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Movie Star

Posted on August 26, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

He was in a supermarket, they were in a supermarket actually but when he told the story in later years he would neglect to include the presence of his best friend at the time at the scene of the occasion. They were discussing what else would go into their punch and what other snacks or alcohol they needed to bring along for people who considered themselves too cool for punch, “More for us!” They were in the process of evaluating their nacho situation when she pushed her cart between the two of them, excusing herself with a smile.

She was nearly round the corner when he paused in mid-nacho debate and said, “Hey, you’re that girl from that movie.” She paused and smiled so he took a step in her direction and said with a genuine tone of concern, “Are you okay?”

Her smile flickered and faltered slightly, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He took another step towards her and his friend was almost totally out of his peripheral vision when he said, “Dude, that movie sucked! Doesn’t stuff like that hurt your career?”

She laughed but not because she thought he was funny, “That movie’s already made over a hundred million dollars.”

He was almost toe-to-toe with her and she was a good six inches shorter than him so she was forced to appear like a defiant child if she wanted to meet his eyes. With a smile he said, “Don’t tell me that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

She crossed her arms across her impressive chest and retorted, “I sleep just fine, thank you.”

“See?”

“What?!”

“If that movie was so hot you would have been at all the parties and TMZ or whatever. Flashing strangers, throwing up on your bodyguard’s shoes, probably doing ill-advised things in the company of ill-advised heiresses…” He made a big production of looking around before he settled his smiling eyes on her and said, “Where is your bodyguard by the way?”

She was seething as she replied, “You’re so lucky I don’t have one because I’d totally get him to kick your ass. Just for the fun of it.”

He thought about it for a moment and said, “Right. So listen, my friends and I, we’re throwing a ‘our life doesn’t suck because we weren’t in a shitty movie’ party. You should come. There’s going to be punch.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not eleven.”

He stared pointedly at her breasts and said, “Oh I’ve noticed,” Then he indicated the several bottles of alcohol in the cart his friend was minding and said, “In case you haven’t noticed, that’s no ordinary punch. We’re planning on going bobbing for jello shots. You will be so drunk you won’t think of the state of your career for at least eight straight hours.”

She actually looked a little upset then. Her voice was much smaller when she said, “Stop it. You’re actually scaring me a little.”

He put his arm around her and said, “Don’t worry. You’ll have a ton of new friends by the end of tonight.” He reached into a pocket, pulled out a pad of Post-It notes, scribbled on it with a Blue Sharpie and handed it to her, “In case you decided to come and be around people who don’t judge…”

 

When he told the story he went from that point in time before the party to sometime the following morning as he said in a conspiratorial voice, “Y’know it really is different having sex with a movie star. For one, there is the idea of doing it with a screen goddess and for another, they smell really, really good.”

As long as he was willing to repeat the story he never had to buy himself another drink. He built a small stock portfolio with all the money he saved on alcohol during the six months he told, retold, embellished and reset the story. He was finally ousted from the throne of ‘most sought-after story’ by a guy who got his penis stuck in the nozzle of a vacuum cleaner.

He missed the free booze but he did not envy the guy with the sore privates. The way he rationalized it, “Six months on the top of the charts ain’t bad.”

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