Epilogue
Dylan
8 Months Later
Flashing lights, a sea of people screaming uncontrollably at the sight of me, swirls of glamorous colors and sparkles, a wall of psychedelic, overwhelming sight and sound. It used to make me feel ten feet tall, like I was more than a man – an icon and a giant.
Not anymore. Only Gemma makes me feel like that now.
I straighten my clothes, checking once again for any scuffs or wrinkles caused by the fact that we haven’t been able to take our hands off each other for the whole limo ride, and offer her my hand to help her exit the car. When she steps out, wearing her knee-length silk dress – the one that made me fall in love with her all over again, and is now making the crowd do the same – the flashing lights go into overdrive, flickering and blinding us until we feel like we’re living frame-by-frame in the unreality of the scene.
Despite the noise, the lights, and the hectic surroundings, we look at each other, losing all sense of time and place, the connection of our souls steadying us against the nerve-wracking and chaotic backdrop of the red carpet on the premiere of our movie – and I always call it ‘our’ movie now. They might put my name first on the credits, but behind Dylan Marlowe is a very strong, very beautiful, and very capable woman now.
“You ok?” I say, as we turn to the cameras and pose for pictures.
“Sure. Just take your hand off my ass. This is the last situation I want to get horny in.”
I laugh and smile at the cameras. She leans in for a second, still showing her pearly-white teeth and those gorgeous lips.
“Plenty of time for that later,” she whispers huskily.
I stick my hand in my pocket and readjust my pants – I’ve always liked doing it in places I shouldn’t.
We move toward the crowd, microphones emerging from it like a tentacled monster. I see a familiar a face, a sassy glamour critic who has a dirty mouth and a dirtier sense of humor, and move toward her.
“How are you?” I say, giving her the full Hollywood smile and pretend-casual tone.
“Dylan Marlowe! I would ask what you’re wearing, but frankly you could be wearing a Speedo right now and I wouldn’t notice. This woman next to you is gorgeous!”
“This is Gemma, my partner.”
“You two look fabulous together! How does it feel to be back on the red carpet? For a minute, we thought you were gonna slip off the radar there – I’ll be honest!”
She says this last bit with her head facing the camera behind her.
“I still might!” I smile.
“Do we get to see you with your shirt off in the movie?”
“Would you still watch it if I said no?”
“Probably not, I’ll be honest!”
“Tell you what. You watch it, and I’ll give you a private show after. How about that?”
She turns and screams at the camera, and we move on.
“Wow. Are they always like that?” Gemma leans in and mutters to me as I go down the line, sign a few autographs, and pretend not to hear any more questions.
“Pretty much. To the media I’m just another piece of meat to be eaten alive,” I sigh melodramatically. Gemma giggles. “But you get used to it, and you just shrug it off.”
I look at her again, her blue eyes holding me and pulling me into some wonderful place, away from all the madness, where it’s just me and her.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand and leading her up the steps of the theater.
We wave to the crowd and walk through the doors, making small talk with all the familiar faces in new suits and dresses, as we find our seats at the front and settle in.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her, as we gaze at each other in the dimness of the theatre.
“I’m fine,” Gemma nods, smiling. “Why do you keep asking?”
I lean in closer to her. “Last time we went to a movie – that Lars Von Trier one – you seemed pretty put off by the whole ‘A-list’ scene.”
She grimaces. “Was it that obvious?”
“Kinda. To me, anyway. I just want to be sure you’re
alright with all this…craziness.”
I take her hand
and hold it tight. “Like it or not, this fame shit is probably
not gonna go away anytime soon. And I know this isn’t your
world but I want you to feel okay while you’re in it, and
I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. Because you
belong here, with me. I don’t want to do it without you.”
Gemma pauses, considering. “It wasn’t just the scene,” she says, “I was…you were…” She bites her lip.
“Oh, I see,” I say, breaking out into a grin. “You were already getting sweet on me, weren’t you? Made you a bit nervous, did it?”
“It’s so crazy,” she laughs. “If you’d have told me back then that we’d end up together, end up happy, end up with things going so damned well, I’d have thought you were crazy.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in happy endings, now? You, Miss Pragmatic?”
“No,” she says, her smile mischievous and genuine, “I don’t believe in happy endings. But I believe in happy lives.”
I lose myself for a few moments once again in how amazing she is. How perfect she is. How lucky I was just to meet her, and how proud I am to call her mine. It’s a thought I think every time I look at her, and it makes me want to be better. It makes me want to do everything I can to make her happy.
We lean toward each other and kiss slowly, the lights in the theater going completely black just as our lips meet. I’d have said it was a coincidence not long ago, but now I believe in things like fate, in things happening for a reason. Now my reason is Gemma.
I sneak glances throughout the movie at her, preferring to watch how beautiful her face is lit up by the giant screen, rather than seeing myself acting. I stroke her hand tenderly, softly, the fact that we’re in public – and not in the back row – driving me crazy.
Once the movie’s done I leave her for a while to sit on a Q & A panel with Christopher and some of the other actors. There’s a good vibe amongst the reporters and writers who gather in front of us. The questions come thick and fast – and mostly for me.
“Hey Dylan, Tom Baser – LA Times. The movie was great – really great job. I think it’s fair to say your career was stagnating before this picture, and I really just wanted to ask what made you want to do a movie like this again.”
“Two things,” I say, leaning into the mic. “One was Christopher, who came to me with the script, showing a lot of faith in me, and realizing what I had to give. And the other was Gemma, my girlfriend, who believed in me, put up with a lot of shit, picked me up when I was down, kicked me up the arse when my head was in the clouds, and really dragged me through this production by being the most amazing person on the planet.”
There are murmurs throughout the room as the reporters take notes, and I can tell they’re thrown and maybe even a little impressed by my heartfelt answer, by the new leaf I’ve turned. A year ago I’d have told them all to fuck off, or shown up to a panel like this drunk out of my mind. I’ve come a long way, and I’m proud to be here.
“Hey, Sarah James, USA Today. I have a question for Dylan – hi. The movie’s fantastic, and there’s a huge amount of buzz that’s saying you’re a runaway favorite to win another Oscar for it. How important to you is it to get that kind of recognition?”
“Absolutely fucking irrelevant,” I say with a smile that makes everyone laugh. “I won an Oscar before – and you saw how that turned out!” Another laugh. “I guess, if I win an Oscar for this movie though, it’ll mean something different. It won’t be about me, it’ll be a testament to the people around me, and the wonderful way they supported me.”
I see Gemma in the crowd, standing toward the back of the room, behind the cameras, the boom mics, and the crowd of faces. She winks, and I chuckle a little.
“Sam Gallagher, Wall Street Journal. Dylan, now that you’ve essentially made a ‘comeback’ – and a pretty big one at that – what’s next? What kind of movies are you going to make in the future, what’s next for Dylan Marlowe the actor and the man?”
I laugh a little as he finishes the question.
“Dylan Marlowe the actor – has already found a very promising script written by a talented young woman that he’d like to work with. As for Dylan Marlowe the man,” I say, looking again at Gemma tucked into the corner of the room, “he’s taking it one day at a time. Tomorrow, he’ll be going to a Caribbean island for a much-needed vacation with the woman he loves. After that…” I see Gemma radiate a smile in my direction, a smile I want to see every day for the rest of my life. “Who knows?”
The End
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