by Carla Hanna
I had a text from Richard when I got out of the shower. I changed into sweats and met him in his trailer. Clyde, Sara and Byron were there, too. Richard handed me the new script.
“Marie, run lines with Byron. Clyde and Sara will work with Renee. You have a ton to memorize.” Richard gave me a hug. “And thank you, honey, for stepping up to the plate again and again. You’re awesome.”
“Sure. No problem.” I told Richard, still completely annoyed with my life.
Richard nodded, “Clyde, move Byron into a trailer here on set. You are now this asshole’s babysitter so he doesn’t ruin the project.”
Byron and I left Richard’s trailer and headed for the catering tent.
“Shit, I guess it’s my last night in my condo. Let’s go there. Everyone hates me here. I can’t concentrate.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “But only if we just practice. You promised you’d control yourself.”
“I promised that I would try, and I will. Trust me. I don’t want to get screamed at again tomorrow. Richard said that just cost him fifty thousand dollars and told me he’s taking it out of my percentage. I feel awful that I’m dragging down the project.”
He put both of our scripts in his backpack and he put it on my back. We got on his motorcycle and were at his condo within ten minutes. I noticed the photographers.
“Why the paparazzi?” I asked as we headed to the door. I felt better. The ride on his motorcycle was fun and kind of sexy. I liked holding him. It was comforting. I liked being close to his body without him having the opportunity to kiss me.
“Oh, they want to see who I’m with today.”
“Why are you such a slut? Don’t you find it, like, empty?” I asked. He went straight to the kitchen fridge and got two microbrews out, opened the tops, and handed me one. I could drink one beer but that was all. I was on a one-drink maximum policy since recovering from my almost alcoholism.
“No, honestly. What I feel is out of control. I’m not me. The girls back home were much harder to impress. Actually, I was innocent until my recent fame. I won a reality TV talent show in Australia and immediately got cool when I was just a normal guy before. I’m a singer/songwriter, not an actor. I’ve never even had an acting class.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I get surprised that the women in L.A. are so aggressive.” He grinned. “I don’t love them and they don’t seem to care. I only love you.”
“Ugh. Byron, why do you keep saying that? It’s absurd, ya know.” I probably downed half the beer in just one swig. It tasted so good.
“No, it’s not. You’re the sweetest girl in Hollywood. I’ve never met anyone like you before, ever.”
I dismissed him. “Thanks. Now let’s start.” I went ahead and just finished the beer.
“Hey, do you want another beer?” He noticed, finished his, and got another.
“No, thank you. I can only drink one.” I laughed. I wanted another and another and another. “As you can see why, I love beer!”
We ran through the script changes several times and were finally perfect. His six pack of beer was gone. He was drinking a Long Island iced tea, and I wondered how I’d get home since I didn’t want him to drive drunk. He had four beers and I had two. I went over my one drink maximum and felt lousy about it.
“Byron, good job. You rocked it. So, I need to get back to my trailer.” I grabbed my iPhone. “I’ll call a cab. Where are we?”
“I don’t want you to go, yet. It’s not even ten o’clock.”
Within a second, he was in front of me, holding me. I pushed against him to refuse him, but he seemed so sincere, so in love. I hesitated, studying his face to determine if he could be telling the truth. Did he, could he, really love me? In the next second, we were kissing.
I stopped the kissing again. Without arguing, he picked up his guitar and sang the song he wrote for me. He had a beautiful voice that drew me in. I stood still in the center of the room between the door and him sitting on his couch, moved by the sound of his voice. The words were lost on me but the emotion caused shivers to run down my spine.
I needed to get some friends. Manuel kissed Beth, showing a love so deep that he’d betray Mitch, which seemed so impossible to me. Beth rejected him, but I couldn’t compete with that kind of love. Manuel was dating Trish. She’d fall for him. Byron was right in front of me, loved me. I didn’t love him, but maybe I could. Waiting for the man I wanted to marry wasn’t working out for me. I was losing myself, becoming disconnected and detached from the social world. There was no reason why I needed to abstain any longer, except that I was scared.
He finished the song, got up, and embraced me. I remained motionless and undecided.
“Marie, let go. Release the tension.”
“My mom’s threat is true. If I try but change my mind, can I trust you?”
He asked, “You’re scared?”
I nodded.
“Let’s start with kissing and see where it takes us. If you want to stop, we will. I promise.” He kissed my forehead, “Kiss me like you kiss me on set. I love how you kiss me on set.”
And I did. I let go of my restraint and hesitation, feeling a little tipsy but not drunk. I relaxed as I relaxed when Manuel hugged me. We made our way to his bed. I continued to kiss him and let him explore my body. I did the same to him. I let go of my mind and let it feel nice. I didn’t feel much desire for him, certainly not how I felt when I had my first kiss, but it was fine.
* * * * *
My first kiss was on set for Left to Die, my first film. It was based on the true story of a Texas woman who sought revenge against a man who abducted and raped her, slit her throat and left her for dead on a fire ant hill when she was eight years old. In real life, the woman, Mom’s character, didn’t come back and kill her rapist twenty years later, tell her story, confess her crime, learn that revenge is bitter and then kill herself. In the movie, the girl, my character, was abducted walking home from middle school by someone she recognized. Other than that, the film was pretty true to the real story. It was a gripping, intense and shocking film, so the critics loved it.
In the editing room, the director didn’t feel like the abduction came across as monstrous and horrible as he thought it should. The original script had the rapist taser the girl as she walked home from school alone. In the next scene, she was found by a group of children in a park, lying naked and bloody on a red ant hill.
My mother was all for shooting additional scenes just in case they would improve the intensity of the movie. I had just turned fourteen the day before we filmed the additional scene. I was a child actor so the director had to be very careful with what was shown, he could not exploit me in any way: no nudity could be shown and no sexual act. With Mom’s permission, he decided to shoot the rape scene in its intensity and then edit as necessary. There was a lot of tension on the set that day between the Screen Actors Guild representative and the director. My lawyer, Martin, was there talking to the SAG gal and had me sign some papers with Mom that morning before the shoot. Everyone on the set knew the director was walking a fine line with a child actor but trusted his judgment. I just went with the flow. I didn’t think it was a big deal and wanted the SAG lady to just go away.
The actor who played the rapist, the gorgeous TV veteran Rex Huxley, was 40—Dad’s age at the time. During the original filming, the two of us had little dialogue or interaction in the scenes that set up the abduction. The scenes show Rex as a stalker asking me a question or two in different settings. As if the rapist was watching me intently, the camera focused on my face or on my neck and chest as I breathed or on my thigh while I sat on a swing, played in the park, teased boys, and laughed with friends. I never even talked with Rex off set.
On the set for the added rape scene, Mom prepared me. I would never be naked. Rex would cut my panties but I would never be exposed. Rex would kiss me but there would, of course, be no physical sexual contact. There would be multiple cameras going at once from different angles so tha
t we’d do as few takes as possible. The primary camera would be to the right of the bed. I needed to remember not to block the shot.
I read the non-verbal script. My hands are bound to the bed frame, the rapist kisses me, I struggle, he cuts the thigh seam of my underwear with a knife and pulls up my sundress, he moves on top of me, director cut.
I met Rex and he asked me if there was anything he could do if I felt nervous. No. I was fine.
And then we started the scene. With over twenty people around me, including Mom, I had my first kiss with a man as old as Dad. His lips were fervently on mine. I felt a rush of heat and desire excited my body. I froze and gaped at him, shocked that I wanted to kiss him. I blushed, completely embarrassed, and then moved my face to the primary camera’s side and to the other side and back to the camera’s side, trying to keep my lips away from his, trying to get away from his face. “Yuck. Gross,” I thought. Then I felt a deep tingling sensation everywhere as he touched my body. I squirmed, kicked, and screamed, “Get off of me, get off!”
He cut my panties off at my left hip seam, my pelvis throbbed with desire, and then he cut the panties at the right hip seam, and placed the knife next to the primary camera’s side of the pillow while he carefully rolled on me to hide my skin from the cameras. I kicked my knees up trying to get him off of me. I felt his body on top of me and his hands under my dress on my skin moving up too close to my breasts. I was on fire. This time I really tried to get him off but couldn’t even move under the pressure of his body with my hands bound, and I froze again staring at him with absolute hatred in my eyes. Cut.
Rex immediately got off me and pulled down my dress to cover me up. He stared back at me for a moment and tenderly said, “So sorry.” We waited in position for the director to review the take.
He knew. I knew. I wasn’t really acting. I really wanted the bastard to get off me. But only we knew those were my real feelings.
The director and crew were clapping. It was a wrap on the first take. Someone was untying my wrists. I was applauded for my outstanding acting. I could feel the relief from every adult in there worried that they had crossed a line. The emotions I expressed on camera seemed so real, so genuine. It was perfectly executed.
Mom came over to me ecstatic, “Marie, you’re a natural! You really are outstanding. I’m so proud of you!”
* * * * *
Byron wondered why I stopped kissing him. “Marie, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I was just thinking about my first kiss with a man, actually. You know, not a boy.” My first kiss with a man was with Rex. My first kiss with a boy was with Manuel. Both kisses were in front of a crowd and were not supposed to be romantic. But both ignited my body.
I sat up from the bed and noticed that his clothes were off. “How did you get your clothes off?! I’m not even close to ready to get naked with you.”
He sat up next to me with the sheets covering himself and put his arm around me. “I don’t understand why you won’t let people love you. It’s not just me. Your best friend is Franz and you shield yourself from him, too. But I see through your shield. I can feel that you’ve never been loved physically.”
“Honestly, I don’t even know what to do, how to… I know what to do on set, how to touch you for the takes, because it’s blocked for me. But this is real. And I like kissing but not…” I wanted to explain my sexual hesitation with men but I didn’t trust Byron with my secrets. I didn’t trust anyone with my secrets.
I continued, “When I partied, I saw lots of drugs and people doing it so casually. I’m sure you’ve seen it, too. I was also raised Christian and should only make love to the guy I want to marry.”
He interrupted with a whisper and kissed my ear and neck. “We’re in Hollywood, babe. There’s no such thing as that kind of love in Hollywood. It’s an illusion, unrealistic. It never lasts, can’t last. Your mom is a good example. She’s the devoted Hollywood good girl who got dumped anyway.”
Byron put his hand behind the back of my neck and kissed me again. I loved the feeling. And he was right. Dad dumped Mom anyway.
He continued, “What I know is that I’m completely in love with you. You’re just scared. I’ll help you.” He laughed. “Honestly, it will be my first time to make love, too.”
“What?”
“The girls are frantic to get my clothes off and have theirs off in seconds while I’m still finishing my drink. Look at you, you’re still dressed. We’re taking our time, loving each other. That’s what I want with you. I want us to enjoy each other, babe.”
I let him pull me on top of him, still separated by the sheets. While his lips were kissing, his hands moved all over me and he put my hands under the sheets where he wanted them to be on his body. It was easy and moved very quickly. Before I knew how, I was clothed but under the sheets with his naked body.
“You’re so incredibly soft, like heaven. Please, Marie,” he begged, “relax.”
He kissed me again gently along my chest, neck, cheeks, and lips. He gently caressed my body and lifted up my shirt to kiss my stomach and touch my breasts. He paused and when I opened my eyes to see why, I saw that he was protected. I froze.
Byron whispered, “I feel like I’m with an angel. There’s no one like you, Marie. You’re so beautiful.”
Words didn’t come when he pulled off my sweats and panties a second later. He kissed my neck again. I couldn’t move. I didn’t speak. I stared at him. He opened his eyes as he got himself into position over me and beheld me with love in his eyes at first, shock second. He instantly moved to the side.
“Whoa, babe. You look scared. You’re not ready. Please talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking so we can get you ready.” He kissed my cheek. “This is about both of us, you and me together, not about me. What can I do to help you, Marie?”
“You’re right. I’m not ready. I didn’t expect this. I need to use the bathroom,” I lied.
“Perhaps a nice massage for you?” Byron suggested. “Your shoulders are tense. I could work out your muscles, help you relax?”
I left him in the bed, grabbed my sweats and panties, and grabbed my iPhone. He urged me to come right back and told me he loved me again. My shirt and bra were still on. I put on the rest of my clothes, sat on the bathroom floor, and cried.
I needed to get out of there. I hated that I almost slept with him. I didn’t want to look at him, talk to him, or be near him. I was close to being one of his hundreds. I felt stupid. There were photographers outside. I couldn’t think. I texted Manuel.
“Please help. Got to get out of Byron’s condo. Photographers outside.”
Manuel texted me back. “Byron too drunk to drive?”
“Don’t want to see him.”
“I’ll get a cab. Where r u? Look at map.”
I didn’t think of that. I got out my map on my iPhone and pressed the location button. It searched the GPS and gave me the pin. I texted the location to Manuel.
“Okay, cab is on its way. ETA 5 min. It’ll wait. You ok?”
“No. I messed up.”
“Txt when you’re safe at home.”
“K. Thx.”
I washed my face and composed myself, taking up the few minutes. I opened the door to the bedroom and saw Byron smoking a cigarette as he smiled at me.
“Hey, babe…”
I stopped to explain, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a tease. I don’t want to sleep with you.”
“Marie, please come back to bed. I won’t hurt you, babe. I promise.”
“I can’t,” I responded as I stood there in the doorway. He shifted his body in the bed and looked like he was going to get up and walk toward me, naked. I ran out of the room, out of the condo, and into the cab. Yuck.
Byron called. I ignored it. He texted. I ignored it. He called again.
I texted him, “Sorry. It went too far. Not what I want. Talk tomorrow?”
Steve paid the driver and drove me in his security golf cart to my trai
ler. I lost it when I got inside. My head pounded and vision blurred. I vomited. I immediately found my prescription bottle of Vicoden—desperate to relieve the pain from my instant migraine. I stared at it, fought the urge to take the pills, and threw the bottle at the wall. I crumpled to the floor and let my head throb.
I thought of Matthew. I was scared this time, too, but it was more than that.
There was something wrong with me. Hormones were supposed to be released in my body so that I could be ready. But I felt no desire for the most beautiful man on the planet. I wasn’t turned on, just like when Evan and I tried to get me ready—nothing worked.
I was embarrassed that I overreacted and didn’t communicate.
Perhaps true love in Hollywood was not a realistic ideal. Perhaps casual sex is as much a part of the cultural fabric as a prayer is to religion. But I didn’t want it. I didn’t want Byron, not him. Evan was perfect and I loved him, but not Evan either because I didn’t see a future with him. I cared about companionship, trust, and reliability. I didn’t need to love a lot of guys. I wanted the one who would love me and stay with me for the long-term.
Byron was excessively pushy but didn’t do anything wrong. He was being his normal player self. It was me who should not have been there and should not have lost control. I needed to stay as far away from Byron as possible because I could not trust myself to do the right thing around him. There was no middle ground in Hollywood. I needed to stop being a tease.
~ MANUEL’S VISIT ~
A few hours later, I woke up to Manuel’s ringtone.
“Hey. Thanks for the cab,” I answered. “I messed up tonight, couldn’t think straight. I shouldn’t have texted you. Sorry.”
Manuel answered, “I’m here, at security.”
“What?” He was seventeen and had a provisional driver’s license. Minors are not allowed to drive from 11 pm to 5 am in the State of California. It was after midnight. I was shocked that he broke a rule even though he had recently kissed his best friend’s girlfriend, an action completely against his rules.
“Cool, okay.” I shot up out of bed and slid on my shoes. I was in my pajamas but just threw on a jacket and hat. I ran down to the security checkpoint. My heart leapt when I saw Manuel and tears swelled in my eyes.