by Mia Masters
But I told myself to grow up and stop being so immature. A lot of people had more than one friend – I certainly did – so I shouldn’t worry that it was an either/or situation with Mallory, Naomi and me.
“Does anyone want to tell me where we’re going?” asked Harlow from the front seat.
She gave us a look in the rearview mirror.
“Because I’ve been driving for five minutes with no idea.”
“Oh, sorry!” laughed Layla. “We’re going to Lamp.”
“Lamp? That’s the name of the club? Lamp?” asked Harlow. “That’s actually pretty funny.”
“Why?” asked Layla.
“From Anchorman? I love Lamp? You remember that movie? Am I the only one?” asked Harlow.
“Oooooh,” said Layla. “Sure, now I get it. I just think it’s called that because there are no lamps in the place.”
“That makes no sense,” I added.
“I get it,” said Mallory. “The club is the lamp.”
“Oooh,” the rest of us mused.
We arrived at Lamp and, of course, had to valet. Are there any parking spots left in Los Angeles at this point? You’d think with as many cars as there were here and as many places to go, someone would build another parking garage or two, but no.
The valet took Harlow’s car and no doubt parked it far up in the Hills somewhere. God, I am so glad I never had to work as a valet. Although it would definitely give me a lot of exercise.
Fortunately for us, the club was loosely packed. In fact, the door man let us in for free just to get some more women into the place. And where there were women, there were usually a lot of guys, I thought hopefully.
Unfortunately, though, not tonight. It appeared we weren’t the only girls who had decided on a girls’ night out.
“Well, this is weird,” I said upon sitting down at our booth. “There are hardly any guys here at all.”
“Is this a lesbian place?” asked Mallory.
“No,” said Layla nervously. “I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t really know. I just heard it was a cool place. I’m sorry, guys. I should’ve done better research online. You want to leave?”
“Nah, let’s get a drink first and see where the night takes us,” said Harlow, scooting in next to me.
Then she dropped her car keys in front of Mallory and added, “Speaking of taking me.”
“I have to drive?” she whined.
“Hey, do you really want to go all night with two of us sober? I don’t think so,” snarked Harlow. “Plus, it makes good use of your situation.”
“I suppose,” sighed Mallory. “Goodbye once again, my old friend whiskey. See you in about eight months.”
A waitress came over to take our order. I was kind of surprised they even had a waitress on duty.
“Hey ladies, what can I get you tonight? Maybe a bottle of this, or perhaps a bottle of that?” she smiled, as if it was a funny joke.
“Wait a minute,” I asked. “Are you asking us if we want bottle service?”
“Well, yeah,” she admitted, with a slight shrug.
“No offense, but I don’t want to pay $400 for a bottle of Absolut,” said Harlow wryly.
“Well, then you’re gonna have to get up and go to the bar,” the waitress said, suddenly dropping her friendly personae. “I work for tips. Good tips.”
And with that, the surly waitress walked away.
“Whoa,” said Layla wide-eyed. “That was a bit much.”
“I can’t believe that just happened,” I added.
“Yeah, seriously,” said Mallory. “Who said we weren’t planning to tip her? Why would she assume that? What’s her problem?”
“I’ll tell you her problem,” said Harlow. “We’re not a bunch of stupid horny guys that think we’re going to get somewhere with the waitress if we start throwing cash around. That bitch ought to be fired.”
Harlow started to get up to find a manager, but we all made noise that it was a bad idea.
“What? C’mon!” objected Harlow, scowling.
“I don’t want to get into a whole thing,” I admitted. “I’m trying to relax and celebrate. I have a lot on my mind now with this movie.”
“Why, what happened to the movie?” asked Mallory.
It was only then that I realized I hadn’t updated her.
“Oh, I’m the lead now,” I said.
“That’s why we had to go out and celebrate,” Harlow interjected.
“What? That’s incredible! I didn’t even know the reason we were here. Congratulations! So, what? Did Claire die or something?” said Mallory, sounding excited.
“And you call me dark,” laughed Harlow. She scooted out of the booth. “I’m getting us drinks.”
Mallory slid closer to me and I updated her on the situation.
“That’s crazy,” she said. “The studio is taking a big risk on you — no offense. Your producer must’ve pulled a miracle out of his ass.”
“Her ass,” I corrected. “And she mentioned that you sing my praises, so, thank you. I think you were a big part in helping me land this role.”
“Ah, old girls’ network,” she said smiling. “That’s the studio mandate these days. Girl power!”
“Feels super weird, though,” I told her. “I mean, I haven’t even had an on screen walk on, unless you count the stunts.”
“But people know you from the insurance commercials,” insisted Mallory. “They’ve made movies from some characters based on stuff like that.”
“My commercial is known, but it’s not like that,” I said. “I mean, I play a character and they did three commercials with her, but… Something else is up. It’s not just that.”
“Yeah, you,” said Mallory. She rolled her eyes. “You can’t accept success. You’ve always had that problem.”
“What? C’mon,” I mildly objected.
“Remember what you said when you got the commercial?” asked Mallory.
“She said, something like: ‘I can’t believe they picked me,’” remembered Layla. “I think you were convinced the casting director was into you.”
She giggled.
“Oh, yeah, then you found out he was gay,” remembered Mallory. “You’re afraid of success, Blythe.”
“No way,” I insisted. “You guys are nuts. I’m so not afraid of success.”
Harlow came back with the drinks. She handed a virgin daiquiri to Mallory.
“What are we talking about?” she asked.
“Blythe’s fear of success,” said Mallory.
“Oh, sure,” she immediately agreed. “Remember when she won the mini-bike on that game show? You got super paranoid about picking it up.”
“I wasn’t sure I deserved it,” I insisted, taking my rum and diet coke.
The table objected. I was feeling very outnumbered all of a sudden!
“God, will you listen to yourself?” said Mallory. “You sound just like a person who’s afraid of any success.”
“I don’t say this often and maybe I’m just feeling sentimental and honest because a guy bought me two shots while I was at the bar, but you deserve good things, Blythe. You’re a good person,” said Harlow, sipping her drink.
“Well, yeah, but, ya know…” I stammered.
I couldn’t think of what else to say.
Maybe they were right and maybe I was too hard on myself.
“Okay, wow. I kinda see what you guys are saying. I should tell myself this is good, right? It is good.”
“There she is!” said Mallory, patting me on the shoulder. “A toast to Blythe.”
We had a couple of drinks at Lamp, but the place stayed kind of lame. We decided to go outside and see what was around in the neighborhood. What the hell. We got in free, anyway.
“Should I get the car?” asked Mallory.
“Nah, let’s look around first,” I suggested. “Maybe we can walk somewhere.”
“Walk?! In Los Angeles?! Blasphemer!” cried Harlow with a giggle.
“God, I feel so bad
for picking this place,” said Layla, as she looked back at Lamp. “It was so dead. There’s a bar across the street, you wanna go over there?”
“Okay, sure,” I said, thinking anywhere else had to be better.
The bar, which was called Tom Collins, was much more mellow. No bottle service, no EDM, no rude waitresses; just some dim lights and soft jazz.
It didn’t seem like a place that belonged in Los Angeles. It felt more like a Boston or New York bar.
We found a booth and then ordered some drinks and bar food. Layla, Harlow and I pretended to pick at it. We’d have a bite of something and push the rest in front of Mallory.
“What are you guys doing?” she said.
“You’re eating for two now,” I said. “Enjoy it. I still have to look good.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she frowned.
“It means, you’re going to get fat, but that’s what preggos do,” said Harlow with a big grin. “So, eat up, fattie!”
Mallory frowned and stuck a French Fry in her mouth. We laughed. We liked to mess with each other a little bit, but it was all in good fun.
There weren’t too many guys in the bar, but that was okay. It was a girls’ night out, just us. No guys needed.
Afterwards, Layla found a comedy club on the strip that we could walk to. She felt better after we went in there and sat through a few sets. She really felt responsible for the horrible time we had at Lamp. I didn’t feel we had had a horrible time, though, since we were together.
Yeah, the place was bad, but when you’re with friends, who cares? Maybe it was just an off night for the club owners, and the hype that Layla had heard about the place was usually true.
Los Angeles was weird that way. You could sometimes go to a place and have a great time, but then come back on another night — and it would just be awful.
I guess it was the transitory nature of the city. In New York, for instance, most people stayed at their job for at least awhile. In L.A., everyone was more like me. One minute, I’m a stunt woman working on a movie set and the next minute I’m a star.
Everyone was in the movie business here. Absolutely everyone! Even Layla was a bike courier for the studios. There were just so many opportunities out here for jobs on set or helping to support a film.
“Thank you so much for taking me out tonight,” I told my friends. “I really appreciate it and I had a great time.”
“You know we’d do anything for you,” Layla said, and they all hugged me, making me feel like a million bucks.
“And, Mallory, it’s so nice of you to drive us,” I added, thinking about how lame we all must seem to someone sober.
“Anytime,” she said. “I love my guys and my babies but I also love you girls and it’s nice to have an excuse to get out of the house.”
“I’m truly so happy for you,” I told her.
And I really was. But a part of me couldn’t help but think of how crazy it was that Mallory had two husbands and I didn’t even have one boyfriend. But I didn’t want to sour the evening with bad thoughts.
I had had bad dates in the past and had mostly given up on finding a guy. If the right one presented himself to me, that was one thing. But I was done looking. Life was too short to wait around on something that might not ever happen. Instead, I was striving to be grateful for what I did have.
I might have not a love life, I thought to myself, but at least I just got an amazing starring role. Plus, I have great friends.
What more could a gal ask for?
Sure, some hot sex by a handsome stud would be great.
But in the meantime, there was girl talk and fun out on the town.
After a few more drinks and laughs, Mallory drove us all home and then grabbed an Uber from our place. It was a fun night and I was so glad I’d gone out.
I had to prepare myself mentally for walking on the set soon, however.
I wasn’t just going to be some hired hand anymore.
I was a movie star!
Chapter Three
Blythe
When I got on the set, people looked at me different. They all knew. They had all been told. Claire was out and now I was the star.
In Hollywood, that usually meant people were petrified of you. I had power on the set and anyone that pissed me off could lose their job.
Well, they didn’t know me. I wasn’t like that, of course, but it might take a few days before people realized.
Hex Richards, who was an assistant to mainly Claire and the other actors, was walking me to my trailer. Now he was my assistant.
Whereas before he had passed along a few messages in the tone of a coworkers, as of today, he was my underling. I could literally make him do anything, not that I would.
“It’s a shame about Claire,” he said, running his hands through his short red hair. Hex had a face full of freckles that I knew he hated. “She was a really nice lady. But if someone had to take her place, I’m glad it was you.”
It was a kiss up. Typical California, L.A. kiss up, but whatever. At least he was being nice to me.
“Thanks, I appreciate it, Hex,” I said. “Did they move my trailer or something? I don’t see it.”
“Oh, you get Claire’s trailer,” he said. “We already moved all your stuff into it.”
“Really?” I smiled.
“Yep, that’s all you,” he said.
Claire’s trailer was an air-conditioned house on wheels. Mine had basically been a box with a locker and a cramped toilet. Hex handed me the key.
“Let me know how you want the fridge stocked,” said Hex. “Claire’s people cleaned it out.”
That was a typical L.A. move, too. When you worked in this business, you never knew when it was going to be your last job.
You might as well take all the free sparkling water and snacks you can get your hands on. Who knew if you might have to survive on it?
Hex opened the door to the trailer, and we went in. It was massive. I could only imagine the amount of gas they had to put in this monster to move it.
“Over here is your kitchen, your bathroom, you have a shower,” said Hex, as he was giving me the tour. “This is your living room and back here is a bedroom. Your clothes have all been hung in the closet. If you need anything at all, just give me a ring and I will have it brought in for you. I have to go, but I’ll be in back in 20 minutes to take you to makeup.”
“Thanks Hex,” I said, trying to hide my excitement.
Hex headed out and I danced around the trailer a little bit. I took some pics and sent them to Mallory, Harlow and Layla.
I was half tempted to post them on Facebook and Twitter, but I didn’t want to revel in Claire’s misfortune. I figured in a week I could probably post something like that.
Jeez, this was really crazy. I could eat here by myself, away from the entire cast and crew. Normally, it was a feeding frenzy at craft services, but not for the star. I had my own kitchen. If I wanted something vegan or gluten-free, cooked just for me, it wasn’t going to be a problem.
I stopped myself. I didn’t want to get a big head about this. People always complain when stars and athletes make crazy demands, but when you’re actually there it’s different.
When the temptation is right in front of you, you can see why they do it. I was seriously considering if they would get me a chef or if a guy would come from craft services to cook for me.
No, that would be too much! But I did want some drinks and snacks for the kitchen. At least I should have that, right?
I made a mental note to tell Hex when I saw him. I would be cool and casual about it. Like asking a friend for a favor—not one of those demanding actresses.
I roamed around the trailer a bit, still in disbelief. The bed was pretty massive. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind living in here for a few weeks! Don’t get me wrong, I love my roommates, but it’s nice to have your own space. And I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having more room. Plus, if I wanted to entertain a gentleman caller…
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Nah, I shouldn’t do that. I have to focus on the movie. But just once, I was going to enjoy the trailer. I jumped on the bed and squealed in delight. I was a Hollywood star now! It was really happening!
“Hello?”
Someone had opened the trailer door and walked in.
“Who is it?” I said, frozen on top of the bed.
For a brief second, I thought it was Hex coming to tell me that this trailer wasn’t really mine. But that wasn’t it. It was Zack, one of the other actors in the movie.
“It’s Zack, you okay in here?” he called out.
“Yeah, I’m back here,” I said, getting down off the bed.
Zack walked down the narrow hallway and looked at me with bright amber colored eyes when he got to the bedroom door. Even though I had been around Zack for weeks, I was still always thrown off a bit by his good looks.
The man had a jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass… or your fingers if you were able to touch them. I desperately wanted to.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound calm.
He flashed his million-dollar smile at me and crossed his gigantically muscular arms in front of his hard chest. I could see his defined pecs through his t-shirt.
“Oh, well, I’m next door. Just wanted to congratulate you on your promotion,” he said. “This your first lead role?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty nervous,” I said, flopping down on the bed. “It’s a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah,” he said walking in and making himself at home by sitting next to me. “I remember my first major role. I got so drunk, I peed in the flower bed at my apartment. Two old ladies saw me. It was the next day and I was still drunk.”
“Oh, shit,” I laughed. “Did they call the cops?”
“No, but and they said they didn’t because of my rather large…personality,” he said mildly embarrassed.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed hysterically. Zack seemed pretty personable. But it was that way for most of us actors. When we turned on the charm, people fell under our spell. I had to be careful, as did he. But I had to say, he was a handsome guy. I wouldn’t mind dating him or sleeping with him.
Dating is weird in Hollywood. Everyone does it, but you’re not supposed to. Actors get a bit of a pass. If you’re doing a romantic scene with someone, it’s going to be a lot better if you’ve actually fucked the person. I mean, that’s just basic physics, right?