A 'SUB' REQUEST (Cate Blanchett x OC)

Chapter 11: An Oscar ceremony

Six months have passed since that phone call. They were surprisingly six very productive months. I worked, nose to the grindstone, without any distractions, reading 3 scripts a day. I was able to bring 2 film and 1 TV projects to Fox. With these accolades, I got a new job with a shiny new title: Director of Development. And a cushy raise plus an assistant fresh out of college. The drama surrounding Tár and Hylda Queally became a thing of the past that wasn't brought up anymore. 

My new boss was a 50-year-old flamboyant gay man who I clicked with immediately. His company was a powerhouse for queer stories. "Welcome home, darling" he embraced me with open arms on my first day.  

As the Oscar ceremony was fast approaching, he and I started to make arrangements. "I wouldn't mind winning an Oscar," he'd always say, "but it doesn't matter either way if I get to look fabulous." To my astonishment, I was promoted out of my usual ceremony pianist role this time and had the honor of being my boss's plus one. "I want you to make the rounds with me, as my right hand bitch." He gave me a nudge, "now order a dress from my friend Oscar de la Renta before Billie Eilish gets to him." I ended up choosing a billowing, beige-colored dress that looked like heaven flowing from a corset. I was able to hire a hairstylist for the very first time, who transformed my loose pony into an exquisite French braid. 

It was my first time at the Oscar's - traffic was impossible outside of the Dolby Theater. I was sitting nervously in the back of a limo, too scared to move and ruffle my dress. "Don't sweat it dear," my boss said, dressed in a Rupaul-esque polka-dotted suit and sitting next to me, "you have the best classic red lip here tonight." 

I put on my best networking face at the after party and embarked on a hand-shaking marathon with the creme de la creme of Hollywood, with my young assistant trailing by my side. In a bustling crowd of over 500 people, it didn't take long until I spotted her. 

She was clad in a gorgeous blue floral dress that hugged her curves tightly and matched her eyes, her laughing sapphire eyes. Her face was turned away from me, engaged in animated conversation with two men I didn't recognize. The warm hues of dusk danced off of her blonde hair, and she looked ethereal, forever caught in the beautiful limbo between daylight and sundown. 

"Holy shit, that's Cate Blanchett," my 22-year-old, fresh out of USC assistant exclaimed loudly. 

I suppressed my panic and glanced around. Hylda was nowhere to be seen. That's odd, they always went to these things together. 

By the time my searching glance landed back on her, a jolt of electricity shot through me as I realized that she was staring right at me. Nothing moved in her expression as she held my gaze. She might as well have been wearing sunglasses - I was completely unable to read the thoughts behind them. I tore my gaze away as if tearing off a piece of my own flesh, and pretended to whisper in my assistant's ear. 

"Girls, I want you to meet Todd and Scott, the producers of Tár. " My boss's voice jolted me into consciousness again, "and of course, the luminescent Ms. Cate Blanchett." 

Two firm men's handshakes followed by her feminine one, clasped around my palm so softly like a phantom. 

"Nice meeting you, Ms. Blanchett." I said politely.

"Likewise." She smiled into my eyes. 

"Tár's on Variety's list of top 10 queer projects to look out for next year! Congratulations!" My boss said. 

"Congrats to you all," I joined in. 

Like all Hollywood acquaintances, we quickly drifted to the next party as if on an assembly line. Then about an hour later, one of the ushers, a shy plump boy with red hair, came up to me. 

"Miss, you're requested in the VIP lounge number 38 backstage." 

"By who?"

"I wasn't told miss, just relaying the message."

-----

There was a large extended area behind the screen where everything was telecast. I knocked on the door with a large 38 painted over it. 

"Come in." The familiar voice sent goosebumps down my spine. 

And then, "close the door." after I was inside. 

She was seated at a dressing table in a languid posture. Her expression was drastically different from an hour ago. A wall had come down, and she was like a giant open wound. I stood there for a good 10 seconds while we just looked at each other, so much unsaid in the silence but everything understood. 

"You don't have to be alarmed." she said matter-of-factly, "I fired Hylda a while ago. It's been made official on IMDB, if you're up-to-date. I found out about everything...tried to reach out...but by then you'd already left Fox." 

I was stunned. Did she really choose me over Hylda? 

"Look at you," a weary but tender smile surfaced beneath her alabaster skin, "you're thriving. And you look so very fine." 

"Thank you." 

"And that gorgeous brunette you were talking to so much, is that your date?"

"Kind of," I respond, "well, she's my assistant." 

Apparently, this information was not enough to quell her curiosity. 

"So, is there a plus one in your life?" 

"No, I've been pretty busy with work." 

She stood up and slowly approached me. "I just want to tell you how sorry I am about everything, I know that's not the first time I said it. But I really miss you...you're the most beautiful person I've met in a long time, darling, I can't lose you again." 

I ran forward and locked myself in her embrace, crying hysterically, releasing all of weight of the past six months. She sat me down on the couch and held me so tight, gently stroking my hair. 

"Hush now, baby..."

I grabbed the back of her neck and brought her mouth down to mine. I bathed in the scent of her perfume, its fragrance driving me wild. My hands lowered from her jawline to her bare shoulders, then further down until I almost touched her cleavage. 

"Sorry," remembering our last encounter, I moved my hand away to her lower back. 

"It's alright, actually," her voice was as soft as the rain. She gently grabbed my hand and placed it over her supple breasts. 

"Do you want to?" I whispered. 

"...yes, yes, sweetheart - I want you to touch me. Everywhere." she leaned back on the couch and spread her legs underneath her very expensive gown, her voice quavering with vulnerability. It was clear that she hadn't done this in a long time, and her past traumas were rising to the surface. She was allowing me to give her the gift that I'd wanted to give her for the longest time. 

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I've ever been." 

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