The Slow Rise Of Clara Daniels

PROLOGUE LOS ANGELES, 2019 The noise of the crowd beyond the doors of Clara’s car was like the dull roar of the ocean at a distance. The sound rose and fell in waves, cresting as each luxury car approached the front of the theatre, and the celebrity it carried stepped into the light. Clara leaned back against the leather seat of her limousine. She watched through the tinted windows as the paparazzi jostled for position beyond the red cord, fighting each other like sharks that scented blood. They had gathered to see the rich and famous come to her movie’s premiere, to pick away at the flesh that fed them. Clara sighed. She had learned long ago that the press was a leech on the body of Hollywood that could not be pulled off. Nick, her young co-star, leaned across her to get a better glimpse of the photographers beyond the windows, pressing against her and wrinkling her gown. This was his first premiere, and along the edges of his mind, Clara could feel his excitement mingled with the sharp bite of fear as he looked out at the sea of faces beyond the glass. Clara felt a touch of almost maternal pride at how beautiful he was. She brushed Nick’s blond bangs out of his eyes. With the film released, in a month’s time, if not sooner, their liaison would be over. She would always think of him fondly. In spite of the age listed in his press release, he was barely eighteen. She found herself wishing Nick wasn’t vapid, that some spark of intelligence might light his eyes so she could speak with him, if not with true intimacy, at least as an equal. That impossibility made her laugh at herself, and Nick turned to smile at her. She strengthened her mental shields under the heat of his gaze. She knew better than to read his thoughts. She always made a point of tuning them out. The empty canyon of his mind was too depressing to contemplate. Clara heard the thoughts of the people in the crowd. Their minds were a low roar, a jumble of noise that made almost no sense. The thoughts of the people outside her car flowed past like an incoming tide. She relaxed into it and allowed herself to be buoyed by it. She let her mind float on the surface of that great ocean, the ocean she’d swum in all her life. Nick adjusted the tie of his tuxedo, and she kissed him. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll be fine.” Someone opened her car door and there was no more time to talk. Clara stepped out into the glare of the lights, blinded by flash bulbs. She held her ground until her eyes adjusted to the onslaught. Then she moved forward, smiling. Nick followed her out of the car. He flashed his shy smile for the photographers, pushing his bangs out of his eyes with his trademark boyish gesture, but Clara knew where her bread was buttered. She stared past the press, to the bleachers, where her public sat waiting for her. If she had her way, the fans would be up front, and the press could take their chances. She turned to the bleachers and gave them a dazzling smile. People began to scream her name, waving and shrieking. Clara waved back at them with one long sweep of her arm. She turned so that her public could get a good glimpse of her sequined gown. Her back was bare, and the gown swept down into a scoop of soft material just above the curve of her hips. She could hear the women murmuring to each other in approval. The men also approved, but they were silent. With homage paid to her public, the people who kept food on her table and her pool heated, Clara turned to the press. “Clara! Over here!” “What’s your next picture?” “Who’s that guy, Clara?” “Are you two engaged?” Clara took Nick’s arm. The boy was starting to get overwhelmed. Even with his ego, a full press corps was tough to take the first time. And the paparazzi weren’t speaking to him. She smiled at the press, giving them a good view of the back of her gown, before drawing Nick toward the door of the theater. A bank of television cameras greeted them there, and Clara stopped to give a few one sentence interviews. She knew her job, and she was good at it. The television media were worth cultivating. “Clara.” A woman from Entertainment Now extended a microphone. “We understand that you and Nick have been very close since making Shout! together.” Clara smiled her mysterious smile, showing very few teeth. Nick stared manfully into the cameras. She could feel his terror through the stiffness in his arm. “Nick and I had a great time working together. I hope we get to do it again.” Clara’s voice caressed the words of the last sentence as she ran her hand over Nick’s arm. Her touch soothed him, and she felt him relax. She drew him forward and spoke to a few more reporters before they made it into the theater. Once they were inside, Nick exhaled. “Holy s**t. That was wild.” Clara smiled, brushing the perpetual lock of hair off his forehead. She kissed him. “You did well.” He smiled down at her like a child who’d just been handed a sweet. “So, we’ll be on TV tonight, huh?” Clara’s smile slipped a notch. “I’d say that’s a safe bet.”