Inside the theater is just as spectacular as outside. We are ushered past hieroglyph-marked walls and down a hallway. A few lucky paparazzi snap some last-second photos of celebrities entering the screening rooms.
Cece and I are directed to seats towards the front. I'm surprised I recognize most people in the room, either from TV or movies or just knowing their faces or names. Cece whispers tidbits in my ear as more people filter in.
"And that's Greg, he was lead camera man," she says. "That there is Mr. Walt, one of the executive producers."
The three main actors are the last to arrive. I recognize the two guys but cannot pinpoint from where. The actress in the middle is the true star. Every head turns to see her walk in.
Rising Emmy-nominated Daya Jones stands with one man on either arm, wearing this insane Cleopatra ensemble that almost matches Cece's golden gown. I wonder if they coordinated. Daya's dark black hair is woven into a twisted braid crown, complete with an actual Egyptian headpiece.
"Hi everyone!" Cece greets them as they join our row.
The two guys smile at Cece, who is overly bubbly with them, and kiss her on either cheek. This doesn't bother me at all. Daya hugs Cece and also kisses her on both cheeks.
"Daya, this is Brooks," Cece introduces me.
"Hey, nice to meet you," I say. Of course, I recognize her from TV. She's almost as enigmatically beautiful as Cece.
"Charmed." Daya kisses my cheeks as well.
Maybe everyone just kisses everyone in this industry.
...
The movie screening ends before I know it. Exposé is a rather short film, only 84 minutes. To be honest, I only paid attention to the parts Cece was in. Maybe 11 minutes total.
Everyone stands in unison as the screen goes black. There is clapping and cheering and the look on Cece's face is utter bliss. I have to admit, it is pretty cool to be among this crowd right now.
Cece pulls me by the hand as we file out of the row and join the flow back into the lobby.
I slip my phone from my pocket and see several missed calls from Brody, one from mom, and even one from Alex. The supplemental texts tell me nothing is wrong, that they're just fanning over the live interview with the wacky, over-caffeinated reporter.
Honey you 2 were GREAT
Are you famous now or something?
Break a leg. Cece too :)
Mom. Brody. Travis.
I'll answer later. No reason to be rude and pull out my phone at a Hollywood premiere. Not when it's Cece's big night.
"Now that's over. Ready for the after party?" Daya asks Cece, handing her bejeweled clutch off to a passing assistant.
"Yes," Cece grins, squeezing my bicep with her manicured nails. "Ready babe?"
"Yup," I nod.
We follow Daya and the two guys, Brad and Diggs, back into the courtyard, which is still littered with people crawling like ants or buzzing like worker bees or some other insect that acts absolutely absurdly. My face is already numb again from the straight face-smile hybrid I'm trying to keep plastered on.
A studio photographer arranges Daya, Cece, Brad, Diggs, and two others at the end of the red carpet centered between the entrance pillars. An old vintage looking film camera flashes with a puff of smoke. I catch a whiff and am transported back to the last and only other time I saw a camera like this one.
The Château in the '20s.
We walk to the cars, dodging aggressive fans flinging phones and papers and pens out into the walkway. The flashes burn my eyes and I suddenly realize why celebrities wear shades. I make a mental note to pack some for us next time.
The after party is held at some ritzy downtown club. Rumor has it one of the Jenners is showing up.
And I thought Edge's opening was hectic. This is a whole other lifestyle.
I steal into the bathroom real quick and splash water on my face. I stare at myself in the mirror.
It's never been lost on me how good-looking I am. I know that seems like a shitty thing to say, but it's just the truth. People shouldn't shy away from thinking that about themselves.
My dark hair is shorter than I usually keep it and the sea green in my eyes pops under the fluorescent lights. I gauge I look even better than Brad or Diggs tonight. Maybe I should star in movies with Cece.
JFC, Jay.
Really, I think I'm only thinking these things to talk myself into fitting in with all this. This being, well, this. Celebrity almost-my-wife girlfriend. Red carpet premieres. Flashing lights. Boujee after parties. Nine more yards.
The door swings open and I quickly turn off the water. I see Brad in the mirror.
"Yo man. Cece looking for you out there." He walks right past me without another word.
"Thanks," I say.
I rejoin the others in the lobby. I'm already running out of fingers to count famous people and we aren't even at the party yet.
"Babe! Brooks! Look at this," Cece shouts across the marble floor, running over and leaving Daya in front of the elevators.
"What is it babe?" I ask.
She holds up her phone and opens it to a movie review website that covered the premiere.
"And people can't stop talking about the newly minted couple, Cece Majors and mysterious boyfriend Jay Brooks," she reads from the article.
"Not so mysterious now," I joke, shaking my head.
Great, another thing my mother will be calling about tomorrow.
I glimpse the picture of us accompanying the article.
Cece's face is front and center, her dazzling smile infectious. The gold earrings bringing out the specks of yellow in her eyes. All you can see of me is my profile, as I am kissing Cece's perfectly cut cheek bone.
That reporter was certainly right about one thing.
We are a handsome as fuck couple.
...
Who agrees with Brooks? Show of hands for #TeamBrece
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