We're So Famous

by Jaime Clarke

  These thoughts circled around in my head as Paque and I sat for what Alan called ‘some pre-publicity publicity.’ Filming was suspended for a day to capitalize on an article that Alan ‘placed’ in Daily Variety about World Gone Water. The article reported that Julia Roberts and Elizabeth Hurley originally expressed interest in the roles of Jane Ramsey and Angie Boulevard but that ‘director Hood selected two fresh faces from obscurity to play the roles of seducer and nymphomaniac.’

  We woke the morning of that article to the sound of the phone in the living room ringing every few minutes. The answering machine took the calls. Paque and I stood and listened as agents, publicists, personal trainers, nutritionists, personal assistants and even someone from Paramount Pictures left messages offering their services. It gave me goosebumps, but scared me at the same time.

  Hello, Hollywood, Paque said.

  Alan said, Forget those people for now. He hauled us off to a house in Woodland Hills where Paque and I spent the day in the pool while a photographer friend of Alan’s—John Henry—told us to hold our breath under water for as long as we could (and to make sure our eyes were open). John Henry took some shots from a ladder he’d constructed on his diving board. Then he stripped down to his boxers and switched cameras and jumped in. He told us just to swim towards the camera slowly. He went under and we chased him around the pool until our fingers and toes were waterlogged.

  John Henry had a TV the size of one whole wall and Paque and I watched a Road Rules marathon while Alan went over the photographs, selecting the best one.

  That night Alan took us to a party for the all-girl issue of R*O*C*K magazine at Shampū.

  It’s time to show you off to L.A., Alan said.

  Paque and I still had the outfits that we bought for SaltBed, so we wore them to the party. I miss Ian, Paque said as we got ready. Just hearing his name—and standing there in the mirror in the outfit he paid for—made me tremble.

  I wonder how he’s doing, I said.

  Maybe we could give him a call later, Paque said.

  His phone is disconnected though, I reminded her. I passed her the bottle of Keri lotion and she smoothed some on her legs.

  I think I’m sunburned, she said.

  Alan appeared in the doorway dressed all in black and Paque let out a low whistle. Ready to dazzle, he asked. He smiled, and I think it was the first time I’d seen him smile since we met him. I took the chance to ask him something that had been bothering me.

  Is it right to do what we’re doing, I asked.

  Paque stopped lotioning her legs.

  What are we doing, Alan asked patiently.

  You know, I said, the way you said in the article that Julia Roberts and Elizabeth Hurley wanted to be in World Gone Water, and the posters of Paque and I in the pool that are going to go up all over town. I mean, it’s sort of like lying, isn’t it?

  Alan unbuttoned the top button of his black jacket and sat down on Paque’s bed. Well, he began, it’s sort of like this. In Hollywood, everything is about illusion and expectation. How many movies do you think get made every year?

  I looked at Paque but we couldn’t guess.

  Too many, Alan said. And let’s face it—I’m an unknown in this arena; I haven’t made a movie before. But I believe in second chances. Everyone who needs one should have one. Including you two. So the only thing that can launch this second chance is to get as many people as we can to want you to have a second chance. Does that come close to making sense?

  I see what you mean, I said. I guess it just feels … dishonest.

  Robbing banks is dishonest, Alan smiled. We’re not robbing banks.

  Not yet, Paque said. Which made me laugh.

  Alan laughed too but then got serious again and said, And I should probably tell you that there isn’t even going to be a movie. The plan is to shoot a few scenes and put them on the Internet. Then we’ll start returning those phone calls on the answering machine. And hopefully by this time next year you’ll be filming a movie with Tarantino or Scorsese or Oliver Stone or whoever.

  Paque fished through her purse for her lip gloss. You know, we tried to manipulate the public before and got burned, she said.

  That was my fault, I said.

  Paque stopped smearing peach gloss on her lips and said, It wasn’t your fault.

  You were in the hands of amateurs in Phoenix, Alan said. Besides, this is Hollywood. It’s different. Didn’t you read in Entertainment Weekly about the actress who was supposed to be eighteen but was really thirty-two? She lied and she doesn’t have to worry about running out of work ever again.

  Alan convinced us that what we were doing was making an advertisement for ourselves, like a résumé, and that made me feel better about the whole thing.

  The limousine Alan rented for the evening picked us up right at seven and we navigated the streets in style, though passing so many limos made it feel less special. We came to a stop at a red light and we had limos on either side of us.

  Alan told us not to talk specifically about World Gone Water, especially to any reporters. That includes photographers, he said.

  At Shampū it felt like people knew who we were. The volume of the conversations seemed to increase as we walked in, Paque and I each looping our arms through Alan’s. Silver and gold confetti littered the floor, and Paque’s tennis shoes were caked in it by the time we made our way to one of the plush sofas next to a wall-sized poster of Sarah McLachlan on the cover of R*O*C*K, looking glum and alluring in the way rock stars sometimes do.

  Look, Paque said right as Sarah McLachlan walked by.

  Weird, I said.

  Alan went to get us drinks and Paque and I scanned the crowd for people we recognized: Chloë Sevigny, Matthew Broderick, Courtney Love, Anjelica Huston, David Geffen, Natalie Merchant, Shania Twain, Charlie Sheen, Denis Leary, Janeane Garafalo, Ben Stiller, Fiona Apple, and Abra Moore. Bruce Springsteen was talking to Gloria Estefan when someone bumped him and he spilled his drink on her shoes.

  Look, she’s dancing, Paque joked.

  Alan made his way back through the crowd, dodging a very wasted Bryan Metro, who someone pointed in the direction of the men’s room. We should work the room, he said.

  Paque and I sipped our vodka tonics while we strolled with Alan, who introduced us to Sarah McLachlan, whose skin was so white she appeared to glow. Paque and I told her how much we loved her music and she seemed genuinely flattered.

  We posed for pictures with Jennifer Love Hewitt, Melissa Etheridge, and Vince Vaughn, who asked Paque for her number.

  I started to feel a little ill, remembering that I hadn’t eaten any dinner. A plate of hors d’oeuvres floated by on the arm of this really cute guy and Paque and I stopped him and ate three or four of the little cheese things wrapped in bacon. We followed that with some cold peas with chevre and melba toast with salmon and brie.

  Hey look, Paque said. She pointed out Hilken Mancini and Chris Toppin from Fuzzy.

  We broke free of Alan, who was chatting up Marilyn Manson, and went over to Hilken and Chris, who remembered us from SaltBed.

  Sorry about what happened, Hilken said. That must’ve been really terrible.

  Yeah, it was embarrassing, I said.

  The worst part was that we were being scouted by Sony Records, Paque said. Do you guys know Scott Key?

  Hilken shook her head no and looked at Chris.

  Never heard of him, Chris said.

  Matt Dillon leaned in and told Hilken and Chris how much he liked their new album, Hurray For Everything. He said a friend gave it to him and it was the only CD he played in his Jeep. We were all sort of mesmerized by how handsome Matt Dillon was and after he walked away it took a minute for us to realize he was gone.

  What are you guys doing now, Chris asked.

  We told her that we were shooting a movie, which felt like a lie and we liked them too much to lie so I said, It’s really a short film.

  Wait, I think I read about this, Hilken said. Julia Roberts
wanted to be in it, right?

  Right, Paque said.

  Alan dragged us over for another photo and we waved goodbye to Hilken and Chris. My eyes started to burn from squinting at the flashbulbs so I excused myself and slipped into the bathroom, which was entirely marble. My shoes clicked as I shut the door to the stall. The attendant whistled something I vaguely recognized. On the back of the stall door someone had Magic Markered THE WORLD IS FULL OF VANITY AND MALICE in slanted letters that made me feel like I was losing my balance, or maybe it was the vodka, or my empty stomach, or the flashbulbs exploding like tiny crashes around the room but when I walked out of the bathroom the last thing I saw was Bill Murray and I passed out cold.

  It was pretty embarrassing.

  Daisy

  Dear Sara and Keren,

  I’m enclosing one of the World Gone Water posters. What do you think? I think it looks peaceful, the way the deep blue water sort of envelops us (we aren’t really that white!) and the way our hair fans out behind us. Even though you can’t really tell, we’re both extremely out of breath. Also, Paque’s face is air-brushed (she has a mole high on her right cheek). Doesn’t it look like we’re staring right at you?

  You can’t go anywhere in L.A. without seeing the poster. Which is kind of funny considering what Alan said about it not even being a real movie. Paque and I ran around with Alan the other day—-just doing errands—and we saw the poster all over. On the side of a 7-Eleven on Pico, stapled to telephone polls along Vine, plastered in the window of the Trax-n-Wax on Hollywood (Alan knows the owner), even one someone had ripped down and put in the back window of their car in the parking lot of a bar in no man’s land called the Liquid Kitty. Alan said there were a few you could see from the Santa Monica Freeway, and some in Malibu. Paque and I said we’d like to go to Malibu but Alan said, Maybe after we’re done shooting. Paque and I discussed it and decided we’d give Stella a call and maybe the three of us would take a drive. We intentionally haven’t called Stella because we know she’s desperate to break into the movies and we don’t want her horning in on our deal. Paque is still very pissed about Stella leaving us back in Phoenix, but I’m wishy-washy on the subject. There was no answer at Stella’s though.

  We shot another scene as well. It’s in the can, as they say in Hollywood. (I just thought of a question: Why didn’t Bananarama ever make any movies? You know, the way Madonna did. Your videos are so good it makes sense that you could’ve made a movie.)

  Annette Laupin has joined the cast, too. Paque and I were a little miffed at first but we really like Annette. She’s a cool chick. She seems like she’s stuck up but she’s funnier than shit and you can tell she’s been through a lot. She said she doesn’t have any desire to be a movie star—she told us not to say anything, but she felt Alan probably wasn’t the right person to help her rehabilitate her image; she thinks she might move back to New York after ‘an extended vacation’ and that that might be enough—but that Alan asked her to play the part of Natalie Stone, Caleb Stone’s sister, and Annette thought it would be a kick. That’s the kind of chick she is. Like I said, pretty cool.

  We haven’t had a scene with Annette yet. The scene we filmed was another scene at the rehabilitation center. A group session scene featuring Caleb and Angie Boulevard, who act out a sequence as husband and wife where Angie has to confess that she has cheated on Caleb, monitored closely by Dr. Hatch and my character, Jane. The scene was pretty intense. Robert Anaconda, who plays Caleb, must be a method actor, or must have studied method acting anyway. His reaction was not the normal reaction you would expect if a husband finds out his wife has been unfaithful: He basically accepts it as part of human nature, and it’s shocking in a quiet way (that’s the best way I can describe it). When Angie Boulevard becomes confused by Caleb’s reaction (Paque is very convincing), Jane, who you’ll remember is having an affair with Caleb, challenges his views. My role is really psychologically challenging and I stayed up the night before rehearsing with Alan, who read Caleb’s lines. The trick to my part, as I might have mentioned before, is that no one knows about Jane and Caleb, but Jane takes the wild theories Caleb espouses in group session personally—for obvious reasons.

  Paque and I hung around through lunch to watch Annette film her scene. Alan fussed quite a bit over her appearance—she wore a beautiful white gown—giving Cindy the make-up girl a lot of specific instructions. The scene as Alan explained it was that Natalie, or Talie, had been stood up by her cotillion date and called Caleb (who Alan filled us in was out of rehab by then). Caleb shows up in jeans and a shirt but Talie, as is part of her character, doesn’t care what other people think and they go in and dance one dance and then leave.

  The rehabilitation center was quickly transformed into a dance floor. The boom guy and the cameraman hung a disco ball above the four-by-four tiled floor. The cameras moved in and Annette and Robert Anaconda did a run-through without the music. The script called for Caleb to console Talie about being stood up, but Alan changed it on the spot to a conversation about their first loves. It was amazing to see Alan work—he dashed out the dialogue in about five minutes.

  The film rolled and Annette and Robert Anaconda swayed slowly back and forth, staying within the tiles (which were their markers—Paque and I learned about that when we filmed Plastic Fantastic for my brother, Chuck, in New York). Annette and Robert Anaconda had an instantly easy rapport and I felt a little embarrassed because they seemed like lovers. I thought we were going to have to spend all day shooting but when the scene was finished and the music stopped and the lights came up, Alan was crying.

  That’s it for today, he said.

  It was a pretty awkward moment. Annette and Robert Anaconda went off somewhere and Paque and I had to hang around and wait for Alan, who just sat and stared into space until finally he got up and said, C’mon, let’s go. We rode home in silence.

  Oh, hey, you can check out the scenes we’ve done so far. They’re on the Internet at www.worldgonewater.com. You have to have a special video thing in your computer and you have to have speakers. Alan showed it to us the other day and I think it looks pretty cool. It looks like a scene from an actual movie. When Alan first brought it up on the screen Paque said, I bet we’ll sound like robots. But we didn’t.

  The phone continued to ring with interest in the movie and with offers for Paque and me. Alan said it was too early yet to start calling people back. The hype has to reach just the right level, he said, before we can really capitalize. Alan said so far the people who had called were ‘little fish’ and that we had to wait for the right bite. It won’t be much longer now, he told us. These things take on a life of their own.

  We know something about that, Paque said with not a little hint of irony in her voice.

  I know even more than she does. I never told Paque about my father—the one time she asked I said he lived in Minneapolis, which is true, but I didn’t tell her why. I’m always curious about rumors, about which ones make it to full-blown gossip and which ones turn out to be true (so few rarely do). In the short time we’ve been here it seems to me that Hollywood is full of rumors. Everyone starts a conversation with, I heard this, or, I heard that. Everyone is hearing things. I overheard a woman in Von’s talking about how she heard that one of Michael Jackson’s kids was ‘on death’s door.’ The woman she was talking to didn’t even know Michael Jackson had kids, and the other woman assured her that he did.

  I was just a kid—ten—when I heard the rumor about my father. Funny, now that I remember it, it was in a grocery store, too. I was with my mom and my brother and my mom ran into one of our neighbors. I forget their name now. My mom stopped to talk to them and my brother and I got bored so we ran over to the cereal aisle. Chuck loved Cap’n Crunch (he ate it breakfast, lunch, and dinner) and I wanted Lucky Charms but my mom always made us agree on a cereal (consequently I hate Cap’n Crunch). Chuck and I raced back to our mom, who had moved down the aisle and as we raced past the neighbors, I heard the man say, He�
�s as gay as the day is long. Naturally I didn’t know who he was talking about, or even what the phrase meant. And I forgot it until a few weeks later when Linda Pegg came up to me at recess and said in front of everyone, Your dad’s a homo, you’re dad’s a homo. The others started saying, Homo, homo, homo. None of them knew what it meant—not even Linda Pegg—but they kept on until I started crying. I left the playground and ran home. I asked my mom what ‘homo’ meant, and she started to say something about how it means you’re not like everyone else but she gave up and just started crying. That’s when my mom moved Chuck and me to Phoenix. My father sent birthday cards for a while after that but pretty soon we just didn’t hear anything anymore. Sometimes I wonder what he’s up to and secretly I hope that he’ll read something in the press about the movie and try to get in touch with me. I can’t ask my mom. I don’t know why I know that, I just do. And Chuck doesn’t care. He says he can’t even remember what our father looks like. Wouldn’t know him if he passed him in the street, he always says. I told Chuck he probably looks a lot like us and Chuck said, Yeah, so what?

  I thought about calling Chuck the other night. Paque and I were bored, and not tired, and we were flipping through the channels and we saw ourselves on TV. On C-Span2 (it’s an egghead cable channel that usually has very boring programs on). We were just going from one channel to the other, talking about how many more scenes we would have to shoot before we could accept an offer for a real movie, when Paque’s face lit up the screen. She was clicking so fast she didn’t even see it.