“Stuart Sutton Productions requests the pleasure

of your company at a gala event celebrating the

opening of the new SSP motion picture, ‘Miles to

Go’ in the California Ballroom of the Westin

Bonaventure Hotel on Saturday, February 12,

2000.”

            Shea Summers stared at the invitation in her hand with a myriad of emotions running through her, the foremost of which was surprise that Stu Sutton even deigned to remember her after all these years. Another was the stab of pain that always accompanied even the most fleeting memory of the one man whom she had once loved more than life itself. Fifteen years ago, she and Stu had been high school sweethearts, both majoring in performing arts at Hollywood High School. Stuart wanted to be a producer, and Shea, a screenplay writer. She would write the films, and he would produce them. After graduation, however, the dream had changed. Suddenly, Stuart had decided that he wanted to produce Broadway plays instead, and began to plan a move to New York. Shea came from a family that had been employed by one studio in Hollywood or another for three generations, and had no desire to leave California. She tried for two months to dissuade him from his course of action, but couldn’t change his mind. He would go to New York, he told her, and once he had gotten a foot in the door there, he would divide his time between East Coast and West, and then the two of them could become the dream team they’d always talked about being.

            Stu boarded a TWA flight at LAX on a beautiful spring morning in 1983. That was the last Shea had seen of him. For several months, she had gotten regular phone calls and letters from him, detailing his progress in making his way in the legitimate theater; eventually, though, the phone calls and letters began to taper off. When she inquired about the infrequency of communication between them, Stu would reply that he was busy with one production or another. Shea finally realized the truth of what had happened when one of the local trades had carried a photo of Stu with the stunning star of one of the off-Broadway plays he was working on. She promised herself that she would never allow herself to be hurt like that again.

            Broken-hearted, she had soothed the pain caused by Stuart’s defection by throwing herself into the pursuit of her own career. She had written three screenplays that had been picked up and produced by major studios; Dreamworks, SKG, had optioned her fourth one. The film was now in post-production, and there was already a buzz about a possible Oscar nod for best screenplay. She doubted that it would happen, but the idea that it might pleased her tremendously.

            Something that pleased her even more was that two year earlier, she had met Jon Cummings, and had discovered, much to her amazement that the heart that Stu had so painfully mangled was healed by the smile of this handsome, intelligent, and funny man. Jon was the first assistant director of one of the movies for which she had written the script, and she had met him while consulting with the director on the set. They had been engaged for almost six months and planned a June wedding.

            “Ahem!” The sound of her best friend, Allie, clearing her throat, brought Shea back to reality. “So… are you going to go?” Allie asked, indicating the invitation.

            Shea hesitated. “I don’t know…” she murmured. “It might be fun... Stu seems to be the hot property of the moment, and it looks as if this is going to be the party of the year….”

            “Pshaw! How do you feel about the idea of seeing your old flame after all this time?” Allie prodded.

            “I honestly don’t know, Allie.” Shea replied. “I was pretty wrecked after I found out he’d dumped me for Angelina Devereaux. I’m pretty much of two minds about seeing him again.”

            “What was he like?”

            “Stu? He was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen.” Shea remarked. “He had long, curly black hair, and these big chocolate colored eyes with eyelashes that any woman I know would kill for. He was about as perfect a man as you could hope to find. Glam rock was the thing right about then, and Stu played bass in a local band called Scout. We used to have a blast when the band played at clubs like the Roxy and the Whiskey, and Gazzarri’s.”

            “Sounds like it was fun.” Allie admitted. But what’s Jon going to say about you partying with a former boyfriend?”

            Shea waved a hand in dismissal. “He won’t care. He trusts me.”

            Allie grinned wickedly. “Sure about that? Bet you he’ll tell you not to go.”

            Shea laughed. “My dear friend, Jon is a wise enough man to know that he can’t tell me what to do and what not to do. That’s one of the things I love about him.”

            “Lucky girl.” Allie sighed. “Greg’d have a fit if I even considered going to see an old boyfriend of mine.”

            “Greg is a male chauvinist pig.” Shea replied teasingly, and Allie laughed in agreement. “I’ll ask Jon about it tonight. I’m sure he’s not going to have a problem with it.”

            “Sure, honey, if you want to go, then go.” Jon comment later that evening as they ate dinner.

            “You want to go with me?” she asked as she cut her steak.

            “I wish I could, because the word is that it’s going to be quite a big deal.” Her replied. “But I’ll be up in Vancouver that week, doing exteriors for ‘Eightball’.”

            “That’s right, I forgot about that.” Shea remarked. “Sure you aren’t upset about me seeing an old boyfriend?”

            “Not in the least, babe.” he replied. “If you still cared about him, he wouldn’t be an ex-boyfriend. Go and have fun, and then come home and tell me all about how glad you are that you waited to meet me!”

            She laughed. “I will… I promise!”

            On the night of the party, Shea walked into the California Ballroom at the Bonaventure Hotel, feeling like a queen in an aubergine-hued dress with leather straps and deep V-neck made by Calvin Klein. Around her neck was an Elsa Peretti platinum necklace with a pendant made up of a ruby and two diamonds with matching earrings and bracelets, borrowed for the night from Tiffany and Company. One of the perks of working in Hollywood was ability to borrow clothing by haute couture designers and jewelry from high-end jewelers for gala occasions like this. She did it rarely, because she attended few high-profile events like this, but she always enjoyed being dressed to the nines like this when she did.

            She took a glass of champagne from a tray carried by a passing waiter and tasted it. Cristal… about $450 per magnum. Stu was sparing no expense for this little event it seemed, because the buffet tables were spread with Beluga caviar, fois gras, and truffles, among other delicacies, none of which she cared for. She also saw one of the bartenders pouring Dom Perignon, and several bottles of  Moet and Chardon Brut sat on the bar behind him. Quite an expensive array of foods and beverages.

            In a corner of the ballroom, a full orchestra was set up, and was playing ‘Rhapsody in Blue”. Two dozen couples moved around the dance floor, and at least a hundred other people mingled in groups around the room. She recognized quite a few of them, among them actors, producers, directors, writers, and even some pop artists. A veritable who’s who of the crème de la crème of Hollywood residents.

            “Shea? Shea Summers?” a voice at her elbow enquired, a voice that was immediately recognizable, even after all this time. She turned slowly, a dazzling smile already set on  her face. It seem to freeze in place as she took in the changes in a man whom she had just recently described too Allie as ‘about as perfect a man as you could hope to find’. The long, beautiful, curly locks were gone. The upper portion of his head was bald; what was left of his hair was drawn into a skimpy ponytail at the back of his neck, gray was sprinkled liberally though it. His once dark eyes were  now faded and dull, the lashes thin and short. The body that had been lean and athletic was now heavy with extra weight, and a bulging belly. Had she met him on the street, Shea would have believed him to be at least fifty and not the thirty-eight years she knew him to be.

            “Stuart. How nice to see you again.” she murmured, hoping she had successfully covered her shock.

            “You, too, Shea. You look wonderful! You must be doing really well.”

            She smiled. “Making ends meet.” she replied.

            He laughed. “Modest, too. I’ve heard about your latest screenplay. Seems hat there’s talk of an Oscar nomination…”

            “From your lips to God’s ear….” Shea replied with a grin. “How is Angelina?”

            “Can’t really say.’ he remarked. “We’ve been divorced for about a year now. Strange how things work out, isn’t it? Do you think that if I’d stayed here, you and I would still be together?”

            “Who can say, Stu. We might have been.”

            “Stuart!” A man was waving at him from a nearby table. “Here’s someone you should meet!”

            “I’ll be with you in a minute, Dave.” he said before turning back to Shea. “A possible backer for my next show. One of the trials and tribulations of a bash like this… gotta do a lot of glad-handing, especially if you’re passing the hat. Have you had a chance to see ‘Miles to Go’ yet?”

            She shook her head. “No, but if you took the title from where I think you did, I’m flattered.”

            “Yeah, I did. I always remembered how much you loved that poem… “The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep…”  I didn’t keep my promises, did I, Shea?”

            “No, Stu, you didn’t. But you know, things probably turned out the way they were supposed to be , so you really shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

            “Stuart!” the man at the table called again. Stuart looked around at him impatiently.

            “Look, I really need to talk to this guy. Are you going to be here for a while?”

            Shea shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m not much of a party girl. I just came to see an old friend…”

            He smiled wanly. “I really would love to talk for a while. Could you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

            “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Stu. You see, I’m with someone now… we’re engaged. We’re getting married in a few months.”

            “I see. A better man for you than me, I hope.”

“Definitely.”  Shea replied. “And besides, I have promised to keep…”

“And now he’s bald and fat, and I wonderful if he’s really as successful as he’s made out to be.” she told Jon when he finally came back from Vancouver.  “It’s really kind of sad.”

Jon held her close to him. “Well, like you told him, it just wasn’t meant to be. You were waiting for me…”

“Yes… and I had promises to keep to myself. And I kept them.”

“You did…” he agreed.