Being that this is Oscar weekend, I'm once again dusting off an old piece that I feel is appropriate for the event (I know, how lame am I?). Some of my Six Sentence friends may recognize this picture (and this expanded flash for that matter) since it was the subject of a photo challenge many moons ago. In any case, I hope you enjoy.
The night Davina Haven waited her entire life for was over. Thank God.
Somewhere around 5 a.m. her Tequila and wine buzz reached it zenith and all she saw was a dizzy blur of tuxedos and gowns. She wanted to hurl. She decided to ditch that dipshit model and leave the Vanity Fair party.
On the way to Elton's bash something didn't feel quite right. Even with her unsteady buzz. So she ditched that one too and decided to pull a 'Hilary Swank' and told the limo driver to head up the Pacific Coast Highway until he saw Paco's Taco's -- an all-night gourmet stand smack dab in the middle of Malibu.
On the way inside, a biker, one of the weekend wannabees, recognized the actress and said he admired her work, especially "the early stuff." Davina, even with the buzz, thought she heard the undertone of a snicker in his compliment. Still, she politely thanked him and went inside.
For all the hoopla of winning her first Oscar - which she aptly tossed later into the early morning tide - she knew deep down nothing would change. Not really. The award would only magnify only what was.
Sure, the phone will ring louder and more often and those meatier roles will come. And with them, a better class of men -- both leading and loving. But for all those absolutes, the only thing Davina questioned slumped at 6 a.m. in the sand was:
'When will they stop remembering that god damned sex tape?'