Chasing Hannah Stein

1. Normalcy

David Moore

I did a lot of modeling for a while; different magazines and children’s clothing lines, even fashion shows. My mother was always there, carrying her bag of magic, as she called it. In that floral bag were the tricks of the trade; a brush, can of aerosol hair spray and even a bit of make-up, I’m embarrassed to say. However, my mother always brought me up to believe that I deserved the work and that one day, I would shine on the silver screen. For years, she took me to the old movie theater in our small Texas town. I remember being fascinated by the way the people on the movie screen carried themselves. I found myself repeating lines, movements and also mimicking their facial expressions. All the great men of motion picture royalty stood before me, silently promising a future next to them.

It was hard not to partake in that craving for a movie career. Especially when my parents made the decision to move us to Los Angeles to try and finagle a way into the studios; find me a chance to shine.

At the age of eight, I landed my first role in a kid flick, The Abominable Snowman, which went straight to video. However, another talent scout noticed me and decided to contact my new agent to ask me to read for a part in a movie that was going to star my favorite actor, Jason Moran. He was the man I always dreamed of becoming and I was going to read for the role of his son.

I remember thinking, right before I went in to the audition, that there was nothing in the world that compared to that feeling. That overwhelming sense of purpose that seemed to envelope me. I walked my scrawny little self into that audition, my shoulders squared and my determined little chin out in the air, daring them to bring it on. Quickly, however, I lost that sense of purpose when I realized that the man I had idolized for years was standing there, waiting to read with me. My knees buckled and I broke out in a cold sweat. Suddenly, the room began to spin and I felt I would faint. But, as she always had, my mother whispered words of encouragement in my ear, telling me that I deserved this; that it was my time.

“Ready?” the man behind the white table asked. I nodded woodenly, forgetting why it was I was standing next to Jason Moran.

“Hey, I’m Jason,” he said, shaking my trembling hand. “I’m just as human as the rest of the world, son. Take your time and do your best; that’s the most you can expect from yourself.” He smiled and in that exact moment, my outward fear was replaced by the same determination I had branded myself with before walking into that room.

Again, I squared my shoulders, lifted my head and found my voice. Remembering the lines was hard, but I managed to add a couple of things they hadn’t thought of before. After I was done, Jason looked at the director and nodded.

“Well David,” he began, “thank you for coming in; we’ll get back to you.”

I was sure I hadn’t gotten the part and when we left the audition, my mother stopped in front of the studio gates and wrapped her arms around me.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll get it.”

“I don’t think I will,” I said, disappointed. In a small way, I felt like I had failed her.

“You did wonderfully,” she replied. “They would be stupid not to chose you.” I smiled at her, trying to put forth as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Though the feeling of defeat was largely evident on my face.

A week later, we received a cheery call from my agent, Frank Donavan, that I had indeed gotten the part. Two months later I began shooting the first scene in the drama This Man’s Life. During shooting, I became very close to my co-star and we developed a bond that has lasted to this day. He is my mentor, my father of movies and I find myself lucky to have his support. After the movie wrapped he took me out to a restaurant, with my mother’s permission, and explained that I was going to be needing to figure out what I wanted out of life.

“David,” he began, lighting a cigarette and taking in a lungful of smoke, “you are going to have to try and figure out if you really want this. Starring in movies is great, marvelous even; but, you need to be absolutely sure this is what you want.”

“I do. I really do.”

“Well, then I guess you need a teacher. Someone who will guide you through the rough spots.” He sighed. “Sometimes, you will find you will lose a part of yourself in every role you play. But you mustn’t, David my boy, you mustn’t lose a single part of yourself.”

That was the first conversation on fame he had given me. Although at the time, I didn’t realize what he was trying to convey. Eight, is a little young for complete comprehension of fame. Because I had the security of my parent’s guidance, I had a sense of normalcy. It wasn’t until later, when I realized that things were different on the outside looking in, that I found the truth behind Jason Moran’s words.

A year after the release of This Man’s Life, my agent called once more, with another bombshell. I had been nominated for best supporting actor by the Academy Awards Commission. My parents, Evan and Rachel, used my paycheck to buy me a small, black tuxedo and accompanied me to the Oscars. We rode in the same limo as Jason Moran and his wife, Lillian. She was dressed in very expensive jewels and her dress was cut very low in the front. In her hand, was a small glass of brandy, the rim stained red with her lipstick. I remember hearing the ice clink against the glass with her hand trembling. I was nine by then and being so, had it’s advantages. I wasn’t nervous and I didn’t feel inept because I was in the company of a great man.

When the limo stopped on the red carpet and the door opened, I got my first taste of life on the red carpet. Cameras were flashing blue and white lights and my eyes had begun to develop small spots that seemed to float over the faces of the people who were speaking to me. How do you feel? What are you thinking? This is a big night for you, you must be excited…

So many questions, flying at me from all different directions. I felt bombarded and slowly the sweat began to dew on my forehead. Suddenly, Jason was at my ear, whispering words of encouragement. Those words helped me get through the worst of it. Especially when I realized there were girls surrounding the metal gates around the red carpet. The realization of my fame began that day, when I waved at the crowd and drew a large round of applause from the waiting fans. The movie was number one in the box office and because I was so young, I had no idea what kind of attention that entailed. All I knew, was that I did my job and that I loved doing what I did. However imperfect or dull it may have seemed at times, especially the repetition of scenes, I loved where I was.

Jason and my mother decided to help write my speech. It wasn’t that long, but it was there, just incase I received the award. We sat in the same row of chairs, watching as the rest of Hollywood’s royalty began filing into the packed Kodak Theater. I was in awe of the lights and decorations surrounding us. Turning to Jason, I smiled and took in a ragged breath of excitement. His returning smile was humbling, at the very least. He seemed too at ease in this place that I started to feel a little out of sorts. I wanted that calm; that sureness instead of the vulnerability of excitement. In hindsight, my excitement would only be short lived. That is the reality of fame.

When the names were called, I felt my heart begin to beat faster, my breath slowed to a quiet hum in my ears and finally they called my name. When Gwen Talbert, the actress chosen to present the award, opened the envelope and read the card, my heart felt still.

“And the award for best supporting actor goes to…David Moore.”

It felt like a dream, my father pulling me up by the arm and Jason pushing my back to accept my award. I trotted up the stage, took the golden man in my trembling hand and recited the lines from the index card that was hidden in the pocket of my tuxedo jacket. I joined the elite that day; the society of past Oscar winners and Hollywood royalty. I was noticed and wanted by various directors and movie studios alike. Suddenly, I had contracts and multiple offers for movie roles. Life couldn’t possibly get any better.

For fourteen years I have lived out my dreams. After my first Oscar win, I starred in various movies; mostly dramas and comedies. And so it went like that until I began to grow into a man and the roles that I was presented with began to shift into more adult parts. The Long Walk Home, was my first real drama. In my mind, I felt myself change, and slowly, I left a piece of the old David behind. I won best actor that year for my role in that particular movie. It was about a drug addict who was desperate for salvation. Although I never tried drugs, I followed a couple of friends around, trying to figure out the lure the whole experience held. I watched them snort cocaine, smoke pot and drink themselves into oblivion.

There had never been a moment that I wanted a part of that world. The only problem was, my friends were other actors that seemed hell bent on destroying their careers before they were twenty-five. I never judged what they did, even though I didn’t approve. But their addictions helped me to shape the character of Patrick, the deeply disturbed poet that seemed to find little to no way out of his situation. I delivered the performance of my life playing that part. Still, there was a small part of me that felt empty, unfulfilled.

While I was able to maintain my stardom, I came across another unforeseen obstacle. I had never really met anyone of interest. Sure I dated, a lot, but there was never one girl who wasn’t interested in my fame rather than who I was. Attending a regular high school was difficult, because I found myself in the appalling situation of greedy fans. That was an unfortunate part of my job, but I took it with as little frustration as I possibly could.

Finding a pair of panties in my locker, however, was definetly not the highlight of my high school career. There was another disconcerting moment in the locker room of the gym, when I was completely undressed and some unknown girl decided to sneak in…with a camera. Since I couldn’t see who it was behind the flash that left blurry spots in my vision there was no way to seize the picture. Eventually, it ended up on the internet. My mother was so angry, she had literally stomped to the principal’s office with a lawyer and a cop in tow. Suffice it to say, the high school would not have the added pressure of my attendance after that.

I just turned twenty-three and the tabloids have begun spreading rumors about alleged affairs with co-stars and secret rendezvous with older women. This, was partially my fault, because I had decided to take on a role that required full nudity. My mother didn’t make that premiere. She said that she had seen enough of the gifts that God gave me when I was a baby; that my adult gifts were better left unseen. The truth was, it wasn’t my gift present on screen. It was that of a stunt double and the brilliancy of movie magic. Nevertheless, it was enough to spark a frenzy of comments about the size of my gift on the world wide web. Getting a date now, could prove to be a bit challenging.

Grace Gonzalez-Hennessy

That’s not to say that they are not talented. In her own right, my mother is the best at what she does. Then again, when you auction off an ashtray for over a thousand dollars, it tends to lean on the side of the ridiculous. When I was twenty, I moved out on my own; began college at U.C.L.A. majoring in business management and minoring in computers. While I am working on attaining my degree, I have taken a job at a local flower shop in the heart of L.A. It is a glamorous place, full of my favorite plants and flowers. I am used to working with my hands; my parents taught me that.

When I was a kid, my mother and father put a paintbrush in my hand and laid a canvas out in front of me, demanding that I use my talents on the better part of their promise. I was to be a protégé; the child of two great artists on the rise to fame. What they didn’t understand, was that because I was their child, stubbornness ran potent in my veins. My refusal of their ability proved to be the biggest argument among my family. Though I did show promise, I felt my talents were better suited for other ventures. There was one special talent I did have, one my parents could never comprehend…roses. Since I was twelve, I have maintained a garden of roses in the backyard of my parent’s house. The yard was littered with metal and buckets of paint from various art projects they either finished or were working on. However, I was given a small area in the large space for my garden. I grew my precious roses, their aroma perfuming the air with sweetness and offering refreshment to various insects that happened by. The house was always full of their fragrance, as I cut them and placed them in homemade vases.

This particular talent did not bode well with the students in my high school. I had friends, but they were just as strange as I was to the rest of them. Each of us had our own way of handling the pressures of life. Toby, my best friend and fellow flower lover, had his own garden, just outside his parent’s house. On crisp afternoons, we would meet up and drive out to a local nursery, buying rose bushes and various other flowers that struck his fancy. He is the only person that understands me; finds my awkward hobby endearing and shares in my reverence of the flower.

I love the smell of roses and the feel of their soft petals on my skin. Taking this job, wasn’t a big surprise to Toby. We share a two bedroom apartment in a small building here in Los Angeles. The roof has a patio, where we have managed to find an area to plant our flowers and keep them healthy. We were lucky that the manager was appreciative of our hobby and that he and his wife enjoyed going up to the roof to relish in the garden and beauty of the L.A. setting sun.

There is not much about me that is ordinary…then again, there is not much about me that is extraordinary either. I don’t fuss about things like my wardrobe or make-up or hair. I leave that up to Bea, my best girlfriend who unlike me, shops the finest stores. I don’t understand her obsession with clothes. After all, they only cover our backs. What I really don’t get, is how she is able to afford all those expensive outfits on a sales clerk salary. She lives in the one bedroom apartment right below us and that is even decked out in the latest designer fashions. Her parents are-by all accounts-wealthy, but have refused to pay anymore of her credit card bills on account she ran them up to their limits. All twenty of them.

My normalcy has one consequence; one that I am reluctant to admit has become a problem. I have absolutely no love life. Toby, whose love life consists of a parade of men he drags into our apartment at all hours of the night, is a constant reminder of just how lonely I really am. I guess my prayers for Prince Charming have fallen on deaf ears. Toby had a different Prince Charming every night and I can’t find one to kill the pain of loneliness. Sure, I’ve dated…and even mated. Although most of my sexual encounters were a total bust. There was always something missing…something that seemed to be lacking in my partners.

Aren’t there supposed to be fireworks? Explosions, the earth is moving? At least that’s what I’ve always expected. But, most of them have been in such a hurry to get themselves off, they forget I’m even in the room. It is sad, but a reality that most of us single girls face. Where is the romance? The passion that comes with making love? I have yet to find that person that makes me feel complete or beautiful.

My birthday always brings with it the promise of clear and peaceful skies. I don’t remember one birthday where I haven’t felt the sun on my face, or the smell of sea salt in the air around me. Today, the skies were generous, offering the sun and a light, but cool breeze. We are heading into Indian summer, which is usually how I celebrate the day of my birth. Of course I am not left wanting for anything when it comes to my birthday.

“So,” Toby began while I was arranging a bouquet of two dozen freshly cut red roses into a crystal vase. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“No,” I grumbled. “Not since you won’t tell me where we are going.”

“Out, that’s all you need to know.” His chuckle sounded almost villainous. “Oh and were something slutty.”

“For what?” I demanded. Although this was not an unusual request coming from my best friend.

“Because,” he explained, “it’s been way too long. I’m surprised your vagina still works. You might have to spray WD-40 on that; make sure it hasn’t rusted over.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, placing baby’s breath into the arrangement.

“I’m just saying…”

“Well, it’s not my fault I’m not getting any.”

“Isn’t it? I mean, it’s not like you’re trying or anything. When was the last time you went out on an actual date?” He waited for my reply while I mentally tabulated the last date I did have. My throat went dry.

“Eleven months,” I said in a small voice.

“Exactly my point. Show some skin, it won’t hurt to just try and get laid,” he scoffed as if I should already know this.

“Okay, enough about my sex life, manwhore.”

“Jealous?”

“Extremely so,” I admitted. The parade of men usually included the most handsome men I had ever seen. He was so lucky.

“It takes a lot to look as good as I do,” he said, smugly. “I actually try; where as you don’t seem to give a damn. Is it my fault men find me attractive?”

“It’s my birthday,” I hissed, “let’s keep the gloating to a minimum.”

“Fine. See you tonight. You know what,” he sighed, “I’ll pick your outfit.”

“Grace,” my boss called out from his office.

“Just a minute,” I called back. “I gotta go. See you tonight.” I snapped my cell phone shut, placing the last of the lemon leaves into the arrangement. It was complete and beautiful and in keeping with my traditions, I pressed my nose to the gentle petals, breathing in their perfume.

“Did you call me Mike?” I asked, walking into the tiny office.

“Yeah,” he said, never looking up from his paperwork. “Billy is out sick today; I need you to deliver those flowers.”

“Me?” I groaned. He finally looked up.

“It’s in the job description Grace. If you don’t want to go…” I sighed loudly, grabbing the keys to the monstrous delivery van and very regally stuck out my tongue.

“Go, the address is on the front counter,” he said, laughing at my childishness.

I grabbed the receipt Mike had scribbled the address on and the arrangement, heading to the back door and into the stupid, chunky delivery van. I looked into the rear view mirror, realizing my hair was in complete disarray. Not that it mattered when I was in the store, behind the counter or hidden in the back with the rest of the merchandise. But, since I was going to be delivering my finished product to an actual customer, I decided that it would be best not to look like I’ve just wondered off the streets.

From deep inside my purse, I pulled out the never used lipstick and lightly dabbed it on, feeling very awkward. I don’t usually wear make-up, not to work at least. And since I had class earlier in the day, make-up was definetly out of the question. I sighed as I shoved the black tube back into my purse and reluctantly set out to find the house for delivery.

The address surprised me, as did the name. Hannah Stein was a well known actress around these parts. Toby and I had just seen her latest movie not two nights ago. I wasn’t the least bit shocked at the size of her house. It was a very large, Spanish style home, right on the water in Malibu. What I couldn’t understand, was why I was coming all the way out here to deliver a stupid bouquet of flowers when there were flower shops all over Malibu. Deciding to shrug it off, I pulled into the driveway, where a group of men with cameras were awaiting her departure. I felt like a total idiot, pressing the red button to the intercom.

“Yes?” the unknown voice asked through the silver box.

“Delivery,” I said, clearing my throat.

“For who?” it demanded.

“For Hannah Stein,” I replied, angrily. It wasn’t enough that I had to drive all the way out here in this stupid van, which incidently did not have air conditioner, and now I was getting some rude voice over a stupid intercom.

“Fine,” the voice grumbled, “come on in.”

I heard the sound of the buzzer and the shriek of the electric gates opening. Slowly, I drove through the winding driveway, which was lined with the most beautiful green hedges, neatly pruned and cut in artistic patterns. I noted the climbing roses that lined the front of the sunflower yellow stucco. They stretched all the way to the second story of the house. As I gazed in awe of the beautiful flowers, I heard a throat clear through the open window of the van.

“You’re here to deliver something?” the tall, blonde lady asked brusquely. I recognized the nasal sound. Now, I had a face to attach the impolite intercom voice to.

“Yes,” I said, trying to keep my frustration to a minimum. I climbed out of the van, walking around to the back and opened the two metal doors. I pulled out the arrangement, which was wider than my body, and walked over to the blonde.

“What is that?” she asked, disgusted. I felt a feather of anger trickle down my spine. I didn’t appreciate her judgement of my work.

“I need to deliver this to Hannah Stein…in person,” I said, keeping to the instructions on the receipt.

“Right this way,” she sighed, bored and waved me forward.

I followed her into the house, trying to see over the arrangement and trying very hard not to trip on anything that might be in the way. The house was enormous, with a large chandelier hanging in the foyer. The saltillo tile was keeping with the rest of the style of the home; it was beautiful.

I found my steps slowly, placing the vase against a large dining room table which, I noticed, seated about thirteen people. Everything in this house was…large. From the paintings of the Mohave Desert, to the pictures of the celebration of El Dia De Los Muertos. My mother and I celebrated it every year. I was really surprised to see one of her paintings, hanging just above the saltillo tile fireplace.

“Wait here,” the lady demanded. I felt like I should get on all fours and stand at attention. She was really getting on my nerves.

“Hello,” I heard a voice call out from the wrought iron staircase. “I’m Hannah; Dellia says you have a delivery for me?”

She was tall, lanky and very under dressed for this house. Her shoulder length brown hair was a mess around her face and she wore an olive green tank top with a pair of black skinny jeans and black flip-flops. I felt a sense of calm as she gently strode towards me, extending her hand. Hannah Stein was friendly; not something I expected at all.

“Yes Miss Stein, I’m here to deliver a flower arrangement. The directions said to deliver them only to you.” I handed her the card that I had pinned to the red ribbon.

“This is a beautiful arrangement,” she said, admiring my work. I felt my chest swell with pride.

“Thank you,” I said, watching as she opened the card, reading the words and watched as her mouth turned down at the corners.

“I didn’t catch your name,” she said, her mouth finally turning up into a friendly smile.

“Oh, sorry, Grace. Grace Gonzalez-Hennessy.” I felt like such a moron; as if I was applying for a job.

“Gonzalez-Hennessy?” she asked, curiously. “Are you related to Mary Gonzalez-Hennessy by any chance?”

“She’s my mother,” I admitted, red-faced. It was obvious I had noticed the painting.

“You have a very talented mother,” she smiled again, then sighed heavily. “Grace, do you mind doing me a favor?”

“Uh, sure?” It sounded like a question.

“I want you to take this beautiful arrangement back to the person that sent it to me. Tell him, that I don’t want anything from him and that I would appreciate it if he would just leave me alone.” Her tone wasn’t angry, although I detected a sour note in her voice. This confused me and I just stood there, staring at her, my mouth hanging open like a complete idiot.

“You want me to take them to…”

“Here’s the address,” she said, writing it on the back of the card. “And this is for your troubles.” She pulled out a couple of folded bills from her pocket, placing them into my pocket and gathering the arrangement, she dumped it into my arms.

“Okay then,” I said, still confused as I made my way through the door.

“Oh and Grace,” she called out. I turned around, with noted difficulty. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Stein.”

“Call me Hannah,” she said, waving goodbye.

“Okay, Hannah.” I replaced the flowers, climbing into the van and drove out the gate, back towards Los Angeles.

It took a while, but I found the address and noticed a large number of paparazzi outside the front gates. I managed to trudge through the crowd, finding yet another silver box and pressed the red button.

“Yes?” a male voice came through the intercom.

“Delivery,” I said, feeling the heat begin to rise off the concrete. A thin film of sweat began to dew on my forehead.

“Come in,” the voice said; politely this time.

Again I found another driveway, this time, it was surrounded by palm trees that led to a large house; this one had a more modern feel to it. The drive was paved with red brick and it began to wind into a large circle that led you straight to the large, glass, front doors. I jumped out of the truck, again pulling the arrangement I had so carefully put together out of the back. I walked to the door, ringing the bell. The sun was winding down, and I stared at my watch, realizing it was already five o’clock.

“Great,” I mumbled, ringing the doorbell once more.

I guess the address should have tipped me off. On request from Toby, we had passed this house numerous times, while he was on his Hollywood trip. He loved all things glamorous. It shouldn’t have surprised me…but it did.

“May I help you?” the gorgeous, yet familiar man asked.

“Delivery,” I said, my voice small. I felt the fear begin to weasel its way into the pit of my stomach. How was I going to tell him what Hannah Stein had politely requested of me?

“That the arrangement I sent Hannah?” he asked, his mouth turned up at the corner.

“Y-yes.” I felt the noose of guilt begin to strangle me. I didn’t know what was going on, as it was none of my business, but for some reason I didn’t want to be the one to tell him to leave her alone.

“You have a message?” This time, he was smiling widely, as if he had been expecting this.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “She said to please leave her alone and that she doesn’t want this, or anything else from you.” I swallowed hard, waiting on his reaction to her rejection. It more than surprised me when he began to howl with laughter. It wasn’t until then, I realized, that I was more irritated by the drive than I had anticipated.

“Well, you can take it right back to her…” I put my hands up, trying really hard not to lose my temper. What was I, a freaking Labrador?

“Look sir,” I said, through tightly gritted teeth. “I had to drive all the way out to Malibu to deliver these. Then, I am told to re-deliver them to you. I have done my job, it’s five o’clock and I am not the regular delivery person. I refuse to stand here and play this weird game you two have going. I’m tired, it’s my birthday and I have better things to do.”

He stared at me, his blue eyes wide with wonder. More than likely, he was used to people doing his bidding. However, David Moore had just messed with the wrong person.

“I’m sorry…” He waited.

“Grace.”

“Grace. I’m sorry that you had to travel all the way out here on your birthday.” He stared at me curiously, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of me.

“It’s no problem. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have told you any of that.” I grimaced.

“No, that’s fine,” he offered. “Tell you what, why don’t you keep these flowers. Think of them as my way of saying happy birthday and I’m sorry.” He smiled apologetically, and I suddenly felt stuck, not sure of what to do. If Mike sees this arrangement, he is sure to throw a fit.

“I’d better not,” I admitted. “My boss won’t like it.”

“Then don’t tell him.” He chuckled. “No one will be the wiser.” His conspiratorial smile almost made me chuckle myself.

I mulled over his offer a while, staring at the gorgeous fresh roses, sure that I could find a place for them in our apartment. And I knew Toby was sure to get a kick out of this story.

“Okay,” I finally agreed. “I’ll take them home.” I lifted the arrangement off the ground, where I had placed it before he answered the door. “I love roses,” I admitted, pressing my nose against the soft petals and breathing in their scent.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah. Well, thank you for your business…and I’m sorry about all of this.” I turned back to the van, again placing them in the back and shut the doors. I climbed into the driver’s seat, and turned the ignition, embarrassed when the sound of the engine roared to life.

“Hey,” he yelled out through the noise. “What’s your full name?”

“Grace Gonzalez-Hennessy,” I said, shifting the van into drive. “Thanks again.”

I drove out of the driveway and into the afternoon sun, passing the growing number of peeping Tom’s outside the walls of the home.

I pulled into the shop and found my boss, standing in the parking lot, his arms across his very muscular chest. That look always scared the crap out of me. I climbed out of the van, hearing the door creak with the effort. Slowly, I walked around to the back, feeling my cheeks blaze red with embarrassment.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. “And why do you still have that arrangement?”

“It’s a long story,” I began, “but to give you the short version; the girl didn’t want them, paid me to take them to the sender and the sender gave them to me.” Quickly, I scrambled into my pocket, grabbing the folded bills from within and handed them to him.

“Five hundred dollars!” he shouted.

“What?” I asked, surprised. I hadn’t even bothered to count it.

“Who did you deliver these to?”

“Hannah Stein.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice alive with surprise. I guess he hadn’t paid much attention to the receipt. He looked at me curiously, his head tilted to the side. “Who were they from?”

“Don’t you pay attention to the receipts?” My tone was a bit sarcastic.

“Not really,” he admitted, waiting for my answer.

I sighed loudly. “David Moore.”

He shook his head, chuckling in his low, throaty voice.

“Figures. Hollywood types are all alike.” He frowned, appraising me. “Did they give you a hard time?”

“No. Actually, he gave me the arrangement in apology.” I shrugged. His glare left me feeling about ten inches tall.

“Great,” he said in a scathing tone. I had the feeling I was missing something. He sighed heavily. “I guess you’d better get going. Toby is going to kill you if you’re late.”

“How do you know about tonight?” I asked, surprised.

“I know everything,” he chuckled. “Besides, I was invited.”

“You know where we’re going?” I accused.

“Of course.” His smile was too impish for my taste. He enjoyed being in on this little secret while I was left in the dark.

“That’s so unfair,” I grumbled.

“Just go home, Grace. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Toby?” I called out when I finally walked into the apartment. It was close to seven, and I was sure he was well on his way to a balls out fit.

“Where the hell have you been?” he growled, coming out of my bedroom.

“You are not going to believe what happened to me today,” I said, placing the arrangement on top of the table.

“I don’t care what happened! I already have your outfit ready and Bea is waiting for us downstairs. Get showered and dressed…now!”

He shoved me into the bathroom and waited while I jumped into the shower, quickly washing my hair and body. He shoved my toothbrush and toothpaste in through the shower curtain.

“Tell me what happened, after you brush your teeth.” I scrubbed the toothbrush across my teeth after I had put the conditioner in my hair. I rinsed out my mouth, then grabbed my razor, giving my legs a quick pass.

“So, Billy was out sick today, which means that I had to go make deliveries.”

“Ugh, that must have sucked,” he mused, from his seat on the toilet lid.

“Tell me about it,” I agreed. “Anyway, so I had to drive all the way to Malibu,” I continued, washing the conditioner out of my hair. “Guess who the delivery was for.”

“Who?” he asked, sounding all sorts of bored. I let it hang in the air for a second, building up the climax.

“Hannah Stein.”

“What?” he shouted, throwing open the shower curtain.

“Hey, I’m naked here remember?”

“Sorry,” he said, his expression stunned, shutting the curtain again. “Are you serious? Did you meet her? How was she? Was she a total bitch?”

“No, she wasn’t. She was actually…normal. Like someone you and I would be friends with,” I said.

“You talked to her!”

“Yes. Guess what, she has one of my mother’s paintings on her wall.” I chuckled.

“So what did you talk about? Details, details!” he demanded from his place back on the toilet seat.

“Well, I really didn’t talk to her…much. She gave me five hundred dollars, half of which Mike kept for the gas, and told me to take the flowers back to the deliverer.”

“Did you?” he asked, the suspense building in his voice.

“Yup,” I answered simply, smiling while I grabbed the razor again and decided to give my underarms a quick pass as well.

“Well? Who was it?”

“Who was who?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t be stupid, Gracie. Who did you deliver them to?”

“Oh, well I had to come back to L.A. of course; and I had to deliver a horrible message to him.”

“To who?” he finally yelled. I stifled a laugh.

“David Moore.” Once again, the curtain flew open and his mouth was shaped in a large O.

“D-David Moore,” he breathed. “Please tell me you spoke to him.”

“I did,” I said, pretending to be bored. I was having way to much fun with this. I grabbed the striped towel off that was draped on top of the shower curtain, wrapping it around myself and then wrapped another matching towel around my head.

“Sit,” he demanded. I took a seat on the small wooden chair we had in the corner of the bathroom. He towel dried my hair and grabbed some goop from the cabinet, rubbing it into my roots. Then, out came the monster blow drier, courtesy of Bea.

“That crap feels weird; but it smells nice,” I said, prolonging the intrigue.

“Go on, what happened?” I could here the eagerness in his voice.

“Well, I told him what she paid me to say. He was all ready to send me back to Malibu. It was already five; so, I kinda blew up at him.”

“You what?” He switched the blow drier off. “You told him off? Are you insane?”

“What?” I asked, offended. “It’s my birthday. Besides, I knew you’d get your panties in a twist if I came home late. Which you did.”

“Gracie, Gracie, Gracie,” he sighed. “People like us, don’t tell people like David Moore off. We are beneath him.” He shook his head, as if I should know this.

“He’s just as human as you or me. Besides, he didn’t get mad. He actually gave me the flowers. I mentioned it was my birthday during my little rant, and he apologized for having me go all the way out to Malibu in the monster mobile.”

“He gave you the flowers? Did he touch them?”

“No,” I said, above the noise. “But, he asked for my full name. I don’t know why.”

Suddenly, I was curious. Hannah hadn’t asked me for my full name, I had practically handed her my resume; but David Moore did ask me. Then I realized he might want to call my boss and tell him about my little psychopathic rant.

“Shit!” I yelled, jumping out of the chair.

“What?” Toby demanded, switching off the blow drier again.

“What if he calls Mike. Oh God! I’m going to be so fired,” I whimpered, helplessly.

“Sit down,” he said, pushing me into the chair again. This time, he plugged in the hot rollers. “I don’t think he’ll call Mike.”

“What makes you say that?” I felt a knot start to develop in the pit of my stomach.

“Because, he doesn’t strike me as the type to tattle tell.”

“How do you know? You didn’t even meet him.”

“True,” he offered. “But I guess it’s the way he carries himself. We’ve seen enough of his movies that I feel close to him.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“Ugh, ditto,” he said, yanking a piece of my scalp along with the lock of hair.

“Ouch!”

“Oh shut up. Let’s just get dressed. We have reservations for dinner at nine.” I let him finish my hair, then let him slather me with make-up. I was lucky in the fact that Toby’s sister, Margie, was a make-up artist; she taught him well.

While he polished me up, I began to worry about Mike. If David Moore called my boss and told him what happened, I would definetly not be working at Arcadia Flowers anymore. I really liked my job and I didn’t want to lose it because of my big mouth. Quickly, I pushed the thought aside. Toby was done and demanded I get dressed. Slutty was the right word for this outfit.

Her information was easily accessible. The 411 voice recording happily repeated her phone number. I used my trusty pen and wrote it down, hanging up on the recording and dialed again. Quickly, I hung up the phone, and began to pace around my living room. The feeling of being a stalker doused my confidence easily.

After years of hit and run dating, just going through the motions, no one had ever made me this nervous. I never had a problem dialing a number to someone who carried the same amount of fame that I did. But, for some reason, being me, made it all feel so wrong. Was she smart? She looked smart, and she was really cute. Realizing I had just been presented with a challenge, only made me forge ahead. I am as stubborn as a bull.

I quit pacing and began dialing again. I drew in a deep, ragged breath, letting it out in a huff when her answering machine picked up.

“Hi, you’ve reached Toby and Grace. If we know who you are, then meet us at D’Angelo’s tonight, at nine p.m. to wish Gracie a happy birthday. Thanks and have a nice day.” Beep.

I hung up before the machine had finished beeping, realizing it was a guy’s voice on the recording. My hopes were dashed but quickly replaced by a smile. Toby’s- as he announced his name-voice sounded a lot like Jesse’s; my cousin and member of the all male gay review. I looked at the time, it was eight o’clock. Still had an hour…what the hell?

Fortunately, Bea had decided that I had enough breast for a push-up bra. When I went shopping, I usually ended up in a store that carried comfortable clothing. Things that covered up my assets, as Bea would say. I found nothing wrong with comfort…it’s how I got by.

“Happy Birthday cuz,” Los whispered in my ear.

“Thanks,” I sighed, ready to leave the place I felt so insecure in.

There was always that sense that I didn’t belong; like I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was the consensus most of the time. My best friends belonged here, as did Los. He had the Hollywood glamour down pact. However, Toby always accused me of using my insecurity, as a security blanket. Which made no sense, but he said that I did it on purpose, so that I wouldn’t have to let anyone inside. Maybe that was true, but in retrospect, it was so much easier, safer this way.

“You look really beautiful,” Mike said, taking a seat next to me.

“Thanks boss.” I smiled.

“Mike, please. We’re not at work.” He grimaced.

“Fine, Mike. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave me a once over, which caused me to cross my arms over my exposed cleavage; it made me feel a lot like a show horse.

When the birthday cake came, I felt myself sink back, not wanting anymore attention paid to the outfit I was wearing. I couldn’t wait to get out of here.

“Hey David, what are you doing here?” Tom, the owner, asked.

“Looking for someone,” I admitted. “I think she’s having a birthday party here or something.”

“Oh, yeah; Hennessy,” he smirked. “You want me to take you to the table?”
“No,” I said, too quickly.

“I thought you were dating Hannah Stein,” he said, wagging his large brown eyebrows.

“No, not anymore. My agent set that up.”

“You’re crazy,” he scoffed. “She’s completely fuckable.”

“Is that all you ever think about?”

“Uh, yeah,” he scoffed again.

“I’ll just sit at the bar,” I sighed. “Where’s the table?”

“Right near the bar,” he chuckled.

“Great, thanks.” I strolled over to a stool, taking a seat and gazing at the table where a group of about twenty sat.

The cap I was wearing kept me well hidden, as I searched that crowd for Grace. I looked at the faces, tried to find some recognition in them. Finally, my eyes found who I was looking for and I gasped aloud, in complete surprise. She was stunning; different from the girl that had yelled at me earlier in the day. This only made me want more; more information on who she was. She seemed like a puzzle, one I wanted to solve. Her normalcy was what I craved, and I found myself wanting to be apart of that group. To be able to go out in public and not have to hide myself. To be able to sit down at a restaurant and eat, not having to worry about the paparazzi waiting for me outside. I smiled as she blew out her birthday candle, and found myself silently clapping as her friends wished her a happy birthday.

Then, there was a moment, as I waited for an opportunity to open up; a moment when she decided to use the ladies room that I had my chance. I pretended to go into the men’s room, and quietly waited for her to reappear in the small hallway that held the restrooms. When she walked out, smoothing her black dress, I purposely bumped into her.

“Sorry,” she began, her eyes to the floor.

“You,” I said, pretending to be surprised.

“You,” she said, looking up at me. Her surprise was genuine. “Wow, sorry.”

“That’s okay,” I offered. “What are you doing here? I thought you said today was your birthday?”

“It is,” she admitted. “I’m here with my friends.” She pursed her red lips together in a hard line and I worried that I had really pissed her off earlier in the day.

“What’s wrong?”

“My boss is here,” she said, her voice small. Then, she sighed heavily. “If you want to tell him how I behaved today, go ahead.” She took a defensive stance and I had to laugh with her efforts.

“I’m not going to rat you out to your boss,” I chuckled.

“You’re not?” she asked in a cynical tone.

“No. You had every right to be angry about today.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Listen, what are you going to…”

“Grace!” a female voice called out from behind. “Hurry up! We’re leaving.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I have to go. Again, I’m sorry about today.” She started to leave and instantly I felt my stomach tighten, knowing I might never have another opportunity like this again.

“Wait…where are you going?” She looked at me, surprised.

“Actually, I have no idea. They’re surprising me, or something.”

“Grace! Now!” the girl growled.

“I’m coming,” she sighed. “I’d better go; nice to see you again.” She strode off, in long and lithe steps, before I had a chance to ask her anything more. Quickly, I rushed out through the back, catching the long, black limo that was hauling her off to places unknown.

Following this girl was probably the scariest, most absurd thing I had ever done. But the challenge was too much to bear. I began feeling an odd rush, as I zoomed past other cars, trying to keep up with the limo as it darted through traffic. Finally, it pulled up to Bazaar, a new and trendy club downtown. I parked my car in the back, knowing again, there was a spot ready for me. Having the advantage of easy access to every restaurant and club in town made it way to simple for me to keep up this game. The back door swung open and the owner stepped out, awaiting my arrival. This always creeped me out. I never had to call ahead, he just always knew I was there.

“David, welcome,” he offered, moving to the side to let me in.

“Hey Haddon.” I smiled, quickly ducking the growing crowd out in the back.

“What brings you here…,” he looked behind me, expectantly, “alone?”

“I’m looking for someone,” I began.

“Hannah Stein?” He smiled, winking.

“Uh, no.” I grimaced. It was extremely annoying, having my love life splashed all over the news. And now, with the added bonus of internet, it seemed to just get worse.

“Oh, well, what’s the name? I can get one of the bouncers to follow you over to a table.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, not wanting to explain my rash behavior to a gossip like Haddon Pitkannon.

“Okay then, have a good time. Let me know when you’re ready to leave so I can escort you out.” He ducked back into the office as I found the entrance into the crowded club.

The guest list always included a noted actor or musician. Most of the time, you would find them and about ten to twenty of their entourage following their shadows. Briefly, I wondered how Grace was able to finagle her way into this exclusive joint. Truthfully, you needed to know someone, or at the very least have form of familiarity to Hollywood glam. I shrugged off the thought, fighting my way through an enormous crowd, until I found the steps the led to the second-story.

Thirty foot screens lined the blue walls, playing videos along with the songs that boomed through large speakers. Star like crystal chandeliers hung off the ceilings, basking the dance floor in a subdued light. Most of the multi-colored hues came from rotating l.e.d. lights that changed colors underneath the thick Plexiglas dance floor. I leaned against the railing, perusing the crowd for the stranger that I was so oddly consumed by. Finally, I saw one of the patrons from the restaurant, the one I assumed was this Toby that had led me to D’Angelo’s in the first place. And, as I had guessed, he was dancing with a very tall man.

Grace was nowhere in sight. Finally, I walked to the other side of the second-story, searching the endless tables and white couches that lined the walls. There, in the midst of a gang of conversing men and women, I found what I was looking for. She sat there, looking as if she was ready to make a run for it. Her eyes darted around the place until they finally ended up fixated on the drink in her hand. I felt myself smile and I quickly made my way down the steps, towards the girl I had been following all night.

The crowd was thick, full of people who were donning the latest fashions. Finally, a line opened up for me, leading me directly to the table where I was headed. It felt like a race to the finish line. As I approached her, noting she was too enthralled in conversation, I stopped dead in my tracks. My eyes bugged, I could feel the heat from embarrassment flooding my face; my neck felt hot and sweat began to dew on my forehead. There, sitting next to Grace…was Hannah Stein.