Mal kisses her husband coldly.

She enters the studio, filled with people working, setting up lights, toying with laptops. Her coworkers pace, murmuring lines to themselves and drinking coffee. She is bored by the whole ordeal, tired of this life and everything about it. Hollywood is not as exciting as you would think.

Her husband happens to be the most famed director in the world—Phillip Grant. His films always break the box office, topping each other each year, so they can live in their little mansion in Beverly Hills, and hire people to work for them so Mal doesn't burn the house down with her cooking, and doesn't suck up her thousand dollar earrings with the vacuum.

None of his reputation keeps him from straying, however. He has a knack for sleeping with the new girls on set—casting couches are quite familiar in the little Grant family. Their daughter, Olivier, even realizes this. The girl is going through her teenage rebellion phase, and happens to scream about it at the top of her lungs whenever she has a tantrum.

Mal rummages through her purse and withdraws a cigarette and her bright pink lighter. She lights up and holds it in her mouth casually, walking into the dressing room. Women are working on make-up and hair, trying to make everyone as pretty as possible. It's somewhat disgusting she realizes. They greet her nervously, as if she is some cruel goddess.

She coughs out smoke as she sets down her purse and snuffs out the cigarette. Her eyes fall on Aurora, the new lead for a moment. Beautiful golden hair, pale, a gorgeous figure, wild colors. Mal is undeniably beautiful, but she's getting older. People still consider her sexy, fantasize about her, scream fuck me as she walks down the street running errands. But it's people like Aurora who are going places.

And she's well aware that Aurora is probably sleeping with her husband. Not that it disturbs her. There's no shortage for Mal either.

She reaches through the costume rack and pulls out the right look for the scene. Fifties vintage clothes for the fifties vintage film. Oh, Phillip.

Aurora scampers off, leaving Mal in peace.

Aurora is sitting alone in the dressing room. Her hair is a bit askew, and they'll have to fix that before she goes on screen for the next time. She turns on the radio and lets the oldies play, reminiscing about summer love on the air. She leans back against the mirror, her head aching from the pressure. But she doesn't care.

Someone walks in and she jumps slightly, surprised to see Phillip.

He chose her out of thousands. She was just a wannabe actress, attended open auditions desperately. She stood in front of the table of judges, reading lines with a shaking voice. He needled the confidence out of her, and made her shine. But sometimes she worries he has affections for her that she would never return.

"Hello there, lovely," he comments, grinning at her. He has a thousand dollar smile. She doesn't kid—it probably cost a fortune to get such straight, white teeth.

"Hi, Phillip," she says with a feeble attempt at a smile. "How are you?"

"Great now that I see you," he says and she tries not to laugh.

"Wonderful," she says and turns off the dial on the radio.

"Would you like to go out to lunch?" he asks and she's surprised, blushing almost as red as her hair.

"Will anyone else be coming?" Secretly, she's hoping that Mal will be.

She has always admired Mal, ever since she saw her first film. The actress won her over with her smooth words and dazzling presence. Aurora always dreamt of being like her someday—she was the reason Aurora became an actress in the first place. She followed every story, read every interview. However, Mal treats her like she has an infectious disease every day.

"No, of course not." It's clear that he misunderstands her.

She isn't interested, though she fears telling him so. This is her big break—she isn't going to ruin it by turning down the most popular director in Hollywood. Winner of fifty Academy Awards. Fifty. It's phenomenal in all rights.

"You're lucky to have a woman like Mal." Perhaps that's a subtle enough hint.

"Sometimes," he says with a chuckle. "She's getting older."

Aurora purses her lips. He needn't be so incredibly rude. She did marry him, after all.

"How did you get her in the first place?" Aurora inquires, looking at the way his lips contort into a smile.

"Great pregnancy scandal of nineteen-ninety-eight," he comments and with a nod of acknowledgement, begins to leave the room. "If you're interested in lunch, you know where I am."

She sits behind, marinating in his words. Neither of them chose each other. Mal and Phillip had a dressing room affair, resulting in a child, resulting in the end of his marriage, and the beginning of a new one. Aurora wonders why she married him in the first place. It seems awfully foolish to run off with the brute.

Aurora lies down on the dressing room table.

Mal can often recall how easy it was for Phillip Grant to sweep her off her feet.

They played big roles in classical films. She as Roxanne in Cyrano de Bergerac, he has Hamlet to her Ophelia. But time seems to kill all beautiful things. As she develops crow's feet at the age of thirty-six, his affections stray far and wide.

She undresses after a long day of filming. A cigarette hangs casually in her mouth as she combs out her dark hair and wipes off the excessive make-up on her emerald eyes. Blue eye-shadow was never a good look, in the fifties or today.

Diaval walks in, stretching. He eyes Mal for a moment before examining himself in the mirror. She likes him very much. He's always been a good friend.

"Hey," he says with a wave.

"Hey," she replies through her cigarette.

"You're going to burn this place down," he comments and she shrugs.

"Good riddance," she says with a derisive snort.

Aurora walks in and sees them both. Diaval greets her but Mal rolls her eyes. She eyes Mal for a moment as the older woman tries to give off a cold aura. Aurora walks off without even changing, looking frightened. Mal appreciates it. Phillip can sleep with whoever he wants, but Mal doesn't plan on befriending them.

"What's your problem with Aurora?" Diaval asks, walking over and sitting on the chaise lounge.

"Phillip," she replies, leaning with her back against the counter.

"Ah," Diaval says and hesitates. "Maybe he's not into her."

"Puhlease. When she walks into the room he glows. I could use him for a reading lamp." Diaval laughs as Mal puts out her cigarette and tosses it into a silver ashtray.

"Maybe she's not into him," Diaval suggests feebly and Mal rolls her eyes.

"No sane girl gives up a chance for fame and fortune. Sleeping our way to the top is in our blood." There is a short pause. "I gotta go pick up Olivier from her friend's. See ya."

Mal is gone in a flash, walking away.

The next day of filming, Aurora finds herself alone in a room with Mal for the first time. The elder woman is applying red lipstick while Aurora changes out of her dress. Mal is sure as hell beautiful. Aurora could even say she was attracted to her if she wasn't too afraid to admit that.

Every girl could say she's in love with her idol. But Aurora can't imagine being in love with Mal Grant—only finding her admirable. But don't we all fall for our heroes? It's impossible for Aurora to say. She can't fathom what her feelings for Mal truly are.

"Why don't you speak to me?" Aurora asks, surprised she could overcome her shyness in the presence of Mal.

Mal hesitates for a moment, almost looking offended. Aurora is uncertain, feeling her face grow very hot.

"Phillip is a bad idea, kid. I'd stay far away from him." Mal sits down, sighing.

Aurora walks over to her, wondering why she didn't figure that out already. Phillip is notorious for such infidelity, but Aurora never would.

"I wouldn't. I haven't," Aurora says earnestly and Mal is silent for a moment, capping her lipstick.

"What reason would you have not to be?" the woman demands and Aurora pauses, not sure how to continue.

"Because I love someone else." It's like everything is sorting itself out in her head, daring to go in strange directions.

"Who?" Mal asks, rolling her eyes.

Aurora leans forward and kisses her on the lips. It lasts for a few, breathtaking moments as Aurora feels engrossed by the beauty of the jaded actress. She needs to find love again. And Aurora needs to find love. It seems that it may be together, but the moment is cut off to quickly as Mal breaks away.

Mal hesitates for a moment, and then walks away, leaving Aurora behind.

Aurora begins to cry, unable to control herself.

Mal avoids Aurora for a long while. The girl must be confused. It's some kind of adolescent phase. Mal would be better off if the girl was madly in love with Phillip. It would be far preferable than having to deal with a young girl in love with her.

But Mal wonders if the attraction is somewhat mutual. She can't help but having her mind wander to that. But it's impossible—or at least improbable. It's not meant to be in the slightest. Still, the girl is beautiful and talented. Yet, that's not a good enough reason.

She's more confused than she ever has been in her life.

On the last day of filming, the cast has a humongous party at Mal and Phillip's house. He's chatting up several girls while Mal sits in the corner with a mixed drink. Diaval joins her, eyeing Phillip's attempts to sleep with four twenty-year-olds with a grimace. Damn, Mal loves this kid.

"Looks like only one of you is getting lucky tonight," Diaval says smoothly, his eyes twinkling.

"My panties have cobwebs in them." Mal finishes her drink.

"Panties?" he asks, mocking her word choice. She shrugs.

"Oh, look, here comes Miss Aurora," Mal says as the girl enters, looking quite pretty. Her eyes fall on Mal for a moment, and then wander away. "Sleeping beauty herself."

Mal just wants the damned night to be over.

Aurora finds Mal standing on the patio alone, smoking a cigarette. At first she feels nervous to approach her, but she does know it must be done.

"Hi," Aurora says softly as Mal snuffs out her cigarette with her combat boot.

"Look, Aurora," Mal says, turning around. Aurora's heart leaps. "You're young. I'm old. You have a future. I'm a fading star. It's not going to work out."

"But I want it to," Aurora whispers, her nose tingling with tears.

"I know you do, kid. But I'm pretty much doomed in the romance department," Mal says before hesitating for a moment. "You're a good-looking girl. You've got hope, I'm sure."

"From the moment I saw your first film, I've been awed by you. I've never felt this way about anyone else before," Aurora says softly, stepping closer to Mal. "At first it was admiration. Then attraction. Then, I think it's love. Mal, would you give up on love? I love you—I don't know why, but living without you terrifies me. I know you ignore me, and hate me, but I kept on loving you. Please, give me a chance."

Mal is struck silent.

"You're a good kid, but…" She seems incapable of finishing her sentence.

"Maybe… maybe there's not a spark." Aurora turns away and leaves, walking back into the party.

The premiere is the first time Aurora sees Mal in a long time. They're both dressed up to the tens, pictures being taken of them. People scream at them as they walk by, smiling for the spectators. Aurora's grin falters only when she sees the only woman she ever loved.

They enter the building after a long while of photo-shoots and interviews. The reception begins, all of the important people surrounding them. Aurora ends up finding Mal standing in the corner. She summons her courage and walks up to her. Mal looks at her for a while.

"Kid, I've been thinking," Mal says softly, studying her closely.

"And…?" Aurora asks and Mal leans forward, kissing her on the lips.

A camera flashes, and the spontaneous moment of romance is recorded for the rest of time.