Chapter 46 Sydney - Oscar Night
Chapter 46
Sydney - Oscar Night
W ithout Austin, Samson and I went about our usual business of working, running errands, taking walks, and playing frisbee on the beach. I couldn’t help but think about the Rolling Stone feature article that would hit the newsstands soon. Most songwriters don’t get the notoriety that’s afforded to the artist that sings the song. That suited me fine. Being in the spotlight didn’t interest me.
Venus, Tori, and Daisy checked in on me daily. Abby called me frequently. Marcus insisted on picking me up for work. He wasn’t an animal lover like me, and he purchased a protective cover for the backseat of his car for Samson. He never complained because he knew Samson and I go together. I told him that he should feel fortunate that I didn’t have a shed machine like a golden retriever.
Our relationship had become serious, and Marcus wanted me to sleep at his house more often. But I wouldn’t leave Samson alone overnight without Austin there. We reached a compromise, with me staying over two nights a week. This meant Samson had to sleep on a dog bed in the kitchen. That didn’t go over well with my furry friend, who had slept under my covers since his puppy days. I tried to assure him that this was only until Austin came home, but he huffed and turned his back to me every time, resigned to his fate.
My excitement for the Oscars grew as it came closer. Marcus happily agreed to be my handsome escort. As a nominee, I knew they would take pictures of me on the red carpet. The only real problem was that I had to do this without Austin. Venus tried to convince him to leave rehab early for the ceremonies, but her efforts were unsuccessful. Austin wanted to finish his commitment to getting sober. I understood, but it was still disappointing.
On the big day, I spent the whole morning getting pampered. Venus wanted me to go back to Versace for my Oscar dress. I wanted to promote a lesser-known designer who would benefit by getting their name mentioned on the red carpet. I would have done that if Venus hadn’t shown me a sketch from Valentino. The design made me fall in love: sweetheart neckline on a shimmering bodice of painted pink roses and corset back with satin ribbons. The black iridescent skirt skimmed over my hips and flared out at the bottom. I couldn’t wait for Marcus to see me in it.
My phone rang while I sat for my makeup. I excused myself and went out onto the patio for privacy.
“Austin! How did you manage to call me in the middle of the day?”
“I made a stink with my counselor about missing the Oscars and she took pity on me.”
“I can’t wait for you to come home.” I attempted to sound upbeat. Recently I’d read startling statistics about the percentage of people who relapse after rehab—multiple times, even—before finally staying sober. Austin had already served two rounds in less than a year.
“I’m bummed that I’m not going to be there with you tonight. When we win, speak from your heart. Don’t worry about thanking all those suits. They get paid enough without you giving them more validation.”
“You know how I love the spotlight, right? My hope is to get through the evening without hurling or tripping on my dress. I don’t want to walk up to that podium by myself.”
“I know. But think back to Showcase. You didn’t survive , you killed it out there once you relaxed. Have a glass of champagne before they call your category. ”
“No alcohol jokes, please. And I did survive —because you were there with me. Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Pretend you’re talking to me. I’ll be watching, I promise.”
His caseworker hustled him off the phone before I could ask him whom I should thank. Venus kept telling me our song was a lock to win, but writing a speech felt like jinxing our chances. I touched the hem of my dress before taking it down from its hanging spot in the living room. The best part of my dress was that with the corset I didn’t have to wear a bra. Once they laced me into the dress, I could barely breathe.
Marcus arrived while I finished dressing upstairs. I gathered the hem of my skirt in one hand and navigated the stairs to the living room. He stood there in his Calvin Klein tuxedo, jaw dropping open when he saw me.
“You’re stunning!” he gushed. “I will have the hottest date at the Oscars.”
I blushed. “Thank you, babe. That tuxedo makes you look like a Bond stand-in. I love a man who knows how to order a drink.”
He kissed me gently on the cheek. “I don’t want to mess up your lipstick. I’ll save that for the ride home.” He winked.
“I could probably handle that. Are we ready to go?”
He spun around, looking for something. “Where’s Samson?”
“I sent him to a doggie spa for a couple of days. He’s probably forgotten all about me by now. Sydney Who?”
Marcus got a twinkle in his eye. “We can come back after the party?”
I caught his vibe. “I hadn’t thought about that. I would like that.”
He held out his elbow. “Then lead the way.”
I had two glasses of champagne in me when the Best Original Song award came up. Sarah Bareilles came out to announce the nominees and present the award. I held my breath as she listed the six songs. I closed my eyes, and I could hear the crowd go silent in anticipation.
“And the Oscar goes to… Sydney Campbell and Austin Mitchell for ‘Our Dance’!”
It took a moment for me to process the words. People hugged me and clapped as I made my way to the podium. I almost forgot to pick up my skirt. Sarah stepped to the side and handed me the little gold man. The spotlight glare hid the audience from my sight as I stood in front of the microphone. I held the statue in both hands (it is heavy) and began:
“In my wildest dreams, I never would’ve imagined that an assignment in my Music Theory class would lead me here. I must thank my teacher, Professor Nelson. Teachers rarely get the credit they deserve for the people they mold and mentor. Thank you, Professor Nelson.
“And, of course, I need to thank my partner, Austin Mitchell. I usually let him do the talking, but he couldn’t be here tonight. He’s the one who saw something special in a poem I wrote and transformed it into the song you have embraced. Thank you for making two crazy kids from Kansas City’s dreams come true.” I searched up into the balcony, and hopefully, directly into a camera as I shouted, “Hey, Cowboy! We did it!”
I changed skirts in the limo on the way to the after-party. Underneath my long black skirt hid a fun and flirty hot pink tulle number that stopped at my knees, hemmed in matching pink silky ribbons. When we arrived, I dropped my pink, crystal-beaded clutch on a table, and we hit the dance floor. All the stress of the day melted away.
About an hour into the party, the music faded, and Celine Dion came to the microphone. “Hello, everyone! Are we all having a fun time tonight?” She waited for the applause to die down. “I know I didn’t get picked to sing for the soundtrack, but I want to congratulate Austin and Sydney this evening by honoring them with their song.”
What?! I was living a dream tonight.
She waited for the applause again. “I need help with this duet. Where’s Chris Stapleton?” She held her hand over her eyes, scouring the crowd. He waved. “Come up here and help me with this one.”
The intro began, and couples paired off to dance. Marcus took my hand and twirled me around before melding our bodies together in an embrace. I put my head on his chest and closed my eyes as Celine started singing. I knew I would remember this evening forever.