Star Crossed

One - "It's What Time?!"

        "Jocelyn Wells, I swear to God if you are still in bed and not on your way to the studio I'll -"

        "Don't even worry Stella, I was up so early I even had time to make myself some coffee. I was just about to walk out the door when you called." 

In fact the vibrating of my cell phone was what had actually woken me up, less than a minute ago. As I jumped out of bed, majorly panicking, my voice remained calm and steady. One of the less noticeable quirks of being a professional actress is the ability to lie through your teeth in just about any situation. 

        "Wow this is a milestone. For once in your life you aren't going to be late. I'll be sure to make note of this huge accomplishment."

        "Goodbye Stella." I hung up the phone on my manager with an exasperated huff. Stella had been my manager since I was thirteen, which was when my career had really taken off. She was sarcastic, bossy, snarky, and a complete perfectionist in the most annoying way possible, yet without her I would probably fall apart. Or spontaneously combust. I got ready in record time with only one small mishap, concerning the mistaken identity of my toothbrush as eyeliner. 

On my way out the door, I grabbed the script resting solemnly on the wooden coffee table. The little post it note on the front was barely readable after almost a month of wear and tear, but at one point had clearly stated: Jocelyn Wells as Stephanie Riviera.

         As I descended from the 47th floor in the glass elevator, I pulled out my pocket mirror and rummaged around in my bag for the spare makeup which always rests comfortably at the bottom. Bless whoever came up with the idea to make almost every imaginable object into travel sized versions. The elevator stopped at random floors and frazzled work people stepped on clutching steaming coffee mugs and well worn briefcases. I silently willed the elevator to go faster, and at one point considered making a mad dash for the stairs. A few anxious minutes later, I emerged from the glass doors crowded between a variety of rich, important looking people, ready to go. I smiled kindly at the doorman. He didn't speak English, which I had learned the hard way when I first moved in, but according to the advertising brochures for the Arkadia Towers, he had been opening it's doors for thirty three years. I wondered how much one got paid to simply open doors all day and if a career change would be a smart move on my part.

         The white hot flashes began the moment I stepped outside, but the cameras stopped phasing me years ago. I simply adjusted my posture and gave a closed mouth smile to the photographer standing closest. Pulling on my sunglasses, I hopped in the limousine that was waiting for me. As soon as the door was closed, I knocked on the divider between the front and back seats, signaling the driver to roll it down.

        "Hey do you think it would be possible to just floor it all the way to the studio?" I tried picturing the worst that would happen if a strectch limo was found speeding along at ninety miles per hour. Nothing was worse than the wrath I would face from Stella if she found out I was late, and had lied about it. I figured the reason I didn't hear the alarm this morning was because I had been dreaming of Tom.  Months later and the dickwad was still managing to ruin my life. How had I been stupid enough to waste almost four years of my life on him? 

No stop thinking about him. Today is your fresh start.

         The limo took a swift right turn and white gates swung open to allow the car access to the world beyond. Multiple trailers with different names plastered on the doors and various colorful movie sets flew by. The car stopped across from the main building, the words "Star Studios" written broadly across the top. I thanked the driver for his wreckless yet time efficient driving techniques and jumped out into the early March, Hollywood air. As I strode across the parking lot, I hardly noticed the barrage of microphones and cameras that were thrust into my face until some perv decided it would be a good idea to grab my boob. Automatic doors retreated back as I approached, creating a clear path for me to walk through. The paparazzi knew better than to try and enter the building, even Boob Grabber.