Ch-153

Scarlett cleared her throat awkwardly and tried again. "I'm sorry, Troy. I got a little carried away and didn't see where I was going."

"I'm fine, Ms. Johansson. Are you okay?" I smiled at the future Black Widow in a stunning red dress. Her golden blonde hair fell to her shoulders in soft curls, perfectly complementing her vibrant green eyes, making her look out of this world. Of course, a big contributing factor to her look was her plunging neckline and her larger than usual bust.

She nodded at me before her eyes lit up in realization. "I can't believe we're meeting under such circumstances. I'm a huge fan of yours. I've seen all of your movies. Especially [Echoes of You]. And I just love your music too much."

"What are you saying?" I shot back. "I'm a bigger fan. [Ghost World] and [Lost in Translation] are some of the best movies I've ever seen. You were robbed when you weren't nominated for an Oscar, especially for [Lost in Translation]."

Scarlett's smile widened if that was even possible. "That's so sweet of you."

Before I could continue the conversation, Kenneth Branagh stepped in. "I hate to break this, but I think we should all move in and take our seats. The ceremony is about to start."

I glanced down at my Patek Philippe, a gift from my mother for my 17th birthday, and sure enough, the ceremony was starting in less than ten minutes. I'd have to find my seat as well.

"Yeah, let's move in," I said, turning to Scarlett. "It was lovely meeting you, Scarlett. I'd love to talk to you later."

"Definitely!" Scarlett beamed.

The three of us walked in, where multiple ushers guided us to our respective seats. Kenneth branched off to sit in the TV section of the hall, nominated for a TV movie, while Scarlett and I moved toward the front reserved for film stars. The segregation felt a little arbitrary and discriminatory, but such was life. It felt weird that at one point I sat there in the back during my first TV appearance in [Sex Education].

After a few moments, I sat down at the same table as my family. As luck would have it, Scarlett was also placed at our table. Three more people were there, though I didn't recognize them. I greeted them all with a polite nod nonetheless.

"What took you so long?" Evan asked curiously.

"Just ran into Johnny Depp, Kenneth Branagh, and Scarlett here," I said, motioning toward her. Scarlett smiled and waved at my family as they turned to her.

"I love your dress," Mum said warmly.

"Thank you!" Scarlett beamed at the praise.

Quick introductions followed, and soon everyone was engaged in conversation. My attention, however, was elsewhere. I scanned the room, looking for my fellow nominees from my films. A few tables over, I spotted Emma Watson and Emma Stone. After more searching, I found Jonathan Groff, Stephen Chbosky, Stephen Daldry, and Rian Johnson. That rounded out everyone from our side who'd been nominated tonight. Honestly, though, I hardly thought any of us would win.

This year was particularly stacked when it came to films and shows that had been nominated. Looking at the lineup, it was clear that the movie that won Best Picture at the Oscars in the original timeline wasn't even nominated in any category today. I'm talking about [Crash]. An average film at best, it had famously defeated [Brokeback Mountain], a movie that would later be considered the best work of Ang Lee's career. Paul Haggis, the director of [Crash], had intertwined multiple storylines, which initially gave the film an air of complexity. But on rewatch, it felt hollow and manipulative.

The reason [Crash] wasn't nominated this time around was simple—it had been released a year earlier in December 2004. It made a mediocre box office collection and didn't win any significant awards, probably due to insufficient promotional efforts.

In contrast, my three movies, which had barely received any recognition in the original timeline, were making waves this time. Warner Bros and I had allocated over $20 million to aggressively promote the films to Academy voters. There were interviews, screenings, and, of course, parties packed with Academy members. Initially, the promotional budget had been modest, but after [Echoes of You] became a superhit and received a phenomenal response at the Golden Globes, we revamped our strategy and doubled down on the funding. Even the shooting schedule for my scenes in [Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince] had been postponed to fully capitalize on the award season.

Other than [Crash], most of the movies I remembered from the original timeline were still here. [Brokeback Mountain] was universally acknowledged as the frontrunner to win Best Picture (Drama), Best Director, and Best Screenplay. Personally, I believed [The Perks of Being a Wallflower] was a better film, though I obviously was a little biased.

[Syriana], [Good Night and Good Luck], [Walk the Line], [The Squid and the Whale], [Match Point], [Memoirs of a Geisha], and [Munich] were some of the other strong contenders. I'd seen and enjoyed all of them to varying degrees and could understand their nominations. Some, like [Memoirs of a Geisha] and [Munich], were undoubtedly elevated by their renowned directors and thematic weight rather than the quality of the films themselves.

Soon enough, the ceremony was underway, and the first award being announced was Best Supporting Actor. As I had expected, it went to George Clooney for [Syriana]. Moments later, Best Supporting Actress was awarded to Rachel Weisz for [The Constant Gardener].

Just like that, Jonathan Groff and Emma Watson lost their chances at a win. While I hadn't expected anything else, a small part of me had hoped for some miracle or mix-up in their favor.

A few TV awards were presented next before another category of interest came up: Best Screenplay. I glanced at Evan, who looked visibly nervous as the nominees were announced.

Leaning forward, I whispered to him, "Don't worry. We're not winning this. So we won't have to go up there."

"But I have a speech ready," he pointed out.

"Mum?" I asked, glancing at her, only to receive a nod of agreement. She had made me write one as well when it was my first awards show.

As the envelope was opened, I could feel the tension radiating from Evan and my parents, both of whom were holding onto our hands reassuringly.

"The Golden Globe goes to [Brokeback Mountain]!"

Evan deflated in disappointment immediately. But I couldn't afford to do the same. I knew cameras were broadcasting my every move to tens of millions of people worldwide, and unlike Evan, I had an image to maintain. So I stood up and clapped heartily. Moreover, it was undeniable that the screenplay of [Brokeback Mountain] was excellent.

Five awards lost, eight more to go.

The Best Director award went to Ang Lee for [Brokeback Mountain], while Best Actress and Actor in a Comedy or Musical were awarded to Reese Witherspoon and Joaquin Phoenix for [Walk the Line].

Five more awards to lose.

Then Julian McMahon and Rosario Dawson walked onto the stage with an envelope in their hands.

"Here are the nominees for Best Original Score," Rosario announced, before a pre-recorded voice took over:

"John Williams – [Memoirs of a Geisha]

Alexandre Desplat – [Syriana]

Troy Armitage – [Echoes of You]

James Newton Howard – [King Kong]

Gustavo Santaolalla – [Brokeback Mountain]."

"And the Golden Globe goes to…" McMahon opened the envelope, took a quick peek inside, and announced, "Troy Armitage for [Echoes of You]."

I sat frozen for a few moments, genuinely stunned. This wasn't supposed to happen. I had composed that score myself, pouring all my love and care into it, but never in my life had I imagined it would actually win something.

My mother broke me out of my reverie with a fierce hug. Immediately, I snapped back to reality. Smiling widely, I hugged her back before turning to Evan and Dad, giving them both brief but heartfelt embraces.

Meanwhile, the audience was applauding wildly, and some were even on their feet.

"This is Troy Armitage's third Golden Globe. His first two wins were in the acting category. He is the youngest composer to win the award for Best Original Score."

Emily stood clapping loudly with a wide grin on her face. I took a slight detour and hugged her as well to show how much her support meant to me. She may have rejected my romantic advances, but that hadn't dampened our friendship at all. There was also no denying that she was one hell of a friend, and still my most loyal fan.

Soon, I was on stage. I shook hands with the two presenters before finally holding my third Golden Globe trophy in my hand.

"I was not expecting this at all," I began my impromptu speech. True to my belief, I hadn't prepared anything for this award—I didn't feel the need to. "I think I'm still in denial that a kid like me can beat legends like my fellow nominees, some of whom have been composing music since before I was even born. I owe this award to all of you for inspiring me with your melodies."

Pausing briefly, I smiled and continued, "I'd also like to thank my brother in all but blood, Evan Spader, for writing this story. Without him, I wouldn't have had the idea to write this score at all. To my parents, Steve and Kathy, for supporting me every step of the way. To Stephen Daldry for making such a great film. To my co-stars, Emily and Rihanna—you made filming so much fun. And to my assistant, Tobias, for managing my life so effectively."

A small grin tugged at my lips as I added, "I know I'm deviating from the music part, but I know that I'm not getting the acting award, so let me have this." The audience chuckled in response.

"Last but not least, thanks to the Hollywood Foreign Press for this." I raised the award slightly before stepping back from the mic. A woman standing behind the presenters motioned for me to move to my right.

As soon as I stepped aside, I found myself in front of reporters, still holding the award.

"Troy!" someone called out, and I turned toward the voice. It was a woman in her mid-twenties.

"Congratulations on the win," she said, smiling.

"Thank you!" I replied warmly.

"I noticed you didn't give a shout-out to Conan O'Brien in your speech, as you promised him on his show."

Huh. I'd completely forgotten about that. But before I could respond, a stagehand rushed up to me and whispered in my ear.

"Troy, I'm so sorry. There was a mix-up. You shouldn't be here right now—you're also nominated for Best Song, and that category is up." He discreetly pointed toward a TV screen showing Mariah Carey on stage with an envelope in her hand. The screen, placed for reporters in the atrium, displayed the live broadcast so they could prepare for interviews in real time.

Realizing what was happening, all the reporters turned toward the screen as well.

"And the Golden Globe goes to…" Mariah smiled, reading the name. "'All of Me' from [Echoes of You]. Troy Armitage, come back to the stage."

I guess I have to go back.

The reporters around me began clapping, clearly amused by the situation.

"Thank you!" I said into the mic. "I'll be back in a bit."

I quickly jogged back toward the stage, where Mariah Carey waited patiently. When I reached her, I gave her a big hug. I had been a fan of hers my entire life—her voice was just too good not to admire.

"Congratulations," she whispered warmly in my ear. "You deserve it. You were amazing."

"Thank you," I said with genuine gratitude before accepting my second trophy of the night. Mariah gave me an encouraging smile as she gently nudged me toward the mic, then stepped back to give me the stage.

"I couldn't have gotten this award from a better person," I began, smiling at her before turning to the audience. "Thank you to Doug Sanders who helped me produce all my songs."

And then I went blank. I searched for words, for the right things to say, for more people to thank—but I came up blank. I'd already mentioned everyone I wanted to in my first speech. I hadn't thanked Warner Bros., but that omission was intentional. With nothing else coming to mind, I remembered the reporter's words from a few minutes ago.

"Conan O'Brien is the best talk show host in America," I announced, catching the audience off guard. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the room as I let the moment linger. "Please do watch his show. He's amazing and hilarious," I continued earnestly.

Then, employing every ounce of my acting skills, I dropped my voice to a mock-trembling tone, as though confessing something dire. "I'm not saying this because of any coercion. Conan has not kidnapped my dog and is not holding him hostage. I swear. These are just rumors that were absolutely not started by me."

The audience burst into laughter at the absurdity of the joke, and I could practically hear Conan laughing in his studio, or wherever he was watching. He might have gotten his shout-out, but certainly not in the way he'd expected.

"Thank you," I said once more in a cheery voice, raising my two trophies before stepping away from the mic.

The next few moments passed in a blur as I found myself back in front of the reporters.

Before they could bombard me with questions, I leaned into the mic and said, "I hope that cleared up the confusion about Conan."

The reporters chuckled good-naturedly before moving on to their next question.

"Why is Rihanna not here tonight with you?" a man asked, his tone almost conspiratorial.

I rolled my eyes internally, already bracing for the tedious round of questions that inevitably came with award shows. Outwardly, I maintained my polite smile and answered on autopilot.

Even as I spoke, my thoughts wandered. I'd been wrong—I won something tonight. Did that mean we had a chance at more? Three major awards were still up for grabs: Best Picture in two categories and Best Actor in a Drama.

The Globes had already proven they weren't hesitant to give multiple awards to the same person in one night. Anything could happen now.

___________________________________

Visit my Pat reon to read ahead, or participate in free polls about the story.

Link: www(dot)pat reon(dot)com/fableweaver