13. Anna
ANNA
"Igot it, Mom. Private Paradise. Three lines, but it's a speaking role, and it's HBO and?—"
"Anna." Her voice does the thing it does when she's trying to contain something. "That's wonderful. That's really wonderful."
"It really is.”
"Is it going to conflict with this other part you got?"
I pause. "Um, no, I can do both, it's not a problem," the lie slips out easily. "Next week. It's just one day."
"One day on Private Paradise." I can hear her smiling.
"Mom."
"Mm."
"I'm also — there's something else."
"Okay."
"I'm dating someone."
Silence.
"Dating someone," she says carefully.
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
"Luke Wolfe."
"Okay, why does that name sound familiar?"
"Are you in front of a computer?"
"Yes."
"Google him. He's an actor. We went to NYU together, remember my graduation performance?"
"I kind of remember him... Oh - I'm looking at a guy with a lot of tattoos."
"That's him."
"Huh. You're dating this guy?"
"Yeah."
"Oh my God. There's a picture of you kissing him in the pool."
"That's up already?"
The silence this time is longer.
"He hit his director."
"He shoved him. And he's very sorry about that."
"Anna."
"Mom, he's not who the tabloids say he is. He's — I knew him before all of that. He's actually?—"
"Anna, this guy is not a good person," her voice is measured. Controlled. The attorney closing off her emotional reaction and filing it somewhere. "He's got five speeding tickets. How does he even have a license? He has slept with over a thousand women."
"Mom, you can't judge him based on the internet."
"Yes, I can, you're my daughter. You're in a vulnerable position right now. You're excited – "
"Mom."
"Honey... What do you want me to tell you? You want me to approve of this? I don't."
"I want you to be happy for me, that's all."
"I hear you. I'm happy for you getting this part. Congratulations. And I want you to be careful."
Luke comes back inside.
"I have to go," I hang up.
He sits beside me on the couch.
He looks at me with a weird expression.
"What's wrong?" I say.
"Nothing."
"What did your mother say?"
"She's happy for me. Excited. I told her about us."
"You told your mom we slept together?"
"No, I told her we're dating."
He looks at me for a long moment.
He gets up off the couch.
"Anna, I don't think that should happen again."
"Do you mean sleeping together?”
"Yeah..."
"Oh, uh... okay. I don't understand..."
"We should just go back to the arrangement."
"I thought it was good…"
"It was great."
"But you don't want to do it again? With me?"
"It's probably best?"
"Did Delia say something?"
"No."
"Okay," I stand up. "Fine."
"Anna?"
I run upstairs before he can see my face. Before he can see the tears coming.
I make it to my room.
Close the door.
Lock it.
Then the bathroom.
Lock that too.
The tears start before I hit the floor.
I press a hand over my mouth.
He can't hear this.
Later when my body is out of tears or too exhausted to cry anymore, I call Chloe.
"He doesn't want to have sex with me," I say the second she picks up.
"What? What happened?"
"He said we should go back to the way it was."
"Did he say why?"
"Nope."
"Nothing happened?"
"No idea."
"You said it was amazing."
"For me. For me it was. For him?—"
"Anna, listen to yourself."
"I just think maybe I wasn't?—"
"Anna. Stop." Chloe's voice is firm.
I sit on the edge of the bathtub. "I don't understand what's going on?"
"I can't answer that."
A long pause.
"I forgot to tell you; I booked Private Paradise."
Chloe screams. "What? Why didn't you lead with that?"
"You booked a part. You can get laid whenever you want. But you booked a part. Tell me."
She makes me walk her through the whole thing. She's doing it partly to take my mind off Luke but it feels good anyway.
I spend the rest of the day locked in my room.
Private Paradise is shooting at a resort in Santa Monica.
I drive myself in the Mercedes with the top down and the radio up and the particular terror of someone about to do the thing they've wanted to do their whole life in front of people who will remember if they fail.
I'm sent to hair and makeup.
Everyone is very aware I'm Luke Wolfe's girlfriend. I am no longer an actress. I'm a hyphen. Actress-girlfriend.
I wait in a trailer for seven hours. Telling myself I am enough. I belong here.
I put on my costume. Cute colorful top. Cut-off jeans. It fits. I've lost nine pounds to date.
I feel my abs.
There's a knock on my door. "Anna. We're ready to take you to set."
I follow the guy with the headset. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, all good."
The director is a woman named Patricia who shakes my hand and says she loved my self-tape and asks if I have any questions about the scene.
"No," I try to sound confident.
We run it twice for blocking. Once for camera. Then we shoot.
Three lines.
On the eighth take Patricia says quietly to her script supervisor, "That’s the one. We're moving on."
"That was beautiful. Thank you," Patricia says to me.
I change back into my clothes.
I walk to my car.
I call Delia before I leave the parking lot to thank her.
I laugh a little. Mostly because I think if I don't, I'm going to cry.
"I did it."
"No doubt you did," Delia says.
Crew members loading equipment into trucks. Extras smoking cigarettes in robes between scenes like this is just another Tuesday.
But my hands grip the steering wheel tight.
"Patricia said she loved it," I say quietly.
Delia makes this soft sound like she already knew that was going to happen.
"Anna, listen to me. You can do this."
"Thank you for getting me the audition."
"You got yourself the job."
I lean back against the seat and close my eyes for a second.
I can still feel the lights on my face. Hear the crew moving around behind the camera. Patricia saying action.
For one second today, I stopped feeling scared.
That might be the best part.
"Go celebrate," Delia says.
"Yes ma'am."
I look out toward the ocean past the resort.
The sky turning orange over Santa Monica.
For the first time since moving to LA, my life is actually starting.
And somehow that makes the thing with Luke hurt more.
I call Chloe and Alex and tell them to meet me for dinner.
I purposely don't go home.
I get a text from Luke.
"How'd it go? You done?"
"All done. Went great."
"Good. What are you up to?"
"Going out with friends to celebrate." I leave it at that.
By the time I get to Larchmont Village the restaurants are full. People eating outside under string lights. Valets jogging across the street. Girls in expensive dresses pretending they don't notice who's watching them.
I spot Chloe waving through the window.
The second I sit down Alex grabs my hands.
"Girl, you're a star."
I tell them the day.
The trailer.
The waiting.
Patricia.
Hearing that's the one.
The way my knees almost gave out walking back to my car.
Alex keeps stopping me every thirty seconds.
"Wait. Wait. HBO?"
I laugh harder than I have in days.
The waiter comes by twice before we're ready to order because we won't stop talking.
Chloe orders wine.
I stay on my diet.
"It gives me hope," Alex says.
The food comes.
Nobody touches it for five minutes because Chloe keeps making me repeat what Patricia said.
"Say it again."
"Chloe—"
"Say it exactly how she said it."
I roll my eyes but do it.
"That's the one."
Chloe slaps the table.
Alex points at me with a fry.
"You realize this is how it starts right? Next thing you know you're emotionally unavailable and wearing sunglasses indoors."
The check comes.
I grab it first.
They both immediately start fighting me for it.
"Absolutely not."
"Anna, you booked three lines. We got this."
"I'm paying," I say. "It's his money."
That finally gets them to stop.
I sign the check.
Outside, Larchmont is still alive.
People drifting between restaurants. Laughter spilling out onto the sidewalk. Headlights sliding slowly past like the whole city doesn't want to go home yet.
Chloe hugs me first.
Alex points at me while backing toward his car.
"Don't forget us when you're famous and dead inside."
On the drive home in the Mercedes, top down.
I spot the Hollywood sign.
It looks different tonight.
Brighter.