Hollywood Sins

by N. K. Smith

  Peter nods and wipes his hand down his face. Just when I begin to think there is no hope for it and giving up might be my only option, he halts my negative thoughts. “I saw your film, and I think it’s pretty brave to talk about all the stuff you did.”

  I smile at the compliment even though I have no idea how to feel about the questions he didn’t answer. Natalie started asking me questions on film about growing up female in the entertainment industry, and we ended up including some of the footage.

  “I hope I was never one of the people who only made you feel valuable when—”

  “How could you think that you are one of those people?” I take a step and grab his hands.

  “Of everyone in this world, you’ve been the one to show me my worth, even when I was too blind to see it myself and too deaf to hear what you were saying.”

  Peter’s voice is a gravely whisper. “You should stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  Any lingering ice in his posture or expression melts, and we slip back in time when it was just so simple to be us. “Giving other people the credit for your hard work. I mean, thank you for that, but I didn’t show you your true worth. I might have treated you with respect, but you discovered your worth on your own.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “I guess that’s not something someone else can give you.”

  We stay silent for a while, and I delight in the feel of his thumbs rubbing the backs of my hands.

  “Mr. Truelove! Mr. Truelove! You’re up.”

  Peter twists to look at the stagehand, then back to me. “This is way more complicated than I ever imagined it to be.”

  My whole being perks up a little, even if his words make it seem like our relationship is difficult or doomed. “I’m not going to lie. I’m thrilled that you’ve imagined this . . . I mean, not this particular situation, but, you know, us.”

  “Mr. Truelove?”

  Peter ignores the guy. “I can’t get back together with you.” The ice is back. No, it’s not ice—it’s resolve. It’s a protective stance and expression on his face, but it’s gentle somehow, like he’s projecting both of us.

  “What?” It’s not that I don’t understand his words or the reason for them; what gives me pause is how quickly he said it and how forced and practiced it sounds.

  “It’s just that I’ve had so much time to think and things aren’t . . . well, before we were together, we were friends. Real friends, and I think if we hadn’t crossed that line, you might have confided in me about whatever was going on, the body image, the drugs, all of it, and I don’t want to risk losing you again. I can deal with us not being a couple, but I can’t deal with you not being in my life. I want us to be friends, you know?”

  I don’t tell him how I’m not supposed to have romantic relationships for at least a year or more because they make it hard to stay sober. I don’t tell him that I’ve had the same thoughts as he has. I don’t tell him how broken I am over all of this, or how much I love him. I don’t tell him any of this because right now my heart hurts from the ending of the relationship I’ve wanted for so long.

  “Yeah. Me, too. I want us to be friends again, and—”

  “Mr. Truelove, please!”

  I nod toward the guy. “You’d better . . .”

  Peter briefly glances behind him again. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezes my hands one more time, and then turns.

  I watch him walk away. When he disappears from view, I continue my search for the bathroom, but once I’m there, all I want to do is get high. Bathrooms were where I did lines at parties or in clubs, but there is none to be had here.

  It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did to have that conversation with Peter, but long after I return to my seat in the ballroom, the ache of it is still with me. As I rise and meet Natalie on stage to accept the award for Victims of Culture, the joy I feel at the win contrasts sharply with the throbbing stitch somewhere deep inside.

  Chapter 62

  So I ran into Danny the other day. It was probably a good thing because it’s forced me to think about that whole situation. I mean, I know toward the end of our relationship I didn’t know if I loved him, but seeing him again, it was clearer. I did love him.

  It was about two weeks after the Golden Reels, and I went to Liliana’s favorite café—the one everyone goes to be seen. I wasn’t trying to get photographed, but they have this vegan scone that I couldn’t get out of my head, so I went, and I’m proud to say that I didn’t ignore the cameras, I kind of flirted with them. God, it sounds so stupid to write, but it was a bit liberating. I still hate that they hawk me like they do, but waving fingers at them, blowing kisses, answering the nicer of the questions thrown out by the guys behind the cameras, it made it all simpler. It was easy, almost. Dare I even say it? Fun? I felt like Lili must feel.

  And as an aside, the gossip rags, blogs, and shows have responded favorably to my visible happiness. I even cut out a picture of me from one of them and taped it up to my front door so I can always remember as I leave the house, that I’m in control, and the happier I am, the better my life is. Maybe that’s stupid, but it’s helped.

  Anyway, I’d just gotten my scone and half-caf, no whip, soy mocha with half the pumps of chocolate when I turned around and ran smack into someone. Obviously, it was Danny, but I was pretty shocked when I looked up and saw him.

  He looked good, and I’d forgotten how much I loved his smile. Anyway, he asked how I was, said that I looked good, and then asked if I wanted to share a table. I’d wanted to just get my scone and go, but as my sponsor Katie (and Bran and Natalie) is always telling me I have to deal with the past in order to move forward, I said okay.

  So it was crazy awkward for a minute, but then he said, “You know, Adra, I was an idiot.”

  I didn’t have to think about it. I knew what he was talking about, and I knew that I wanted to say. “You were, but I was, too.”

  The thing about Danny is that he’s got this confidence, like he knows everyone in the world wants to be talking to him, but he couldn’t bring his eyes to meet mine as he shook his head and denied my words. “I didn’t set out to cheat on you. I mean, that’s never who I was and not how I was raised.”

  “Danny, I think everything just got a little confused between us, like, somehow we forgot who we were for a moment and started acting like an old married couple who just stopped wanting to be together.”

  Then he looked at me. “I always wanted to be with you, but you never seemed like you were present. You got to the point where you wouldn’t stop obsessing about how you looked, what you ate, how much you worked out, what Liliana was doing, what you should be doing. It was—”

  “Obsessing, I know.” It was good to hear all that. The pain of recognizing my shortcomings stopped crippling me a while ago. “I wasn’t a good girlfriend. I wasn’t a good friend, either.”

  He looked conflicted and hesitated for a moment. “But that doesn’t mean I should’ve cheated on you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” We sat there in silence, and just when I sensed he was going to get up to go, I said, “You’re a good person who did a bad thing. I forgive you for that.” I tilted my head to the side and gave him what I hoped was an accepting shrug. “I’m a good person too, and I did some pretty awful things. I used you as an excuse to take drugs, not just for the first time, but many times after that. I used you to justify my need to lose control.”

  He blinked at me. It was like a scene out of one of his comedies. He just sat there a blinked for a moment. I guess I’d just imparted new information, and it took him a moment to digest. When he didn’t speak, I continued. “You have to know that I used the night I saw you with Summer. I’ve said that a million times, although I didn’t mention you in any of those interviews. And then after that, I just kept thinking about how you always controlled everything.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I know you didn’t mean to control anything. My inactivity gave you control. I cho
se that, in a way—you wanted a certain type of food, so it didn’t matter what I wanted. I might have suggested something else, but because I didn’t fight for it and gave up without really trying, we always went to the restaurant you wanted.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said in the most sincere voice I’d ever heard him use.

  “No.” I waved a hand at him. “No, that was my fault. I think had I been stronger, you would have given in a bit.”

  “I should’ve been more attentive or whatever to what you—”

  Again, I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. I just want you to know, that I’m sorry for piling all your stuff outside of my house and then recording our break up and uploading it for the world to see.”

  He surprised me with a chuckle. “It was the least I deserved. I’m sorry I cheated and forced you to kick me out. I know my actions didn’t say it back then, but I loved you. I really did.”

  I nodded. “I know. I loved you too, but sometimes when good people do bad things, love isn’t enough to get them through.” I paused for a second, then changed the topic, “I saw your new movie. I was happy to see you in a leading role.”

  And that was that. We sat for another ten minutes, got up, hugged, and went our separate ways. Of course the gossip is that we got back together, but it doesn’t bother me. I know the truth. It’s not important if everyone else does. The gossip industry that has grown around the film industry is in the business of selling stories, real or fake, it’s just what they do. I feel like for the first time, I’m at peace with their role in my life.

  Besides, the picture of me and Danny hugging gives people something to talk about, and ultimately, that might be one of the functions of celebrity.

  ***

  On the fifth day of shooting my new movie, Tainted, the director sits down next to me for lunch. I still cannot believe I’m lucky enough to be in one of Cole Stroud’s movies. Nearly everything she touches turns to gold.

  About fifteen minutes into eating, she chuckles. “You’ve got to quit it with your starstruck look! It’s unnerving.”

  I bite my lip, look down, and say, “Sorry. I just . . . this is a major role. I can’t believe you gave it to me.”

  She shakes her head as if she can’t fathom why I’d say something like that. While my confidence has soared since getting sober, I’m still human.

  “I gave it to you because you’re incredibly talented, win awards, and you were perfect for the part. Do you remember how you won that Reel and the Oscar for that great little movie, Keep in Mind, a few months ago? Don’t you think that qualifies you for taking on major roles?”

  While those things are nice to hear and great to be reminded of, I’m thinking about all the controversy that has surrounded me the past few years. “Aren’t you worried about—”

  “I’ve been where you are, and sometimes it only takes one person to have faith in you to restore your faith in yourself. I know better than most that drug relapses can happen, but it doesn’t mean the world stops moving, and take it from me, the more you move and grow in this business and in sobriety, the easier it all is.”

  “I hope I can deliver on that faith you have.”

  “You already are,” she says as she pushes her empty plate away and takes a sip of her bottled water. “You’re exactly what I wanted. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t hire anyone other than sure things. You come with a very healthy resume, and it’s not like this is your first time around the block, right? This one of those moderately budgeted films that relies on good writing and fantastic actors. Nothing goes boom in this movie, there will be no tits and asses here. It’s solid acting backed up by solid writing and supported by, what I hope is, solid directing.”

  I’m not sure what to say, so I finish eating and get up when Cole does.

  “So,” she says. “I hear you have a screenplay you’re shopping around.”

  Heat rises up in my face. While I’m proud of the finished product, showing it around in hopes to get someone to take it on has been a challenge and a bit like opening up my journal and letting someone else see my thoughts. I feel protective of it, and, I’m not quite sure it’s good enough. “Yeah, I wrote it a little while ago. I’m not sure anyone would really want to make it, but I thought it was worth a go.”

  Cole loops her arm through mine like we’re old girlhood chums, and we start walking back toward set. “I’d love to read it.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course, and since you’ve got a starring role in this one and will be on set most days, I thought maybe you’d like to get a feel for being behind the camera.”

  I stop walking when nervous energy takes over my body. “Like directing?”

  “Yeah. I mean, if you’re writing, you might as well get a little tutorial from me and maybe, who knows, if the script is good, you can direct it, too.”

  Oh, my god. This is huge! I’ve always thought I could use clout to get an influential person to read the script, but never in my wildest imagination did I think it would be Collette Stroud! Still, I can’t come off as some kind of overzealous and ignorant newbie. I’ve been around long enough to know even if people are interested in something, doesn’t mean the project will be green-lighted. “I don’t even know if it’ll be picked up.”

  “Well, let me read it, and I’ll tell you what I think of it. If it’s good, my little production company will—”

  My stomach drops but in a good way. “Are you serious? Like seriously serious?”

  She laughs. “Seriously, I’m seriously serious.”

  This can’t be real. I study her through narrowed, curious eyes. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because someone did it for me once, and I think it’s important to keep the cycle going.”

  Pressing my lips together, I keep the squeal of delight from escaping. If this is real, then it seems I have someone to look up to, and unlike Elsie, Cole is someone who is already established and wealthy and isn’t looking to take anything from me. “So, then, it’s like you’re my mentor?”

  She considers this for a moment. “Mentor, I like that. Yes. I’m your mentor, and the first thing I’m asking you to do, is to realize the only way of living up to your full potential is to love yourself, love your work, and acknowledge how great you are and how great your work is.”

  I cannot keep from bouncing a little. Excitement has taken hold. Life just keeps getting better and better.

  Chapter 63

  I’m so busy. Life is hectic but breathtaking and thrilling as well. I have so much work, it’s easy to keep my mood elevated and my mind on important things. I still think about where I’ve been in the world and about my past. I think about the loss of friendships, first with Lili and then Peter.

  With Lili, I’ve come to realize that I sabotaged the relationship just as much as she did, although if I’m honest, I was probably at the heart of our problems. You can’t be true friends with someone when you’re jealous of them. Envying her life was one thing because jealousy can bring determination to change, but it’s such a wicked trait. It disables you and focuses negative energy on whatever it is you’re jealous of.

  We’ve talked on the phone a few times. She’s busy, too. And I’ve made sure to ask her about her life and listen, really listen, to what she says. To have a good friend, I need to be a good friend. My hope is that we’ll be able to build a bridge over that river of jealousy and competition and find our friendship again. I think we can do it.

  Peter, though. I don’t know. We haven’t spoken in months, and while I don’t sense any anger between us, there’s still that halting apathy. No, apathy isn’t the right word. It’s more of a preservation. I don’t think he wants to get hurt or, because he’s Peter and always looking out for me, for me to get hurt. So, I think we’re at a standstill.

  Maybe it’ll always be this way, but I hope not.

  ***

  It’s amazing what a little time can do. What is also amazing is what a little determination and conviction can
do. The charity Natalie and I founded has grown by leaps and bounds. I’m thrilled at the good it is doing for females all over the world. Tonight is the grand gala we organized. Okay, so it was organized by the people we paid to make it a smash, but it was conceptualized by Natalie and me.

  I have invited everyone I know with money in hopes that they will give generously to Survivors of Culture. This means that both Liliana and Peter will be here, and the planners put me at their table.

  I love Lili. She’s one of my oldest and dearest friends. I love who she is, even when she’s being a stupid Hollywood star and smiling at me with that insincere toothy grin. Things have always been so easy for her while those same things have tripped me up. We’re getting to the point of being true friends again, but I constantly have to check myself to make sure I’m doing the things I need to do to be a friend. I can’t let the past or my old jealousy get in the way of reconnecting.

  Both Lili and Peter are laughing when I arrive at the table. They both are here at the gala without dates. I can’t even remember the last time all three of us were single. While Peter and I agreed at the Golden Reels to work on our friendship, neither of us seemed to know how to maintain it. We haven’t spoken in a few months, but I’m happy he’s here.

  This entire situation would have made me squirm months ago and made me want to snort coke or at least have a glass of whiskey a year ago, but tonight it just feels like a flutter in my belly. The excitement and anticipation is thrilling. These are my friends, and all I have to do is be my real self and the night will go well.

  “Hey, guys, thanks for coming.”

  Lili and Peter stop talking as they twist around in their chairs to look up at me. Peter stands up like a proper gentleman. He smoothes down his tuxedo jacket at his chest as he stares at me. I hope he’s staring because he likes how I look in my jade evening gown and not because he’s thinking bad thoughts about me.