“This way,” I say as she turns back to me.
“So, I take it you’re working with Dr. Elliott?”
“Yes. I’m his TA for the course and a grad student.”
“What are studying?” she asks as I open the door for her.
“I’m working on a masters in cinema and media studies, but my focus is on documentary filmmaking.”
Her eyes light up as I say that. “Documentary?”
I nod. “I’m actually getting ready to film one.”
“What’s it about?”
“I really want to examine the environmental waste aspect of film and television production. I’d like to see the industry become leaders in the environmental movement, but I think right now, they are anything but that. Yet, many celebrities have charities that help the environment. It’s a sort of double standard.” I shut my mouth because I know Blythe has an environmental charity. I also know she is very environmentally friendly. She’s done documentary work highlighting research that’s helping the environment. And she also invests in some pretty forward-thinking biotech companies. Or at least that’s what I was able to find in my research over the last few days.
Blythe gives me a giant grin. “I think you are very right.”
I show her how the projector and computer work as Dr. Elliott comes into the room.
“Blythe, darling, good to see you,” he says in the most annoying Hollywood way ever. I have to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes.
“So good to see you, my dear,” she replies and leans in for a cheek kiss. She turns to me as he sets his briefcase down on the table, pulling out a card and handing it to me.
“This is my contact info. My charity is having a function next week. You should come. Email me, and I’ll get you on the list.”
“Thank you. Oh, and Quinlan Westin said to say hello to you,” I add as I accept the card and take my seat.
She smiles warmly at me. “You are quite welcome. And tell Quin I said hello. She’s such a sweetheart and her father is just a pleasure to work with.”
She quickly turns back to Dr. Elliott to chat before giving her lecture. And boy is it ever a lecture. By the end of her talk, I’m sure about several things. One, Blythe is a fucking superwoman who has done amazing things and used her fame to accomplish even more. Two, she really does care about the environment. And three, I need to interview her for my documentary. She’s how every celebrity should be. I, one hundred percent, have a total lady crush on her!
Chapter Three
“So? Was she everything you thought she’d be?” Quinlan asks as I scoot into the booth next to her with a beer.
“She was so amazing. Like seriously, she’s a freaking rock star among rock stars, a superwoman, a…I don’t even know a word for it. She’s just plain awesome.”
Quinlan bursts out laughing.
I pull out the business card she gave me and turn it around to show her. “She wants me to email her and come to some charity event next week.”
“Oh yeah, the Green Tortuga Foundation ball is next weekend,” Quinlan muses as she sips her beer.
“Wait, you’re going?” I ask her.
“Yeah, my brother and his wife will be there and my mom and dad. Dad’s always been a big supporter of Blythe’s foundation.”
“Oh?”
She shrugs. “It’ll be fun. It always is. Who are you going to invite?”
“Invite?” My eyes go wide.
“Well, I’m assuming she’ll give you a plus-one.”
“I…shit. I don’t know. I don’t really know many people yet. I guess I’ll ask my friend Will.”
“Is he someone you’re seeing?”
I shake my head. “No, he was a TA for a class I took last semester and we became friendly. I mean, I’m not opposed to the idea of a date with him. I honestly don’t know him that well.”
“You should invite him. It’s a fun night,” Quinlan says.
I take a breath and finishing typing out an email to Blythe as she asked me to and hit send, hoping that I don’t sound like a total idiot.
To my great shock, I get a reply as I go to pick up my beer which I nearly knock over.
“What?” Quinlan asks.
I pull up the email and read it and grin. “She wrote back already. She says she added me to the list, and I can bring a friend if I’d like. And she loved meeting me and wants to hear more about my documentary.”
“That’s great. See, I told you she’s great. Now, ask your friend Will.”
I type a quick text and hit send.
Me: Hey! I have a crazy favor to ask.
Will: What’s up?
Me: I sort of need a plus-one to an event next weekend.
Will: What kind of event?
Me: A gala for the Green Tortuga Foundation. It’s black tie. (nervous emoji face)
Will: LOL. OK. I can handle that.
Me: Yay! I’ll forward you the deets.
Will: Sounds good. And thanks for asking me.
I grin and look at Quinlan. “I got a date!” I squeal.
She laughs. “I told you. This will be great. And it’ll be fun to have you there.”
We spend the next hour chatting about school. Quinlan gives me some great advice on classes to take. I try to focus on what she says as my mind swirls with excitement. I manage to send Kate a text when I go to the bathroom because nothing is official until your bestie knows it. I decide to wait to tell my family, just in case this ends up only being a night out and nothing more.
Grady
The buzzing of my phone wakes me. I feel around and come in contact with a warm body rather than my phone. It stops buzzing and I open an eye to find a passed-out woman in my bed. It’s the chick from the concert last night. My head pounds from the hangover that I know is going to ruin my morning. I slowly get out of bed and find my phone on the floor. Grabbing it, I snag a bottle of water off the dresser and head to the bathroom. I quickly shower and find some pain meds. I check my phone and see a missed call from my mom.
A moment later a text pops up.
Mom: Don’t forget about the gala.
I groan and I hear the woman stirring in the bed. I grab a bottle of water for her.
She’s sitting up in bed and looks positively green as I hand her the water.
“Thanks,” she mutters as she takes a sip and then promptly runs to the bathroom.
I hear her throwing up and decide to be decent and check on her.
“You OK?” I ask from behind the closed door.
“Yeah, I drank way too much. Sorry.”
“It’s cool. I’ll order you some coffee and toast.”
“And bacon?” she asks.
I laugh. “And bacon.”
“Awesome,” she manages before barfing again. I shake my head. So many groupies can’t keep up with us. I throw on some shorts and sit on a chair in the corner of the room, attempting to remember the events of the previous night. Concert, rocked it. Post-concert, drank a shit ton. Groupie from before made it backstage and then met us back here at the hotel. We partied in Behind Closed Doors’ suite. They are another band. And then at some point, she said we should get out of there and we ended up back in my room. Now, I’m a giant asshole and will be the first to admit it, but I don’t exactly keep track of my conquests. It’s more than fifty but less than one hundred. I think.