Somewhere in the collection of celebrities walking the red carpet, home-grown and otherwise, the writer and his wife made as understated an appearance as they could manage, hand in hand. The fans were easy enough to navigate - enough of them knew who Michael was, or could guess, to keep both he and Elena busy signing autographs and taking pictures. It was the press gauntlet that was proving to be the most intimidating part of this experience.
As security nodded to them to keep moving, Elena reclaimed Michael's hand with a smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "It's only a few yards to the doors and out of their reach," she promised him. "You're doing great, Mischa."
The day had started off badly. Michael's nerves had been so bad he'd spent most of his morning worshiping the porcelain god. He hadn't craved a drink this much since the Nicoletti trial, but somehow he'd managed to fight the urge; and despite a bad case of nerves, Elena had convinced him that the red carpet was not something he could avoid.
He wasn't really surprised by the number of fans in attendance. After all, they'd come out to catch a glimpse of their favorite stars. What did surprise him was the number of them who seemed to know who he was, and not just because he was Elena De Luca's husband. But the press was another matter.
"What do you think they're going to ask us?" he whispered back, doing a fair job of keeping his nerves under control, even as he flashed a strained smile to a photographer.
"They're kinda petty," she warned him, curling her arm about his waist to pose for the first bank of photographers. "They might be trying to find a fight where there isn't one, or they might just want to know which designer we're wearing. Someone might mention alcohol, but you don't have to answer any question if you don't want to, okay?"
"Okay," Michael replied, taking a deep breath before running the gauntlet of reporters, almost hoping they were more interested in Elena than him, though none of this would have been possible if not for his novel. "Which designer am I wearing?" he whispered, sotto voce back at her.
"Miranda," she whispered back to him, squeezing her arm about his waist reassuringly. She had done these things many times; she wasn't about to let him fall now. With Mataya's advice ringing in her ears, she drew him past the Rhy'Din Tonight reporter without making eye-contact, moving toward the print journalists who were yelling for them.
"Oh, right," he muttered, wondering how he could have forgotten that. Sorry, Ralph Lauren. Maybe next time. He let her lead the way, trusting her experience, but mindful of the baby bump she was sporting in case any of the paparazzi got a little too aggressive. He was a little surprised to find them not only shouting her name, but his, as well. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"Elena! Who's the father?"
Ordinarily, Elena might have just walked straight past that, but tonight' She halted, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look at the reporter who seemed to have thought his question would be lost in the clamor. There was no De Luca smile to soften the blow, either.
"Okay ....Just because I'm here and you're there doesn't mean you get to insult me or my husband to try and get a good sound bite or a juicy made up piece of crap for your know-nothing publication," she informed the man, who might have backed away if there had been any room to. "For those of you who don't know this by now" This is Michael Donnelly. He is an amazing writer, an incredible script-writer, and the genius behind Rhy'Din Nights. He is also my husband, and the father of my child. And I swear to God, the next person who tries to belittle him or me, or insults us, is going to have to explain to this whole line up here why no one got any sound bites from us. Got it?"
There was nothing Michael could add to his wife's dressing down of the press that she hadn't said already, and not for the first or probably the last time, he wondered which of them wore the pants in the family. Once she was finished, he cleared his throat, blushing a little at the praise, well-deserved or not.
"Our time on the red carpet is limited, so I suggest you not waste it with irrelevant questions," he added a warning of his own. A young woman in the back raised her hand, and Michael gave her a nod, ignoring the more aggressive reporters who were clamoring mostly for Elena's attention.
"Julia Davis from The Rhy'Din Star here. Ms. De Luca ....or I suppose I should call you Mrs. Donnelly ....Can you tell us how you feel about Yasmin reprising the role of Roxanne" Did you have any input there?"
Satisfied that she had said her piece, Elena turned her attention to the woman Michael had picked out. "Oh, I'm very happy to be called Mrs. Donnelly," she laughed, resuming her place at Michael's side. "Is there a particular way I should feel" I mean, Roxanne was my first big movie role, and I was very lucky to play her. But Yasmin has done an incredible job - she's found parts of the character that would never have occurred to me. As for input, I don't think I had so much - we talked, but the role belongs to her now. And I am really looking forward to seeing how much Roxanne has grown with Yasmin guiding her."
Grinning, she gently nudged Michael further along the line, pausing when a young man in a pink tartan suit caught her eye.
"Mr. Donnelly' Mr. Donnelly, what was the greatest challenge about setting your sequel in Rhy'Din?"
Michael seemed perfectly happy to let his wife take the limelight, preferring to remain in the background, but today was not the day for shyness, as evidenced by the young man's question, which was a very relevant one. "The greatest challenge?" he echoed, pausing to consider that a moment. "Getting it right. I mean, Rhy'Din is a unique place with a very eclectic mix of people from all across the multiverse. I'm not sure if it comes across in the movie so much as the book, but that was something I didn't want to ignore."
"And is the story based on real events?" an opportunistic beard wearing a top hat interjected hopefully, waving a microphone in their general direction. "We've been hearing a lot of rumors about the characters in particular being based on real people. Do you often bring reality into fiction that way?"
"Some of it is based on real events, yes, but not all of it. I would say it's semi-biographical in a way the first novel was not. The first book was about boy meets girl. The second book is about what happens when boy loses girl and gets a second chance to win her back. In order to really understand your characters, I think you have to walk in their shoes a little. Write what you know is the best advice I can give a new writer." He wasn't sure if that answered the man's question, but that was as much of an answer as he was going to get.
"Elena!" an older woman waved from somewhere in the crowd. "When's the baby due, and is it a boy or a girl?"
As Michael's answer was scribbled down and noted on dictaphones in the crush before them, Elena was distracted by the call of her own name from somewhere in that group. The question made her smile, her hand gently rubbing the crown of her bump. "In May," she told the gathered reporters. "And we don't know yet; we're letting it be a surprise."
"Are you ever going to act again, Elena?" another voice called, and she laughed, shaking her head.
"No, I'm not an actor anymore," she revealed publicly for the first time. "But keep your eyes peeled for a cookery book sometime in the summer - aimed at pregnant families who need to be a little more careful with what they eat to keep that dreaded morning sickness from getting out of hand."
There was more scribbling, as the security guards edged closer, their time on the red carpet quickly drawing to a close. "One more question," Michael warned, not wanting to hold anyone up. He knew there were still plenty of people who needed to walk the carpet before the premiere got started. He pointed to a random face in the crowd, one that looked halfway friendly and harmless.
"Can you give us a hint about what you're working on for your next novel, Michael?"
He couldn't help but chuckle a little at the question, blue eyes dancing with a little humor of his own. "I can't tell you too much about it yet, but I can promise it will be much different from the first two. I won't promise never to visit Ryan and Roxanne again, but the next book will not be another sequel."
"It'll be awesome, though," Elena added, only too happy to praise her husband to the skies and be seen and heard doing it.
Michael laughed again. "She's my biggest fan!" he told the reporters, and the same could obviously be said for him. Hand in hand, they made their way past the throng, who quickly snapped a few pictures before turning their attention to whoever was next in line.
Elena grinned at him, giving the photographers one last photo opportunity before they headed toward the steps and out of sight. "There now. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Thank God that's over!" he said, breathing a sigh of relief once they were out of sight, before turning to touch a quick kiss to her lips. "You're my hero."
Laughing, she hugged him fondly. "The worst is over, baby," she promised, looking around at the various faces, familiar and otherwise, that had already made it into the theater. "What do you say we go and chug a few virgin cocktails before 'Taya realizes we're here?"
"Sounds like a plan," he replied, relieved the hard part was over. Now, they could relax and enjoy the rest of their evening, joined by family and friends who wished them nothing but happiness. If they could survive the gauntlet, they could survive anything.
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