Las Vegas is, and always has been, Trina's kind of town -- glitzy, bright, unapologetically brash and loud and thoroughly unashamed. But her favorite thing about Vegas (which no one who knew her would be likely to believe, if she were likely to admit it, which she's not) is that there's a certain degree of anonymity possible there. She can walk
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Vegas is a good town for celebrities to party in. Unfortunately, Chad Witherspoon hasn't felt much like partying lately.
(This is besides the fact that partying on the Vegas circuit really doesn't fit with the Chad Witherspoon image.)
"So if he asks again, just tell the guy from the Sun that I'm happy for him," he is saying, as he walks into the green room; and then he looks up, and sees Trina.
His eyes widen.
"Trina Echolls?"
"Who?" says his agent, on the other end of the line.
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"Chad? Oh my God. Nobody told me you were going to be here."
There's an oh-so-Hollywood one-armed hug and kiss to the cheek. The kind of greeting that more or less indicates you've met once (or thought about meeting) before.
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"Trina Echolls," he repeats. "How long has it been since I've seen your face - it must have been four years, at least."
He's not counting magazine covers.
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"Eight, but who's counting?" she corrects, not counting magazine covers, tabloids, red carpet arrival shows, most episodes of Entertainment Tonight, album covers, an episode of Behind the Music, and that ill-advised cameo in that teen movie flop.
"You look marvelous, Sweetie. How've you been?"
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