by Carla Hanna
“Yeah.” Manuel explained, “Sorry dude, but they love each other. I promise I’ll call next time they break-up.” Manuel shook Evan’s hand again.
“She’s young, and I’m patient. I’m glad she came,” Evan smiled.
I sneered at both of them. It struck me that I was their first choice. I didn’t understand why. Beth was better than me in every way. She was beautiful, smart, athletic, driven, sure of herself and had more backbone than I did. It also confirmed my suspicion that I had to make love to Manual to keep him as my boyfriend. Although Evan said it wasn’t required, Renee was right. It was.
“Love you, Evan. Good job.” I kissed his cheek and patted him on the back. He turned and greeted Matthew. I gasped.
Matthew responded, “What the hell is the bitch doing here? Didn’t she try to destroy your career, too? Or was your break-up bullshit?”
Evan glanced at Manuel and then at me. I stared at Matthew. Matthew glared at me. I felt Manuel’s body flex. Evan caught Manuel’s fist and quickly pushed both of us backwards.
Evan whispered, “What the hell? Get a grip, Manny.” He pinched his eyebrows at Manuel and then studied Matthew again.
“Oh, Marie.” Evan figured it out. “When?”
“The Globes.” I whispered, “I’m okay. Sashi stopped the bastard.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Damn, the soonest I can see you is after the premiere tours. When’s your graduation?”
“Second week of May.”
“Okay,” Evan assured me, “I’ll be there for your graduation. Sorry I’m never here for you. Thank God you have Manny.”
Evan eyed me soulfully and swallowed. He put his hand on my shoulder and then scowled at Matthew. He whispered, “I have to get back to work. Love you, Marie. Keep her safe, Manny.”
Manuel nodded and grabbed my hand.
Franz appeared and put more distance between me and Matthew. “Let’s find Beth and Mitch and sit down—now.” He took me by the arm and led Manuel and me towards the theater. “Darling, ignore him. You’re okay.”
Betrayal hit me from all sides. I lost yet another piece of me to the spectacle that was my life. I pretended that nothing happened as I put the rest of me in my safe deposit box.
Manuel and Franz studied my face. My eyes blurred and body shook. Only a few tears fell which Franz wiped immediately. Manuel put his arm around me, calmed me. We found Beth and Mitch and took our seats.
The movie sucked but Manuel loved it. He loved mindless action adventure movies with beautiful girls who kicked ass. Evan’s movie had two athletic actresses who said very little. Manuel smiled the whole time and squeezed my hand during scenes he liked. I noticed the scenes usually involved blowing stuff up. My boyfriend charmed me.
~ EIGHTEEN ~
Manuel put his hand in mine so I’d know he was awake. I searched for his face in the darkness to see his beautiful brown eyes looking at me through his impossibly long lashes. He smiled passionately and brushed my hair off of my shoulders.
“It’s April 22. You were sound asleep when I got here after work. The dishwasher didn’t show up so I finished up all the dishes. The manager gave me a bigger percentage of the tips, though, and I got paid hourly for the extra time. I scored.” While he talked, he traced my lips with his finger.
Manuel liked puns. He thought he was clever. I thought he was adorable when he thought he was clever. Almost all of his puns were sexual. With his friends he cussed before the pun. With me, he was more respectful. He was such a boy.
I used to think I worked so hard that getting paid what would become tens of millions of dollars after royalties for Jefferson’s Muse was crazy. Manuel worked as hard as I did and was paid $10 an hour. Unlike Manuel, my salary bought the rights to my privacy, childhood, and freedom. Life was inequitable.
I snuggled into him and kissed his chest, then his neck, and then his wonderful lips. My body tingled. It seemed that every day my body was getting more aroused when I woke up beside him. “Thanks for the birthday wishes. I love you so very, very much.”
“As I love you, my birthday girl.” He rolled me on top of him and tickled my sides playfully. I giggled and he rolled me back onto my side, facing me with a big smile on his face.
He whispered, “I’ve had the best month of my life. Thanks.”
“Me, too, Manuel,” I laughed. “It’s been a month since prom and almost two months from winning my Oscar. It’s the most emotional three long months of my life. I’m getting addicted to you sleeping next to me. Please don’t leave me.” I kissed him as I got out of bed. “You go back to sleep.”
“I’m not going to leave you,” he mumbled. “Have you noticed that you haven’t puked in weeks?”
“Yeah, my nausea is still there but it’s way less. I told you I wasn’t bulimic. Have a good workout, and I’ll see you at school.”
I took a pain killer and quietly left my house to meet Elise at 4th Street and Adelaide Drive for my workout. The air was heavy, thick from the morning fog, impairing visibility. I slowed my run.
My days were long when I went to school. Since most of my high school time was independent with tutors, I truly appreciated going to classes. I felt normal and liked to learn. I still had to do my work-out with Elise every weekday, so I did it before school. After school, I studied and did my homework. Then I responded to Sage’s requests or questions. My publicist handled my social network sites, responded to industry friends and acquaintances, and maintained my brand.
In the film industry, a good agent and publicist were essential to an actor’s success. Mom hired my agent when I was thirteen, and we were in contract with the studio that produced my first studio film, VamPyres, when I was fourteen. I also filmed Beautiful Outcast the spring before I turned fifteen, Bright Mute the summer after I turned fifteen, and Romeo & Juliet the summer after I turned sixteen. I appeared in dozens of small roles. The studio had Blake Cameron and me do a ton of worldwide promotions for Bright Mute: magazine covers and articles, talk shows, and practically every industry event. I had to do even more promotions for Romeo & Juliet with Evan. It was my first world tour. Mom said that in negotiating those contracts, she worked with her lawyers to build “self-empowerment” in them so that I was able to do Left to Die and the “Muse” projects independently.
Mom always said there were two “truths about Hollywood:” an actor was only as good as her agent and publicist and all professional relationships in the industry were co-dependent. Without knowing how to put what I saw into words as an eight-year-old, I recognized both truths at Sunday school doing a lesson for the first time, a lesson that we repeated several times until I quit going to church when I was thirteen.
* * * * *
The kids at our art table were cutting out pictures from magazines that showed evidence of Christ in everyday life—the lesson for the day. We all were cutting up issues of the leading celebrity magazine. Manuel saw a picture of me and my parents and showed it to me. The three of us were walking under the “Country Mart” sign. I was embarrassed and focused on my magazine, which was published the week following his. It had a picture of Mom. She looked gorgeous outside at a farmers’ market with a huge sunflower in the bag she was holding. She was smiling at a farmer selling her asparagus. The picture was very colorful. I was there for both photos and listened to the plans.
The morning the pictures were taken, the publicist gave Mom the instructions. She was to show off her legs and wear a red v-neck shirt because a study found that women thought other women were more attractive when they wore red. Dad should wear a black stretch cotton tee, baseball cap, shorts, and flip flops. I should be in a sun dress and sandals, no flip-flops, hair in a pony-tail with a pink bow to make me look younger, more feminine. We were to be at the Mart at 10 a.m., park in the north lot, and walk through the courtyard to the bakery. We were to be sure to walk under or next to any signage so that the shops in the mart were represented. Dad should drive the Lexus SUV. It showed humility.
Dad parked
the SUV, and we all held hands and smiled while we walked a gauntlet of photographers to the courtyard of the shopping center. The photographers stopped taking pictures and stayed in the north parking lot. There, the publicist met Mom.
“You all look perfect! How did it go, Michelle?”
“Fine,” Mom replied. “What’s next?”
“The Brentwood farmers market on San Vicente Boulevard. Change clothes—jean skirt and a tan tee,” the publicist commanded. “You will be shopping alone.”
She handed Mom a Peruvian woven shopping basket with a large sunflower in it. “When you carry the bag, be sure the flower is facing the cameras on the side of the bag closest to your shoulder. Buy vegetables. You should leave here at 10:15. Be at the farmer’s market at 10:45. Park next to the golf course and walk in.
The memory of that morning and Mom’s interaction with her publicist stuck with me. A few years later I understood: Without a good publicist, an entertainer’s picture would not be in the magazine. If it was not in the magazine, the actor would not get face time with the masses. If the masses forget the actor, the actor’s A-list career is over. More broadly, entertainers were at the mercy of their fans. If the fans watched the movies and liked those movies, the actor won and the cycle continued.
Each year we did that lesson and cut up magazines. I always saw pictures of me or my family and my friends. After the divorce, I understood that celebrities were not just people. We were products.
* * * * *
A man’s voice startled me, “Happy birthday, Marie.” A figure emerged from the shadow of a tree on the San Vicente median.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
“Honey, it’s me, Alan. You’ve neglected me for the last month and now you don’t even recognize my voice?”
“Hi, Alan!” I smiled as he came towards me. “What are you doing here at five in the morning?”
“Hoping to see you. I got you something but I don’t want the man to ruin the surprise for me. I mean you.”
It was going to be sexual if it would make “the man” want to alter it in some way. Alan acted so masculine that most of us thought he was denying that he was gay. I wished he would just embrace who he was. We didn’t care about his preferences. We wanted him to be happy. Every girl he dated ended up being a bitch and he begged me to let him see my breasts at least once per month. It was weird, close to psycho, and made everyone uncomfortable to be around him.
I hugged him and asked, “Do you mind if we walk together towards 4th?”
“I’d love to spend the time with you. I’ve missed you, baby, a lot. I get that you want to spend time with Manny, being in love and all that shit, but we need to carve out some Alan time.”
“I’m not flying anywhere next week.” I assured him. He handed me a gift bag.
“Open it, wear it, think of me. And don’t get mad, but I have to talk to you about some gossip.”
“What about?” I asked while I opened the gift, a watch. “Wow, this is great!”
“It’s waterproof, everything. It’ll record your runs—pace, distance—and even synchs to your heart rate monitor. I thought you’d dig it.”
“I love it. Thanks, Alan.” I put it on while he started talking.
“My news isn’t great, Marie. Apparently, Manny, Mitch, and Beth were a three-some—not now that you’re dating but before, after Kate.”
My stomach turned. “Yuck. How do you know?”
Alan pulled out a photo from his back pocket and showed me Manuel and Beth kissing. I stopped walking and studied it. They had their biking gear on. It had to have been the morning of the Oscars. I asked, “Why were you watching them?”
“You know I like Beth, she’s perfect. When I heard the three were together I didn’t believe it so I asked Manny the day before this photo. He said I should mind my own business. I heard he was gonna bike with her the next morning so I figured I’d see for myself.”
“What do you mean by ‘together’?”
“Rumor is Manny got her ready and Mitch scored.”
I almost puked. “Bull. Really, Alan, you’re way too obsessed with Beth.”
“I’m sorry, Marie. This must upset you. I’m sure he’s perfect now that he’s finally getting some from the most amazing girl on the planet. He had great practice with Beth and Kate and you know what they say, practice makes perfect.”
I didn’t like his tone of voice and questioned his intentions. “Shut up, Alan.”
Alan objected, “Hey, I’m just trying to protect you, help you out. There are lots of secrets those three share. You have to have noticed by now.”
“Yeah, I have.”
I wanted to get away from Alan. I didn’t know if I was going to cry, and I certainly didn’t want him to see that he had an effect on me.
“Thanks.” I gave him back the gift bag and patted his shoulder. “See you in class.”
~ THE PARTY ~
My cell rang as I drove home from school. It was Celia.
“Hi!” I answered.
“Happy Birthday, Liana Marie! Do you feel free now that you’re eighteen?”
“I feel relief. I want to go to Grandma’s after graduation. Mom wants to go with me to Montana, too. Will you have any time off? I could plan around your or Tom’s work schedule.”
“Hmm. I can’t get away. Maybe Tom can. I’ll have him check and get back to you. I only have a minute to give you your happy wishes. Before I go, I still haven’t received a copy of the “Muse” contract from Martin or Michelle. Something is fishy—I can feel it. Can you try to get it? I want you to know that I’m concerned so you can be careful but I don’t want to scare you. I have no evidence, just a feeling.”
“Yeah, sure, there’s a copy of the contract in my safe deposit box. I’m too tired to get it today. I have to rest before my birthday party. Can I get it to you tomorrow? I think the bank is open on Saturday.”
Celia affirmed, “Yes, the bank is open, so that’s totally fine. Use the home fax. I won’t be able to get to it until tomorrow afternoon anyway. So sorry I have to run. Love you and happy birthday.”
“Thanks. Love you, too.”
I parked in the garage and closed the garage door. I still had that Oscar dress in the back of my car. I tried to take it to a second hand store, but I couldn’t do it. My own hesitation caught me off guard. One the one hand, it was worth quite a chunk of money—the dress cost $8,000 when it was made for me, but it was a gift from the designer who is now the “it” guy. Donating it for a charitable event/auction would be socially responsible, but it was my crucifix. It reminded me of the obligations I had to the many people who built my brand. I pulled the dress out of the trunk and hung it back in my closet. I decided not to think about the dress. It was my birthday. I needed a nap and fell asleep.
“Darling! You must get up!” Franz woke me. “We need to get fab-u-lous.”
I woke up and extended my arms for him to hug me. He leaned over and pulled me out of bed, cradling me. “Happy birthday, Marie! I love you, darling.”
I smiled as I stood up. “Love you, too, Franz. I’ve missed you every day.”
Rex hired Franz as his stylist and both Mom and I loved him. He personally looked over-the-top trendy, but he dressed his clients perfectly. His clothes did not flatter his own body because he had a false sense of self, but he knew his client’s body type and chose the most flattering clothes imaginable. I asked Franz to prepare me for tonight and to select the clothes Manuel would wear. My birthday party was a public event. I hoped Manuel could handle it. It was our first public date and I did not want him to feel scrutinized. I emailed Franz Manuel’s sizes and he got Manuel something casual but stylish. I hoped Manuel wouldn’t feel stupid in the designer clothes.
I took a five-minute shower and put on my robe. Franz was ready for me in Mom’s bathroom. He started on my hair while I buffed my nails. When he finished with my hair, he was on to the makeup. I read a textbook. Franz finished before I finished reading.
&n
bsp; “I have just one more section to read. Is it okay?” I asked.
“Sure, darling! You look stunning as always. You’re a masterpiece. They say you’re the modern day Mona Lisa. It’s such a pleasure to work on your exquisite canvas. Your features allow such versatility!” Franz fiddled with my hair again.
“I see you in movies and in ads, but seeing you in person with makeup on just freaks me out,” Manuel interrupted. He had arrived and was standing in the doorway looking confused and mad, actually. With little warmth in his voice, Manuel added, “Hi, Franz.”
I laughed, trying to lighten his mood. “You’re dating a celebrity. Sorry.” It didn’t work. Manuel’s face was sullen.
“Right on time,” Franz announced, clearly annoyed. He expected a glowing compliment from Manuel, not the torch of brooding energy emanating from Manuel’s being. “Please get into your clothes. I put them in Marie’s closet.”
“What clothes?”
Manuel could be so clueless. His negativity was still searing the room. I explained, “I bought you some clothes for tonight. It’s going to be hard enough for you to see yourself online and in the tabloids. Are you sure you want to come tonight? I want to show you off but won’t be hurt if you bail.”
“Oh, right. Of course I’m coming, Marie.” He left to get dressed. Franz and I raised our eyebrows to communicate the apprehension we experienced. Within seconds after Manuel left, we felt lighter.
Franz added, “Darling, yours are here.” He pointed to Mom’s walk in closet. “You only need Spanx. The bra is built in. I’ll zip you up.”
I changed into a very sexy dress. It was a fitted wool jersey scarlet cocktail dress. It was short to show off my legs and had a deep V-neck to show off my natural breasts. The hem was lined with blue and purple sequins. It fit perfectly and was quite comfortable. The beautiful shoes were an open-toed red leather with a purple stiletto heel. I was going to struggle with them and would put them on at the last possible moment. Bummer.