Two weeks later, on what was inarguably the biggest Sunday of my life, I found myself being dressed by two stylists Max had surprised me with. I had initially planned to spend most of the morning and early afternoon out, getting my hair and makeup done, but the two women showed up shortly after 10 a.m.
Honestly, it was a bit much. Max had surprised me yet again. I’m not sure why, though. You’d think by now I would have been used to the way he did things — always going all out, over the top, never sparing effort or expense. I can’t honestly say that I wanted to come to expect the things he did. It was part of what made life with him so invigorating.
I wasn’t exactly nervous about the evening, but I didn’t want to let Max down. I had been to that one movie premier in New York City many months ago — another surprise of Max’s — and it had the red carpet and the stars and press it warranted. But that was nothing compared to the Academy Awards.
When Max saw me walk out of the bedroom, he eyed me up and down. I had on a white dress, and he wore a tux with the bowtie hanging from his neck.
All that was missing on me was the veil, and I suddenly had a rush of that odd emotion I’d been feeling more and more lately. Is this what it would feel like on my wedding day?
I also briefly regretted the choice of a white dress. It wasn’t a wedding gown by any stretch of the imagination, but the coincidence was enough to make me rethink it. Too late.
“You look like a movie star.”
“Ha ha,” I said, with heavy sarcasm. “Right.”
He stepped toward me and put his arm around my waist. “If we had more time — ”
“Mr. Dalton?” We heard the voice from outside. It was the limo, ready to take us from Malibu to downtown LA, and The Dolby Theater on Hollywood Boulevard.
When we arrived, there was a line of limos backed up, sort of like you’d see during a delay with airplanes on the runway.
Thankfully, the limo was stocked with wine and beer, cold shrimp and some cheese. I had wine, Max had a beer. He offered me a shrimp, but I declined.
“It’ll mess up my lipstick or I’ll have a fleck of shrimp meat stuck in my teeth.”
Max put the whole thing in his mouth and said, “It’s going to be hours before we eat.”
I looked at him, having never seen him talk with his mouth full before, and he smiled — luckily with his lips pressed together. I realized he was trying to make me laugh and relax me as much as he could.
He sipped his beer and said, “You’re gorgeous, Liv. And if we’re lucky, Jennifer Lawrence or Johnny Depp will be right in front or behind us, and we’ll only be blurry images in the background of one of their shots.” He stroked my knee. “Where’s that confident woman who runs my professional life so well?”
He leaned in toward my face.
I stopped him. “Lipstick. Don’t. Plus you’re all…shrimpy-breath.”
Max laughed and reached for another.
Fifteen minutes later, stepping out of the limo, I realized that the flash of paparazzi is something I can’t imagine ever getting used to. It had happened at that premier in NYC, even though they were snapping shots of real celebs. This time, though, it seemed like they were photographers getting paid by the picture.
I smiled as Max took my hand and we made our way down the carpet. In no time, the cameras turned to the next limo behind us. Just as Max had predicted, it was a big celebrity — Sandra Bullock — and our five seconds of attention were over.
A loud cheer went up from the people who had gathered in the bleachers to get a glimpse of Hollywood “royalty.”
That is, until someone from the rope-line was calling Max’s name. It was a reporter from
Variety
, and Max graciously walked over to her and gave her a few minutes, during which he answered a few questions about the new film and how things were going with him taking over the director’s role.
“Fantastic,” he said, “and I owe it all to Olivia Rowland.” He turned and smiled at me.
The reporter looked at me and tried not to look confused, though I’m sure she was. She asked how to spell my last name, and what my job was.
“R-O-W-L-A-N-D,” Max said. “And her job… She runs my life.” Tugging my hand, he returned us to the procession toward the doors.
More whoops and screams came from the bleachers. They weren’t for us, but I have to admit — for a moment, I pretended they were.
When the show ended, we went straight to the limo. We had been invited to an after party being held at the Beverly Hilton.
I climbed in first, Max followed, and the driver closed the door.
“That was amazing,” I said. “Almost surreal.”
“It’s quite a show,” he said, almost absently.
I figured that he was in a solemn mood because the night had been so focused on success in the movie industry, and he was considering how the new movie would play not only with the audience, but also with the Academy.
I cozied up close to him, wrapping my arm around his and laying my head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of my head.
We talked for a few moments about the winners, and which one of us had picked the correct winner for Best Picture. Max got that one right, while I had managed to win the Best Actor and Best Actress guesses.
The limo hadn’t moved. There was obviously a traffic jam due to all of the other limos, and probably more so due to people taking their sweet time getting to their rides.
But soon we were on the way.
“How long is the ride?” I asked.
Max said, “Hungry?”
I laughed. “No. Well, yeah, I kind of am. I’m just wondering if we have a few minutes.”
“For?”
I didn’t answer verbally. Instead I lowered my head to his lap and pressed my lips against his cock, feeling him grow instantly harder. I lightly nibbled at his erection through his pants.
The privacy shade was up, so the driver had no view of the back of the limo. I wasn’t sure if I was going to take full advantage of that, though, and unzip Max’s pants and free him into my mouth.
So instead I decided to keep doing what I was doing. With my hand, I squeezed his pants around the bulge of his length and traced the outline of the tip.
I kissed it there, then managed to lift his cock up a little bit, just enough to take the tip into my mouth and breathe hot air through his slacks.
“Tease,” he said.
“Mmm hmm,” I replied with my mouthful.
By his physiological reaction, I know Max was enjoying my teasing play, but he suddenly put his hand on my head, lightly turning it to face him, and said, “Liv, let’s save that for later.”
I lifted my head. “What’s wrong?”
I felt the limo coming to a stop as I looked out the window and realized that we were not in front of the Beverly Hilton.
“Nothing,” he said, pulled me up to his face. “Nothing at all.” He kissed me deeply, his tongue sweeping through my mouth, arousing me more than I already had been. “Come with me.”
Max opened the door, stepped out and turned around to take my hand as I exited the limo. “Where are we?”
The heels I was wearing weren’t the best for trying to stand on the gravel, but I managed as I turned around to discover we were at the top of Mount Lee, where the Hollywood sign overlooks Los Angeles.
The view from the top of the hill was amazing — a million twinkling lights, like looking at a constellation of stars, in more ways than one.
Max held me from behind, squeezing me tightly, kissing my neck. “I haven’t been up here in a long time.”
“When was the last time?”
He nibbled my earlobe. “Shortly after I first got here. I had to sneak up here, of course, and risk getting arrested, but it was worth it.”
“Sneak? You couldn’t drive up here then?”
“You could,” he said, “but not where we’re going.” As we started to walk, the driver popped the trunk and Max reached in, pulling out my sneakers. “You’ll be more comfortable in these,” he said.
I leaned on the car as he changed my shoes for me, then we walked down a short few steps to a gate, where I saw a sign that read: “Restricted Access. No hiking to the Hollywood sign,” followed with threats of prosecution, jail time and fines.
A man was standing there, and he greeted Max. “Good night so far?”
“Hey, Todd. Great night so far. Give us maybe thirty minutes,” Max said.
“Take your time. I’ll be in the truck.”
We walked through the gate and I asked Max who that was.
“Someone I know. LAFD guy.”
“You have contacts in the Fire Department?” I said, incredulously.
“I hired him as a technical advisor on a movie. I paid him tonight, too, and that cost me more than the fine, but saves us from having to see our mug shots on the Internet.”
We ended up sitting on the edge of one of the letter L’s.
“If you think I’m going to finish that blowjob on the Hollywood sign,” I said, “you have a more active imagination than I thought.”
Max laughed and pulled me closer to him. “I’ll let you finish it later.”
“How generous of you.” I looked up at his face, searching for his reaction to my sarcasm, but only saw him gazing out over the city. “What, you didn’t like my joke?”
He continued to look out toward the city. “I did.”
“You didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smile. What’s up? Something on your mind?”
“Everything we’re looking at right now. The thousands of people down there scurrying from one after-party to the next, desperately trying to shoulder their way into a conversation they think will change their lives forever, the glee of the winners, the letdown for others…I love it all. It’s what I dreamed of being a part of my whole life.”
“And here you are,” I said. “You made it.”
He nodded. “I did. I mean, I don’t have a golden statuette — ”
“Yet,” I added.
“Right,” he said. “Yet. But I’m doing what I always wanted to do. Living the dream. But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. Someday I know people will remember who I was and the work that I did.”
“Of course they will,” I said, detecting a note of sadness in his tone. “You know, you’re a little too young to be worrying about your legacy.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. Actually, I’m not worried about anything.” He shifted, and at the same time he moved me so we were sitting facing each other. “I’m doing what I always wanted to do, and for the most part I’ve already done it. I know the game. And that’s exactly what it is. A game. One I know how to play.”
His eyes were darting back and forth, searching mine. Wherever he was going with this, I was feeling like the point was escaping me.
“Liv,” he said, taking my hands in his. “The only important thing to me…is
you
.” He pulled a ringbox out of his pocket and held it in front of me, unopened, as he continued to speak. “I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you by my side, and if you give me the chance, I’ll prove that to you every day. Marry me.”
Max and I drove to his mother’s house the next afternoon.
“Let’s see how long it takes her to notice the ring,” Max said as he drove.
“What? That’s not nice. What if she doesn’t notice and feels bad?”
“Oh, she’ll see it.”
It was a gorgeous day, so Max had put the top down on his Porsche. He wore jeans and a black button-down shirt, untucked. Sometimes I couldn’t decide if he was sexier in casual clothing or something more formal, but I always came back to the conclusion that anything he wore was sexy, because his delicious body was waiting for me underneath.
I had to snap out of my sexual reverie as we approached his mother’s house, and I did so by turning my thoughts to the excitement of telling her we were getting married. Surely it had to go better than the way my parents sounded when I called.
She was waiting on the front porch as Max pulled into the driveway, and came down the steps to meet us as we got out of the car. She kissed and hugged Max first, then turned around for me after I walked over to the driver’s side of the car, dodging the dogs as I did so.
When we pulled away from each other, her hair caught on my ring. It was a comical scene for a moment, as she went from surprise and a quick shout of “Ooh!” to a big smile and a few tears while she looked from the ring to me, then to Max and back to the ring again.
“Well, that’s one way to surprise her,” Max said.
“I swear I didn’t plan that, Paula.”
She laughed and hugged me again. “I know you didn’t, sweetie, but I wouldn’t have cared if you did.”
Over lunch, Paula insisted on knowing every detail of the proposal, and Max let me tell the story.
“Nice touch,” she said to him, when I was finished.
“I thought so, too,” he said.
“But there’s more,” I said. “Remember when Max went to Maine for a location scouting?”
Paula nodded. “Just the one night, right before the Oscars.”
“Right,” I said. “Well, it turns out he didn’t go to Maine after all. He went to Ohio and talked to my parents.”
“Wow, Max,” Paula said, turning her head in his direction. “Quite the traditionalist.”
“Not really,” he said. “Olivia’s parents haven’t been my biggest fan, so that’s the only reason I did it.”
“It’s true.” I shifted in my seat. This topic still made me uncomfortable. “They always had this view of my life that was more like theirs. Well, you know what I mean, Paula.”
She nodded her head. “I grew up the same way. Listen, I wish I’d had your opportunities and your gumption, Olivia. I admire you.”
I felt bad now, watching Paula’s face drop to an expressionless mask as she no doubt felt regret about how her life had gone.
Max lifted his hands, palms up. “Wait a minute.” He looked at me, then at his mother, a smile spreading across his face. “If you had been able to go off and do…whatever it was you wanted to do, you wouldn’t have had me.”
Paula reached out and put her hand on his forearm. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Max lifted his drink. “Jesus, I might just have to write that script based on our family, after all.”
Paula finally went back to looking happy. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Max put his glass down. “Never.”
It was a tense topic, yet they handled it with ease and humor. I wish things with my parents had been like that.
“So your parents,” Paula said, looking over to me. “I take it they don’t approve.”
I shook my head and told her how it went down.
When I called my parents shortly after Max proposed, I already knew that he had gone to talk with him before asking me. He warned me and filled me in on how the trip had gone.
Which was, to put it mildly: not good at all.
I called them just after 11 am Pacific Time. We hadn’t been out late the night before, but we’d stayed up late together, making love. I woke up around 10 and that’s when Max told me about going to see my parents.
“You should call them,” he said.
I didn’t want to, but I needed to.
My mother answered, and my father picked up the extension.
“We can’t stop you, Olivia,” my mother said, “but we think you’re making a mistake. It’s too soon.”
I didn’t say anything.
“We appreciate the fact that he came and spoke to us first,” mom said, “but I hope he told you that your father did not give him his blessing.”
“His blessing?” I said, incredulous. And then it just poured out of me: “It’s 2013, not 1953. The only
blessing
we need is each other’s, okay? It’s a different world, you guys, and I’m living in it. This is my life, and I love Max. That alone should be good enough for you.”
Was it harsh? Probably. But there was no way I could even pretend to play the part of the approval-seeking daughter. I was a grown woman. Educated. Determined. Successful. I had met a great man who was good to me, and who I loved more than I thought possible. I knew what I wanted and I knew who I wanted it with. The only power they had to hold me back was power that I gave them. And I refused to do so.
“Olivia,” my father said, but I cut him off.
“No, wait. I’m not going to drag this out. We don’t have a date yet, but if you’re not talking to me by the time we set one, I’ll let you know when it is. The rest is up to you. I have a busy day ahead. I need to get going. Please think about what you’re doing.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. Shock, no doubt.
“Goodbye,” I said, not in a rude way, but definitely a determined one.
I was feeling strong, but weaker as the call ended. Luckily, as always, Max was there when I needed him. I felt his arms wrap around me from behind and I grabbed onto his forearms, lowered my head and cried softly.
“I would have never known,” Paula said. “You don’t seem upset at all. And this just happened a few hours ago.”
I shrugged.
Paula said, “At least they didn’t call you and ruin the surprise before — ”
Max interrupted, “Mom, I said the same thing.” He shook his head. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of our lunch.”
Grace called a few mornings later as I was on my way to work. She started off with small talk, asking me what it was like driving such a fancy car into the heart of Hollywood to work on a blockbuster movie.
“I wouldn’t want any other life,” I said, and then immediately regretted it.
She let me have it anyway. “I wasn’t trying to start a fight with you, Olivia.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“And, just in case you don’t know, I wouldn’t want any other life than mine, either. But I don’t blame you for going after what you want.”
“You could have said someth — ”
“Wait,” she interrupted, “I know. I could have taken your side at Christmas. And maybe I should have. But you have to consider that I see Mom and Dad all the time and it’s a totally different situation for me than it is for you. I have to pick my battles.”
“Did you see Max when he went to Mom and Dad’s?”
“No. I didn’t even know he was here until the next day. And just so you know, I think I might have pissed them off when they told me.”
“How so?”
She laughed a little, then said, “Because I was so happy.”
I pulled up to a red light and noticed a police car in my rearview mirror. I must have been speeding as Grace and I spoke, not just because of the tension, but also because I wasn’t really paying attention to what I was doing.
“Oh, fuck you,” I said, the frustration coming to a head.
“What!?”
“No, no,” I said. “I’m sorry. There’s a cop behind me, I was speeding…never mind. That wasn’t meant for you.”
“I was about to go off on you.”
“Yeah, well, join the club.”
“Hey,” she said, sounding annoyed, and probably within all her rights to feel that way. “I’m trying to smooth things over here. Even if it’s just between me and you. Okay?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “Can we go back to like it was before?”
“Absolutely. As long as you promise we don’t talk about any of this anymore. At least until I’m ready.”
“Deal.”
Max was jogging on the beach one Sunday morning several weeks later when his mother called. I wasn’t all that surprised to see her name on the Caller ID. She sometimes called me rather than Max, and Sunday was our usual day to go to her house for dinner, even though she had cancelled that week because some of her neighbors were having a block party and she wanted to attend.
“Hi, Paula.”
“Olivia, is Max around?”
“He’s on the beach. But he always has his phone. Do you need to talk to him?”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “I need to talk to you.”
Her voice didn’t sound normal. She sounded almost out of breath.
“Is everything okay?”
She let out a sigh. “I need to ask you something. It’s a very touchy subject, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him any of this.”
Oh God. I hated being put in positions like this. Over the last several months, I’d seen it in my professional life — mostly from agents — but nothing could be worse than being shoved in the middle of a situation like that between family members. My work experience in this regard had taught me one way to handle it, so I tried it with Paula.
“If it’s something that bad,” I said, “maybe you shouldn’t tell me at all.”
“But I have no one else to talk to,” she said, laying the guilt on thick.
I didn’t want to dismiss her. I couldn’t. She would soon be my mother-in-law and for all intents and purposes, she already was in a practical sense.
“Okay, Paula. Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“If it’s this hard to tell you, I can’t imagine how Max is going to take it.” She went silent.
“Paula…”
“I’ve been in touch with Max’s father.”
I almost dropped the phone. “What? Since when?”
“Around Christmas.”
I pulled out a barstool and sat. “Oh my God, Paula.”
“I thought the same thing at first,” she said. “But he’s not the same man he was when Max and I left.”
I found myself glancing around, making sure Max hadn’t come back into the house yet. “Ah, Jesus. Hang on.” I made my way upstairs, so at least I could hear the door and have time to end the call if I needed to.
I went to the far side of our bedroom, which was entirely glass and provided a complete view of the beach where the steps led up to our backyard — the way Max would surely come home.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me why.”
“It’s so hard.”
“Just tell me.”
“It’s hard not to talk to him. He was my first love, my only love. He’s changed. He’s…calmer, low key. Just like he was when we met as teenagers. Something changed him for the worst. But, Olivia, he’s had two heart attacks and survived them both. I loved him. I always did. The man I married went away for a while, for some reason. But he’s back now. We’re both much older… You wouldn’t understand this, at least not yet, anyway — ”
“Paula,” I said, interrupting because she was thinking dangerously. “That may all be true. I have no doubt it’s true, actually. But that’s not the same man you
fled
from.”
“But — ”
I cut her off again. The one word she got out was carried on a tone of weakness and desperation, and it made me sad. “Paula, think of Max.”
“I was hoping you would talk to him about it.”
Now I was getting frustrated. She wasn’t going to budge. That much was clear. “No.”
“Please, Olivia, he’ll listen to you.”
“I’m sure he would,” I said, “but I can’t support you on this, Paula. I just can’t.”
“Then please keep this between you and me,” she pleaded.
“That’s not fair. I tell Max everything. Paula, listen to yourself. Do you really want to go backwards? You’re doing so well. Max has made an incredible life for himself. And for you, I might add.”
“Now that’s none of your business.”
“Actually, it is. And I’m sorry I have to be so blunt about this, but remember,
you
came to
me
with this. If you’re just looking for someone to back you up, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I know exactly how Max will take it, and so do you. I’m not going to be part of that. And I’m not going to lie to him.”
She was silent, and I gave her about thirty seconds to speak, but she said nothing.
“Paula, think long and hard about this. And when you’re ready to make the right decision, let me know. But if you need someone to talk to Max, that’s going to have to be you. I have to tell him, but I’ll give you a week to do it yourself.”
And with that closing statement to the conversation, I had dealt with Max’s mom just as I had dealt with my own parents — putting the ball in their court.
It wasn’t easy telling Max, and it was even harder watching him that day when he came home from visiting his mother.
I had waited until the end of the week, and then broached the subject over dinner. Max demanded to know why I didn’t tell him immediately, and I explained what I had told his mother, that she would have to do the talking, and that I would give her a week.
Max didn’t blame me. In fact, he comforted me.
He saved his fury for his mother, and when he called her, I was sitting right next to him and heard the entire conversation. It was brutally heart-breaking, listening to Max’s voice go from stern to almost cracking, and watching his face droop as if he’d just found out he’d lost a family member. That’s how it felt to me, too.
Max drove up to her house alone and got home around midnight. He had called ahead to let me know when he was leaving, and I sat in a front room, reading a script and killing time, so I could see the headlights pull into the driveway.
I went out to meet him on the front porch.
When he got out of the car, he looked like he’d been through hell, and that’s just how he characterized the conversation with his mother.
We walked inside and sat on the couch in the den. I curled up next to him, trying to comfort him, but his body felt rigid.
“She’s lonely,” he said. “That’s what it all boils down to.”
“Has she seen him?”