The banquet hall was buzzing. Every heavyweight award-winner became the center of their own circle, and Charlize Theron was no exception. By the time Matthew reached her, she was surrounded by so many people he couldn't even get close enough to say hello.
Scarlett Johansson slipped her arm through Matthew's and tugged him gently, tilting her head up. "Should we… get out of here?"
Matthew looked down at her. "Can't wait?"
Scarlett didn't blush at all; she met his gaze. "Yeah."
A corner of Matthew's mouth lifted. He dipped his head and kissed her. Scarlett started, surprised, but quickly kissed him back with heat.
The hall was packed—stars, directors, producers, and plenty of press.
Right there at the Oscar Night party, under every watching eye, the two of them made out as if no one else existed, utterly indifferent to the crowd.
In an instant, heads swiveled toward them.
Scarlett noticed immediately. She might not be a rookie anymore, but she still lacked Matthew's thick skin. She took a quick step back, putting a little space between them.
Matthew flashed her a grin. Seeing the crowd around Charlize had thinned, he said, "I'll go say hi—be right back."
Scarlett nodded. "I'll wait."
Ignoring the stares, Matthew crossed to Charlize. "Hey, Sally!"
He opened his arms and gave her a light hug. "Congratulations, Best Actress."
Charlize returned the embrace out of courtesy. "Thank you."
Matthew stepped back, smiling. "oscar best actress winner—you're A-list now. Push a little harder and you could hit superstardom."
For some reason he caught a flicker of something crossing Stuart Townsend's face beside her.
He didn't need to guess what it was. An actor who could barely scrape into C-list
whose girlfriend had just taken home the Oscar for Best Actress—if he had a healthy mindset, fine; if not… Remembering what he'd seen outside Depp's bar, Matthew figured Charlize might be in for a rough patch.
But it wasn't his place to interfere. He was an outsider here.
"Sally…" he asked, "how are you going to celebrate?"
Charlize gave a small smile. "I'm flying back to South Africa next week. Mr. Mandela called right after the ceremony. When I'm back, I'll let you know—wait for my call."
Matthew mimed a phone. "Great. I'll be waiting."
He nodded to Stuart Townsend and turned to leave.
Maybe the Oscar Best Actress curse would come for Charlize after all.
It hit both careers and relationships; since the new century, relationships had suffered more.
Before the ceremony he'd seen TMZ running a piece on it.
In 2001 Julia Roberts won the academy award for best actress for Erin Brockovich; three months later she split with boyfriend Benjamin Bratt after four years together.
In 2002 Halle Berry took Best Actress for Monster's Ball. Soon after, her marriage to Eric Benet cracked; they separated last year and were now divorcing.
In 2003 Nicole Kidman had already divorced, but the tangled mess with Tom Cruise and their shared Agent Pat Kingsley turned into a mega-feud.
The grand Oscar tradition might well continue.
Hollywood had plenty of powerhouse-wife/lower-wattage-husband couples; the man had to keep his ego in check or trouble brewed.
Matthew knew Charlize hadn't had it easy—she'd clawed her way up. A woman who'd posed for Playboy in the mid-nineties and ended up holding an Oscar statuette was the definition of inspirational.
He glanced back at Charlize and Stuart, then pushed the thought aside, took Scarlett's hand and headed for the exit. Half the room watched them go; after that very public kiss, their hurry to leave made the next step obvious to anyone.
From a corner of the hall Angelina Jolie had kept her eyes on Matthew from the moment the kiss began, curiosity fixed on him.
"That's right…" she murmured. "No mistake—that's Matthew Horner!"
The guy who once threw away every shred of dignity for a few bucks was now in the same ballroom as her—
and at a comparable level of stardom.
girl, interrupted had won her an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, and Tomb Raider's decent box office had nudged her toward A-list—until last year's Tomb Raider 2 bombed and knocked her straight back to B-list.
If her other films hadn't held up reasonably well, her career would have taken a major hit—
Meanwhile, that despicable nobody who once could only envy her had clawed his way into a top-tier Hollywood blockbuster, while she had yet to land a single leading role in a production with a nine-figure budget.
Angelina Jolie compared their situations and was struck by the sad realization that the nobody who could barely speak in front of her a few years ago had now surpassed her.
Matthew knew he was far from the star of the ballroom; that honor always belonged to the Oscar winners, so he wasted no time pulling Scarlett Johansson out of the hall.
"Where to?"
The corridor outside was crowded, and Scarlett Johansson, barely able to contain her impatience, said pointedly, "Let's switch hotels. I don't like this place."
"Sounds good. I don't like it either."
That suited Matthew perfectly. He led Scarlett toward the quieter end of the corridor. "There's an old elevator over there—wood-paneled, hardly anyone uses it. Want to give it a try?"
Scarlett was tempted, but she hadn't forgotten the plan. "Aren't we going to a different hotel?"
Matthew leaned to her ear. "We've got the whole night. We'll test the elevator first, then change hotels."
His real motive was simple: if they stepped out of the hotel looking disheveled, the paparazzi Elena Boyar and Sean Daniel had hired would have far juicier photos.
At his words Scarlett sped up. "I know the one—hurry!"
They ducked into a secluded lift lobby. Scarlett jabbed the call button, the doors slid open, and Matthew pulled her inside.
In the hotel's small security office two guards worked the night shift, their main job to monitor the hotel's ten elevators and keep them running safely.
Watching the wall of monitors was their nightly routine.
Tonight, instead of taking turns napping, both men sat bolt upright; Oscar Night was underway, and any incident could bring serious fallout.
Under strict orders from management, neither dared slack off.
"Hey—"
The tall, thin guard nudged his heavier partner. "The old elevator's stopped. Who'd go in there?"
"I'll pull up the feed."
The stocky guard swiveled to a monitor, grabbed the mouse, and brought up the camera inside the vintage lift.
"Uh…"
He froze, elbowed the skinny guard, who took one look and was equally stunned.
Inside the elevator a man and woman leaned against the wall opposite the camera. Though their clothes appeared intact, the man's broad frame mostly hid the smaller woman. You couldn't see details, but her face over his shoulder and their movements left no doubt what was happening.
The heavy guard instinctively switched to another angle; still no clear view, but the footage left plenty to the imagination.
"That's…" the tall guard recovered first. "The woman's Scarlett Johansson! And the guy—he's Matthew Horner from pirates of the caribbean!"
The stocky guard stared, then nodded. "Yeah! Matthew Horner and Scarlett Johansson!"
The skinny guard reacted fast. "Quick—record it!"
"The system records automatically," the heavy guard reminded him. "And keeps it for weeks."
"We'll copy it later," the tall guard said excitedly. "We're gonna be rich!"
In Los Angeles everyone knows star gossip is as good as cash.
"I know a paparazzo," the heavy guard began. "We could—"
"paparazzi won't pay much." The skinny guard thought for a second. "There's that site TMZ—they shell out big for stuff like this…"
They exchanged glances and burst into laughter.
The elevator soon restarted. The guards ignored the couple who stepped out, rushing to copy the footage onto a drive and then wiping the original to keep it exclusive.
On the ground floor Matthew and Scarlett straightened their clothes and headed for the lobby; elegant evening wear never looks the same once rumpled.
Inside the lobby Matthew phoned for the car. "It's here—let's go."
With no real action yet, Scarlett was restless. "Hurry," she urged.
She slipped her arm through his and followed him outside. No one seemed to notice as a black mercedes-benz sedan glided up—until a dozen reporters sprang from every direction, cameras aimed straight at them.
As they climbed in Matthew wondered why so many had shown up.
Glancing back, Scarlett thought, Did we bring in extra press?