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Authors: Elisa Lorello
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thesexiest bra and boy shorts I had ever seen. Good God, I was going to be paying off this credit card billuntil my fiftieth birthday.
“You have to wear them to the premiere tonight,” said Theo in regard to the lingerie. “Trust me—everyone is going to take one look at you and know you are going to get laid tonight without even knowing
why.”
I laughed. “That is ridiculous, Theo! It’s also a lot of pressure.”
“And this is why you’re still single.”
Thing is, she wasn’t exactly wrong—I mean, once the entire outfit was put together, underwear andaccessories included, I couldn’t help but feel sexy. And yet I also couldn’t help but feel as if I’d lost allmy armor, as if I were about to go out wearing the bra and boy shorts and nothing else.
And to think the day wasn’t even close to over yet.
We ate at the hotel’s restaurant around four o’clock, but by then I was so excited I could barelypick at anything more than a salad. We speculated on what each star would be wearing, strategized whereto sit, and formulated plans in case we were separated at any time. Afterward we walked to the Directors Guild Theater at least an hour early in order to ensure that we had good seats. To our surprise, hardlyanyone else had had the same idea (we’d figured the place would be swarming with Shane Sands fans, allobnoxious teenagers); it seemed that the theater had had the same anticipation and set up a velvet ropebarrier that extended a quarter of the way down the block. The main entrance doors were locked.
Not even twenty minutes into the wait, I turned to Georgie and Theo.
“I need a bathroom.”
“You went before we left,” said Theo.
“I know, but the wait is making me nervous.”
“Fine,” said Georgie. “Text us if you get lost.”
I turned to Theo. “You coming?”
She shook her head.
It wasn’t too cold outside, but I shoved my hands into my pockets and hunched my shouldersnonetheless. I marched in my new boots down the sidewalk in quick strides (you can’t help but feel as ifyou’re constantly in a rush in Manhattan, even when you’re not) and turned the corner. A man stood acouple of feet away in front of a door, taking a drag from a cigarette. The glare of the sun caused me tosquint. At the split second that I crossed his path, a flash of recognition registered. I took in a breath, onlyto catch the smoke he’d just exhaled, and I spit it out in coughs.
And there he was. Danny Masters.
CHAPTER FIVE
Danny Masters
H AD IT BEEN happening to one of his characters, he would’ve scripted it as a comedy of errors.
His flight had been delayed for mechanical problems and was turbulent.
He barely made it to The Daily Show in time, which left Dez, who was traveling with him, to takehis luggage to the Plaza Hotel for him.
The next morning, thanks to a scheduling snafu, he had to cancel his appearance on the Today showin order to appear on Good Morning America , and poor Dez got an earful from some producer’sassistant.
His satellite feed for Ellen got bumped from first to second slot.
Between all that he had back-to-back interview spots on radio shows (one on which a callerblasted him for his assertion that fan fiction was intellectual property theft and written by hacks),entertainment TV show spots, photo op after photo op with the cast and Paul Wolf, and two bites of a Big Mac that nearly made him hurl before he finally made it to the Directors Guild Theater. (Dez was latebringing a change of shirt and tie and his shaving kit.) He desperately wanted a moment to himself. And hewanted—no, needed —a cigarette.
Finally he turned to Paul and the event coordinators frantically shuffling around him.
“Guys, if I don’t have a smoke in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna have to go shopping for a gun.”
A stagehand pointed him to a backstage exit that put him on Fifty-Sixth Street. He stepped outside,pulled a Camel from a half-empty
“You have to wear them to the premiere tonight,” said Theo in regard to the lingerie. “Trust me—everyone is going to take one look at you and know you are going to get laid tonight without even knowing
why.”
I laughed. “That is ridiculous, Theo! It’s also a lot of pressure.”
“And this is why you’re still single.”
Thing is, she wasn’t exactly wrong—I mean, once the entire outfit was put together, underwear andaccessories included, I couldn’t help but feel sexy. And yet I also couldn’t help but feel as if I’d lost allmy armor, as if I were about to go out wearing the bra and boy shorts and nothing else.
And to think the day wasn’t even close to over yet.
We ate at the hotel’s restaurant around four o’clock, but by then I was so excited I could barelypick at anything more than a salad. We speculated on what each star would be wearing, strategized whereto sit, and formulated plans in case we were separated at any time. Afterward we walked to the Directors Guild Theater at least an hour early in order to ensure that we had good seats. To our surprise, hardlyanyone else had had the same idea (we’d figured the place would be swarming with Shane Sands fans, allobnoxious teenagers); it seemed that the theater had had the same anticipation and set up a velvet ropebarrier that extended a quarter of the way down the block. The main entrance doors were locked.
Not even twenty minutes into the wait, I turned to Georgie and Theo.
“I need a bathroom.”
“You went before we left,” said Theo.
“I know, but the wait is making me nervous.”
“Fine,” said Georgie. “Text us if you get lost.”
I turned to Theo. “You coming?”
She shook her head.
It wasn’t too cold outside, but I shoved my hands into my pockets and hunched my shouldersnonetheless. I marched in my new boots down the sidewalk in quick strides (you can’t help but feel as ifyou’re constantly in a rush in Manhattan, even when you’re not) and turned the corner. A man stood acouple of feet away in front of a door, taking a drag from a cigarette. The glare of the sun caused me tosquint. At the split second that I crossed his path, a flash of recognition registered. I took in a breath, onlyto catch the smoke he’d just exhaled, and I spit it out in coughs.
And there he was. Danny Masters.
CHAPTER FIVE
Danny Masters
H AD IT BEEN happening to one of his characters, he would’ve scripted it as a comedy of errors.
His flight had been delayed for mechanical problems and was turbulent.
He barely made it to The Daily Show in time, which left Dez, who was traveling with him, to takehis luggage to the Plaza Hotel for him.
The next morning, thanks to a scheduling snafu, he had to cancel his appearance on the Today showin order to appear on Good Morning America , and poor Dez got an earful from some producer’sassistant.
His satellite feed for Ellen got bumped from first to second slot.
Between all that he had back-to-back interview spots on radio shows (one on which a callerblasted him for his assertion that fan fiction was intellectual property theft and written by hacks),entertainment TV show spots, photo op after photo op with the cast and Paul Wolf, and two bites of a Big Mac that nearly made him hurl before he finally made it to the Directors Guild Theater. (Dez was latebringing a change of shirt and tie and his shaving kit.) He desperately wanted a moment to himself. And hewanted—no, needed —a cigarette.
Finally he turned to Paul and the event coordinators frantically shuffling around him.
“Guys, if I don’t have a smoke in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna have to go shopping for a gun.”
A stagehand pointed him to a backstage exit that put him on Fifty-Sixth Street. He stepped outside,pulled a Camel from a half-empty
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