The inside smelled like popcorn and hot dogs, and people hurried to their theaters. One of the managers met us in the foyer and showed us to the ticket booth that had just opened up.
Curious glances were sent our way. A few cell phone cameras flashed. It was starting—the madness. In my peripheral, I noted a few people approaching.
“I think you’ve been spotted,” I whispered to Frank as he gave his Amex to the theater employee.
He squeezed my hand. “We’re not hiding, remember?”
“No, but something tells me we’ll be late for the showing.” A rush of anxiety shot through my stomach.
The kid in the booth pulled up the seating chart on a monitor and Frank selected a dozen.
“Why are you buying so many?” I asked in disbelief.
“Trust me, you don’t want to sit next to anyone else when you’re with me.” He grabbed the tickets and the card.
I was regretting my decision to try to be a normal couple for one night. We were surrounded in seconds. Hands with phones shook in the air. Theater security had to step in and ask some of the people to move aside.
“I’m very sorry, guys,” Frank said, his voice firm and commanding. “I’m afraid we don’t have time for photos.” He produced a megawatt smile that was met with a collective gasp.
The crowd quieted to hear him better.
“We don’t want to miss the movie, but if anyone was planning on getting popcorn, we’re headed that way. I’m buying.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Frank dipped his head and whispered against my cheek, “You want popcorn, right?”
“Sure.” I nodded. My face was on fire.
The entire lobby flocked to the concessions area with us. Frank’s hand wrapped around my waist was the only barrier between me and the chaos. I could feel the breaths of strangers on my back. I could feel their adoration, their curiosity, their desire. Men and women of all ages stared at us as if we were alien species.
“I’m buying for everyone.” Frank handed his Amex to the cashier and motioned at the crowd. “You can hold on to the card. We’ll grab it after the show.”
Dozens of popcorn bags rustled behind the counter. Once we received ours, the security guard ushered us to the auditorium. We sat at the far back, surrounded by a bunch of empty seats. Another guard hid in the shadows.
"You really outdid yourself with the popcorn,” I joked.
“You told me I had too much money. I thought I should start feeding the masses.”
“And you decided to start with a movie theater.”
“Practice.” He shrugged. “Before I leave for a third world country.”
“You don’t have to do this to impress me, Frank.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do here.”
“Then why did you buy half the seats?”
“I don’t want people to stare when I do this,” he explained, capturing my mouth with his. It was so sudden, I didn’t have time to react. I gave in to a delicious slow-burn dance of our lips instantly.
On the screen, the trailers played.
“You think you can just kiss me any time you want?” I whispered as our mouths broke apart.
“Oh, I think you want me to.” He grinned, plucking a handful of warm popcorn from the bag.
“What gave you that idea?”
“It’s the dress, baby,” he said against my mouth.
I returned his kiss. A soft, almost chaste brush of our taut lips. And while forgetting the last few weeks of nightmare we’d become wasn’t possible, this calmness that he was today felt nice, felt promising, and I allowed it to swallow all my worries. I needed these memories too.
The movie was a blur. I couldn’t concentrate on a single scene because my mind kept drifting back to Frank’s hand holding mine. By the time the final credits rolled, I was a hot mess between my legs and dying to leave the theater. I hated that he had that effect on me. I hated how much his touch stirred me up.
“It’s probably best we wait here for a bit,” Frank said after the manager approached us to return the Amex along with the mile long receipt and to let us know about the crowd gathered outside.
“Maybe we can sneak out this time?” I offered.
“Did it freak you out?”
“What?”
“The people?”
I nodded. “A little.” In a way, crowds were my specialty too, but today’s lobby incident had unsettled me. The experience was equally eye-opening and terrifying.
Frank shifted in his seat and looked down at me, his gaze roaming my face. “I’m glad you agreed to this.”
“Did you like the movie?”
“It was”—his features hardened—“intense.”
I bit back a smile. Something told me he hadn’t been paying any attention. “You had to really think about it, huh? Was Blake Lively not that impressive?”
“Oh, she was very impressive.” He grinned.
“You and your unhealthy obsession with other women.” With a pout, I slapped him across his chest. It was just a light pat, but it triggered something in me and cold panic rushed through my stomach.
Frank didn’t move. His eyes were still locked on mine.
“I’m sorry I pushed you,” I said quietly, my voice trembling.
“I was wasted and I’m sure I deserved it.” He took my hand and rested it against his pec. “I wanted this to be a fun night. Let’s try and get out of here, huh?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
Frank waved at one of the guards and asked him to have the valet attendant bring the car to the rear of the building. We left the theater a few minutes later and used the back exit.
Outside, the air was fresh. A couple of fans approached Frank to ask for an autograph while I slid behind the wheel of the Ferrari and waited. The kids seemed thoroughly impressed that Frankie Blade took time out to talk to them. He politely refused photos but signed T-shirts and shook hands.
Watching him with other people filled me with warmth. He was kind and attentive, despite the fact that these little uncomfortable moments cut into his everyday life. Or maybe this was his everyday life. He’d said so himself. Celebrities were a different breed. They sacrificed their privacy in exchange for immortality. In exchange for their rightful spot in history. Be it politics, science, or music.
Once Frank got to the car, the smile on his face fell. “Let’s get out of here.” He fastened his seatbelt and rested his hand on my thigh again as if he needed to touch me to keep going. His knee jerked.
“Are you okay?” I asked, shifting gears. The growl of the engine muffled my voice.
Frank turned his head to look at me. His palm on my skirt remained fixed. “I am.”
I knew he was lying. My father had also gotten antsy when he didn’t get his fix of alcohol. Difference was, my father never acknowledged he had a problem. My lover did.
We merged into the traffic on La Brea and came to a stop at a red light. The Ferrari purred like a wildcat. The tinted windows hid us from the eyes of those who wondered to whom this half-million-dollar car belonged. I wasn’t sure my guess at the price tag was correct, but Ashton had once taken the liberty to Google-stalk my boyfriend and that was the alleged amount that had come up online. Although tabloids were never a trusted source of information.