Starlet's Web (The Starlet Series, #1)

by Carla Hanna

  “Okay. True. I love shooting a project. That’s one-fourth of the work. I hate the rest of the job.” I tried to explain, “I hate having to kiss a guy on the set, pretend to love him, to entertain imaginations. I hate the lifestyle. I hate not having real relationships with people. I hate being guarded with everyone but Manuel, you, dad and Celia.”

  She interrupted, “You are not the characters you play. You’re a great actor. You just need to have more confidence in yourself. You need to ignore the media and deal with what happened with Matthew and Byron. Did something happen between you and Evan, too?”

  I shook my head. “No, Evan is a gentleman. He’s perfect, actually.”

  She interrupted, “Then why did you push him away when you were dating?”

  “Because I love Manuel.”

  “So now you have Manuel and can act. The threat from your co-stars is gone.”

  “No. It’s not just guy confusion. I have been Muse, Juliet, Virginia and others. I’m so close to Muse that I’m not acting, instead I’m being myself while I’m saying someone else’s words. Juliet’s pain and Virginia’s despair surface all the time. So who am I?” I trailed off; this was going nowhere. She did not understand me. “This is about being an actor.”

  “You’re a truly gifted actor,” she interrupted.

  “Being around you as a kid, I learned to memorize scripts just like you. I learned to study expressions and read emotions just like you. You were my outstanding teacher and I was your eager student.”

  “Marie, you’re not just good at your script. You’re unique and fearless. You give of yourself completely and shine. Your spirit expresses complexity and depth, power, like no other actor because no other actor has your wisdom and innocence. You’re pure.”

  “But I don’t know who I am. Am I Lia? Marie? Muse? I realized that I can play the role of Muse because I’m not acting. I act when I have to do an industry event. But when playing Muse, I don’t have a self, a strong voice.”

  “Darling, Muse is so much like you because it was written for you. You’re a tremendously gifted actor. The moment I saw your raw performance on set during Left to Die, how you nailed it on the first take, I knew you’d be phenomenal.”

  “Mom, you have to understand. I wasn’t acting in the rape scene. Those were my real feelings. I felt trapped, embarrassed, and confused. I hated all of you for watching me experience my first kiss. I hated Rex on top of me, touching me, and arousing me. I felt betrayed by the adults in the room who all thought that filming a rape scene with a completely innocent just-turned-fourteen-year-old girl was a good idea. I felt like you all condoned a forty-year-old man making out with a child. It was irresponsible and disgusting.” Mom looked shocked. I continued, “I hated the film and have never watched the whole thing. I hid in the restroom during the premiere and got drunk on champagne at the party.”

  “Of course you were nervous at your first premiere,” she tried to explain. But I hated the film for what it stood for, not for how embarrassed I was at the event.

  “I hated that Hollywood took a horrible true story of what happened to an eight-year-old, twisted it, and then had a fourteen-year-old demonstrate the feelings a victim would have when getting raped by a monster. Hollywood can be a monster, too.”

  Mom was surprised I felt this way. She was proud of the film. I was ashamed of it. She was speechless.

  “I’ve thought about who I want to be. I’m not sure right now how to do it, but I know I want to have a family, kids, and, hopefully, Manuel as my loving husband. I don’t care about material things. I have $25 million dollars today and don’t want to buy anything because my needs are simple. I’m simple. I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t want this life.”

  She was shaking her head back and forth. “No, it’s such a waste. No, it was all for nothing.” She started to tremble, “I’m so sorry. What have I done to you? I’m sorry. You know I love you and just wanted so much for you.”

  Feeling self-conscious, I wanted to take all my words back. I bit my lip.

  I witnessed Mom go through a lot, but this was deeper than just me quitting. I thought that maybe she reacted so strongly, was so physically fragile, because she thought she had failed, too. I had never thought of her as living vicariously through me, but what else explained her intense, physical reaction? Why did she have such agonizing guilt?

  Mom took a big breath in, showing a new resolve on her face. She wiped her tears with her sleeve. Trying to smile at me, she put her hands on my shoulders.

  “Marie, I’ve messed things up for you. I’m sorry. I want you to be happy. I lost your dad over my career. Ambition for myself and for you overpowered me. I made some horrible decisions.”

  There was the guilt again. Mom was being uncharacteristically dramatic. I thought she was overreacting. I was not ending my life. I was not on my deathbed. I was just freeing myself of the ties that bound me to the studio and my agent and saying no thanks to a lot of money. I still had several years of commitments to go.

  Mom’s eyes watered again. “I don’t want to lose you, darling. I’m so sorry.” She controlled her trembling voice. “Please. I want to help you find the life that you want to live, become the person you want to be.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. It’s okay,” I reassured her. The guilt in her eyes freaked me out. “Thank you for understanding. I know this is hard for you because you’ve done so much to set me up for success in Hollywood, and it kills me that I can’t appreciate it as I should. I feel like I’m letting you and everyone down. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’ve let you down, my dear.” A waterfall of tears burst from her.

  I didn’t know what to do. I saw her go to pieces over Dad. She was going to pieces over this. It was too much. I felt like a horrible, ungrateful daughter. But I was sure of my course. This was what I wanted. She was not going to guilt me out of my decision.

  There seemed something so deep in her reaction then, something I couldn’t identify. She was telling me something. There was more.

  “Mom, are you okay? Is there more? Something I’m not getting? You can tell me, Mom. What is it?” She could not look me in the eye. “What are you hiding from me?”

  She snapped out of it, quickly composing her face. She wiped her eyes and cheeks again. That quickly she was herself, just like Byron between takes. It reminded me of how I got it together for my Oscar acceptance speech. I wondered if she puked after composing herself in public, too.

  “No, dear, you know I love you to pieces. Your happiness means everything to me. So I’m ready to make this right. Let’s do this. Martin can be a tricky bastard, he represents you but his loyalties are with Leonard and the studio. Always remember that the snake and the mouse are co-dependent, intertwined in this industry.”

  She let go of one of my hands, pushed herself off the floor, and then helped me off the floor, too. She gave me a warm embrace, held my hand, and silently walked me into the conference room where Celia and four lawyers waited for us.

  I tried to concentrate during the meeting with the lawyers, but I was confused as the adults worked through the specifics. It was great that Mom and Celia were there. Martin definitely was tricky but the ladies both worked together to be very thorough. I felt sorry for young actors who make these deals without having veteran industry parents. Most leaned on the expertise of their agents, but the agents had an inevitable conflict of interest. I was glad I had Mom.

  I was mentally exhausted when the meeting was adjourned. We all shook hands with the lawyers and left together in the elevator.

  Mom and Celia hugged.

  “I’ve missed you, Michelle. How did your date go last week?”

  “It was awful, Darling, the worst!” Mom laughed.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed like a prick, though. Was I right about him?”

  “Celia, you nailed him. You’re a perfect profiler. He didn’t even wait to get to the restaurant. He wanted to do it in the car.” Mom laughed. “My driver, Saul, and I
had coffee. I’m glad you suggested I hire a bodyguard/driver. Saul’s nice. He has four kids, so it was fun hearing his stories.”

  “Mom, you have more bodyguards?” I asked as we walked to our car.

  “The economy tanked. A lot of men have lost a lot of money. I’m an eligible bachelorette now so I’ve been rejecting a lot of aggressive men lately. Renee has a new lover every month. Celia suggested I find a Saul to protect me and be my driver, like your Sashi.”

  Mom smiled at me. “Well, dear, you won’t be sued. Congratulations. You’ll finish the open commitments we discussed this summer. You do have the Muse commitments, though, for several years, definitely until you are twenty-one. Are you alright with that?”

  “Yes. That’s fine. I’m just so glad I’m not tied to anything else.”

  Celia gaped at Mom intently, non-verbally urging her to say more. When Mom didn’t respond, Celia stopped walking, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at Mom.

  Mom looked down, “Marie, you're very tied, handcuffed, trapped, whatever. You are Muse.”

  I surveyed them both. Celia remained motionless. There was more. I asked, “I’m a fly trapped in a spider’s web?”

  Mom answered, “No, you are the web. I’m the spider. Your fans are the flies.”

  Celia interrupted, “You’re a product, Liana.”

  “But I have control now. I can just do Muse, finish the next movie and be done, right?”

  Mom put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me again with those guilty, haunting eyes. “You’re Muse, in every way. Liana Marie, you’ll always be Muse.”

  For the first time in years, Mom called me by my first name. “You just called me Liana!”

  “That I did. I love you Liana Marie Durglo. I regret that I made you into Muse, spun this web. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s okay, Mom!” I hugged her and then opened my arms to invite Celia into the hug, too. “At least I have more freedom. Thank you, Mom. Thanks, Celia.”

  Relief washed over me. I was free to make my own life. I was so happy.

  * * * * *

  3 APRIL

  Manuel’s presence calmed me. A simple hug or quick kiss filled me. If I felt low, especially at night after he went to work or went home, I’d text him and he always texted back. I found comfort knowing that he was mine. I’d wake up to my empty house, get a glass of milk and some nuts, and look out my windows at the canyon and ocean. My knowledge that I had a wonderful boyfriend and my appreciation of nature’s beauty lifted my spirit.

  I was impossibly busy with my exercise regime, school, study, and work. I spent the first week of April doing photo shoots and interviews for the promotional material and ads for Constantine’s Muse. Magazine covers and interviews to promote the film occupied the second week. Byron kissed me several times with a devilish smile during our more risqué photo shoots for international magazines. We were in character as Muse and Constantine and I was technically not cheating but I felt guilty.

  Manuel attended classes, studied, maintained his friendships, exercised, worked, and saw me when he could.

  I was not lonely. Simply being in love completed me.

  ~ THE ACADEMIC ~

  Manuel found me stretching on my terrace. I ran with Elise while he swam in the ocean with Beth. He was wet from a combination of swimming and sweating from his bike ride from the PCH to my house. I liked his smell as he came toward me to hug me. He kissed me briefly on the lips and then chuckled. He tasted of both sweat and salt water. I’m sure I tasted of sweat.

  “Sorry my swim took so long. You’re drenched.” He asked, “How hard did Elise push you?”

  I grinned. “It’s no big deal. We did the UCLA loop, down San Vicente Blvd and back up Sunset Blvd. I’m actually quite proud of myself. I averaged 5:40 over the eleven mile loop. She thought I was exaggerating that I was running a five minute mile.”

  “Wow. That stretch between Sunset and San Vicente kicks my butt. Good job, Marie.”

  “Thanks. Why did your swim take so long?”

  “Beth can be so bipolar. I’m not supposed to tell but you’re my girl so I’m going to tell. She and Mitch are in love, if you know what I mean, and in typical Beth fashion, she’s pushing him away. Dating Beth is a psychological rollercoaster, poor Mitch. He’s a saint.”

  “She withdraws after she gets intimate?”

  Manuel raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. “She does this ego-protection crap when she feels vulnerable. Beth seems strong, self-assured, but all those years of being bullied about her weight made her hide her sensitivity. She’s also mad that she didn’t get the scholarship to Stanford. Mitch got accepted but doesn’t want to go there if Beth doesn’t go. Anyway, I talked to her, told her what she’s doing. Hopefully she’ll apologize to Mitch, grow up.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m so grateful that you tell the truth about how you feel. It’s so easy being your boyfriend.”

  I walked inside the house and Manuel followed. “I love being your girlfriend and can tell that I’m not going to get any hugs until after we shower.” I pointed to the bathroom. “Shake out the towels to check for spiders. I’ll see you upstairs.”

  He sighed and I could tell that he stopped in the doorway. But I wanted to avoid anything sexual. I ran upstairs and showered quickly. He came into my room right as I finished dressing.

  Manuel grinned and then glimpsed down at my hand and held it. His gorgeous coffee colored eyes met mine and then flickered back down at my hands. He hugged me and spoke softly, “I want to talk about some stuff I’ve printed off from the internet, try some stuff.”

  I laughed, having no idea what he was talking about but perceiving his uncomfortable goofiness. I asked, “Why are you embarrassed?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Because I’m embarrassed but want to be honest with what I’m thinking about doing to turn you on.”

  “Oh, now I’m embarrassed.” I wanted to avoid this conversation. “Manuel, are you sure? You might get really frustrated. I was actually thinking we should just give me more time, you know, just kiss and hold hands for now. I love that you’re my guy; it’s awesome, comforting. I’m afraid of losing you if you lose patience.”

  His eyes met mine again and melted me with their beauty. He led me to my bed and grabbed a file folder. He sat on the bed, cross-legged in his shorts, facing me. “I thought I’d have you read about some of these techniques to help a girl feel better, ya know, and you could tell me what you’d be comfortable trying. I’ll do anything you want and don’t worry, I’m not asking you to do anything different for me. You’re beyond perfect.”

  I asked, “So cooling it isn’t an option?”

  He put his hand on my cheek. “I love you so much.” He grinned and shook his head. “There’s no pressure. Just read about the techniques and don’t be embarrassed to ask me to do them or use something to help you because you’re my everything.”

  I smiled at him, grateful that he was so thoughtful and academic. “I don’t feel embarrassed now that you’re sharing your little textbook approach.” I worried that he was going to ask me to blow him. “You’re okay with me not wanting to do any nasty stuff?”

  “Kate made it very clear to me the way girls felt about it. And just for the record, just about every guy in the school was telling me that their girls were. I learned that the guys were more than exaggerating. I thought I’d just start with the first technique without telling you what I was up to but then decided that I want your input before I do anything, ya know, make sure it’s what you want.”

  I asked, “Do you want me to read them and circle what I want to try?”

  He smiled at me and nodded his head. “Remember, you’re in control. Okay?”

  I nodded and squinted at him intently, “There’s more. What’s up?”

  “Well, I talked to my parents. I asked them if I could sleep here. I just don’t get to see you enough. I think about you constantly and want to be with you more. It’s your house, your wishes,
but I sure would like to. It’s not to do it. It’s to be with you. I need you.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They said okay but that I should talk to you first. I traded shifts at the restaurant so I can see you this weekend, but we barely see each other during the week. Please don’t get freaked out.”

  “Señor Self-righteous, you’re a confusing mix of rules. I’d love to have you live with me but I warn you, I won’t want you to leave.”

  “Well, I won’t exactly live with you. I’ll just have the flexibility to come here after work and stay after our dates. I should still be home to study before big tests or if my parents or Janet need me.”

  I slouched. “I have to tell you the truth before we ‘kind of’ live together. I don’t like it non-committal, casual. I’m also worried about doing it but I’m scared to death that I’ll lose you if I say no.”

  “I freaked you out?”

  “Not exactly, I just have a lot of fear of being alone again. I have trust issues.”

  Manuel embraced me. “How about I stop with the bull? I’m conflicted but I love you so completely, am so committed. Trust me while I sort out what I believe. Our love is so good. What’s wrong is you always being alone, living by yourself, and being so adult. I want to be by your side, with you, supporting you.”

  Contentment washed over me. I cuddled into him and read.

  ~ REACTIONS ~

  To show the world that I forgave Evan but kept my self-respect, I was attending his Friday night premiere of Inert Reactions, which he warned me was really going to suck. Manuel, Franz, Mitch and Beth were coming with me.