Along Came A Prince (2 page)

Ryan chuckled. “You
know I have clothes in my locker at the station.” A serious look crossed his
face. “I think you should go also. I don’t like to leave you here unescorted. I’ll
take you to the limo and...”

Stacia had other
ideas. She’d never attended an affair like this before and did not want to
leave under any circumstances. “Don’t be silly.” She dismissed him with her
hand. “Scoot now, big brother. I’ll tell you about the rest of the evening
tomorrow.” 

“Leave a message
on my cell when you get home.” Ryan turned and disappeared from her side as
quickly as the stranger had moments ago.

She thought about
leaving too, but remembered her agent suggesting she should enjoy what she’d
worked for. Although being alone at a Hollywood event like this might be
committing party suicide and fuel for the paparazzi and gossips mongers, she
could handle that.

“Dinner is served,”
a deep male voice announced.

She moved with the
crowd toward the line forming to enter the dining room, smiling, waving and
saying, “
Hi, how are you?”
to celebrities she knew. George Clooney. Tom
Hanks. Rita Wilson, Merle Streep and other actors she’d met before.

As she approached the
doors, a formally-attired maître d’ stood there. Stacia noticed he had a real
talent for recognizing everyone who approached him, and she received the same
recognition. “Ah, Miss Saunders, you’ll sit at table two. This gentleman will
escort you there.”

A
handsome man, complete with white gloves and black tuxedo, made a slight bow
and presented her with a single long-stemmed red rose nestled in baby’s breath.
Then he offered his arm to her. “Right this way, Miss Saunders,” he said.

“My
brother had to leave,” she replied and watched as he summoned a waiter who
removed Ryan’s chair and place settings.

Once
seated at the table, she laid her rose across her plate. She glanced at the
calligraphy-written place card bearing her name, and then proceeded to read the
name on her left.
Oh no, it couldn’t be – not Farrell Fontaine!
She
couldn’t bear to put up with him throughout dinner. Who was on her right? She
read the card. Nathan Sterling. She tried to find a face for his name but
couldn’t. Whoever he was, he had to be better company than Mr. Fontaine.

The room began to
fill up. Mr. Sterling still had not arrived when Farrell was ushered to his
seat next to her.

“Oh, my
lit’le-chickadee, where-did-ya-fly to so quickly before? I hadn’t finished talkin’
ta-you.” His words were still slurring together, and it was obvious he’d
reached the stage of total inebriation and was fast approaching the pass-out
point.

Farrell tried to
sit down next to her, missed half the seat and started to fall. He grabbed for
Stacia’s shoulder, almost knocking her off her chair. She struggled to maintain
her balance. His hand felt hot and clammy on her shoulder, and the stench of
his breath made her gag. He managed to squirm to a sitting position, and Stacia
turned her face. She could handle this, she really could – after all, she was
an actress. Where was Nathan Sterling anyway?

A guy who looked
as if he’d just applied to college, crew cut and all, was being seated on the
other side of her. He smiled, which she took as an indication her dinnertime
could be rescued. “Hi, I’m Stacia Saunders,” she said.

“Yes, I know.” He
slipped into his chair. “I’m Nathan Sterling, and this is my partner...” He
gestured toward the man next to him. “Arthur Keyes.”

Stacia gave them
both a smile and wondered who they were to be invited to this grand affair. She’d
describe them as typical computer nerds, but then one of the first things she
learned when she came to Hollywood was to not judge a person by what was on the
outside. The inside was where the energy existed, and most of the time, it was
bursting to jump out of the most unlikely people.

“May I have your
attention, please?” The host of the evening, Sam Prescott, whom Stacia
recognized as a self-made billionaire, spoke into a microphone and commanded
the loud buzzing of the guests’ conversations to stop. Silence drifted
throughout the crowd.

“As you know, this
evening’s event is for the benefit of pancreatic cancer research.” The clapping
response began until it flooded the entire room. “Thank you. Because of this,
various people involved with the responsibility of putting it together have
donated their services.”

More applause
arose as Sam continued. “It’s my pleasure to introduce to you the person I feel
is most responsible for making the evening an over-the-top donation success. He
has contributed not only a substantial personal donation, but also his time and
talent to create the incredible ice carvings for tonight’s party. Ladies and
gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Prince Clayton Alexander.”

A black velvet
curtain behind the podium opened, and the prince appeared.

Stacia’s breath
caught in her throat while thunderous applause erupted throughout the room. Her
hand flew to cover her mouth in surprise and disbelief. For the second time that
evening, she uttered the words,
Oh no, it couldn’t be
, to herself. The
man who had bumped into her at the caviar fish fountain was the
prince
?
He sure hadn’t looked like one, or for that matter, the sculptor of these
magnificent carvings. Stacia smiled, wondering how he’d gotten his pants dry. Being
a prince, he probably carried extra tuxes as a staple wherever he went.

When he reached
the microphone, a sexy grin lit up his face. “Thank you,” he said. “Now, let’s
eat!”

But Sam Prescott
wasn’t going to let him get away with being modest and unassuming. “Come on,
Clay, take at least one bow for the hard work you did.”

The applause began
to roar again. The prince held up his hands to silence the crowd.

“Thanks again
everyone, but it’s you who are making tonight a success.” The prince smiled
broadly. “And anyone who wants to donate more than the price of the ticket this
evening should see Sam or me. We’ll accept whatever you offer to help find a
cure for this horrific disease.”

All that charm and
those good looks weren’t lost on Stacia. She was ready to write a check to him
for the entire balance in her checkbook. Judging from the audience’s enthusiastic
clapping, they must have agreed with her as their applause seemed endless.

When it finally
ceased, a seven-course banquet began. According to the program laying on her
plate, the gala had imported a famous chef from Europe who had created an
artistry of foods for this special occasion. In between courses, Stacia was
glad for one of the side effects of alcohol – sleepiness. Farrell had drifted
off sitting up, his head resting on his propped-up hand. Even though every so
often a snore was grunted, she was spared any further conversation with him.

On the other side,
the conversation proved to be warm and friendly.

“Are you enjoying
the evening?” Nathan Sterling asked.

“It’s had its
surprises.”
That didn’t even begin to sum it up. S
he still wondered what
these two men did in Hollywood, but she didn’t know exactly how to ask without
insulting them by admitting she didn’t know who they were, but she tried anyway.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not familiar with your work.”

“Oh, we’re just a
couple of film producers, directors and whatever hat we need to wear in order
to make our mark in Hollywood. Right now, we’re wearing producer hats for our
newest project. We believe this film will offer something new and exciting to
movie audiences.”

“And what is
that?” she asked politely.

“You’ve seen those
TV commercials where they super-impose a famous actor from long ago into a
newly-shot commercial with today’s products. For instance, Paula Abdul’s Coca-Cola
commercial in 2007, where she danced with Gene Kelly and Groucho Marx and
kibitzed with Cary Grant, was extraordinary,” Nathan said. “Well, we want to do
the reverse and expand it. We want to take an actor from now and place that
person into the leading role for an entire movie from the past. The rest of the
movie will remain intact as it was filmed decades ago.”

“To simplify,” Arthur
said as he entered the conversation, “today’s actor would play the role the
original one did and be dressed in the same costumes as the first actor was.”

Nathan took over
again with renewed exuberance. “We think most actors would give anything for
the opportunity to act, for instance, in an epic like
Gone with the Win
d
doing Clark Gable’s or Vivian Leigh’s role. Or think of Brad Pitt playing James
Dean’s role in
Giant
and acting alongside Elizabeth Taylor and Rock
Hudson
.
In other words, it will be similar to a time travel experience.”

Stacia immediately
thought of herself replacing Vivian Leigh in
Gone with the Wind
and
getting the opportunity to act “with” the legendary Clark Gable. “You’re
right,” she said. “What an intriguing concept for a film.”

The two men
exchanged quick glances and then turned their attention to Stacia and smiled at
her.

“
Forrest Gump
dipped into the same technology when Tom Hanks’ image was dropped into old
historic scenes,” Arthur remarked. “Even the Academy Awards in 2000 used it
with Billy Crystal appearing in mini-scenes from old movies with the original
actors. The Carl Reiner movie,
Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid,
was closest in
concept to using this procedure in 1982. Old movies and famous actors were
interwoven with Steve Martin. The difference was the actors and dialogue spoken
by them had to fit into scenes from the movie, which had its own plot.”

“However, in
comparison to everything filmed before, what we’re planning is as revolutionary
and innovative as silent movies compared to movies with sound.” Nathan’s voice
rose in excitement as he spoke. “We’ve already picked a film after watching
hundreds of old movies, and we have someone in mind to play the lead part. We
even have an investor who’s very serious about financing us, as long as he gets
actor and film approval. Hollywood loves something new, and we think we have it
,
or will have it first, if the actor we want agrees to appear in the movie we
chose.” 

Soft romantic
music began to play at that moment, and she glanced away from the two producers
and toward the stage to see a full orchestra playing together as one to create beautiful,
sensuous music that touched her heart and captured her soul.

“Miss Saunders,
may I have this dance?” a male voice politely asked.

Stacia turned her head
slightly, and there stood the prince. A feather could have knocked her off her
chair and unto the floor for a ten-count. Speechless, she could only nod her
response. She felt like a teenaged wallflower being asked to dance by the prom
king. All awkward and star struck. Trying to regain some composure and finding
she actually could speak, she excused herself from Nathan and Arthur and
started to rise from her chair.

The prince offered
her his hand.

She placed her
hand in his and stood up.
How did my legs get so wobbly?
Her stomach
wasn’t feeling too calm either.

The prince led her
onto the dance floor, not once letting go of her hand.

And then she was
in his arms.

The mirror ball attached
to the ceiling swirled above them, sending its slivered, sparkling lights
rotating around the entire room like diamonds lighting up the night sky.

She twisted the
old saying, “To be or not to be” into a new one – “To swoon or not to swoon!”

Come on,
Stacia. You’ve met handsome men before. You’ve even played against leading men
and kissed them in front of everyone on the set. Relax, and just follow his
lead. S
he smiled up at him.

He smiled down at
her. “I’m Clay,” he said.

“I’m sorry I
didn’t recognize you before. I thought you might possibly be one of the wait…”
She stopped and embarrassment joined her other feelings.

He laughed and twirled
her around, holding on to her fingertips. “I should have been wearing a sign, I
guess. Except waiting on
you
would be an extreme pleasure.”

She knew she
blushed, just as she’d done earlier that evening. “What would your sign have
said?” She glanced up at him.

“Maybe ‘
Looking
for Cinderella
,’ because I sure found her.” Holding her close, almost
without a breathing space, he gazed down into her eyes.

Whoa, better keep
it light, Cinderella girl, or you won’t make it through this dance.
“Tell
me, Prince Charming, do you have any dragons to slay in your kingdom?”

He grinned. “I
don’t slay them. I make friends with them.”

“Hmm. A prince
with a sense of humor. They don’t seem to have that in any of the fairy tales
I’ve read.”

Without a further
comment, he dipped her with finesse like no dance partner had ever done to her
before. Then his arms surrounded her. His eyes caressed her. His body moved her
to a rhythm all his own.

Is swooning still
an option?
she wondered again as she put her arms around his neck.

The song finally ended
and swept into another one, equally romantic.

She stood there
not wanting to remove her arms draped around his neck, or disturb his
encircling her waist. Finally, she lowered hers and moved away.

“Would you like to
dance again?” Clay asked. “Or we could get away from this crowd? There’s a
terrace outside where we could continue our conversation as I promised you earlier.
Unless I was interrupting something important, and you need to get back to your
table.” His eyes never left hers.

So many
choices, but which to choose?
Stacia knew which one she wanted to do.
So
go for it!
“I could use some fresh air,” she said.