by Lee, India
But now it was gone and she had a draft of a text that she felt obligated to send Levi. Though she knew that by responding, she could be sending him the wrong message.
Luckily, before she could be any further tempted, a sharp, high-pitched voice rang from the elevator door of her apartment.
“I’m here! Phone down!”
Zoe. The sound of pounding heels came from the front of the apartment and into the kitchen. Harper actually cracked a smile when she saw her friend, no doubt having come straight from the set of Leadoff, the new show she was starring in. She wore a tight, pink dress that Harper knew she wouldn’t wear if it weren’t for work purposes. Squinting at Zoe’s outfit, Harper realized that it looked a whole lot like the dress she had first met her in – on the set of Outta This World.
“I didn’t text him back,” Harper muttered, handing her phone over to Zoe, who exhaled.
“Good.” She looked around at the kitchen – at the mint and purple basil leaves littering the counter. “Were… you in the middle of cooking?”
“I think so.”
“I think so, too,” Zoe said with a little laugh. Her shoulders slumped as she looked at Harper in her daze. Pulling a kitchen stool out for her to sit on, Zoe sighed, standing behind Harper and using her fingers to brush her tousled hair into a ponytail. “Sometimes,” she started, heaving another sigh. “Sometimes, I think about the party and how I could’ve just… not brought you. And then none of this would’ve ever happened. I could’ve had you come hang out at my house after we wrapped that day on set and we would’ve never gone to the Westin house and you would’ve never met Levi. But we could’ve still been best friends.”
Harper tried to protest, to alleviate Zoe’s guilt, but her tired lips couldn’t seem to manage any words.
“But then I realize that things happen for a reason. Everything. Even things as painful as what you went through with Levi and L.A. Because we don’t learn from what’s easy, we learn from what’s hard. And look at what you learned out of rehab – you learned that you had the strength to be a businesswoman. That you were meant to heal people with your food,” Zoe said brightly, separating Harper’s blonde hair into three equal parts and starting a braid. “And if you hadn’t introduced me to Steven, who was totally sweet but obviously not meant for me, I would’ve probably lost my virginity to Marco effin’ disgusting Donovan, which would be a fact that I couldn’t live with,” Zoe laughed, the grin audible in her voice when Harper laughed back.
“You ended up sleeping with him, anyway,” she snorted. Zoe gasped with feigned umbrage though in reality, she was delighted, relieved by Harper’s sass.
“Honestly though – like I told you back then – it was totally destiny for me to sleep with Marco because he ended up being that one shitty guy in my romantic history who made me realize that I deserved someone better.”
“Someone who didn’t wear sunglasses indoors?”
“Exactly! Someone who didn’t take himself seriously at all. Like, say,” Zoe shrugged, “your super silly, super gorgeous step-cousin?” Zoe giggled when Harper snorted at the mere thought of Gavin. “Whom I met at your dad’s wedding to Mira, so obviously, as I’ve been saying, things really do happen for a reason. You introduced me to Steven, I introduced you to Levi, you introduced me to Gavin, I… I’ll introduce you to your next one. The final one. ‘Kay?”
Harper laughed. “’Kay.”
“But in the meantime, I’m going to make sure you remember what you were like when you first came out of rehab because that was the worst time of your life and mine. I hated not being there for you.”
“I had my mom,” Harper shrugged. “And my diary.”
“You should read that diary now,” Zoe said. “Remind yourself all the shit you overcame. All the people who looked at you funny or didn’t take you seriously. You forget that now because you’re so successful but if you read back on what it was like for you right after you got out, you’d be like ‘hell effin’ no, I’m never going back.’”
“Yeah, I would but I may or may not have totally deleted my diary in shame,” Harper laughed quietly, sheepishly.
“Goddamnit, Harpie.”
“I know.”
Finishing her braid, Zoe patted Harper’s back. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. You go nap and I’ll Google around. There’s gotta be some good stuff for people to read when they’re at risk of like, relapsing and stuff, right? Right.” Zoe nodded to herself as she ushered Harper into the living room.
Exhausted, Harper laid out on the couch, letting herself doze off as Zoe sat at the foot of the sectional, quietly tapping around on her iPad and Googling away as promised.
By the time Harper awoke, it was night. Aside from the fact that she had taken the liberty of borrowing a set of Harper’s nice, comfy pajamas, Zoe was exactly where Harper had left her – on the end of the couch, tapping away on her iPad.
“I found something,” she said excitedly upon noticing Harper stir. “Literally exactly what you need right now.”
“What is it?” Harper asked, stretching as she sat up. She already felt a little better.
“It’s someone’s rehab diaries. He published his journal from after he got out. It’s all online. I’ve been reading it for like, the past two hours.”
Harper blinked. “Cool, I guess. But who is this guy?”
“Some dude. It says he’s an ‘amateur filmmaker,’ whatever that means. I’m guessing it’s not important. All that matters is that you can read this and remember why you’re still truckin’, boo.”
“Okay,” Harper murmured, taking the iPad from Zoe and looking down at the page that she had opened for her. She raised her eyebrows, nodding, hopeful that the words on the screen would further remind her of how much she needed to stay good. To stay healthy and strong.
Running her finger along the glass screen, she scrolled to the top of the minimalist blog.
DAY 2 OUT
July 10
I didn’t have a good reputation before going to rehab – or any reputation at all. Nobody knew me. I wasn’t “famous” yet (if you can call me famous now). Anyone who did know me just thought I was a stupid party boy. No responsibilities or goals, just someone who’d drink and dance till he was too old to and then at some point, he’d leave the world and no one would notice. Because he didn’t really make a mark or a difference while he was around.
So in some ways, I didn’t lose anything by going into rehab. But now that I’ve finished treatment, I have everything to lose. Which is why I’m keeping this diary and putting it up for the world to see – so I can be held accountable.
Because I did have a dream to do something meaningful with my life. I still do – more than ever now. So this entry is to remind myself of the things I want and the reasons why I can’t go back to how I was before – drunk more often than not with little memory of anything that happened past 12AM. The person who woke up and wondered what he did to hurt someone last night.
I want to be healthy so I can be a respected person.
I can’t wait to discover new hobbies, talents and possibilities. I have energy now (that’s a new thing for me). I want to seize the day rather than sleep as late as possible so I can start drinking the second I get up.
I can’t wait to be taken seriously. I’m realizing that there’s one, maybe two people in my life who talk to me like I’m on their level. Like I don’t have the mental capacity of an attention deficient six-year-old – which is fair enough considering the public reputation I’ve made for myself in the past few months, but I’ve since changed and I want to show people that.
And I can’t wait to accomplish my dream. Everybody has a passion that gives them – plain and simple – peace. I underestimated the value of being at peace with myself. I’m almost there now. It’s a work in progress. Things aren’t easy but I’ve worked too hard to have to repeat this process all over again. Especially when I have plans to turn whatever so-called fame I have right now into somet
hing legitimate. Right now, all that’s attached to my name is embarrassing headlines, a shot reputation and Google images of my more humiliating nights of blackout drunkenness.
It’ll take time, but I’m going to reverse all that. I’ll earn a smidgen of your respect and I’ll grow it from there. And if I ever get tempted to go back to bad habits, I’ll read this diary and remind myself that there is something that I’m working toward – goals that I will accomplish, but only if I’m sober.
And once I’ve accomplished them, I’ll have more reason than ever to stay sober, to stay good and stay healthy.
So this entry here is dedicated to anyone who is the past, present or future me.
Past Me – Hey. Please get help. You are never past the point of saving and you have no idea how much potential there is inside of you. I wish I could give you a crystal ball to show you what a good and healthy person you will be soon. I don’t have one of those so just take my word for it. Please.
Present Me – Keep on trucking. Find your real friends, your good influences.
Future Me – Hi! I can’t wait to be where you are. I imagine it’s incredible to have made yourself proud by staying healthy and reaching your goals. I’m sure there are road bumps but please don’t give into your temptations because I am literally kicking my own ass to get to where you are and damn, it is tough. But I’m going to keep going because good things come with effort and I want what you have. Congratulations, by the way, on all your hard work. I know it was hard.
Anyway, that’s all for now. Till next time.
All the best always,
Ian Marsh
*****
MADISON
“So you studied dance at NYU?”
“Yes,” Madison replied, a friendly smile on her face despite the fact that no one was looking at her. The two casting directors hadn’t bothered to lift their gazes from her headshot and resume since the cursory glance they had given her upon entering. She bit her lip, concerned over the attention they were giving her sparse experience. Madison knew there wasn’t much on there for them to be spending as much time as they were reading it.
“I saw you in Carbine.” One of the two directors looked up. She was a little bit older, stern-looking with her silver bob and dark framed glasses. She pursed her lips, propping her elbows up on the table and folding her hands below her chin. She studied Madison for a little longer before her partner, a younger man, looked up as well.
“Thank you,” Madison said, immediately regretting her choice of words. It’s not like she said she liked you in the movie… or that she liked the movie at all. “For watching the movie, that is.” Madison shook her head, disappointed with her failure of a save. So much for a good first impression.
“I haven’t seen it,” the male casting director said. He was thin and wiry, wearing the same glasses as his older, female counterpart. “But I’ve heard great things and Barbara over here said she thought Tyler Chase was incredible.”
“Oh, he was,” Madison nodded.
“Well-deserved nomination,” Barbara cracked a smile. “Who would’ve thought. As if the legions of young teenaged girls screaming your name wasn’t validation enough. Oh, and it’s a shame Liam Brody didn’t get nominated, I thought he was quite good as well.” Madison maintained her smile, wondering if Barbara was deliberately leaving out any praise for her role as “Dakota.” After all, the three had been a trio through production and all the press that followed. Wouldn’t it only be natural to acknowledge her performance as well? Unless she thought you were awful, Madison thought, biting her lip. She straightened her back, hoping her posture would trick her growing insecurity into submission. What’re you nervous about? You don’t even want this role…
For the year before the movie came out, Madison understood why casting directors didn’t take her seriously. The only credit to her name was a movie that was still in post-production and starred a teen idol and an infamous womanizer – not exactly the formula for anything that would be critically-acclaimed. But after the movie came out, after the glowing reviews began pouring in from the most reputable international publications, Madison was sure things would be different. After all, she had received recognition and praise for being an actress with no experience who was able to hold her own against the powerful performances of her co-stars’ breakout roles. She was heralded for her beauty and charisma, for the effortless charm that radiated off the silver screen.
Then suddenly, agents scrambled to represent her. Her phone rang so often that she found herself both delighted and overwhelmed with the potential that her new life held. There seemed to be opportunity everywhere because everyone wanted her. Eventually, she signed with an agent whose main focus was to get her a role that would clinch an Oscar nomination, since she had seemingly gotten so close with her role in Carbine. Shortly after, she picked up a contract to work on an independent film that looked like a promising route to recognition, only to find herself packing her bags and leaving the set when the production unexpectedly ran out of money.
And just as suddenly, the six-figure sum she had been paid for her work in Carbine had run down to an uncomfortably low figure. The agent she had signed with was calling less and less. With every day that went by without a new audition, a new job, her social circle began to dwindle. And as quickly as it all came together, it had all fallen apart. The media, the producers, the directors – everyone who had loved her just months before, everyone who had speculated over just how meteoric Madison Lennox’s rise in Hollywood would be – had forgotten about her. In the flurry of excitement and attention that she had gotten following the months after Carbine’s release, it had seemed damn near impossible that she’d have to struggle to find a job and in some cases, remind people “who she was” and how she had even landed an audition with them.
That was when her agent decided it was time for a change in the gameplan. Instead of prestige, they were suddenly focused on money. If Madison were to be of any value to her and her agency, she would have to bring in some cash. And with that, Madison’s dream of a quick climb to the A-List became secondary to the fact that she couldn’t be called a professional actress without any paying jobs.
It was a topic she avoided, preferring to keep the image of someone in control and a constant exception to the rule. Everyone knew that the entertainment industry was hard to break into and hard to maintain. But like everything else in her life, she had gotten her first big role so easily that she had underestimated the difficulty of everything that followed. And now, here she was, back in New York and auditioning for some cheesy daytime soap opera that no one under the age of fifty who had something other than sweatpants in their wardrobe would watch. To make things worse, the casting directors weren’t impressed by her presence at all. She was just another girl. Just another name and a head shot and a time slot that they’d have to get through before they could take their lunch break.
“Alright,” Barbara said, pointing at the camera that was set up in front of her. “Whenever you’re ready, please slate.”
~
“Oh my God, I think that guy over there recognizes you,” Claire said in an urgent whisper. Her French-manicured nails dug into Madison’s forearm. “Oh my God, he’s been looking at you all night, he’s so going to ask for a picture with you. But don’t worry, I can tell them you’re just out to dinner with your friends and you don’t want to be bothered.”
“I think they’d be looking at her whether or not she was in Carbine,” Chrissy laughed. “In case you don’t remember, this was what it was like everywhere we went in college, before Madison was known for anything other than being super hot.”
“Alright, that’s enough, girls,” Madison said, holding her hand up in mock protest. She smiled, pleased to be getting the type of attention she had been used to, before the days of being “one of many.” It helped ease her nerves about being back on the East Coast, if even for a short visit.
“I wish we had the money to come visit in L.A.,” Cla
ire sighed. “But if I had the money, I wouldn’t have the time.”
Chrissy rolled her eyes. “That’s because she got picked up to dance at two separate shows this season at City Opera,” she interjected. “So don’t feel bad for her. Feel bad for me. I have such bad plantar fasciitis that I can’t do shit the way I used to. Haven’t quite regretted majoring in dance as badly as I do now. Hell, I can’t even wait tables comfortably.” She winced and flexed her foot under the table before laughing. “But half my regulars do tip me over twenty-five percent because my hobble looks like I’ve got some kind of problem or something. And pity tips are what pay for dinners like these.”
Madison giggled. “I’ve missed these dinners so much. You can eat at midnight and not be limited to a taco truck here. And then you can still find a place that’s open for a drink,” she sighed. “Plus, you can party here past 2am without having to break up the flow of the night by moving everyone to some person’s house.”
“Yeah, but when you say, ‘some person,’ you mean like, celebrities,” Claire teased. “If I ever get to visit, that’s the L.A. I wanna see. I want to hang out with you and your new best friends. Chrissy and I have the right to know who our West Coast counterparts are, don’t we?”
Chrissy snorted. “Just Tyler Chase and Liam Brody, no big deal.”
Madison swallowed at the mention of those names, though it was Tyler’s that really made her smile falter. They hadn’t spoken since the premiere. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to come of their relationship once filming had wrapped, but she certainly hadn’t expected for it to feel as if they’d never met at all. They had virtually no relationship whatsoever, not even the tiniest hint of a friendship. It made Madison actually shiver when she recalled the copious amount of daydreaming she’d done on the set of Carbine, the fantasies she’d had about being Tyler Chase’s confidante, the gorgeous best friend who would Instagram cute pictures of them hanging out, pictures that would make the public wonder whether they were dating yet and when they would finally get together. That definitely didn’t happen, Madison thought bitterly.