Alice in La La Land

by Sophie Lee

  'Apparently this is where Brad Pitt stays when he's in town,' said Nick.

  'Impressive,' Alice giggled.

  'I don't know, Alice. They recommended it in the guidebook.'

  'You're gonna need a twelve-step program to detach yourself from that thing,' Alice warned.

  Nick opened the door to room six with a key mounted on a gigantic square key-ring. The room just barely contained its contents. A mini-fridge, a TV, a microwave and a bed adjoined a miniscule bathroom. Noises from Sunset Boulevard were clearly audible. The bed was covered in embroidered denim and took up ninety per cent of the floor space.

  'So tranquil,' he observed.

  'Where is the famously secret palm, I wonder,' asked Alice. 'Or do you think it's out there with the other plastic plants?'

  'Okay, hold on, before you get stuck in, it says in the guidebook that Raymond Chandler stayed here on occasion. Who knows, maybe he wrote one of those crime novels in this very room?'

  'Oooh,' said Alice looking around the room with new respect. 'It's a writer's hotel/motel. That is cool, I must admit.'

  'Never say Uncle Nick doesn't come up with the glamorous places,' Nick admonished her, waggling a finger. He bent down and retrieved his computer from under the bed and plugged in to the available power outlet.

  Alice sighed and sat down on the bed. 'Nick, you're talking to someone who shares with demented cats, remember.' She picked up the room-service menu. 'So don't ever be defensive about your accommodation.'

  'They don't mind charging you to use the internet, do they? In a gaffe like this,' he said, waiting to log on.

  'Hey, maybe we could check the session times for the Sunset Five after you're done?'

  'Good thinking,' said Nick. 'Shit, that's not good,' he frowned, reading an email.

  'Huh? What's up?'

  'Oh . . . nothing. Just a schedule change for one of our author's tours. They need me back in the office to re-work it.'

  'Oh . . . so, you have to go back?'

  He turned to look at her. 'They'll just have to wait another two days. My priorities lie at the Sunset Five with a non-exoskeleton, I'm afraid.'

  Alice smiled warmly at Nick. 'Gee, that's nice of you, I hope they don't get cranky,' she added, looking casually at the room-service menu. 'Did you know they do eggs any way you want them?' She was aware she was blushing.

  Nick turned back to his computer. 'Just give me a minute to smooth things over with the office,' he said, typing industriously. He sat hunched over the computer with his head at an angle. Alice noticed a few grey hairs in his stubble. His cheeks were still glowing from the walk, or the sun he'd caught on his face at the time. He looked healthy and cheerfully absorbed, humming a tune as he worked.

  She could hear her cell phone ringing in her satchel.

  'Ignore it,' said Nick, not looking up. 'It'll only be Steven Spielberg again and he knows your answer.'

  'No matter how many times I tell the man no, he just won't seem to give up. Maybe I should have him arrested for stalking,' Alice laughed.

  She dug into her satchel for her phone, sending mints scattering throughout the interior pockets. Rebekah flashed on the caller ID.

  'Hello?' said Alice.

  'What's happening, you sound . . .'

  'Happy? Remarkable, isn't it. I'm fine,' said Alice clearing her throat. 'Fine, what's up?'

  'Well, you'll never guess! I talked to your Australian agent, Bunny, today. Such a riot! She said something about a friend of yours called Flick getting in contact, something about an email you sent? Anyway, Bunny's real excited that she could help you. We've been able to set up a fantastic meeting for you,' said Rebekah. She sounded upbeat.

  'Huh?'

  'Could you hold on one sec, Alice?'

  'Sure.'

  Alice could hear a muffled exchange. 'Just get me the papaya salad with brown rice. No dressing,' said Rebekah, presumably to her assistant.

  'Alice?'

  'I'm here,' Alice replied, looking at Nick who was still engrossed in his email.

  'Anyway, where was I? So . . . this meeting. A director you apparently know personally is coming to LA tomorrow to start additional casting on an art-house project for Fox Searchlight. He's been doing pre-production in New York. So far he has John Malkovich and Edward Norton attached to the project, which is huge, so anyway, he wants to meet with you tomorrow about the lead role.'

  'That's amazing!' Alice exclaimed. Nick looked around from his computer.

  'You have the script, I think. It's called Lithium. Didn't you say you liked it?'

  Alice sat forward eagerly. Was her luck about to change?

  'Yes, I thought it was actually very good. Who is the director?'

  'Australian guy.'

  'Really. Wow!' enthused Alice, trying to guess who. Phillip Noyce? Neil Armfield? 'Up and coming,' Rebekah continued. 'He's been in Europe for a while. Apparently he did a standout theatre production in Vienna.'

  Alice felt a cold finger on her spine. 'What's his name?'

  'Conrad. Conrad Beest.'

  10

  'I really must be getting home. The night air doesn't suit my throat .'

  Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

  'Really?' said Alice, trying to remain calm. 'Well, that's . . . surprising.'

  'You know him, right?' asked Rebekah.

  'Yeah, I know him. I didn't know he was directing films, though. That's really . . . interesting,' Alice stammered, willing her voice to remain as normal as possible. 'I'll get on it immediately, Rebekah, thanks a lot.'

  'Good girl,' Rebekah signed off.

  Alice rubbed her forehead to stave off the headache she knew was coming. Her teeth ached and her mouth felt dry.

  'So,' said Nick, eyes still on the computer screen, 'we could see the new Jim Jarmusch film at 8 pm, or if not that, we could . . .'

  'I've got to go,' Alice mumbled. She felt as though she might cry. Nick spun around and stood up when he saw the look on her face.

  'Alice?' he exclaimed. 'What's wrong?' He crossed the room in two steps and sat beside her on the bed.

  'Um, I've got to . . . I can't . . . I've got to go home and look at a script and prepare a thing for tomorrow,' she explained, trying to sound as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She felt like a robot woman trying to assimilate into human society. 'I'm sorry, it just came up and I need to . . .' She clutched her satchel and willed herself not to dry-retch. A javelin of pain probed her right eye. 'I need to go. It's very important,' she finished lamely.

  'There, didn't I say that you'd probably get some huge job, and that'd be it for the children's book publisher from Dublin?' Nick smiled, but his eyes looked sad. 'Listen, Alice, was I stupid to delay my flight? They need me back in Dublin and it looks like you're going to be busy anyway. Maybe I should just call Aer Lingus and . . .'

  'No,' said Alice fiercely, sitting down on the end of the bed. She shoved her hair out of her face and looked him in the eye. 'Please, Nick, I've just had a weird bit of news. I need to figure out what to do about it.' She reached forward for his hand. 'Rotten timing, but I just need a few hours to work this out. I'll call you first thing tomorrow. We'll do something special for your last night in town. Please?' She squeezed his hand.

  'Okay,' he said slowly. 'I'll see you tomorrow.' He removed his hand from hers and reached for the TV remote control.

  The rooms at the Secret Palms were not the sort you'd want to laze around in solo, ordering room-service. Alice felt ashamed to leave. 'Apparently the Jim Jarmusch film is excellent. Why don't you just go without me, okay? Bye, Nick,' she smiled apologetically, and shut the door behind her with a click.

  Alice's fingers shook as she turned the key in the ignition. Driving on autopilot, she turned right off Sunset towards the Miracle Mile. A luggage shop at a junction advertised half-price suitcases and a homeless man perused a set of three in pink, from outside on the pavement.

  If Conrad had a Fox Searchlight film with hug
e names attached, he must surely have something in the vicinity of ten thousand in the bank. But it wasn't just about the money. Alice punched the steering wheel and the Daewoo gave a pathetic beep. The motorist in the car in front shook his fist aggressively.

  Who did Conrad think he was, requesting to see her? Why had it taken him a year to make contact? Was she expected to go in and grovel for a role in his film, to congratulate him on his success? Alice could feel her heart racing and tried to breathe slowly in and out through her nose.

  There was nothing quite like the rapid success of a friend – or worse, an ex-boyfriend – while you were treading water to puncture your self-esteem. Alice entreated herself to be a bigger person.

  It was dark when she arrived back at the apartment carpark. The light bulb above the stairs had blown. She steamed up the back steps and unlocked the door. One of the cats meowed a greeting. It was as if it knew she was in a black mood and that being friendly would piss her off the most. She hissed at it on her way through to her room. Alice slammed the door behind her and headed toward the mess of scripts on the floor. Lithium was the first one she saw. She snatched it up and sat down on the bed to try and catch her breath.

  'Uh . . . Alice?' Shauna called through the wall. 'Are you okay or just checkin' how hard you have to slam the doors before they fall right off?'

  'Hey, Shauna,' she said weakly. 'I'm not too good right now.' Alice lay back on the bed and curled up in the foetal position. 'I think I'm going to need a gun or something.'

  'No shit! That's hot,' Shauna responded. 'Are you gonna get one?'

  'No, God, no, Shauna, I'm kidding . . . I think.'

  Shauna knocked once on Alice's door and bounced over to the bed. She wore her truck pyjamas and a full face of makeup. The combination had a disquieting effect, as though she'd forgotten to either get fully dressed or undressed.

  'Omigod,' Shauna gasped. 'You're like, so pale, Alice. Are you okay?' She scrutinised her in silence.

  Alice rolled across the bed and buried her face in the covers.

  'Why the long face, homes?'

  Alice sat up and pulled the script out from under her. 'For the first time in weeks – no, make that months – I was having a nice time with a really cool person who has to leave town in a matter of hours and then I get this call from my manager that my ex-boyfriend is in LA and has asked to see me. He's directing some huge film and wants me for the lead role.' Alice stared at her suitcase and was seized by a sudden desire to zip herself inside it and have Shauna drop it in the Pacific Ocean.

  'Dude, doesn't he like, owe you money?' asked Shauna.

  'Hell, yes. There's my parents really needing it back and meanwhile my ex, Conrad, is cavorting round the globe scoring major jobs and winning over movie stars while I'm thinking about chucking it all in to go back and work in the cake shop in Wollongong.'

  'A cake shop, huh?' asked Shauna, intrigued.

  'No, Shauna, cake shop bad.' She paused. 'What do I do here? Go into the meeting and demand the money back? Ask him where the hell he buggered off to a year ago? Whether he left me for someone else?'

  Shauna winced, presumably at her use of the b word. 'Whoa, lady! Hold up,' she said, making a timeout gesture. 'He's asked to see you for the lead role. Alice, maybe this is his way of making it up to you? Maybe this is better than him just giving you back the cash. This way you'll have a Hollywood career. If this movie is everything you say it is, you won't have to sweat over money ever again.'

  'But that would mean being with him. I don't know how I feel about this. I've just met the most amazing person and I . . .'

  'Uh-uh,' Shauna warned, waggling her finger. 'Alice, you've got to go into this meeting and play it smart and professional! You need closure, girl, ever heard of that shit?'

  'Sure, closure. It's big in America, closure.' Alice sighed and regarded her script. It looked as though it had been mauled by a small ferret. 'By the way, what's the deal with Lenny? I thought you hated him.'

  'He's fighting for me, Alice. He's putting me up there beside Angelina Jolie. I've got to respect that he's doing it for me. I mean, what's he getting in return?'

  Alice looked at her and raised her eyebrows. 'Sure, the guy's a saint.'

  Shauna stood up and headed for the door. 'A word of advice,' she offered, ignoring the sarcasm.

  'Huh?'

  'Go in there looking hot. This meeting could change your life.'

  Alice opened the script. She recalled from her previous reading session that Lithium was a cool urban tale of slacker romance. Alice remembered first meeting Nick and offering him her hand on which she'd written the film's title. Was it some kind of omen? She dispelled the vision, reminding herself that she didn't believe in that sort of mumbo-jumbo. Pulling her hair back in a ponytail, she focused on the script.

  The lead female role in Lithium was a rare gem. 'Maisie' harboured an irrational fear of dwarves and swallowed copious amounts of narcotics most days of the week. She was devastatingly charming, had a raucous laugh and a propensity for shoplifting china figurines. This was the sort of role that would garner an actress an Independent Spirit Award.

  Alice pulled out her phone and dialled Rebekah.

  'Hello? Alice? I'm at the gym, hon. What's up?' Rebekah puffed. Alice could hear the racket of doof-doof music in the background.

  Alice checked her watch. It was 8.30 pm. 'Gosh, you're keen,' she remarked. 'Look, this meeting for tomorrow. Do I learn scenes or what?'

  'At this stage the director wants a meeting, Alice, but read and reread that script. I know that the following day they're doing screen tests. You never know if you may end up doing something or not. I've sent you an email. Everything you need to know. Good luck!'

  Rebekah hung up. Alice began to reread the script in earnest.

  At 10.30 pm, Alice put Lithium aside and yawned. Although exhausted, she felt an underlying nausea and jitteriness that she knew would make sleep difficult. The prospect of seeing Conrad again had her knotted up like a macramé tea cosy.

  She had not worked, really worked, as an actor since his play. That was over a year ago. At what point should an actor no longer call themselves an actor? Alice wondered, and not for the first time. You should actually be doing the thing you claim to do, otherwise you were a liar, weren't you? Just a walking cipher, waiting for a stranger to breathe life back into you. Waiting for someone unknown to bestow the gift of a job to make you whole again.

  Alice knew from experience that the prized phone call from an agent saying 'You got the job' instantly erased the mental anguish of the previous period of unemployment. Eight months of anguish could evaporate in a few seconds. It was as though you'd never asked those probing questions and had never been on the verge of chucking it all in. Am I in the right career? Do I really want to put my life on hold thinking one day I'll get my break? Am I good enough? Gone. You got the job. You could now officially hold your head high at an industry function. You'd have a legitimate answer for your peers when they'd inevitably ask, 'What have you got coming up?' Alice herself always felt it was a rude question to ask of another actor, and nearly always refrained.

  She looked down at the Lithium script and sighed. It was a great piece of work. She couldn't shake her loser feeling; it clung to her like the cooking odours in a takeaway food joint. She may as well have been wearing a sign that declared, 'I have now been out of work for over twelve months. Steer clear. I've forgotten how to do it properly.'

  Alice knew something extra was required to restore at least her veneer of confidence before tomorrow's meeting. Some self-affirmation or mantra, some meditation or visualisation perhaps? It was a shame she derided such things so vigorously when clearly now she was in need of a faith-restoring miracle.

  One of the many acting workshops Alice had attended in her early twenties involved meditation, visualisation, chakra points and crayons. In her naïve enthusiasm, she'd embraced the new age-inspired exercises without discrimination. In the sixth week of the course, th
eir tutor, Suki Ingles, had devised an exercise that was the culmination of all they'd learned.

  'Is everybody breathing comfortably?' the tutor asked, her Indian bracelets jangling. 'Because we are going to begin this internal voyage now. Focus, and harness the energy from your base chakra. Don't judge what will appear behind the door.'

  Alice breathed slowly and let herself be guided by Suki, an acting coach for whom she had great affection. They were climbing ever upward, up a ladder, through a garden of paradise, past a waterfall and a rainbow to a corridor lit with golden hues.

  'At the end of the corridor is a door. Do you see it? Do not anticipate what is behind it. Be courageous. Open the door when I give the word.' Suki paused. 'Behind this door is your higher self. You may ask it one question only. A question you long to know the answer to. But do not judge,' warned Suki, 'that would be a terrible mistake.' Alice breathed deeply to steady her excitement.

  'Once you are satisfied this meditation is complete,' concluded Suki, 'you may pick up your crayons and draw your encounter to share with the rest of the class.'

  Alice continued to breathe steadily. In her mind's eye, she walked down the golden corridor towards a battered wooden door. She summoned her bravery as she approached it and the force within that would reveal itself as her higher self.

  When the exercise was complete, the class got to work sketching the encounter. Most were happy to report that their higher selves had taken the form of a dragon, mother superior, a tiger, a goddess.

  'And Alice?' Suki asked gently. Alice sat in the corner clutching her butcher paper and crayons. 'What have you drawn?'

  Alice reluctantly held up her drawing to reveal a can of King Oscar sardines, complete with blue wrapper and ring-pull top.

  'Sardines,' said Suki soothingly, raising her eyebrows and nodding.

  Blushing hotly, Alice explained the vision. 'I opened the door and there was a can of sardines,' she said apologetically. 'I actually looked behind to see if maybe there was something, you know, fancier, hiding somewhere but there wasn't so I went ahead and asked the sardines a question.'