The Runaway Actress. Victoria Connelly

Deco theatre where it was being held, she caught sight of a few of the famous faces there. She had to stop and pinch herself sometimes. At events like this, she still felt like such a newbie even though she’d been in the business since she was six.

      ‘Connie!’ a voice called. She turned around and came face to face with Carter Maddox, the infamous journalist, and he had a camera crew with him. ‘Over here, Connie!’

      There was no getting away from him so Connie dug deep for her smile again and joined him.

      ‘And you are looking very glam tonight. How are you?’

      ‘I’m fine, thank you, Carter.’

      ‘Who are you wearing?’

      ‘Tierney Mueller,’ Connie said, sighing inwardly at the originality of his questions.

      ‘And who’s accompanying you tonight?’

      Connie’s eyebrows rose. Now, that was a question she hadn’t been expecting.

      ‘Don’t tell me the gorgeous Connie Gordon is alone tonight?’

      ‘Yes, I am, Carter.’

      ‘Well, men of America, you should be ashamed of yourselves,’ Carter said, turning to the camera. ‘I really think you should’ve made more of an effort.’

      ‘No, really Carter – don’t—’

      ‘Isn’t there anyone out there who’d kill to have this lovely lady on their arm?’

      Connie rolled her eyes, imagining the crank letters from the men of America she’d be receiving over the coming months.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ a voice announced on the tannoy. ‘Please take your seats. The ceremony is about to begin.’

      Connie sighed with relief and made a hasty departure from Carter Maddox.

      She was just entering the auditorium when she felt a hand on her bottom. Spinning around, she came face to face with Jeff Kline.

      ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he said.

      If anyone else called her gorgeous tonight, she would scream.

      ‘What are you doing here, Jeff ?’

      ‘Nice to see you too! Not still sore, are you, honeybun?’

      ‘Don’t call me that. I’m not your honeybun! Not since you sold out to the Hollywood Recorder.’

      ‘But sweetcakes! What did you expect me to do?’

      ‘You’re a piece of slime, Kline,’ she said, rather liking the rhyme that made. ‘Go to hell.’

      She made her way to her seat and hoped that she wouldn’t meet any more of her ex-boyfriends that evening.

      But, alas, it wasn’t to be.

      They were half an hour into the ceremony when Connie was escorted backstage and given a scarlet envelope and statuette for the award for best supporting actor. It was the moment she’d been dreading.

      Just take it slowly, she told herself, hoping she wouldn’t trip over the ridiculously long dress. Nice and slowly.

      Waiting for her cue backstage, she wondered how long it would be before she could sneak home. There was a party after the show – several parties – and she’d been invited to all of them but she could think of nothing worse.

      ‘You’re on!’ a girl backstage suddenly yelled at her.

      ‘Oh!’ Connie yelled back, venturing forth onto the stage where she was greeted by wave after wave of applause. The host had stepped to one side and the microphone was left for Connie. Walking up to it, she dared to look out into the audience, which was a great mistake because her heart rate doubled almost instantly. It was one of the reasons that the theatre had never tempted her. A live audience – there was nothing scarier.

      She cleared her throat and began. ‘Being a supporting actor is no mean feat. It’s often as strenuous and time-consuming as being a lead and yet these vital roles are often overlooked. Not so tonight. We are here to acknowledge and celebrate five fabulous actors in supporting roles.’ She stepped to one side and looked to the screen, which had been set up on the stage to show clips from the five different films. As the lights dimmed, Connie sneaked a look out into the audience. There was Jeff, with a blonde to his right and a brunette to his left. In his element, as usual. And there was Harvey Andreas. She’d really fallen for him. What a mistake that had been, she thought, thinking of Harvey’s inability to commit to just one woman at a time.

      As the clips continued, Connie realised, with awful certainty, that she had probably dated about five per cent of the audience there tonight. What a depressing thought. And not one single Prince Charming amongst them. Not one.

      As the clips finished and the house lights came on, Connie stepped up to the microphone and opened the envelope and saw the name she had been dreading.

      Out of all the nominations …

      ‘And the winner is—’ she said.

      A one in five chance and he had to go and win it!

      ‘Forrest Greaves!’

      There was a huge round of applause and she saw the dark-haired actor stand up from his seat and make his way to the stage. He was tall, fit and desperately handsome – your typical love rat – and he had double-timed Connie with some low-life extra on the set of her last film. She still couldn’t believe it. Whilst he’d been sending enormous bunches of flowers to her trailer, he’d been sleeping with Candy in his. The press had had a field day with it and Connie was still coping with the fallout because Candy was about to have his baby and hadn’t wasted any time parading her enormous naked body in front of the glossies.

      And now the awards. It was unbearable.

      ‘Hey, gorgeous!’ Forrest said as he sidled up to her on the stage and leant forward for the obligatory kiss, his hand – unseen by the audience because they were standing behind the podium – copped a quick feel of her bottom.

      She threw him a heated glare as he stepped back, thrusting the award at him and moving to one side as he gave his acceptance speech. She was not going to make it easy for the press to get a photo of the two of them together.

      Once it was over, the two of them left the stage together and, as soon as they were away from the cameras, Connie felt Forrest’s hand on her bottom again.

      ‘HEY!’ she yelled. What was it with men and her ass? She couldn’t remember putting out an advert in the newspapers saying, Men – please grab my ass whenever you pass.

      Forrest’s hands leapt in the air. ‘Only appreciating what was once mine.’

      ‘You gave up all rights to that when I caught you with that sleaze in your trailer,’ Connie said.

      ‘That was a misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘I told you at the time. My zip was stuck. She was helping me fix it. I swear we weren’t a couple until after you broke up with me! I swear, Connie!’

      ‘God!’ Connie said. ‘Can you hear yourself ? You might’ve fooled the judges on the panel tonight but you’re the worst actor I’ve ever met.’

      Connie didn’t bother returning to her seat. She’d had more than enough for one evening. She found a nice member of staff who called a cab for her and showed her out of a quiet exit where she could make an escape without the clamour of fans and photographers.

      Once home, Connie struggled with the dress fastenings. It was more difficult than she’d imagined and it took several minutes of yoga-like twists before she was free and could wriggle out of the skintight fabric. She shook her head upside down, ruffling her hair as she often did when she was stressed.

      What a night, she thought. It was the end of a long and taxing week but next week would be just as bad and the week after that wouldn’t prove