As
soon as Brad and I are inside the lobby, security walks me over to a bank of
televisions so we can watch Colin walk the red carpet. It’s amazing to see how
carefree he looks. He’s walking along the line of fans, shaking hands, signing
autographs, and posing for pictures. I see him grab a fangirl’s camera and take
a photo of the two of them together. She nearly passes out. He acknowledges all
the kids and gives them an extra half-second of his time.
The
producers of the various networks that have sent reporters to cover the red
carpet arrivals are trying to get Colin’s attention. I see them finally giving
up, and pleading their cases to Jenny and Aiden.
I
can tell when Colin spots Tyler and Liza, because his smile finally reaches his
eyes. He walks over to them and greets them both. They pose for pictures
together. I’ve grown to really like them. Liza, being a music stylist, has them
dressed as if they’re going to the Grammys. However, I have to laugh out loud
when I see the tie that Tyler is wearing. He has on all black: black pants,
jacket, and shirt. All of his tattoos are appropriately covered. However, the tie
that he’s wearing is the ultimate in tacky. It’s a Dallas Cowboys tie from the
1980's that probably came complimentary with the purchase of a bottle of
cologne. It’s hideously perfect for the rocker/football player. His hair is a
crazy shade of blue. The fans love him, and scream for his attention.
Aiden
and Jenny direct Colin to the line of reporters covering the red carpet
arrivals. That’s when I see her. Sasha Stone is holding a microphone, and
trying desperately to get Colin’s attention. I turn to the security person
standing next to me. “Please turn up the volume,” I ask, trying to keep the fear
out of my voice. The ever present knot is growing in my stomach.
I
watch Colin’s body language, trying to predict what he’s going to do. As he
approaches her, his face is unreadable. He’s slipped the game day mask on. He
could stab you in the heart, and you wouldn’t see it coming.
I’ll
give Sasha credit. She looks gorgeous. Her dress is lime sorbet green, which
sounds ugly, but looks fantastic against her tan complexion, light blonde hair
and bright blue eyes. It skims her body, revealing every curve without showing
much skin.
When
Colin reaches her, he bends down and places a kiss on her cheek. I’m sure that
it’s friendly, but it makes me crazy. Those lips will not touch me until
they’ve been sanitized . . . with Lysol. Their body language is friendly. I
reach down and feel my engagement ring with my finger. I know that
Colin wants me and not her, but I still hate seeing them together. Her beauty
rivals his.
She
single-handedly sunk my career by granting that awful interview. Because of her,
Colin and I had to open our lives up for public viewing. I hate her. How can he
be so friendly to her? She pushed the pebble down the mountain, creating our
avalanche.
Then,
I notice what Colin’s doing. He’s rubbing his thumb back and forth over his
engagement ring. It’s a very small gesture, but I’ve noticed that he does it
frequently. My first impression is that it’s become the equivalent of a child’s
safety blanket for him, or a much-loved teddy bear. The ring, that he
complained so much about wearing, is bringing him comfort. That loosens the
knot in my stomach.
Sasha
keeps her questions focused on football, which is smart, on her part. Colin
gives the same rehearsed, tired answers that he always gives. Yes! He’s looking
forward to the season. This is one of the best teams that Dallas has ever had.
Blah . . . blah . . . blah . . .
Then,
to my surprise, she asks him if he can confirm the rumors that he’s ending his
endorsement deal with the underwear company. Colin flashes his “Aw, shucks”
grin and replies, “You know, I’m almost in my mid-thirties. I think it’s time
to hang up the briefs.”
Sasha
jumps on the news, like white on rice. “So, you’re confirming that your famous
underwear campaign will be coming to an end?”
“Yup.
That’s what I’m confirming,” he says, still smiling his good ol’ boy grin.
“I
noticed a wedding ring on your left hand. Can you also confirm that you’re
married?” I’ll give Sasha credit. She asks the question without a hint of
malice or jealousy in her voice. She’s either a great reporter, or she never
really loved Colin, like her interview led everyone to believe.
Colin’s
jaw sets in the rigid stance that I’ve become familiar with when he’s angry,
and I see him thumbing his ring even faster. “Sasha, I do not comment on my private
life.” As he says this, the camera zooms in on his left hand. His emphasis on
the word “my” clearly has a double meaning. He’s telling her that it’s his life,
not hers, and also letting her know that he didn’t appreciate the tell-all
interview that she granted. “My” is one hell of a powerful word.
He
turns and walks away from Sasha, without an ounce of pleasantries. I can hear
the questions being shouted at him. Reporters are asking where I am. They want
to know when the baby is due. But, most disconcertingly, they want him to
answer questions about the rumors of his addiction to painkillers and other
narcotics. He’s doing a wonderful job of ignoring all the noise, and going back
to interact with the crowd of fans.
I
want to run down and rescue him. I feel my blood pressure rising. How dare
they? I’ve never seen someone who takes as good care of their body as Colin
does. Yes. He admitted only to me that he had a problem, but that was very
early in his career, and he’s moved on. Damn the media, for building him up
just to tear him down.
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