully.
“Do you need help putting it on? It would go amazingly well with your outfit. Great call.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s stunning.”
We looked at each other for a moment, ignoring the throng of people coming and going around us. The party was in full swing.
“But you have seen this before,” I said. “I mean, you must have.”
“Is it a prop from the movie? I’m sorry, Lou, I haven’t had a chance to see it yet. But I will.”
What the hell was going on?
“You really don’t need to do that,” was all I could say.
Constance went around my back and slipped the exquisite piece of jewelry around my neck, fastening it in place with expert hands.
“You should take a picture,” she said, facing me again. “With the light in the background, it’s beautiful.”
The sun had fully set now, the sky a deep shade of blue with streaks of orange. I handed her my phone and she snapped a few pictures of me alone and then of the two of us. I thought maybe she was messing with me, but even though there was sadness in her eyes, her smile never faltered.
Since Constance was giving me her blessing, the next thing I would have done was to post that picture.
To brag about my gorgeous outfit and this insanely beautiful necklace.
Though it didn’t pop that much in the pictures because of the cape and the shimmery fabric.
I should take a close-up of it to really show it off.
But I stopped in my tracks. Constance and I saw him at the same time, standing tall in the background. His hair was windswept. I guess you could say that Dorian Fisher was the reason I wouldn’t go to jail, not for theft anyway.
Dorian Fisher saved me.
Unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t be able to say the same thing about me.