After setting an alarm on my phone for early the next morning, I let Ariel curl up next to me as we drifted off to sleep. If I could get out of the apartment before her roommates woke up, that would be best; I didn’t like awkward morning introductions.
There’s a particular portion of your sleep cycle where it’s physically impossible to wake up. During this cycle, your body is so deep into sleep that it interprets what is going on around you and pulls it into your dream. I’ve had my phone ring before and then felt like it was ringing in a dream. So as I started to wake up, but wasn’t fully awake yet, I heard Ariel talking in my dream.
“Stop, don’t do that,” I heard Ariel say. But my eyes were still closed, and I was slowly coming out of my sleep.
When I finally opened my eyes, it took me a moment to get my bearings on what was going on. There was a young blonde woman standing at the end of the bed, and it appeared as if she had just taken a photo of Ariel and me with her cell phone.
“Good morning to you too,” I said sarcastically.
“Oh, my friggin God. Markus get in here. Ariel just screwed Dean Morrison.”
“Get out! Get out right now!” Ariel yelled. She was in tears, and I gently rubbed her arm as we sat up in bed.
The blonde took another photo.
“Young lady. I’m going to ask you nicely to please stop taking photos of us.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said as a young man entered the room and stood next to her.
“What’s going on?” the guy said as he looked at me and Ariel in bed. “Oh, Ariel has a boyfriend. Wait, he’s old. What’s going on? I’m lost. Ariel, I didn’t know you dated old guys,” the man said as he looked at me.
Both the woman and the man seemed overly interested in what was going on in Ariel’s bedroom. It didn’t surprise me though, she hadn’t seemed like the kind of girl who was normally bringing men into her bed. Plus, the blonde clearly recognized me, even if the dense dude next to her had no idea what was going on.
“Oh, my God, both of you get out!” Ariel screamed.
The young man seemed to realize how rude they were being and pulled his blonde friend out of the room. It was awkward for sure, but not the first time I had my photo taken while in bed with a woman. Although, admittedly it had been a few years since I had to deal with the trouble. And I had never had my photo take in Hello Kitty sheets!
I cringed as I looked around Ariel’s room at the Hello Kitty decorations that filled the room. If I hadn’t felt old when I had arrived at her apartment, I certainly felt old at that point.
“I’m so sorry,” Ariel said as tears started to flow. “I don’t bring dates home. I don’t actually date much at all. But it was you and I have loved you forever,” she said softly as the shyness from out date returned.
“It’s alright. I'm used to people getting a little out of hand. Let’s get dressed, and I’ll get out of here,” I said as I started to look around the room.
I looked around the room and took in the reality that I had slept with a 22-year-old for sure. She still had posters of her favorite band on the walls, and her super soft bedding was actually from a popular television show. I felt a bit like a predator as I scrambled my clothes together and kissed Ariel quickly before I left.
“It was great meeting you,” she said as her tears dried up.
“You too.”
There wasn’t much time for niceties, and as I made my way down the stairs of her apartment complex, I tried to forget about that night altogether. I had to call my agent. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to keep working with Instamatch, the crowd of people on that app weren’t really what I was looking for in a woman.
“Bella, is there an out for the Instamatch deal? I don’t think it’s right for me. I’ll come see you tomorrow at your office in New York. You are still in town, right? Well, we need to talk about all of this.” I left the message on her voicemail.
Chapter 2
Angelina
“Action.”
“I’ve always loved you, Ronald, you know that, but I can’t stay with you. This place isn’t for me.”
“Ruby, please.”
“No Ronald. No. It has to be this way.”
“Cut. No, no, no! Angelina, you have no emotion here. I need emotion. I need you to show the audience that you really do want to stay with him. Give me more,” the director said to me and then turned to his assistant, “you would think with the amount we are paying her, she would be better than this crap.”
“Yeah, more, got it,” I replied reluctantly.
I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to throw a tantrum about how he had just talked to me, but I didn’t have the energy. The truth was, I didn’t have more to give. I stretched my arms out and yawned as I tried to wake up a little. I even grabbed a large water bottle and downed the cold fluid as quickly as possible, but I still could barely keep my eyes open. I was physically and emotionally exhausted from my workload, and it didn’t look like things were going to be letting up anytime soon. After arriving on set at five o’clock that morning, I had spent two hours in hair and makeup, and we had been filming for almost ten hours by that point.
“Action,” the director called again.
And again we went through the scene, but this time, I put on my fake reality star smile and gave the director more like he had asked for. Obviously, I had given him my sarcastic version of the scene as I flamboyantly fawned over my costar and played up all the stereotypes of my character. I should have just put that energy into another real take at the scene, but I didn’t have patience for a director who couldn’t see how exhausted I was and wasn’t interested in what was best for me. It didn’t matter how famous he was; I still didn’t have the energy to deal with him.
This was my first big movie and I felt everyone’s eyes on me. The director, my agent, even the other actors seemed to be judging me constantly. I was new to acting, I accepted that, but they all expected me to be fabulous because of my reputation. It was a lot of pressure and I didn’t know how much longer I could take it.
“Cut. Angelina, can I speak to you in private please,” the director called toward me.
I was in trouble, but I didn’t care. I needed sleep. There was only so much a woman could take before she totally broke down, and I felt like I was nearing the cliff of what I could handle. After only sleeping eight hours in the last three nights, I was barely able to remember my lines, and there wasn’t a possibility I was going to be able to deliver what the director wanted for the part.
“Yeah,” I said as we walked into a back hallway. There were no lights and I could barely see the director, but I felt his hands press against my forearms and knew he was not happy with me at all.
“Listen here, sweetheart. I don’t care if your reality television show was a number one hit or not. You’re on this movie to turn your career around and make a legit actor out of yourself. That’s not going to happen if you screw me over. Do you understand?”
“Yep.”
“Then get your pretty little ass back on the set and do the scene right or I’ll find another worthless reality start with a huge social media following, and I’ll turn her into a movie star! Do you want me to send the doctor over to see you? I’m sure he has something that you could take to brighten up that drab face of yours.”
Gene was a famous movie director, and I knew I was going to have to suffer through the rest of the shoot. It dawned on me that this sort of exhaustion was how actresses got themselves addicted to drugs, though. Instead of offering me time to rest and sleep, he was offering me a drug prescription.
I was tempted; I won’t deny it. After working so hard for so many weeks, the idea of a magic pill giving me the energy to complete the shoot was enticing. I just wasn’t that kind of girl. I didn’t need a pill; I needed sleep, and I knew that.
My mother had put our family into the midst of the public eye when I was only ten years old. She had me auditioning for plays, commercials, and movies. One thing my mom never
allowed from me though was excuses. If I agreed to take a part, then I had to give it my all, no matter what.
“No Doctor. I’ll have a production assistant grab me some fresh pressed juice, and I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I’ve just been running on too little sleep.”
His threats were the motivation I needed to push through the rest of our shoot that day, and six hours later, I was climbing into my bed for some much-needed sleep. I missed my bed and hadn’t had the chance to sleep in it for weeks while we were on set in the desert. I didn’t do drugs; I didn’t drink alcohol much either, and I wasn’t about to start partying again. After filming my family reality T.V. show for five years, I was done with all the crazy partying. I was lucky enough to land the best agent in L.A., and I knew if I listened to him, I was going to make it in Hollywood.
Partying and drinking had made for great reality television. The problem was I had spent five years in the spotlight and had nothing to show for it. I wanted a lifelong career, not just a few fleeting years in reality television, and I knew enough to know that partying wasn’t going to get me to the goals I wanted. At twenty-eight years old, I wasn’t going to be entertaining on television as a reality star unless I kept up the wild lifestyle, and I didn’t want that.
My hope was I would be able to build that long-lasting career I had dreamed about since I was younger. I never really liked the reality show and had only done it to appease my mother. If it would have been up to me, I would have gone into movies as a child.
When my phone wouldn’t stop ringing the next morning, I reluctantly answered it. No one ever called me that much, except for my mother. In her mind, it was perfectly normal to call someone multiple times until they finally answered your call. If for some reason I didn’t answer my phone, she was known for sending the police to my home to do a welfare check..
“Darling, can you come over and visit today. The camera crew would like to get a few sound bites from you,” my mother said in her fake motherly voice which was a combination of high pitch and perfect pronunciation of each syllable; that’s how I knew she was currently being filmed. She was never that nice to me when the cameras were off, and I had learned over the years to make sure our big conversations happened in front of the camera, so I could get my way.
“Sure Mom. I’ll be right over,” I replied in my chipper reality girl voice.
There was no use refusing my mother’s requests. It was easiest just to oblige her and get it over with. For years, she had worked as my agent and did a pretty good job of it, but I was so relieved to have made the break from her and finally be out on my own. Hopefully, I’d be able to totally get out of the reality show business within the next year or so, but for the time being, I was still involved when I had time.
One of the areas my mother had pushed me to pursue was starting my own businesses. Although I hadn’t been interested during my partying years, I had gotten to work recently and felt like I was actually building a pretty strong empire of my own. My makeup line was growing in popularity, and people really seemed to like the quality too. If I managed everything right, I could have a lifelong side business going on too.
After managing to get eight hours of sleep in one night, I felt pretty refreshed as I pulled into the driveway to my mother’s house. I knew the camera crew would be filming me as I arrived; I knew this drill inside and out. I smiled and walked with perfect posture as I entered our family home; my mother would make me redo it if she didn’t like how I walked into the house. No one likes someone who slouches, my mother would say if she ever saw film footage of my bad posture.
My family home was anything but ordinary. With our years in the reality spotlight, my mother had spent millions trying to keep our home at the top of the latest trends. Nothing was ever good enough for her and I knew that. The entry way was three stories tall and had an elaborate new chandelier adorning it. The piece was more like artwork than lighting and had cost my mother nearly five million dollars. But my new home wasn’t suitable for filming so I still showed up to my mother’s house when she needed me in front of the camera.
“Mom, I’m here,” I hollered like I always did when I arrived. It was just like a taped sitcom. Me yelling from the million dollar entryway and my mother pretending to care that I had actually come over.
“Angelina, oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to see you,” Mother said in her high pitch voice, as she gave me a fake kiss on the cheek and hugged me without messing up her makeup. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with us to pick out the new trees for the backyard landscaping?”
My mother had just landscaped the backyard the previous year, but it had been done during our off-season from filming. Now she was going to do the whole thing again purely for the ratings. Everything in her life was about the television show ratings. Sometimes I actually felt bad for her because she had so much wrapped up in the television show and me and my sister. It would be nice for her to have a man again and a life of her own.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mom, I’ve got a meeting with my agent this morning,” I said relieved that I wouldn’t have to come with her.
“When is your meeting with Jeremy Link?” she asked. I hated when she used his whole name on camera; it sounded totally fake. But my mom insisted on giving the people she liked as much air time as possible. She once told me that it was a way of getting in their good graces in case we ever needed a favor.
Everything was calculated when it came to my mother. Yes, deep down, I knew she loved me. But it was really deep down. She loved the fame much more than she loved my sister and I. It was all either of us had known, though. Our father passed away when we were younger, and our mother did her best to provide us and make sure we had the best life possible.
“I’m heading over there now.”
“Okay, darling. I know you are so busy with all your endorsement deals and movies. I’ll get your sister to come and help me.”
Her fake smile was plastered across her face. It was a bit scary to look at because it was actually devoid of emotion, and I wondered if the crew knew just how fake we were both being at that moment. But that was my mom. For better or worse, she was mine, and I still loved her. I knew she only did the things she did in an effort to make our lives better. The problem was that her idea of a good life and mine were starting to diverge, and I wasn’t sure how to handle that separation yet.
I was twenty-eight years old now and over the idea of my mother controlling my life. I loved her, and I would support her and the things she wanted to do, but I needed my own hopes and dreams; I was tired of living hers. I was tired of reality television and ready to make a life for myself. It was going to be a lot of work convincing people that I was a real actress, but that was alright with me. I could work hard; that had never been an issue for me.
After saying our fake goodbyes, I headed to my agent’s office to talk with him. Jeremy Link was indeed the top agent in L.A., and I wanted to follow all the courses of actions he had plotted out to get me my movie career, yet I had to communicate with him how totally exhausted I was. It wasn’t serving anyone if I was grumpy and hard to work with because I was sleep deprived.
The paparazzi followed me from my family’s home to my agent’s office. I was an easy target that day. They knew my family well and had full access to my mother; she loved it when we were in the tabloids. To her, tabloids were some of the best free press there was.
“Hey guys,” I said as I got out of my car and walked toward my agent’s office.
The small group of paparazzi that followed me to my agent’s house were dedicated. They were a mix of men and women, but all had made this their career. As much as I would have loved to ignore them, I needed them just as much as they needed me. Their pictures and stories were a driving force behind my career, so I put on my smile and pause so they could get a good picture.
“Angelina, is it true you broke up with your boyfriend?” one of the paparazzi asked.
“Which boyfriend?” I playfully responded as I
avoided answering the question and went into the building. “I don’t remember having a boyfriend.”
Luckily, I had learned how to expertly handle the paparazzi over the last few years, and they didn’t annoy me nearly as much as they had in the past. They had a job to do, and I could appreciate that.
“Angie, how are you?” Jeremy said as he greeted me at the door to his office; I hated when he called me Angie, it was one of my biggest pet peeves
For some reason, people always took it upon themselves to shorten my name and call me Angie. Even when I clarified with them that I didn’t like to be called Angie, people still did it. It was just another way that I felt people didn’t really value me.
“I’m tired Jeremy. We need to talk. I’ve got to get some sleep or I’m going to do horribly in my film shoots.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Jeremy was short, at least two inches below my eyes. He had his hair slicked back and a suit on that probably cost more than his car. He looked like a typical sleazy agent, but I’d been working with him for years and I trusted him. His instincts had landed me sponsorship deals, magazine spreads and even this movie. But the longer we worked together, the more I had to wonder if I was outgrowing what he could offer me.
“I love that I’m busy, really I do, but can we take a break on the new projects for a bit. I need to sleep, or I’m going to turn into one of those raging lunatics that yells at her director on set.”
“Don’t do that, Angie. No matter what happens, don’t do that.”
“I know Jeremy. But can we slow down a bit?”
“You’re hot right now, Angie. This is the time to strike. Filming movies is good, but it will take a year before they hit the theaters; we have to keep you in the press until then. Plus, the movie you’re doing isn’t really the big leagues yet. We need to keep plowing forward until we start getting the holy grail of movie offers. I feel it coming soon. Just stay relevant.”
Breaking the Rules: A Billionaire Romance Page 58
