Glitter on the Web (20 page)

They would fawn appropriately, telling me that I should model, or some equally fake bullshit. I would resist with a humble shake of my head, while Eli wholeheartedly agreed with them like any doting boyfriend would.

This would ultimately turn their attention back to Eli, which was what I wanted in the first place. After what felt like an hour, we were ushered inside the building. Eli took his time networking, meeting all the important people that were in his nearby vicinity. Again, I stayed pretty much glued to his side, a silent automaton, nodding, smiling and shaking hands on cue.

“You must be so proud of him!” more than one person said. Dutifully I would nod.

I was exhausted by the time we took our seats and the show finally opened.

The long broadcast gave me plenty of time to unwind, even though I knew the cameras swept over us more than once. We sat closely together, and every now and then he’d lean over to whisper something in my ear, which usually amounted to, “I’m starved. Remind me to get burgers on the way home.” It made me laugh, which I knew would give the impression to those around us that we were close and intimate and happy.

It was a successful ruse all the way to Eli’s performance, where he sang his song, “
Never Too Far
,” alone at a piano while two dancers, one dressed in black, the other in white, slithered around each other in a seductive, yet heart-breaking dance of unrequited love.

The song was the love ballad for a tragic romance that year, of star-crossed lovers who could never quite get the timing to work for their picture perfect happy ending. The song was the promise that no matter where life took them, they would never be too far to be there when it truly counted. It was a lifetime of love comprised mostly of moments, one that ended tragically when one fell fatally ill. It gave a mournful quality to the song, which had me in tears as I listened. It was all so beautiful, and so easy to get caught up in the illusion of it.

After the song was over, I spotted myself on camera, wiping away a tear before clapping for him. And it was genuine applause. Eli had performed his ass off, with nothing but the strength of his singing and his self-taught piano skills to sell that song to a worldwide audience of millions. It was quite honestly the proudest I had ever been of him.

I tried to convey that in my smile when he returned. He took my hand in his and squeezed tight. He knew he had nailed it, and was entitled to feel proud of what he had done. When the category was announced, he sat on the edge of his seat, taking my hand in both of his as he waited.

“And the winner is…,” the presenter said, pausing dramatically for effect. “Eli Blake for “
Never Too Far
”! Co-producer was Warren Yen…”

The words all disappeared in a hum as I turned to Eli. He appeared stunned, as if he couldn’t believe they really called his name after all. He took my face in both of his hands, delivering a slow kiss in between gasps of, “Oh my God!” and “What the fuck?”

I laughed as I hugged him tight, clapping for him as he ran down the aisle to get the first award of his career. I felt my phone buzz in my purse and I knew that was Frank, blowing up my cell to tell the world his client was now an award-winning composer. I ignored it and focused on Eli, who had taken the stage.

“Wow. Thank you. So much. I really didn’t think I’d win. I mean, my God. Look at my category.” He went on to sing the praises of his co-nominees. “You know, I wrote this song for someone I love very much. I wanted her to know that I would be there for her, no matter what. It’s one of the only promises I’ve ever been able to keep. That she could love someone like me is the reason why. To my angel, you know who you are,” he said, blowing a kiss to the crowd.

Of course the camera panned towards me, assuming I was the muse for this particular song. But this was a song he had written way before he had met me, so I knew he wasn’t bullshitting about our relationship. He had written it for someone special, and meant every word. This was why he was able to sing it so convincingly and so poignantly.

It was a lot deeper than
Big Girl/Big Heart
or
More than a Mouthful
, and of course it only deepened the mystery of who Eli Blake really was. I wasn’t sure if anyone knew.

I didn’t care who won or lost after that, but we stayed till the bitter end anyway. After the broadcast was over, we slowly made our way back out to the waiting limos, which were poised to take us around town to the various parties we simply couldn’t miss.

When the door finally shut behind us, I turned to Eli. “Congratulations, Eli. I mean it.”

“Thanks,” he said, with yet another genuine smile. “I totally didn’t expect it.”

I cocked my head to one side. “Really? You seemed so convinced.”

He laughed. “Haven’t you ever played poker, Carly? In order to win, you always have to act like you’re holding pocket aces.” He looked down at his award in awe. “It was a little no-nothing of a song. I wasn’t even going to release it, but I needed filler for the first CD. I must have sold maybe a few hundred copies of that thing, and one of them ended up in the screenwriter’s hands. He loved it. Wanted to use it. And now this,” he murmured. “Life is funny.”

I wanted to point out that this was the kind of thing that he could have been doing all along if he hadn’t decided to plumb the depths of niche pop songs, but I kept that to myself. He was having a good night, and he really did deserve it. The song was good. His performance was brilliant. That kind of thing deserved to be rewarded, even if it was Eli.

“Everyone thinks it’s about me,” I commented casually. He merely shrugged.

“Probably best that way. No one needs to know who really inspired it.”

“So it was about a real person?”

His eyes met mine. “Of course. I’m not all fake, Carly.”

I had nothing to say to that, so instead I decided to enjoy the rest of our evening. We were in and out of so many different parties, meeting all kinds of famous and important people. I could barely keep up with it all. There were photos taken, which Eli uploaded to his social media. One of the most popular ones? His kissing me while holding Oscar, captioned, “Looks like I won two prizes. How’d I get so lucky?”

He was in such good spirits that I let him have his fun, but by three o’clock I was ready for bed. He was still raring to go by the time we reached the house in Malibu. He pulled me towards the patio. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” I protested, but he was insistent.

“So? Come on. I never want this night to end.”

I sighed then and allowed him to grab a bottle of champagne and some glasses before we headed out onto his private beach.

Of course, it was supposed to be private but who knew how many of the PING vultures were lying in wait for their favorite subjects. Eli didn’t even seem to care about that. He walked us along the shore until we found a secluded little dune where he laid his tuxedo jacket out for us to sit upon. He assisted me first, then sat next to me. He poured us a glass of celebratory bubbly, before cuddling me to brace against the cool sea air as we toasted. “To destiny,” he offered.

“To Oscar,” I said, tapping my glass to his.

We drank. He stole another glance at me in the darkness. “I saw the playback, by the way. I know that the song made you cry.”

I rolled my eyes. This was where Eli turned back into Eli. “It’s a good song,” was all I said.

“You really think so?” he asked softly.

I nodded. “You put your heart into it. We could tell. That’s true success as a creator, Eli. I hope you can see that now.”

“I see a lot of things now,” he said as brushed my hair from my face. “And you’re right, OGWO,” he added with a smile. “It’s got to have heart in it.” He pulled me tighter and began to hum the song that he had been creating most recently. No words yet, just a melody, but I could tell where he was going with it. I could also tell that it might just blow “
Never Too Far
” right out of the water.

Which reminded me…

“Who is the other song for, Eli?”

He turned back to face me. “I wish I could tell you, but you have to pay the toll.”

“What toll?” I asked, peering at him suspiciously.

“A kiss,” he said softly.

“We kiss all the time,” I reminded.

“Do we?” he challenged. “Or do our lips just meet? It’s this physical thing, my mouth on yours, but does it ever mean anything?”

“What do you want it to mean?” I asked.

“What do we want any kiss to mean?” he repeated back. “That you want to kiss me. That you were proud to be there with me tonight, the girl on my arm. That you respect what I was able to do, and kind of liked it even if you hated yourself for it.” I mirrored his smile. “Kiss me because it’s a perfect night and all perfect nights end with kisses.”

I figured it out then that he was probably playing a part for any lingering paparazzi. Of course he was. He was still Eli deep down, someone who seized every opportunity that presented itself.

But he was right. It was a perfect night, and I was proud of him for his accomplishment, most notably that a song that meant something to him brought him closer to that worldwide acclaim he had been seeking. He got it by being himself, and there was nothing more honorable. So I cupped his cheek with my hand and leaned forward, kissing him softly on the mouth. It was one long sweet peck that he didn’t bother deepening. “Perfect,” he smiled as he pulled away. He rested his head on mine.

True to his word, he answered my question. “I wrote that song for my sister, Gabby,” he said softly. “She was born the year I graduated high school. I took one look in her face and I knew that this was one person I had to make some promises to and keep them. I couldn’t half-ass it. I was someone’s big brother. That was huge,” he said, nostalgic as he reminisced. “But there I was, leaving, going away to college, starting a whole new chapter of my life. It was like I was doomed to break the promise the second I made it. So I did what I always did. I put it to music. You put a promise to music and it’s sacred. Unbreakable. Eternal.”

I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. It made the song even more powerful. My voice was soft when I said, “I really was proud of you tonight, Eli.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I was proud of me, too.”

“And for once you had a right to be,” I grinned, and he laughed.

We watched the foam-capped tides tumble over themselves in the darkness, as Eli hummed his new song to himself. Dawn peeked over the horizon behind us before we headed back to the house. By that time I had fallen asleep against his shoulder, and he carried me home. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I didn’t wake up again until I heard his voice the next morning.

“Am I a genius, or am I a genius?” Eli wanted to know as he brought me breakfast in bed.

I blinked awake as I pulled myself into a sitting position. “What’s all this?” I asked, looking at the tray laden with breakfast goodies like bagels, cream cheese and fresh fruit.

“Gotta love it when a plan comes together,” he grinned as he showed me a printout of the morning’s entertainment headlines. Lo and behold there was a picture of the kiss we shared on the beach, with a big bold headline proclaiming
ELI BLAKE’S PERFECT NIGHT
.

My heart fell a little to see it. I had so wanted to believe some of the Eli I saw the day before was a real person.

“They loved you, too,” he said, as he referred to Miles’s blog, where he begrudgingly placed me on the Best Dressed List, hinting that I may have found a new career as a plus-sized model. I suddenly understood why Darcy hated the term. It meant we were separate and in no way equal, tossing us a bone from the main table where we’d never be truly welcomed.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

I just shook my head. “Late night. Early morning.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can catch up on sleep on the plane.”

My eyes widened. “Plane?”

“Yeah. Remember? Party, awards, trip? It is a three-part strategy, and we’re only two-thirds of the way there.”

“You were serious?” I said. “I thought you were talking out of your ass. I mean, you
are
so good at that.” He gave me a look, so I added, “I can’t leave now. FFF opens in two weeks.”

“We’ll be back in plenty of time,” he assured. “And besides, Clementine is in charge. She does the work of ten people combined. Best to stay out of her way. Trust me. I speak from experience.”

“You ever think maybe I want to be a part of it? It’s my baby too. I really want to be involved.” In fact, it meant more to me by the day.

“And you will be,” he assured again. “By Saturday. Now eat up and get dressed. We have a plane to catch.”

He left me sputtering and speechless behind him.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Though I had seen my fair share of romantic movies where a young girl was “whisked away” by a handsome millionaire, I had never entertained such a fantasy for myself. This was the 21
^st
century. We weren’t waiting on someone to make our dreams come true. We were perfectly capable of making our own dreams come true, thank you very much.

Well the first day of March, I was as whisked away as Doris Day herself had been in the 1962 classic, “
That Touch of Mink
.” I barely got a chance to finish breakfast and shower before the car arrived to take us to the airport, where we boarded a chartered jet. Fuck if I knew where we were going. I didn’t even get a chance to pack. Eli handed me an oversized bag that had only two items in it: a big floppy hat and huge sunglasses.

This, I assumed, was my costume for our grand getaway.

There was only one directive I was given, and that was in the car on the way to the airport. “Just a heads up,” Eli warned. “You can’t trust anyone. You may think it’s insignificant with a maid or a valet or a driver or flight attendant, but PING pays very well for information. They’ve broken some of their biggest stories courtesy of the ordinary people who surround the rich and famous.”