Blind Love

  Blind Love

  By

  Jasmine Bowen

  Edited by Yvan C. Goudard - Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2013 Rhetorical Ratatouille/Jasmine Bowen - All Rights Reserved

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and buy your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Blind Love

  About The Author

  Discover

  Credits

  Preface

  ***

  Caius is a normal red blooded male, with superstar traits. His movies are a smash hit, his body is toned and insatiable, and his smile is enough to send any woman over the edge. But like everyone, he has a secret: Caius is blind, and only a handful of persons are aware of his disability.

  When he gets nominated for an Oscar, he must figure out how to accept the award without knowing the theatre layout, nor his seating arrangement. He calls his best friend, Emily, in to assist him, but with an ulterior motive. As each year goes on, Caius' love for Emily burns white hot. As a Hollywood superstar, he can have any woman in the world… except, it seems, for the one he wants!

  Blind Love

  ***

  “And the final nominee for best actor… Caius Von Camp, ‘Foresight’!”

  He heard the cameras clicking incessantly, and couldn’t help by grin as the crowd roared their approval. Any actor worth his salt would time a press conference with the Oscar Nominations, if he thought he had been short-listed. Here he was, thirty two years old and only his second feature film, and nominated. The future was bright for Caius, with his megawatt smile and shaggy blond hair. His career was soaring, and he was close to being the highest paid actor in Hollywood. His head pounded slightly from last night’s antics, a regular occurrence: women, booze, good music. Everything in life was perfect. His lean, toned body was lightly tanned, already landing him on People’s ‘Most Beautiful’ list twice in a row.

  Beside him, he felt his manager grip his arm, gently, as he leaned into the microphone.

  “Thank you for attending today’s press conference for the publicity tour of ‘Foresight’, which has just been nominated for several awards, including best actor. All questions can be directed towards the Press Office.”

  And with one last wave to the crowd, Caius let himself be led off stage. His trademark sunglasses were needless in the lack of backstage light, but he kept them on anyways.

  “Congrats, kid,” his manager said, stopping just behind the curtains. “And they say you’ll win, too. It’s a shoe in. Seeing you up there accepting that award will just about seal you in history. Forever!”

  Caius bit his lip, suddenly thinking of something:

  “Oscars are a big one, eh? These aren’t little MTV awards… you aren’t allowed to stumble on stage, clutching your date’s arm…”

  “No, kid.”

  Phil realized it at the same time his client did, and put a hand to his mouth:

  “Shit!”

  “It’s ok,” Caius replied with a shrug and an uneasy smile, “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Security will be tight in the theatre. They won’t let you scope it out, for fear you’ll tamper with the envelopes or something.”

  “It’s ok.”

  Caius reached up to pull off his sunglasses:

  “Call Emily for me, will ya? I have a feeling we’re going to need her.”

  And then he turned to face his manager full on, his sightless eyes nearly white in the darkness.

  *

  Caius had been blind since birth, and had never let it stop him from doing anything. His parents made no allowances for him, introducing him to music, letting him walk the playground the day before school started so he could learn how to play on it. His exceptional talent in music made them think that, perhaps, he had found a career that would suit his sight; there were many blind musicians. But one day, in seventh grade, Caius was asked to lend his angelic voice to the school’s production of ‘Joseph and the Dream Coat’, and his life changed forever. Not only was he bitten by the acting bug, but he met Emily, who would go on to become his best friend. Playing opposite him, Emily took the extra time after rehearsals – often staying at the school until midnight – to help him learn his blocking, walking him through the steps and finding his props that were carefully placed. She recorded the entire script into his phone so that it would read it to him. When opening night came, the pair of them received seven standing ovations. Many of the parents who came had no idea that the lead actor was sightless, his blue contact-lenses hiding the deformity.

  That was when Phil had gotten word of him, himself a young manager in Hollywood with recent success. He kept an eye on Caius through his twelve other productions in public school and college, finally approaching him in his sophomore college year.

  It took three directors firing him on the first day before they figured out that his sight was going to hold him back forever. Only then did they begin to hide it, with contact-lenses, with an act of an aloof and private life; contracts stating that Caius was a control-freak diva who needed the set to himself for a day before production started. He learned the sets, the blocking, learned to listen to every tiny audio cue, aim his head in the right direction, just as he had done in school. Together, with Phil at his back and Emily at his side, his career began to take off.

  Of course, he couldn’t hide it forever. However, by the time the cast and crew figured it out, they were all too overjoyed to work with him; his talent was soaring and his personality drawing them in. Confidentially agreements were signed, extra assistants were hired, and the secret was kept. Caius had no interest in having his eye-sight define him, and swore that the public must never know his secret, or he would gain only the pity vote. After twelve years in the industry, the only people who knew were the people he frequently worked with: the same director for two films, the same crew for his TV series and a film. And they all swore on their lives to protect him, wanting him to succeed.

  And then there was Emily; kind, gentle Emily who had left acting after school to work in finance. Their friendship, now separated by many miles, continued to exist through phone calls, and occasional visits. Still, she would come when he needed her, and this was one of those times.

  “But what if you don’t get the Oscar?” she asked, dressed in sweatpants and curled up on her couch, the phone pressed to her ear. She had called him twice before he picked up, eager to catch up after a week of silence. “I better not use the last of my vacation time to help you for nothing!”

  “So, you want me to rig it or something?” he asked, with a grin, sitting on his own couch, three thousand miles away. His schedule had been insane lately, and it was good to hear her voice. “Look, it’s held in the same place every year. So all you have to do is watch a million years of Oscar to memorize it.”

  “Wait, we can’t get into the theatre beforehand? (This made her sit up straight) For a walk through?”

  “This is the whole problem, Em,” he replied, “have you been listening?”

  She sighed, glancing at the tabloid magazine she had bought earlier that day. There he was, grinning up at her from the glossy page. In a way, he seemed so different than the boy she had befriended at school. However, ten seconds of his banter made her realize nothing had changed.

  “Alright, have your minions send me tapes of the ceremonies from the last 5 years
. I’ll book some flights and call you back.”

  “Thank you, doll,” he replied, and said goodnight.

  There was no-one in the world he loved quite like Emily, especially at moments like this. However, love was quite different than lust, and lust was what he was thinking about right now. He hung up the phone and wandered back to the bedroom, picking up a beer as he went.

  “Do you think I’m pretty?” said the random bar-find of the night as he came back in. He laughed at this, sliding back to the sheets in the darkness. He had his contacts in, and he felt half drunk, but it was still a good enough act to fool the star struck girl.

  “Sure, babe,” he replied, throwing an arm around her, and kissing her hard, eager to pick up where they had left off earlier. His hand drifted down her naked torso, down her taunt stomach and onto her thighs. She gave a little whimper, curling closer to him.

  “Prettier than the girl on the phone? Was that your girlfriend?” she asked, and Caius winced at that.

  “I don’t know,” he said, truthfully, but she took it as a tease and kissed him back.

  His mind flickered back to Emily, her soft skin and long hair. Whenever he hugged her, he felt as if they matched, their bodies fitting together perfectly. He missed her terribly, being so far away all the time, sending her trinkets often.

  What she didn’t know was the words that were unsaid on the phone; the stilted goodbyes that he wanted to end with ‘I love you’, the friendship bracelets that he wanted to be a ring. He loved Emily more than anything on the planet, and he was a Hollywood superstar now; he should have been able to have any woman he wanted. Any woman… except the one that would not have him.

  Rising over him with a seductive look, the bar-find raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, let me change your mind,” she said, and then there was no more talking, only the sounds of the night.

  *

  When Emily’s plane landed in LA, Phil was there to meet her. In recent years, Caius had stopped coming to the airport, his presence always causing a stampede that was hard to navigate him through. She tried to tell herself it was for that reason alone, and not because he didn’t think she was important. But she felt a little angry when she pulled her suitcase towards Phil.

  “Good flight?” he asked her, giving her a hug.

  The pair had come to know each other well over the years, often exchanging text messages, and Caiustmas cards.

  “Usual. For all they claim first class is, it really isn’t that much more comfortable,” she replied. “Where are we going?”

  “Probably just the house, unless you need something first. Caius is filming until at least 6 p.m., so you’ll have some time to relax.”

  “Take me to set,” she said, suddenly, as they exited the airport and headed for the waiting limo. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen how he operates at work.”

  “To set?” Phil raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged, pulling out his phone. “Sure, why not.” He made the necessarily arrangements and then they pulled out into LA traffic, crawling towards the soundstage where Caius was filming.

  Emily was anxious to see him again. They were used to being separated for long periods of time, of course, but lately it felt especially painful. Of late, their conversations were more frequent, feeling a sudden surge of closeness as they spoke late into the nights. Caius had recently gotten voice-to-text on his phone, and they texted up a storm most days, with daily tidbits and anecdotes. Still, they had been apart six months, and things might be different.

  Caius was filming when they snuck onto set, locked in a scene full of rage and emotion. Still, the second the director yelled cut, he turned his head in her direction, a grin on his face. To the blind, every other senses are heightened, and he heard her coming even when she was tiptoeing.

  “EMMY!” he cried, and she went to him at once, hugging him tight.

  It was instinct, to go to him, rather than have him come to her. It was just one more little adjustment one made for their blind best friend.

  “I thought you were going to go home.”

  “And miss out on the chance to see what happens to Calvin?” she asked, referring to his character on his long running TV show. “What’s the use of knowing you if I don’t get insider information?”

  “You sneak,” he said, laying a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes flicked up immediately, out of habit, trying to meet his. He looked tired, a five o’clock shadow growing rapidly on his chin, in his natural brown. He looked so much different from the nerdy boy she had taken under her wing at school. But it was that kiss, something he had almost never done, that startled her. She and Caius had always been best friends. But lately, his affection poured out from him in ways she had never seen.

  “Please, let it be lunch time,” she said, smelling the craft service table.

  Emily was curvier, with an appetite that always amazed him. However, in the land of Hollywood size 0s, she stuck out like a sore thumb. He laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. All the pent up emotion from the scene was fading away, now that she was here.

  “It is. Let’s go feed you, before you fade away.”

  “Not likely,” she replied, watching an impossibly skinny girl give her a look of disgust as she headed to the table with him. He laughed, and she forced herself to join him, as they picked up plates.

  “Do you know what’s here?” she asked him, scanning the long banquet table.

  “There’s some pretty good garlic chicken somewhere,” he said, and she spotted it, heaping a few forkfuls on his plate. “I have a kissing scene this afternoon, and I hate her guts, the stuck up bitch.”

  “Ew!” she replied, helping herself to some salad and a brownie. “Do you want a brownie?”

  “Cupcake,” he said, and she nudged his hand into the right direction. “I’d rather be kissing you than her,” he said as a joke, and she laughed.

  “Wow, you must really hate her!” She giggled, letting him lightly rest a hand on her back as she took him towards a table.

  “Yeah,” he replied, although it wasn’t as strong. He did hate her…. but he’d really rather be kissing Emily.

  *

  “Is it possible we can get you a specific seat?” Emily asked, that night, as she laid out the diagram of the Oscar theatre. She had sketched it in rough, with measurements scribbled in to remind her. They were using the ballroom of Caius’s mansion to practice. She had laid out a row of chairs the exact distance from the stage, and then placed enough books on the floor to imitate the three steps up to the stage.

  “They’ll be assigned, but not until a few days before,” he replied, sitting lazily in an armchair, a beer in his hand as he listened to her work. Emily was moving around frantically, her perfume floating around him every time she passed.

  “Right. Well, whatever, seats are easy. Just run your hand along the backs until you reach the end of the row, and then along the sides until you feel no more. Then, bang: front row!” Her voice was lilting, a leftover accent from her childhood in England. When she used to sing, it disappeared completely, the American pronunciation taking over. But when she spoke, it was still prominent. “Get up.”

  He obeyed, heading towards where he knew she was. She took his hand, placing it gently on the end seat of the row. He tried to take a step forward, and she stopped him.

  “Whoa, wait. I’ve made this place look like the theatre, including a few camera cords that’ll be there, so you need to slow down and feel it out.”

  “My Emily, meticulous down to the last rat,” he replied, moving his hand to wrap around her waist. She giggled, leading him forward gently.

  “Ok, so it’s 1-2-3-4-5 steps before your foot is going to hit the stairs on the left side of the theatre. The stairs on the right side are the same, so whatever side you are seated on should be fine. However, try and favour the left side; before, there seemed to be fewer cameras on that side, for some reason. I think there’s a bank of plugs on the right, so that’s where they stay. Alright…
so the stairs are wide, they are about four steps across, and there’s three of them going up before you hit the stage.” She took him up to her makeshift stage – a piece of plywood stolen from the props department – and balanced on the two sets of ‘stairs’ on either side of the room.

  Emily was praying her calculations were right. She had done it using every ounce of math skills she retained, putting the videos onto her computer and trying to measure everything electronically. If she was even a step off, she knew it would cause Caius to stumble, and possibly betray himself.

  “Now, the podium…”

  She droned on and on as she pulled him through his paces, and he was happy to listen. It had been so long since she had helped him, his nose practically buried in her hair, his arm wrapped around the comforting curves of her waist.

  “Are you going to act like a suave Diva and just do an acceptance speech on the fly?” she asked. “Or should we have a prop paper for you to pull out and read?”

  “I can use my brain,” he replied, as she laid his hands on the podium. Suddenly, she wiggled out of his grasp, and he heard her behind him. “What are you doing?”

  “One more thing,” she said, and touched him, placing something extremely heavy in his hands.

  “What is this?” he asked, startled by the weight. It felt like a long pepper grinder.

  “That’s an Oscar,” she said. “Phil got it for me, borrowed it from Meryl Strep… I wanted you to feel it, I heard they were heavy.”

  “Whoa!” he said, his hands running over it, as he felt every inch of the gold statue. A silence fell over them both, as he felt it, got to know it with his hands. She had to bite her lip to hold back the tears, seeing him with it. After all the failure and rejection, the late night tears of anger and frustration, all the work they put in to make sure he was at no disadvantage… and here he stood, about to be honoured with the greatest award from an industry that had once shunned him. “Em…”