by Matt Cain
‘I love you Billy Spencer!’ read one posting. ‘I wanna have your baby!’
‘Billy Spencer is so hot,’ read another, ‘I’d eat his shit with a rusty spoon.’
As he clicked through page after page, Billy couldn’t help smiling brighter and brighter each time. Sure, some of the fans sounded a little unhinged but what was important was that they loved him, they really loved him. And it made him feel so right.
Of course he didn’t need a therapist to tell him that the only reason he was so desperate for validation was because he’d been so cruelly rejected by his own parents, the very people who were supposed to love him the most – and unconditionally.
You’re disgusting, Billy.
You’re no son of ours!
No amount of adoring comments on fan sites could ever take away the pain insults like these had caused, a pain that felt just as strong all these years later.
Get out of our sight, Billy.
We never want to see you again!
He tried to block out the hurt by looking at a photo of a fan who’d tattooed his name around her belly button. But it was no use; he needed something much more powerful. And he knew just where to find it.
The problem with fan sites was that they didn’t give you a particularly balanced view of how you were perceived in the world. For that Billy knew he had to search for his name on more democratic social media sites like twitter. Here, people famously spoke their minds – and didn’t hold back if they were feeling vicious or angry. For this reason Billy could only look on twitter when he was having a good day. But if he did and he happened to find positive comments then it meant so much more to him than anything written on a fan site – and for a moment he could almost forget the pain of parental rejection.
He reassured himself that today was a good day and began typing the web address into his tool bar. He entered the details of his false account and username, and as soon as he hit the Search key, hundreds of responses appeared.
‘Man, Billy Spencer is so freakin hot! No one can be that perfect. He’s got to have a tiny dick! ;-)’
He chuckled. It was a backhanded compliment, but still a compliment.
‘Just watching Billy Spencer in Foreign Affair. What a kick-ass performance. And a major hottie too!’
Again he smiled brightly.
But then one tweet caught his eye which caused his smile to droop. It had been posted by alphamale007.
‘Billy Spencer is such a loser. He’s cheesy as hell and can’t act for shit. Man, he’s a total DICK!’
Straight away he could feel anxiety sweep through his body. How could somebody think that about him?
He stared at the tweet till the letters spun out of focus. And as they did his self-doubt started to rise.
Did alphamale007 have a point? Was he a lousy actor? Maybe he was a dick after all. If someone thought that enough to say it on twitter then maybe others were thinking the same thing. And how many people had read the comment already? He looked on the user’s profile and saw that he had 197 followers. Nearly 200 people who’d probably read the tweet and laughed at it – laughed at him!
Billy’s day had been ruined. He felt crushed and rotten to the core.
Maybe Mom and Dad were right about me after all . . .
He sat up in bed and snapped his laptop shut, trying to block out an overpowering feeling of self-loathing. But it was no use – the words he’d just read kept spinning round and round in his head.
At times like this he knew there was only one thing he could do to make himself feel better. He needed to go out into the world and prove to himself that he was still loved.
Those scripts would have to wait until tomorrow.
*
Leo strode forward and gulped in a huge breath of sea air. He’d walked north of Venice Beach and was just coming into the centre of Santa Monica. The more he ploughed on, the more he felt that he was shedding his sadness about breaking up with Eden. Rather than getting increasingly tired, with each step he felt more energized and positive about life. Unfortunately, at the same time, Watford’s energy was gradually waning and his pace slowing. Leo was now leading him and had to give his leash a little tug to move him forward.
‘Come on boy! Off we go!’
Santa Monica was much less rough around the edges than Venice and more representative of what people in the rest of the world imagined LA to be like. The lifeguards wore the red uniforms made famous in Baywatch and sat scanning the waterfront from the porches of painted wooden huts scattered the entire length of the gorgeous sandy beach. Between them were groups of stunning sunbathers and unfeasibly ripped surfers standing in the ocean waiting to catch the waves. The occasional dolphin bobbed in and out of the sunlight-dappled water, and stretching out to the horizon was the old wooden pier, home to the Pacific Park fairground and its famous Ferris wheel. Leo took it all in as he and Watford walked on. It really was a beautiful sight.
Leo realized at that moment just how much he loved LA. It was the eternal optimism of the place that he’d first fallen in love with, the sense of everything being possible. No one had wanted to pigeonhole him or hold him back here. And he’d discovered that the cliché about LA was true; no one was interested in where he came from, just in where he was going. It had been a relief to shake off the pessimism and cynicism of the old world and come to a new world where you could practically smell the self-belief in the air. La La Land. City of Angels. Leo’s adopted home.
It wasn’t as if he could pretend he’d had a difficult childhood or a traumatic past to escape from. He’d been brought up in a perfectly comfortable family home; his dad was a policeman and his mum a primary school teacher and he had three older sisters who’d doted on him throughout his youth. It was just that he’d grown up, moved on and discovered there was more to life than the deadening mediocrity of the English suburbs. He’d started to notice how seldom his parents ever expressed happiness – or any vital emotions for that matter. He used to look at them and worry that if he stayed in Watford he’d end up just like them, plodding through the motions of life without really experiencing everything it had to offer, without really living.
And then he’d come on his first trip to LA and it had all changed. He could still remember gliding down Rodeo Drive in a convertible Audi, the sun dodging in and out of the palm trees. He hadn’t been able to stop himself shouting out at the top of his voice, overwhelmed by a new feeling he soon recognized as happiness. He made up his mind there and then that he was never going back to Watford.
When he looked back at his past now, Leo was so thankful that he’d fallen into this life – he’d never really had any kind of master plan and had only tried his hand as a paparazzo when a photographer he’d met at a party had seen how nifty he was on his bike and suggested that he use it to earn himself a living. He’d worked the circuit in London for a few years before coming to LA on holiday with an old schoolfriend who had wealthy relatives living in Beverly Hills. And then happiness had entered his life and he’d never looked back.
Beep beep!
It was a text alert from his photographic agency Shooting Stars. Apparently Billy Spencer had just been spotted arriving at the Beverly Center. Leo had no idea what he was doing in a shopping mall surrounded by members of the public but he told himself that it didn’t matter; today was his day off, his healing day. And anyway, Ronnie would be sure to cover the job – that is if he made it in time. Right now none of that was Leo’s concern and he decided to put work right out of his mind.
Watford had started to wilt in the sunshine, panting louder and louder and dragging his hind legs along the pathway, a mournful expression on his face. It was about time Leo turned back and took him home; he might even have to carry him some of the way.
Before he left, he stopped to take one last look at the view of Santa Monica stretching out before him. What a wonderful day and what a wonderful city, he thought.
Sure, he hadn’t had much luck in finding someone special to
share his life with. But now that he’d had a chance to think everything over, he knew that he had nothing to feel sad about. Nothing at all.
*
Mia slumped onto the sofa and settled into a post-massage mellow. In fact, she felt so mellow that she was even happy to initiate the kind of conversation about her love life that she usually found difficult.
‘Serena?’
‘Mmm-hmm?’
‘Do you think I’ll ever find the right guy?’
Serena was still in a decidedly pre-massage mood. ‘Sure I do,’ she said. ‘And when you do he won’t give a rat’s ass about fame – or the paps!’
She lay down on the table, ready for Bob to start work.
‘But you know what I think,’ she went on, ‘it’s not going to happen until you take a serious look at your approach to dating.’
‘Uh-oh,’ Mia joked, ‘here we go again.’
Bob leaned forward and began kneading Serena’s flesh.
‘Well, it’s true,’ she said, letting out a little groan of pleasure. ‘It’s way off the mark. You’re too freakin’ businesslike about it and totally inflexible in what you’re looking for. You need to quit searching for a boyfriend as if you’re casting a leading man in one of your movies.’
‘OK, OK. Well what do you suggest then?’
‘Haven’t we been through all this? I’ve been telling you for years that you need to get yourself a man who’s in the industry.’
‘But I tried that with Hart and look how that finished up.’
‘Yeah but that doesn’t mean that every guy in the industry’s going to be an asshole. You know, at least they get the pressure you’re under and understand how it works with the paps. How about dating an actor?’
‘No way. Actors are all trouble – you know that. I mean, come on, Serena. The only one I actually like is Billy and he’s gay!’
Serena put her finger to her lips and nodded towards Bob. ‘Sssh!’
‘Oh it’s OK,’ Mia breezed. ‘Bob doesn’t understand a word of English.’
Serena raised her eyes as if to say, Even so. Bob carried on kneading her flesh without the slightest reaction; he clearly wasn’t following their conversation and they didn’t have to worry.
‘Well, I still think you’re making things way too hard for yourself,’ Serena went on, her speech slowing as she became gradually more relaxed. ‘Look at me and Mitchell – he wasn’t my type at all. I’d spent my entire life dating ball players and jocks – I never thought I’d end up with a dorky accountant for Christ’s sake. But it’s only when I looked outside my usual casting that I found the right guy. We’ve been together eight years now and I couldn’t imagine life without him.’
‘So what are you trying to say here exactly? That I should date an accountant?’
‘No! You know what I think – that you’re managing and controlling things too much. If you start off with a precise checklist then you’re leaving no room for magic. And you can’t control these things, Mia. If you want my advice, you need to loosen up a little and go with the flow.’
‘But is it really so bad to be a little cautious? All I’m trying to do is stop myself from being hurt. I’m frightened, Serena. I know it sounds stupid but I’m really frightened.’
There was a pause and they both listened to Bob working his fingers along Serena’s shoulders.
‘Look, sister,’ she began gently, ‘I just think you’re being a little too guarded. You need to give up some of that precious control. And those barriers need to come down – big time.’
‘But I’ve already had my heart broken once, Serena. And there’s no way I’m going there again.’
‘Wait a second. I know you’ve just had a run of bad luck, but I didn’t realize one of them had broken your heart.’
‘Oh I’m not talking about any of those dumb guys! I’m talking about my dad, Serena. My dad broke my heart – he really did. And I’ve never been able to forget it.’
‘Hmpf. Well unless you do, you’d better get used to being on your own a whole lot longer. Sometimes you have to take risks to win big in this life. And at the moment, sister, you ain’t even playing the game.’
Mia gave out a loud huff and decided she was through with this conversation. If it went on any longer, pretty soon she was going to need another massage.
*
Boy, it sure was great to be Billy Spencer.
That was the thought going round Billy’s mind as he strode through the Beverly Center. On either side of him people stopped in their tracks, some of them staring in amazement, others gasping out loud. He’d only parked his car five minutes ago and already he’d been asked to pose for several photos and sign a handful of autographs. As he watched people’s faces light up at the sight of him, that morning’s nasty tweeter seemed less and less important.
Who cares what he thinks anyway? Billy thought as he glided on. Everyone else loves me!
‘Welcome to Bloomingdales, Mr Spencer!’
At the entrance to the department store he was greeted by an efficient-looking sales assistant whose eyes sparkled as she shook his hand. Word had obviously reached the store that a famous actor was in the mall and they’d only needed a few minutes’ notice to roll out their special VIP welcome. This kind of attention was one of the perks of being a star – and Billy revelled in it.
‘Hello ma’am,’ he grinned. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘Good to meet you too. My name’s Latona. Is there anything I can help you with today?’
He quickly invented some cock-and-bull story about needing to buy a present at the last minute for his cleaner’s birthday. Of course it was totally implausible; everyone knew a star as big as Billy could have whatever he wanted sent over to his home in an instant and didn’t need to go out shopping himself. But that wasn’t the point. He’d learnt from previous experience that nobody ever doubted his story – they were all way too pleased to see him for that.
Unfortunately he’d also learned from experience that he didn’t have much time to enjoy himself before the paps arrived and spoiled the fun. Once they appeared the public tended to lose their cool and there was a real chance chaos would break out. His security team had warned him on numerous occasions that dropping into busy shopping malls like this represented a major risk to his safety. But he reckoned he’d have fifteen minutes or so before he’d be in any real danger.
‘I was thinking of maybe buying her a nice perfume,’ he lied, treating Latona to his full-wattage red-carpet smile.
Although she was clearly used to dealing with celebrities, he could see her composure waver. ‘Of course, Mr Spencer,’ she croaked. ‘Follow me.’
The perfume counter was less than fifty yards away but Billy was stopped en route by a string of fans asking for his picture. His presence in the store was like an electric charge sparking off excitement all around him.
‘I love you, Billy!’ drooled a middle-aged woman in chunky jewellery and free-flowing crafty clothes.
‘I love you too!’ oozed a generic blonde, the joins of her cheap hair extensions clearly visible.
‘You’re even better looking in real life!’ gushed a skanky redhead with a lipsticked cold sore.
‘Thank you, ladies,’ Billy smiled, feigning embarrassment. ‘You’re too kind, really.’
When he eventually made it to the perfume counter he found a trio of sales assistants slouching around twiddling their hair. Once they spotted him they immediately straightened up, lurching forwards with a collective squeal.
‘Good morning, ladies,’ he breezed, playing up his Southern accent, ‘and how are y’all today?’
They broke out in nervous giggles and one of them dropped a bottle of Jean-Paul Gaultier onto the tiled floor. This was even better than Billy had imagined.
As the assistants busied themselves clearing up the mess, Latona stepped in and began spraying various scents onto cards.
‘This is the latest Stella McCartney,’ she explained, as businesslike as she could
manage.
‘That’s real nice,’ Billy quipped, paying no attention whatsoever. He was distracted by a goosebumped girl with train-track braces hovering shyly and clutching a camera phone.
‘Well hi, sugar,’ Billy cooed. ‘Would you like a photo?’
‘Y-y-y-y-yes please,’ she managed, her parents ushering her forward.
‘Well come on over here,’ he coaxed. ‘There ain’t nothing to be afraid of.’
As she stepped forward he put his arm around her stiff shoulders and her parents snapped away with their phones.
Take that, alphamale007!
The family thanked him and then huddled together to look at the photos. As he heard them whooping with glee he couldn’t help thinking about his own parents and his heart contracted with sadness.
The truth was that his own family had never been as close as the one he was looking at now. His parents were fanatically religious, making no secret of the fact that they cared about God more than their only son. When he’d told them he was gay at the age of eighteen, they’d bundled him off to a Christian rehab clinic in Arizona where they’d tried to cure him of what they called his ‘evil urges’ through a long course of fasting, aversion therapy and hours and hours of prayer. For weeks he’d had no contact with the outside world and was repeatedly told he was possessed by the demon of perversion, which a group of the course ‘mentors’ tried to drag out of him in a series of torturous exorcisms. He only got out of the clinic by summoning up all his powers as an actor to convince them that not only was he now straight but he was also the most committed Christian ever to walk the earth. He shuddered at the memory; it had been a brutalizing, traumatic experience and he really didn’t want to re-live it now.