Press Release

5: Gutter Press

9 Months Later...

Midnight has come and gone, which means it is now officially the day after my 30th birthday. Once I get the guests out of here, I may make a booty call. Ha! Such a term from the early 2000s. But who wouldn't want to get laid on his 30th birthday? I'm leaning on the wall in the part of the Garden Terrace that's actually outside, my elbows resting on the ledge behind me that separates the terrace from the actual garden. Occasionally, I take a sip of my tequila, but mostly I'm allowing my eyes to wander the space and take in my guests while I stand here in the shadows.

It's been a melancholy sort of day. Thank goodness Jeffrey hadn't made a huge deal about my 30th. This fairly quiet party at the SLS Hotel in Beverly Hills is perfect. There have probably been between 80 and 100 guests here tonight. Some with whom I'm quite familiar, and others who are hangers-on. The roof is retracted since the night has been lovely for February, and I tilt my head back now to gaze at the stars. What I can see of them anyway with the light pollution from town.

Near the arrangement of sofas are two of today's most prominent politicians, laughing uproariously at each other's stories and jokes, despite their opposing points of view in Congress during the current session. Their wives stand to the side, politely engaging in conversation with the 'do-gooders', those 'ladies who lunch', i.e., the spouses of the studio heads who are even now playing darts in the makeshift game room. Jeffrey had brought in billiards tables, darts, and even some pinball machines. Through the opened walls, I watch the projectiles flying towards the corkboard, wondering if there are movie titles and synopses at which they are aiming, trying to settle on their next movies. Their competitive nature has them playing a game of some sort every time they are together, and often the stakes are high.

Near the buffet table, I spy a variety of my bandmates from my different music incarnations. They mingle well together, and I enjoy watching them tease each other. The celebration is filled with a virtual who's who of Hollywood fame and popstar celebrities, and I'm weary of most of them. Minor cast plus crew members from 'Press Release' have been invited as well, and they're the individuals wandering around with their eyes open in amazed wonder as they spot different VIPs.

Near the bar is, of course, my co-star, drinking like a fish. I'm willing to bet that Xavier hasn't moved very far from the bar all night. He's got two women hanging on him, both in tight clothing that barely covers their pubic areas. One is guiding Xavier's hand to her ass while the other is clearly grinding her own bum into the crotch of the 19-year-old. I turn away quickly, disgusted. Not that I have room to judge. At his age, I was engaging in similar cringe behavior. Someone inside takes a photo, and the flash exploding reveals her standing in the shadows too -- on the other side of the venue.

Her eyes are also on Xavier, and I remember seeing her sneaking into the young actor's trailer during filming last spring. "Sneaking" probably isn't the appropriate word. She showed up at his trailer nearly every morning that second week of filming. At the end of the day, I watched as the two left together. I'm surprised that a woman like her is willing to play second fiddle to Xavier's playmates. Watching her face carefully, I see her eyes flit away from the obnoxious actor, coming to rest on the senator. From there, her attention roams to my bandmates as they laugh and pretend to jam to the music playing. Niall squeezes the waist of his wife, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. The woman smiles, her whole face softening. The stabbing sensation I feel in my gut is merely because they are expecting their second child in the next month or so, and I'm naturally worried that she's been standing too long. At least that's what I tell myself. They are standing near Mitch and Sarah, new first time parents now, likely getting advice from Niall. I managed to find a spot of open skin for the tattooed name of their first child, and I scratch absentmindedly at the bandage that covers the fairly new ink.