Starlet's Web - #1 {Exclusive Read}

Starlet's Web - May ~ THE ANTAGONIST ~

~    THE ANTAGONIST   ~

It was dawn when I woke up. I was thirsty and my eyes ached. I tiptoed out of my room and got some Excedrin from the kitchen and a glass of water. I wanted to eat some nuts. I always ate some nuts to kick-start my metabolism—all these tricks in the industry to keep me from gaining any weight.

But I wasn’t supposed to eat anything before my tests. I worried that the pain killer I took would mess up the tests.

Instead of returning to bed, I sat on the couch and took in the view for a minute. The fog rolled over the trees in the canyon below as the hidden sun brightened the light blue sky. Then I decided to go downstairs and soaked in the hot tub on the terrace. I didn’t turn on the jets. They were too loud. I just wanted quiet. Knowing someone could see me if I got in naked, I slipped in the water in my sleep shirt. The shirt would dry but a picture of me naked on the internet would be permanent.

I thought about what Mom had taught me about the industry, about good and evil, greed and good intentions, sincerity and manipulation, beauty and ugliness.  Antonyms, opposites—always being present at once, always intertwined, always yin and yang, dependent on each other for definition, for distinction, for existence. I reflected about how I knew that I must get into my backyard hot tub in clothes because somewhere out there, in the few homes fortunate enough to have ocean and canyon views, that someone just might see me, take a photo with their zoom lens ready, and make a quick thousand dollars selling their photo to a tabloid. Then the masses who loved my movies—the many individuals who stared at me when I walked by them, too embarrassed to say ‘hi,’ or the few who praised me and gushed over me and wanted to be my character’s best friend—gobbled up the publication showing my naked body or forwarded the online picture to all their friends. They wanted me to expose who I was intentionally in a film to enrich their lives, to entertain them, and then they were thrilled if I stumbled, messed up, exposed myself unintentionally.  I was a girl playing a character conceived by producers, directors and writers, saying lines that were written by a team of writers, filmed with the clever vision of cameramen, directors, lighting and sound specialists, set designers, costume stylists and makeup artist, digital artists and so many more talented individuals, in a film that hundreds of people worked on. The audience loved the character; hated the actor. I hated eating the flies.

Right and wrong—always in conflict. Sometimes it was clear what was right or what was wrong. Mostly it was muddled. Rules helped. But the context of an event influenced the perception of that event. Sometimes a monster was kind. Sometimes a good person did monstrous things. I was a good person, but to some I was a rich bitch slutty actress who they wanted to watch fall. I was a drunken sixteen-year-old. To many, I was a pathetic weakling who needed rehab. To some, I was a sinner. My mother was a virgin when she got married. She was the Hollywood good girl, the exception. My mother intentionally gave me a drug to keep me beautiful and give me the perfect Hollywood career. To me, she was a sinner.

I got out of the hot tub when Manuel came outside. We cuddled next to each other and sat in silence, listening to the birds and to the murmur of the waves hitting the beach. Hearing the ocean seemed impossible from such a distance but it was also undeniable that the waves created the sound.

After a while, I interrupted the silence. “Listen. Do you hear that consistent roaring, as if you were on the beach?”

“Yeah, it’s quite peaceful. I was actually trying to figure out what it was,” he pondered.

“It’s the ocean, the waves hitting the beach. It’s impossible that we can hear it from so far away, but that sound is so obviously the ocean. This terrace, the incredible view and peaceful sounds, have always seemed like such a contradiction here in Santa Monica. All I hear or see from your home are buildings, cars, and noise. Just a few minutes away—this. It doesn’t seem possible that I see a blanket of green and earthly colors from here—that I don’t see buildings—and that I can’t hear the cars on the PCH or the noise of people. But listen, look—just nature. And listen to what you can’t hear.”