A Tale Of Time

Four

                                                                                                                                                        Age of Vianna-Heler

                                                                                                                                                        Year 2750B

                                                                                        VITALE

I WAS right.

The movie was trash.

After shaking off the bad energy the King sent my way, I slipped as quietly as I could into the grand hall One.

That also meant leaving the Violet Girl behind.

Good riddance. Such feelings were so irritating that they often landed me in troublesome relationships with people like Opal.

Speaking of Opal...

"Hey baby," She whispered once she joined me in the hall. She took the seat beside mine and I cursed her ability to find me. Well, I didn't expect less, the loving couple had a reputation to keep up and the room wasn't dark yet. The LED wall sconces provided ample light for all to see their way around, mingle with guests or even have a full blown interview complete with jokes and video. I could see the producer of the movie -a portly latino- laughing with exuberance at the reporters that had surrounded him. I knew him. And he laughed over the most ridiculous things...

"Did you hear me, baby?" Opal said, waving (in a dignified way, of course) in my face. She chuckled and bumped my shoulders with hers like she found me an adorable, silly airhead. Her eyes were more honest, though and they were filled with irritation, "I wonder where you're mind's at nowadays?"

I wonder where you spread your legs nowadays.

Curse the confines of politeness. Why couldn't I just call her out in public? I'd been dying to; maybe it would wipe that smug grin off her face for a change. However, the damage to my image would be more disadvantageous than any momentary gratification I could've gotten from doing so.

Oh the agony.

"I'm thinking of you, silly." I said with a sickly sweet smile, so saccharine she couldn't mistake my annoyance, "Where did you go? You look so frazzled."

Her eyes bugged out and she laced her fingers. Her nerves had taken over her, I was sure. Opal hated being in a scandal more than I did. It made me wonder why she made so much effort to take part in newsworthy things.

"What are you talking about, Vitale?" She used my name? No baby? Damn, she was terrified! "I went to the bathroom and spent the whole time looking for you!"

Did she think I was an i***t? I tutted and threw in an eye roll for good measure, "Hmm, your dress is all mussed and you have a hickey on your collar bone, darling. I know haven't kissed you all week or did you do the deed yourself? I have no idea what you get up to when you go into the bathroom."

Her cheeks flamed as she rubbed at the hickey. As though it could make the evidence vanish. I looked around to ensure that no one had noticed our little spat. It seemed that we were in the clear, everyone seemed taken with Sam Patterson's new baby. He was a cute kid, a plus being that he was actually from his wife, not an unfortunate stage hand.

Opal was staring daggers at me, calculating how much I knew and what I would do about it. She seemed to have concluded because she said, "You won't say a word to the press."

I raised an eyebrow, "Is that a fact or a threat?"

"Both." She said, leaning back into her seat, "Alexander loves me but he doesn't want us to go public yet."

Obviously because his band, Everything Soul, was taking a nosedive with their lead singer's racist antics and their drummer's nasty divorce. The last nail in the coffin would be their bass guitarist breaking up Cinema's hottest couple.

"I don't doubt his love for a second and wish you eternal happiness."

Her cheeks flamed more, "You don't even care! I don't even know what attracted me to you in the first place."

I knew. Recognition, fame... the exposure to directors and a wide range of roles. Knowing me took people places.

She was on a roll, "You don't share what you feel, you act as though I'm a burden to you, like I'm a chore,"  Because she was, "When was the last time we had s*x?"

Ah, that problem. I didn't know the answer to that problem at all, only that I wouldn't touch her body with a ten-inch pole.

"I needed love and I found it!" She hissed at me, trying to justify her infidelity, "You're incapable of loving anything but yourself and your image."

I didn't let that hurt me. I couldn't afford to let her hurt me. Or anyone as a matter of fact. But it didn't mean that the words didn't sting.

"True," I conceded like a good little bad boyfriend, "Why don't you get rid of little old me then? Tell the world of your passionate love story. 'Vitale couldn't give me what I needed, Vitale didn't love me.' Go ahead and say it to the media." Her eyes widened at my words.

I sneered at her, "You can't, because you know that your image matters to you. Just as much as it matters to me."

Opal looked at me like I was a stranger. I wasn't. We never knew each other. Not really. She was just seeing the me that avoided being hurt.

I didn't know when she stood up and left, all dramatic and angry, like an avenging angel, I didn't know when the cameras clicked and pens scribbled stories.

I was numb to all but the feeling of dumping Opal in a new box. One of the thousands of boxes where my emotions lived.

And putting her away.

THE MOVIE was on the verge of forcing my hand. 

I could either storm out of the hall and stir another storm of rumors or pretend to buy popcorn. I chose popcorn. 

I mean, years and years of image preservation didn't just stop because one's girlfriend pulled a dramatic exit in the middle of everyone.

With a whisper of excuse, I swiftly found myself outside the suffocating curtains and in the hallway from earlier. Violet Girl came to me in a flash, like lightening, like she'd been lurking for a chance to make me curious.

And I was. Now that I'd sealed the box on Opal with wax and tape, I was freer to wonder within the confines of my own mind without the chains of obligatory guilt. I wondered how soft her hair was, how her eyes would look when she was happy, sad or intrigued. She seemed the free type. A candid personality. I liked candid on a good day.

I sighed at myself. Now I had to put her in a box too, because I couldn't be fantasizing about her albeit in the comfort of my own mind. It was dangerous.

Almost as dangerous as the sight of her at the popcorn stand down the lobby.

Was this a curse?

Was she following me?

As I began to walk in her direction to question her in a manner I knew would warrant a slap, my head exploded in the harshest migraine yet. It was like fire, consuming reasonable thought and motion so I was falling... falling and dying... unable to breathe and think... a flash of violets... and the sight of something in black and white...

War...

Blood...

Ariana.

Who was that? Was it a person? I was going crazy with the swirling conflict bubbling in my blood. I wanted the pain gone. I wanted my brain gone! If I could wrench out my whole head, I would.

What was wrong with me?

"Are you okay?" A voice finally penetrated the darkness and pulled the world into light. It was Violet Girl, kneeling beside me with concern etched on her face. How did she get here? When did she get here? I had so many question but for some inexplicable reason, the first thing I said when I could see straight was, "Ariana."

Her face crunched in response and she sat on her heels as though questioning my sanity. I was questioning mine also.

"I don't know whether to be insulted or complimented. I don't know you personally but I admire you so it's an honor you know my name... or at least a variation of it." Her laugh was self-depreciating.

"Your...name...?"

"You called me Ariana." She rolled her eyes, "My name is Adrianna Ferera."

Adrianna Ferera. I'd never heard that name in my life but somehow I knew I should remember it. 

Like I knew I should remember Ariana.

I was about to question her further when I spotted the ladies at the counter, scrambling behind their booths and twittering to each other like biddy old ladies at church. What were they doing? Then I saw a phone. My whole body stilled. 

No...no... I couldn't let people see this.

I struggled to my feet much to Adrianna's displeasure and began to hurry to the nearest room. I was still dizzy and wobbly and I would vomit with the wrong move but by God I had to move.

"Vitale, wait!" She called out as I slipped into a musty storage room, "You're sick!"

She pushed her way in just as I shut the door so we were in complete darkness.

A light flickered on between us; her fingers on the nearby switch. "Why did you run?"

"Cameras." I managed, whole body covered in sweat and shaking. I hated this display of weakness. I didn't know her from Adam and I didn't know when I'd encounter her again. Giving her this ammunition would kill me later.

I needed my control back!

She scrunched her button nose. It was an innocent, guileless act,  "Was that it? What would cameras do? Take a few pictures. So?"

She was green... too green... to this harsh world. And I'd known it since I was born.

I wanted to tell her something about how efficient the media was about ruining people's lives. I could write a book worth of the stories but I was also ready to drop... I was so tired... God...

Suddenly, a loud scream pierced the stale air between us. My muscles froze, running through countless possibilities and the harm it could bring to myself. But Adrianna was more selfless because she rushed out of the storage room and marched over the polished tiles to where I could glimpse a flock of cameramen and reporters surrounding someone. I couldn't see over their heads but by God, I could identify the owner of the shrill voice anywhere.

Opal was screeching, "I love him. Vitale and I have broken up! Leave us alone!"

I stumbled out of the room, managing to wrestle control from the last strains of my headache. The reporters were saying a thousand things at once but one common theme was, "new relationship" and in a flash I understood.

Opal had probably stormed off to tell Alexander and had been enraptured by the 'efficiency' of his kisses and the thrill of almost getting caught, only to actually get caught which was obviously against Alexander's wishes seeing that he was running out of the cinema like a dog with his tail between his legs. Huh, he was leaving the love of his life to battle off the press by herself, knowing that Opal was s**t under pressure.

Romantic.

Or maybe the only thing about her that he knew was how tight she was when they'd sneak around.

Idiot. No one could say I didn't warn her.

I found Violet Girl watching with thinly veiled horror as the press misconstrued everything Opal tried to say. In a way I was grateful, they'd taught her something I couldn't.

That this life was a jungle.

Wild and unpredictable.

I walked up to her and patted her shoulder in thanks, calculating how I was going to get my Mustang from the valet at the same time.

In retrospect, I'd never been so careless near the press especially with another woman. I didn't know what I was thinking at the time. Opal was nervous with the press, but she was a queen of cooking stories too.

"See? He cheated on me with her!"

I frowned; Adrianna paled and the press turned like the most comical of cartoons towards us, hungry for a new story. I knew better than to pay them mind but I guessed Adrianna didn't because she stepped back and hurried out of the theatre before the reporters could reach us.

And so I was alone in the lurch.

"Mister Vinchesi!"

"Vitale!"

"Are you involved with the lady over there?"

"What's her name?"

"What do you have to say about Miss Dawson's claim?"

"Vitale!"

Oh she was good. While I handled the press with chilly silence, she snuck out, gold heels in hand to probably go find and blame her darling Alexander. The whole thing was messy and annoying and I'd get her back so hard she'd grovel for this.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I'm feeling ill today."

And I began to walk away, no stopping or glancing at either side. I'd learned from my father that people tended to move out of the way for people that were in a higher position than they were. Therefore one should always carry oneself that way.

So I walked with my head held high with vengeance on my mind.