Going Down in La-La Land

by Andy Zeffer

  “You are kidding me!” I said in astonishment. “What a desperate scam, charging people to sneak them into a party. Now I’ve heard it all.”

  “Yup,” Candy said, nodding her head with conviction. “You know what’s even sicker? When we get inside she turns around and tells me we should do lunch someday, and leaves me for the rest of the night. I never saw her or spoke to her again. I ended up having to hitch a ride home with someone else. So there you have it. You know what pisses

  me off the most? The bitch never gave me back my pictures. It’s not as if Hugh Hefner ever saw them.”

  “What a skank,” I said while shaking my head in disbelief at her Playboy party scheme. “She is so repulsive. What the hell is John doing with her?”

  “Oh she’s so phony, Adam, he probably has no clue,” Candy said. “When she wants something she is ever so charming and gracious, but as soon as she gets it from you, you’re dropped on the ground faster than a hot potato.”

  I sat brooding for a moment about how I was going to bring the matter up with John about the one-named snake and her green-yellow foundation. In a way, John was using Zinnia too. As long as she got her gifts and perks, she seemed just fine with it.

  I decided I wasn’t going to worry about it. I had stressed enough the past few months. For now, I just wanted to enjoy my life and the amazing opportunities that had just appeared. And even though things got ugly at HUNG Video toward the end, I had no regrets. Without HUNG Video I never would have met John Vastelli. My sexy stint in porn had opened up a whole new world for me.

  “Hey, let’s put in a Mae West movie!” I suggested to Candy.

  “Hey, big boy,” Candy swaggered with her hand on one hip and the other puffing up her hair in her best Mae West impersonation, “I love the idea. Why don’t you come up and see me some time?”

  The Glamorous Life

  The weeks following were bliss. I truly realized in LA its all about who you know and what you do. My job put me in touch with a whole new class of people that I just wouldn’t have gotten to know beforehand. I had practically moved in with John, spending half my time there and the other half at Candy’s. It was really perfect that way. Even though when John was on the set during the days when I worked with him and he rarely had twenty seconds, having Candy’s place ensured we had time apart so we wouldn’t crowd each other.

  At times it was difficult carrying on such a covert relationship. I had to be careful of what I said around him in public, keeping our communication completely emotionally detached and strictly business. But at the same time, it added to our passion. At night John could let it all go, his whole facade, his whole image, his whole act. And he released his tension through sex, which seemed to get more enjoyable as time went on. John had lost a lot of shyness, taking more control.

  Life was good. Traveling among the most powerful people in town while picking up papers at William Morris or bringing items to the studio lot, coasting around LA in John’s brand new Range Rover. I followed him at functions where stars the likes of Jennifer Aniston, Halle Berry, and Tom Cruise stood next to me sipping cocktails. Of course, John always had a date with him. I always looked forward to it when it was Olivia. The three of us would laugh and cut it up in the limo. But on the public occasions when he took Zinnia along, I dreaded her company. She always treated me as if I weren’t present and name-dropped the whole time, laughing in her shrill and pretentious manner.

  “I was at the Ivy today, and Jennifer Lopez was sitting right next to us,” She would gloat. “We got into this thirty-minute conversation because we share the same Pilates instructor.”

  I wanted to smash her overly made-up olive green face through the car window.

  I hadn’t told John about Candy’s experience with Zinnia yet. I didn’t want to appear meddlesome or jealous. Although when he walked down the red carpet arm in arm with her I had to suppress the urge to keep my fist from knocking her straight into Joan and Melissa Rivers. When Zinnia saw an E Television, Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood, or other major network camera she took charge, practically dragging John in front of Jan Carl or the Rivers duo. It was like watching a greedy child go berserk at an Easter egg hunt.

  “Somebody shoot her with a tranquilizer,” I muttered under my breath at one such event.

  A successful and famous actress who, unlike Zinnia, had survived the 1980s overheard me and laughed, “She’s still trying to stretch those fifteen minutes, even twenty years after the fact, huh?” then winked and disappeared down the red carpet, leaving me surprised and amused.

  One night after going to dinner with John and a group of colleagues, including Zinnia, I could hold my tongue no more. She dominated the conversation the whole evening, talking about nothing and turning what would have been an otherwise dynamic and charming evening into one massive migraine. She even got up and left the table a few times to show she knew people at other tables. As soon she came back she took over where she left off, blabbing incessantly about this person or that person, the best restaurants, stores, or whatever other crap came flying out of her mouth. I should have introduced her to Stephen and Sarah. They would have gotten along famously.

  “I don’t know how you can stand her. She is so obnoxious,” I told John when we got home. “She never shuts up and gives anyone else a chance to speak, except when the topic turns to work because lord knows that’s foreign to her. And when you talk about the show she still has to open her mouth with drippy, ass-kissing compliments. Her nose is so brown no amount of yellow-green foundation can cover that up.”

  “She’s just very Hollywood, Adam. Besides, she’s entertaining,” John said dismissively.

  “Entertaining?” I repeated in dismay. “Exasperating is more like it. How did you ever get to know her anyways?”

  “I’ve known her for years, when I first came to town. Before I became famous,” John said quietly, almost cryptically as he looked straight ahead.

  “Well, there’s nothing wrong with seeing an old friend once in a while, but when they’re as overbearing as that—”

  “Adam, can we not talk about it!” John snapped, cutting me off and burying his head in his hands.

  “Sure,” I said somewhat stunned. “I’m sorry I said anything.”

  “Look,” John said bringing his head up and gazing into my eyes, “I don’t want to think about her right now. I want to think about you.” With that he kissed me. “Come on, lets go to bed,” he stood up, grabbed my hand, and led me to the bedroom.

  A few nights later I was at Candy’s and we were sitting out on the balcony. I had run lines with John all night and he needed to read some scripts his agent had passed along, so I decided to leave him alone for the evening.

  “He just freaked out,” I told Candy as she lit up a cigarette. “It was the weirdest thing. I had never seen him flip out like that.”

  “Well it sounds like you definitely hit a raw nerve,” Candy said knowingly.

  “Do you think there’s blackmail going on?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Candy said as she put on her analytical face, brow furled, lips pursed together, and eyes squinted. “Knowing her, it’s a strong possibility. But if it were just that, why not just pay her off and keep her away?”

  “The limelight, the right parties,” I stated, “that’s the payoff.”

  “I don’t know,” Candy said dubiously. “There’s got to be more there. What surprises me is that he doesn’t have any shit on her. I’m sure the skeletons are just clawing to get out of her closet.”

  “Are you kidding? She probably wrote the line that any publicity is good publicity. A washed-up sex symbol with a dead career? Anything he could throw back at her would be an appearance on Howard Stern, money for a tabloid exclusive, and the talk show circuit.”

  “Not if it meant going to jail,” Candy sang sweetly.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Let’s just say I’ve heard drug rumors from other girls at the gym and around to
wn. And I don’t mean using. I mean supplying. And the latter is rare in that it is one bit of publicity that is still not good, thank God. Nothing more pathetic, loser ridden, or shameful than going from television to dealing narcotics,” Candy said firmly.

  “If it’s true, maybe we can get her out of the picture for good,” I whispered hopefully.

  “I’ll do some digging around,” Candy winked. “I’m still pissed about not getting my pictures back. She probably sold them on the Internet.”

  Taking Out the Hollywood Trash

  The next day my mind was taken away from Zinnia when I received a surprise call from Perry Bristol. He was to begin filming The Voyeur in a month, and true to his word wanted me to read for a part. The project was a behind-the-scenes comedy drama set in the world of gay porn, about a young and misguided aspiring filmmaker who becomes obsessed with a destructive male “gay-for-pay” porn star.

  Though at this point I wanted to distance myself from the world of porn, I knew this film would be brilliant. And in a way, it could symbolize leaving that brief part of my life behind for other things. Besides, I hadn’t completely lost the acting bug that had driven me to come to LA to begin with, a desire that had been pushed to the wayside among all the craziness.

  When I broached the topic with John, he was supportive. The role only called for me to be away from a few days work.

  “Take as much time as you need, Adam,” John told me.

  I was to read for the role of Kurt Bottoms, a washed-up, bitchy porn star with an attitude. Seeing as how my last days with HUNG Video had turned out, finding motivation for the role wasn’t something I was worried about. The part was small and brief, but well written with some great lines. The bottom line was that it presented the opportunity to act in what I knew would be a good film, and perhaps the priceless chance to build an acting career.

  Going to extra lengths to appear trashy for my audition, I went so far as to bleach my dark hair. Despite the fact it took my hair forever to take to the bleach, leaving my scalp fried with nasty scabs, the end result looked good. John thought it was sexy, which made me happy. Candy hated it.

  “Ugh. Why did you do that, Adam? It looks so cheap!” she said with brutal honesty.

  “Good. It’s supposed to look that way.”

  The day of the audition I changed into a tight tank top and baggy gym pants, finishing off my smutty, West Hollywood hustler look. I arrived and was greeted by the casting girl, a spunky and friendly gal named Lisa. With glasses and a super casual look, she fit the profile of the typical production girl. I signed the audition list and took a look at the two other actors in the room: both spaced-out-looking young blond guys. I guess my instinct to bleach my hair was right on target.

  Neither guy looked particularly interested or eager. Actually they looked uncomfortable. If anything they were most likely completely freaked out and put off by the explicit lines, that and the fact that the role called for a simulated sex scene, with the character of Kurt Bottoms getting fucked by one of the lead actors. Big surprise, considering I was up for the part. That might make most actors apprehensive about taking on this particular job. Let’s face it, this wasn’t the kind of part that Tom Cruise would have taken early in his career.

  After waiting a few minutes to read, Lisa came to get me. Sitting in the room was Perry and Mitch.

  “Hey, Adam!” They greeted me simultaneously.

  “My rescuers, taking me away from the party turned ugly orgy!” I laughed.

  “No kidding,” Perry said grimly. “A good thing we left when we did, and that you’re not hanging with Dale anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I suddenly got a sick feeling in my stomach, and my face got hot. I hadn’t heard Dale’s name since the day he attacked me.

  “He’s hit rock bottom, Adam,” Perry said in a quiet tone. “Things got so bad that sure enough, Ron fired him. I guess it was an ugly scene. He was throwing things around the office, the graphics guys had to restrain him and call the police. Last I heard he was seen around town getting thrown out of a bar. Hopefully somebody will get him in rehab soon.”

  I didn’t say anything. It was too depressing.

  “Well, enough of that,” Mitch exclaimed turning the conversation around. “We have been dying to hear you read, Adam.”

  I just hoped I could after getting so upset at the mention of Dale. I immediately began to block him out of my mind and get back to the matter at hand.

  The first lines began with my character in a pool telling his costar that he’d better hurry with their scene, because he has a stripping engagement that night. From there it went into some really bad porn dialogue, which was fun to read. God knows I had seen some really dumb people in front of a camera firsthand. The day at HUNG Video where I handed out lubricant came to mind.

  I also had lines in one other scene, and ironically the setting for this scene was Missy Manhandler’s birthday party. Within the gay porn industry, Missy’s birthday party was one of the most important social events. Therefore Perry was re-creating it in the film. He informed me that Missy was even making a cameo, singing on stage in drag and in all his outrageous glory.

  It would be fun to see Missy again, this time in women’s clothes and fully made-up.

  We read through the scenes twice. The first time I made the mistake of looking straight into the camera lens, instead of at Lisa, who I was reading my lines with. But I nailed the character perfectly, getting an enthusiastic reaction from all three of them. The second go was nothing less than perfect. I left feeling confident I had bagged the part.

  The following day I had a message from Perry telling me all three of them thought I was perfect for the role, and it was mine.

  The producers would be getting to me with all the necessary paperwork within the next week, being that I didn’t have an agent. For the next few days I waited, thinking about being in front of the camera again, in a legitimate and well-written film. I was being sent official papers from real, legitimate, producers!

  Although there weren’t many big names involved, there was one famous person I was looking forward to meeting. She was one of my favorite female rock singers, and in one of the best new wave acts of the late 1970s and early 1980s before going solo. These days she did a lot of acting in independent projects like The Voyeur. Perry mentioned there was to be a cast reading within the next week, and would let me know the details in the next few days.

  But before that time, I was to have my first and hopefully only run in with Zinnia. Luckily, before it occurred, Candy had done some snooping around.

  “Guess what!” I yelled at Candy over the phone. “I got a part in a movie! A true speaking part in a legit major movie!”

  After I got done telling Candy the good news she said, “This must be your lucky week. It seems everything is going your way!”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I caught her! And not only did I catch her, but I caught her on camera!” Candy squealed.

  At first I had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Caught who?” I asked, completely puzzled.

  “The despicable skank! The bane of your existence at the moment! Hollywood’s most notorious leech! Need I go on?” Candy huffed in exasperation.

  “Zinnia?” I gasped.

  “Bingo!”

  “What happened?” I asked in breathless anticipation.

  “Well, you know how I quit Crunch to go back to the Workout Warehouse?” Candy never did get over the see-through showers. “She still works out there. The Diesel model is still there too by the way. Man is he ever hot!”

  “Just get on with it!” I snapped.

  “Anyhow, my trainer tipped me off to the fact she does ‘business’ out in the parking lot, behind the building. So I’m sitting in my car using my cell phone, sure enough I see her there, yellow-green foundation and all. She is talking on her phone, and then a man in a suit approaches. If she was smart she would have conducted her little
transaction in her car. By this time I hung up with my call. Sure enough, I see her pull out a white bag of powder and pass it to the guy. But not before snapping the image on my camera. And as clear as it can get on camera too!”

  “No way!” I said in astonishment.

  “Oh yes, and baby, I have the images in print for you to pick up at home!”

  “You know, you are truly amazing. You really are,” I said in all honesty.

  “Thank you doll! My pleasure. See ya shortly!” Candy cooed.

  A few nights later Zinnia stopped by John’s unannounced.

  “Where’s John?” She snapped, without so much as a hello.

  “He’s putting in a long day at the set. Won’t be home for a few hours,” I said coolly standing by the door. “And hello to you, too,” I added.

  “I need to use the phone,” she ordered, pushing me aside and letting herself in. “And if you can get me a Diet Coke I would appreciate it.”

  “Did I miss something, or am I suddenly on your payroll?” I asked angrily. She would have never dared speak to me in that way if John were around. Typically she just ignored me.

  “Listen, faggot!” Zinnia spat with venom, turning around whipping off her sunglasses and shooting me an enraged look. “John and I have known each other a long time and we got a little deal going. So I’m not going anywhere. Now I know he’s ramming you, but I don’t really give a fuck. You see, he knows I can smash his career to smithereens, and honey, he won’t be able to pull an Ellen DeGeneres and survive it. So I suggest you get your fudgepacker ass to the bar and pour me a Diet Coke.”

  She pointed to the bar in satisfaction.

  “And throw in three cubes of ice, you fucking fairy!” she added for further humiliation.

  I was seething. I could feel my face getting hotter and hotter. Boiling blood was crawling up the back of my neck like a bubbling brew.