West & Vega: The Untold Jori

Anyone But Vega

So, I guess it's time to address the proverbial elephant in the room: Beck. Things have always been weirdly complicated with him. Most people look at us as a couple and wonder how the hell I managed to land a guy like him. What they don't know is that I've asked myself that same question millions of times. I could never come up with an answer. I seriously don't know what he ever ssaw in me. Maybe he was secretly a masochist or maybe he really loved a challenge. We had some hellish fights over the years. We broke up more than is probably normal, including just months before, at the end of our senior year. But we pulled through it. We weathered quite a bit.

Then he moved.

He got a really great opportunity, a free ride at the New York Film Academy in South Beach, Florida. It was everything he was hoping for. So I told him to go. He asked me to come with him, but I couldn't. I didn't want to. I'm a west coast girl, born and raised in the depraved insanity of Los Angeles. I didn't want to leave it. I couldn't. Even for Beck. I don't know why. It just didn't feel right. It was one of those rare flashes of insight.

We didn't break up. Neither of us wanted to part on those terms. We kept in touch through texts and video chats. We still shared our big life news with each other. But it was different. We both sensed it, I think. Relationships are a big commitment, especially when you're in that weird state between being a kid and being an adult. Long-distance relationships were even tougher. They could work. I just wasn't entirely convinced ours was. I guess I could have fixed it and left for Florida. But I didn't. Make of that what you will.

Despite the slowly growing gulf between us, Beck was still the first one I texted when I heard back from Liz. She called me the morning after our meeting at Bots and said that she loved my script and that her production company would be "thrilled" to produce it.

I can't adequately express how satisfying it was to hear that. Don't get me wrong, I write for myself first and foremost. I don't sit and worry if anyone will like it. But Liz was, as I've firmly established, a total badass. Not just that, but a badass with the power to help make things happen for me. For someone like her to tell me she loved what I'd written meant a lot. It was the first time I'd won the respect of someone whose respect was worth something.

I'd read her script as well. It wasn't my usual area of interest, not by a long shot, but Liz was a damn good writer. I'd have been an idiot to pass it up. The character's voices were all distinct and clear, and there was a lot of subtext packed into the twenty pages she'd sent me. Her lead role, a girl named Sara, jumped right off the page. She was, of course, ridiculously pretty, but in that humble, cutesy, small-town way, as if she didn't really know it herself. She was slender, with flowing brown hair and dark skin. She had a persistent (one might say relentless) optimism about life and her chance at happiness. Things came easy to her for most of her life, so of course, the big dramatic moments of the film were when she actually had to work for something, really fight for it.

Liz's writing was so vivid, it felt like I knew Sara before I even finished my first read-through of the script. By the end of my second read-through, I had an actual voice in my mind and a vague impression of what she might look like. After a third read-through, it occurred to me why this girl seemed so insufferably familiar. I felt a little nauseous.

When I texted Beck to let him know about the gig, I attached a copy of the short and a little message: Might get to direct this. Does the MC remind you of anyone?

A few hours later, his reply confirmed it: Congrats, that's awesome! It's a great script. MC reminds me of Tori. Thinking of casting her?

I was relieved that it wasn't just me. But there was no doubt, Sara and Tori Vega might as well have been the same person. The irony of it all wasn't lost on me. My first big opportunity to direct and the specter of Victoria Vega was right there with me. I didn't want to cast her, but even if I didn't, there was no way I wouldn't be reminded of her in every one of Sara's lines. Just when I thought I was rid of that perky beanpole and her incessant optimism. I had no interest in reconnecting with her so soon. Or at all. The very thought of putting up with those ridiculous cheekbones, or that radiant, infectious smile, or her dark skin and huge, gorgeous eyes, or those long legs...