Chapter 109: ‘Back to the Future’

Saturday, June 29, 1985

We woke fairly early in the morning but lazed around in bed for a while, talking about everything and nothing at all. I got up at nine and called New Orleans, talking to Jas, Mom, and Angie.

In the meantime, Jess headed to the bathroom to avoid making any background noise. We’d talked about it. If Mom knew Jess was at the hotel this early, she would likely draw entirely the correct conclusion, and she (at least in theory) was unaware of the open relationship.

I suspected that might blow up one day. Jess and I were likely going to be ourselves. If she was a big star, sooner or later some paparazzi would catch us kissing and we’d be off to the races.

Still, this wasn’t that day. The longer things took, the better. Probably, anyway.

After the call, Jess led us to a diner not all that far from the hotel. The food was good; the company was better.

Late in the meal, Jess said, “What are you thinking about tonight?”

“Honestly,” I said, “I’m a bit nervous. This is a new thing for me. The closest I’ve ever been to a ‘star’ was being across the lobby from an actress. One you wouldn’t know, but she’ll be famous eventually. Probably, anyway.”

She nodded.

“I get that. I’m a bit nervous, too. Still ... I think I’ve got this.”

“Good!” I said.

“Mostly ... for the early parts, the walk in and all that stuff, just follow my lead. I know how to navigate this. Like you said, you don’t, but you’re a quick study. For this, um ... think of me like Sam Myers. I’m the new girl with big dreams and a lot of potential, at least in my own mind. I’m not the star. My goal is to get noticed, in terms of paparazzi and people like that. Inside the premiere, what I hear is that people just talk. They’re just people. Some people are standoffish jerks. Some people have their own clique and they’ll be busy with that. But many people will talk to whoever’s nearby. You’re perfectly adept at small talk. Just do that and don’t be nervous.”

“I’d hate to screw anything up for you,” I said.

“Well, sure!” she said, chuckling. “But, the thing is, I know that. Right now, we...”

She paused, then said, “Okay, so. Suppose it’s someone really famous. Take Stephen Spielberg. He’s Robert Zemeckis’s mentor. So, let’s assume Spielberg’s there. He comes over and says ‘hi,’ then asks who you are and why you’re there. Conversationally, you know — he’s not going to interrogate you!”

I chuckled.

“I figured he wouldn’t.”

“So, if you mention me, maybe that’s great. Maybe Spielberg checks me out, thinks I’m amazing, and casts me in his next ten movies. But, maybe he checks me out, decides I’m a pretty face with no depth who has a hick from Houston as a boyfriend, and I’m on his blacklist. You won’t be the problem. You’ll be your nice, polite, smart, friendly self. How they react is on them.”

I nodded along.

“Makes sense,” I said.

“Besides,” she said, “I think you may be one of the few people in the room who won’t be intimidated by Spielberg. You don’t depend on him for anything, and you know things about him he doesn’t know! Now, with some people, that’s a bad thing. Like, from what everyone hears, if you try to treat Barbra Streisand like she’s a normal person, it doesn’t go well. Not that there’s any chance of her being there! But I think most directors are more ‘normal people.’ Well, when they’re not on set playing God, anyway.”

“Shades of ‘The Stunt Man’,” I said.

She grinned.

“God, I love that movie!” she said. “They showed it on campus. It’s so good! The scene where Steve Railsback is talking about the ice cream ... it’s just, that pivot from hilarious to dead serious, that’s perfect! And Eli and his ‘killer crane.’ Everyone wondering about everyone else’s motives. I admit: if anything was going to scare me away from movies, movies about making movies would probably do it! But I still love them.”

“I love it, too,” I said. “Always have. I can’t remember when I first saw it, but it was when I was in high school. Both times.”

She giggled and threw a blueberry at me. I caught it and grinned.

“Jas told me to swat you when you do things like that, but fruit works,” she said.

“It’s all just a big running joke now,” I said, chuckling, then eating the blueberry.

“To me, it gives me warm, fuzzy feelings,” she said. “It’s this feeling of being in one of the most exclusive clubs in the world. One where I belong because of who I am inside, not who I am on the surface.”

“That’s how I feel about it, too,” I said.

She leaned forward and kissed me.

“Back to tonight. I’m not worried. We’ll probably wind up separated while talking to people. That’s normal. A lot of couples split up at these things. You know how it is: the way women talk to women, and men talk to men, is totally different than how the same people talk in mixed groups. I’m not even talking about, you know, boasting and all. Just ... if there’s a woman there, most guys will be concerned with whether she likes them. Doesn’t matter if she’s a married, 90-year-old grandmother. Women will talk about anything with other women, but not where a guy might hear. Unless he’s gay, maybe!”

I nodded.

“This all makes sense. I hadn’t thought of it as ‘strategic,’ but...”

“It’s just what people do. It’s natural, but it’s also ... most people know how this works, at least unconsciously.”

“So, pretty much: be myself, don’t worry, be nice to people — all that stuff.”

“Exactly! Kind words for me are great, but who knows if they’ll make any difference? Doesn’t matter — you’ll say good things, and that’s all anyone could ask.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, smiling.

“That’s the whole thing right there!” she said. “Because I know how good your best is, friend!”

We played tourist for a while in the afternoon, driving around and looking at stars’ homes, shopping a bit on Rodeo Drive, and things like that. We talked a bit more about Emma. Jess confirmed she was a good friend, not just a ‘work friend,’ and thought we would like her.

She even said Emma really needed to get laid and that it was good she was able to visit her boyfriend. Jess also said she’d needed to get laid more than Emma did, and was very happy to have me out here visiting.

Once it got to be midafternoon, we headed back to the hotel.

“I have a limo picking us up at five-twenty,” she said. “That’ll have us arriving after the biggest names, pretty much. It’s completely silly to take a limo such a short distance, but one does not walk to a premiere if one is an actor.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said.

“Right now, we should get changed. I really don’t need to do much, but there’s still ... you know. It’s a girl thing.”

“I get it,” I said.

As I was changing, it hit me how relaxed we were around each other. It was the casual familiarity of true intimacy. We certainly weren’t soulmates, unless it was ‘best friend / occasional lover soulmates,’ but we knew each other quite well.

That might be what Jess was getting at, but from another angle. She knew I very much appreciated her body and her looks, but she also knew I wasn’t hung up on them and wasn’t going to go crazy watching her primping while half-dressed (or less).

Her dress turned out to be a very elegant velvet off-the-shoulder ‘little black dress.’ For being ‘off the shoulder,’ it went right up to her shoulders, leaving almost none of her chest bare save for a V in the center. The V itself wasn’t deep, either.

That was the ‘elegant’ part of the dress, for me. This wasn’t the typical off-the-shoulder cocktail dress. When Jess confirmed it was yet another Grace Kelly tribute, I wasn’t at all surprised. It was obvious to anyone paying attention that her fashion choices were an homage, not a rip-off, and she had both the looks and personality to pull them off without it feeling ‘fake’ or ‘derivative.’

The best part of that, for me, was that I was pretty sure this wasn’t simply an early campaign to create ‘American Princess’. It was merely Jess picking an icon with whom she shared some similarities. Grace Kelly couldn’t help how she looked any more than Jess could, but ’looks’ weren’t what had defined her career. For instance, her role in ‘Rear Window’ started with ‘pretty girl,’ but was far deeper than that and played on her being smart just as much as pretty.

My look was simple: my tux, with all of my accessories in black to match her. My ‘good’ watch was good enough to work with a tux, and I had a pair of gold cufflinks, but otherwise my look was very stereotypical. It would do exactly what it was supposed to do: make me an appropriate escort for the glamorous woman on my arm.

Jess needed help with this dress. I was well-practiced in the art of zippers, but I was also good at clasps and other fasteners thanks to many years of practice. Jess was surprised at how fast things went and thought I’d missed the clasp, but then laughed at imagining I wouldn’t realize it was there.

Everything went according to plan. The limo showed up on time and we climbed in, only to climb out less than five minutes later in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater. Most of the travel time was spent making a loop so we would be on the correct side of the road.

I’d already learned the proper thing to do: exit first, then help my date out, all of the while making sure no one but me could possibly get a look up her skirt. Jess’s dress wasn’t super-short, but it’s always a risk, and one I was happy to help with.

As one would expect, there were both studio photographers and paparazzi at the premiere. Jess posed for the latter while walking to the former. Several people took her card (a face shot with her name, her agent’s name, and their contact information). The professional photographer also took my card and at least implied I would receive a copy of the photos.

I was, by this point, an old hand at following photographers’ directions, as was Jess, so they had no problem getting us posed the way they wanted us.

There was a clear progression of attendees since everyone was arriving by limo. That kept crowding to a minimum and gave everyone their moment in the sun.

This played out dozens of times a year and the photographers (of both sorts) were well practiced at it.

We went inside, finding a lobby full of men in tuxedos or suits and women in party dresses. At a guess, a full one-third of the women were wearing black, like Jess, while the rest were in a rainbow of colors (most leaning towards ‘pale’ or ‘pastel,’ though — few were in bold, bright colors).

Jess immediately waved to one of the few women in bright colors. She was wearing a metallic blue dress that really stood out. I guessed she was in her late twenties, though women’s ages can be quite hard (and sometimes risky) to guess.

“C’mon!” she said, giving just the slightest tug via our linked arms. “That’s Deborah, the costumer. She’s great!”

“Happy to meet her,” I said.

We headed over and Jess dropped my arm to give Deborah a hug.

“Deborah, this is my friend Steve Marshall,” she said.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” she said. “Deborah Scott,” she added, extending her hand.

I shook it, smiling.

“I’ve heard your name a time or two as well,” I said, smiling. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Deborah made me look great,” Jess said.

Deborah chuckled, and said, “Given what you give me to work with, you make it easy!”

She turned to me and said, “You were along on the trip when she wore the ‘Rear Window’ outfit, right?”

I nodded, and said, “Yes. That was really an eye-catcher!”

“Not many people can do that, really. Mostly, people try too hard, even people with the looks,” she said. “Jessica was very easy to work with. You two are old friends, right?”

“Years, now,” Jess said.

Deborah looked around and spotted someone else.

“Sorry,” she said. “I have to run! Someone I need to talk to. A pleasure!”

Deborah scooted off, and we were alone together again.

“She seems nice,” I said.

“She made everything easy,” Jess said. “I was a late addition and I had to have a great 50s dance dress. The one she made for me is so good! I love it! But it wasn’t right for tonight.”

We went around, mixing and mingling. Jess talked to a few people and so did I. None of them were ‘anyone,’ but they were interesting. I saw some of the big names, but they were mostly talking to other big names, so I was hardly going to go over to them.

After about an hour of this, during which I talked to four agents (all of whom gave me a pitch for their services, which I found amusing), they opened the theater and everyone filed in. Seats were somewhat assigned, with Jess and I in a later group than many of the stars.

We wound up next to Jane Feinberg, one of the casting directors. I think she had her husband with her, but she didn’t introduce him. Jane told Jess she wished she’d had the chance to cast her and would keep her in mind for future films. I had the feeling she said that a lot, but I also had the feeling it was perfectly genuine.

On our other side was a guy in his mid-forties who turned out to be the makeup designer. He joked about Jess having needed no work, but she waved a hand at him and chuckled. I knew enough about film lighting to know many ‘makeup-free’ people in movies are actually wearing plenty.

Robert Zemeckis stood up and welcomed everyone, giving a short speech which said ‘this movie was a ton of fun to make’ and also ‘we’ve been working incredibly hard getting it ready.’ From what I knew about the filming, I suspected both were true. The core filming had been fun, but they replaced the star a month in and had to do a bunch of reshoots both then and later, plus the effects work had come in at the very last moment.

After his remarks, we sat, the theater dimmed, and we were off into the world of ‘Back To The Future’.

It was almost the same movie, and that was a good thing.

On the other hand, it was not the same movie. There was a slight difference in the initial sequence. Marty came in and did almost all of the same things, but he spotted the chaos in the house just before strumming the guitar, unlike what I remembered him doing. Instead, as he started to figure things out, the clocks going off caused him to drop the guitar, making the chord that blew out the speaker.

It was a little change, but it stood out for me. It made Marty a trifle more observant without significantly changing the scene.