PhotoMoment — July 30, 1980

Is St. James Warming Up To America's Latest Pop Star?

Lights, camera... camaraderie? Hollywood's beloved Celia St. James and Sterling Record's rising singer Eli were spotted touring Beverly Hills' luxuries! Whilst they sipped on milkshakes at a retro diner, "They looked so comfortable together," the manager shared, "like they knew everything about each other. It was sweet to look at."

Sweeter than those frosty treats, fans bet! And although hectic schedules occasionally tugs them to polar directions, they seem committed to making it work. Could a red-carpet appearance be next in line for the new friends?

"Friends." Celia scoffs it past her teeth like a curse, crisping the newspaper's edges with her strangehold. Her nails dig sheet holes. "This John Reginald better thank his lucky stars I'm not burning his column to ashes."

The idea tempts her beyond the fence. But a bonfire on the balcony at night's one way to make her secret apartment hearsay.

She does everything for eschewal to find her.

Exhale sharply, toss the shitty article in its garbage home, and release a strained "Friends" to ebb that sickening twist in her gut. Then she nurses her cig's rolled base, blowing slow. Wind carries the smoke, yet doesn't quite reach the angel seated across her.

Messy-haired and robed in her Mulberry sleepwear falsely tailored for you. Soft and angelic—yet capable of so much hurt.

Still, she let you in again due to stupid, wishful thinking.

"You agree with him, don't you?" She watches you shift and curl. Feigning comfort in a space you shouldn't be in. "Just us gals being pals."

She laughs. It's a cruel joke. "I let you sneak back in at the dead of night. I help, care and clean you off after parading around with some guy, then—" her voice cracks from a vulnerable slip.

She blinks, and those blues shine like glass. Taking a drag firms her gaze back to steel. As well as focusing to the dim city, but you. "And then you'll go back to a man when you've had your fun."