33. Sienna
Sienna
Fucking bastard. I can’t believe I ever wanted to be with him. And then I pined over him for years. What the hell did I ever see in him?
“You said drug relapse, Holden,” points out the interviewer. “Please tell us more about that. Are you saying Sienna has had a problem with drugs in the past?”
Holden looks all serious and nods.
“Yes,” he answers. “A few years ago, she had the same problem.”
There are muffled voices all around him now.
“I’m surprised to hear that,” says another interviewer. “Sienna was doing so well a few years ago. She starred in the Jane Eyre remake, and her performance was nominated for an award.”
“Interesting,” says the first interviewer, speaking out into the crowd to provide some context. “Would someone with a substance abuse problem be able to achieve a performance award?”
Holden sort of half shrugs and tries to look upset about the whole situation
The woman returns the microphone to Holden. “I think we’re all a little… taken aback to hear this isn’t the first time Sienna has been using.”
Holden sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. A slight loss of composure—all part of the act, I’m sure.
“I can give some context if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Yes,” says the interviewer. “That would certainly help.”
Holden winces. “I just don’t know if this is appropriate to share.”
I’m so invested in what Holden has to say that I’ve forgotten I’m watching this entire interview through a phone screen.
I glance up briefly and see that the world has come to a halt.
And I wish I were being overdramatic.
The crowds have tripled since I last looked up. More teams of press and paparazzi have shown up. It’s cameras galore in every direction I look. They hang over me like street lights.
Yesterday, I was surrounded by trees. I looked up and saw a canopy of green. Now I look up and see my reflection staring back at me in dozens of camera lenses.
“We all love Sienna very much,” continues the interviewer. “We want what’s best for her, isn’t that right, everyone?”
“Yes!” the crowd cheers through the phone.
I look up from the screen again, comparing crowds. The one around me is even bigger.
I’m angry and my blood feels like it’s about to boil. But, other than that, I’m strangely okay.
It’s because I finally see light at the end of the tunnel.
“Okay,” says Holden.
I return to the phone, wondering what bullshit Holden is going to pull out of his ass next.
He takes out his phone and scrolls for a few moments. I feel the tension build in the audience as I watch the interview on the phone.
“Here,” he says after another beat of scrolling, and he flips his phone around.
I lift the phone I’m holding up to my face, trying to see what he’s showing everyone.
“Let’s bring the cameras closer so we can get a better look at the screen,” suggests the interviewer.
There’s some feedback from the microphone, some static rustling and camera shaking as the people filming move around, bringing Holden’s phone into focus.
He holds a picture up of me at my worst.
It was when we’d just gotten together.
I was going through the motions, new to the industry, the fame.
I remember that night like it was yesterday.
“I know what will make you feel better.”
Holden lifts up a bottle of wine.
“Right,” I say. “Because wine’s the answer to all of my problems.”
“It’s the answer tonight. You’ve had a hard day.”
“When I’ve had a hard day, I dance.”
Holden looks at me like I have three heads.
The photograph he’s showing is the result of drinking a bottle and a half of red wine.
That was the first time I’d ever had wine. I stare at the image of myself. Fake lashes clinging to my real ones. One eye open. My hair looking like a rat’s nest.
To top it all off, lipstick is smeared across my mouth. I look like a cross between a clown and a woman possessed as I lay on Holden’s couch, barely coherent.
“I don’t understand,” says the interviewer as I watch the rest of the interview play out. “Why did Sienna feel the need to do drugs back then?”
“This—” Holden taps his phone screen— “is a mix of drugs and wine.”
He’s such a compulsive liar.
“Sienna was overwhelmed by her fame. She comes from a small, quiet town and went from zero to one hundred in the space of a few months. She showed up at my place—we were dating at the time. I immediately called the paramedics to get her some help.”
The interviewer takes a step back, raising her eyebrow.
Paramedics?
Mixing drugs and wine?
He was the one who suggested the wine. And it was just wine. There were no drugs involved. And no paramedics.
“Look,” sighs Holden. “I could show more, but I think we’ve already seen enough. I’ve made my point.”
“Show us more,” shout the audience behind him. “We support Sienna.”
Holden, the sanctimonious fuck he is, pockets his phone and shakes his head. “That wouldn’t be fair.”
I’ll say.
“I’m doing this so people can understand Sienna better and so she’ll get the help she needs.”
Oh. My. God.
“Sienna isn’t a bad person.” This must be Holden’s closing statement.
“She’s back from the mountains, away from those men, and that’s a step in the right direction.
She has some mental health issues she needs to work through.
I encourage you all to think about that the next time you make a hateful comment about her.
” Holden thanks the interviewer for his time and starts walking away.
But the audience starts chanting his name.
“Holden! Holden!”
People shove more microphones and cameras into his face.
His plan was successful. He’s officially relevant again.
I can almost sense the smug smile wanting to break through on his face.
The interview ends. I hand the man his phone back and face the crowds around me. I’ve had some crazy paparazzi experiences since I’ve been in LA. But this one tops them all.
And they’re still recording.
“Sienna,” says one of the six interviewers I have swarming around me. “Are you still doing the movie, or are you taking time out to focus on your… issue?”
No point beating around the bush. We’ve all seen the interview.
And everyone believes Holden, apparently.
“It’s okay; you can say drug addiction. It’s a scary word, but we shouldn’t be afraid of saying it out loud.” Sarcasm drips from my voice.
Everyone tenses around me.
“So I take it everyone believes Holden Gray?”
Crickets. I look around at the paparazzi as more cameras are shoved in my face. This is the final time I intend to stand in front of them. May as well make the most of being in the spotlight if it’s going to be my last time.
I blow out a breath. I don’t really have the energy to explain how much of a compulsive liar Holden is.
Anything I say about him is PR at this point.
Positive? Negative? The guy doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as he’s back in the limelight.
Giving him attention only puts more money in his pocket and gives him more of what he wants.
But for my own sake, I have to tell the truth, even if nobody will believe me.
“First of all. That photo is taken way out of context. If you all knew who Holden was down to his very core, you’d never go to another one of his movies again.”
It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Even the cars on the street have come to a complete stop. It’s like the city has completely stopped moving for me, which is what I always thought I wanted as a little girl.
“Secondly,” I continue, “I’m not taking any drugs. I’m in love.” I pause, letting that sink into everyone’s tiny brains.
“With Holden?”
I almost choke. “No. There is no me and Holden.”
“Is it true you stormed out of a read-through earlier?” asks another interviewer.
“That’s true. I’m out of here.”
I hear gasps all around me.
“Out of?—”
“Hollywood, LA? Yes, all of it.”
“Sienna,” says another interviewer as the crowd turns to chaos. “You’re going through a rough spot. That happens. You’re not actually thinking about quitting, are you?”
I look around me, noting the thousands of eyes staring my way, blinking, focused, waiting for me to respond.
“Yes, I’m leaving. For good.”
More gasps.
“And before I go, I owe you all an apology.” The street turns silent again, waiting to hear what I have to say next. Never in my career have I had this much attention on me.
“I sold you all a lie. I’m not who you think I am. The Sienna Lane you’ve been watching in the movies is a character. She’s not the real me. In fact,” I say, “the real me is the version you all can’t stop talking about. The one in the mountains. That’s who I really am.”
“So it’s true?” some guy shouts. “You like foursomes?”
“Yes, I like foursomes. With the right people, that is,” I reply. “I’d highly encourage some of you to give it a try. You might find it’s more rewarding than centering your whole life around showbiz. Because none of that is real.”
“Can you elaborate on what you mean by that, Sienna?” asks one of the interviewers.
I grab the mic from his hands. “If you think the acting finishes when the movie stops rolling, you’re mistaken.
” I go to hand the microphone back but think better of it.
“Oh, and one more thing. This goes out to Valentina Vescari: take that engagement ring off your finger and go find yourself a better man. Holden Gray is a cheater and a liar, and you’re way too fucking good for him. ”
Gasps fill the air yet again. This is the first time I’ve sworn in an interview.
I start walking away, but of course, it’s not easy to leave when everybody wants more answers.
“Sienna, what do you mean by that?”
“Sienna, we accept who you are. Don’t run away.”
This one stops me in my tracks for half a second. And that’s exactly why I have to run—this town is all about manipulation. It sells you a dream and then squashes it every chance it gets.
It’s my responsibility to tell the truth and admit that everything isn’t perfect. Far from it, actually.
“Sienna!” I hear Jules calling to me over the crowd.
I snap my head back and forth, searching for her. A car horn lets me know where she is.
She flashes me a wave and pulls up alongside the sidewalk, popping open the passenger door for me so we can make a quick exit.
I rush over, jump in the car, and slam the door shut as Jules shifts her Porsche back into drive.
We’re off, rolling down the Hollywood street, maneuvering around paparazzi and all the cars lined up to get a look at what’s going on.
“Oh my god, babe,” gasps Jules as we make a right at the intersection, away from the boulevard. “What the hell just happened?”
“Holden happened, as always. I rejected him, and he went straight to the press. Told them so many lies and they just ate it up.”
Jules sniffs a laugh. “What a small, pitiful man.”
“Surprisingly, I feel more sorry for him than angry.”
“Yeah, you just hope he’ll see the light one day and realize what a total ass he’s been to you.”
“Oh, not just to me. I’m one of many people he’s used.” I peer out of the window, watching high-rise buildings fly by as Jules picks up speed.
“Let’s go back to your place. You need to get back to your mountain men.”
I turn toward her, watching her little smile get even larger.
“Like I told you on the phone, you deserve to be happy without being dragged down by all the losers. That goes for Holden and the industry you’ve given everything to.
” Jules shifts her gaze from the road to me for a moment.
“I see it in your eyes, Sienna—you’re happy.
Those guys have brought out a new version of you.
It feels like the person you’re really meant to be. ”
My heart contracts, causing tears to well in my eyes.
If it weren’t for Cash, Eli and Knox, I wouldn’t know how to live my life. I’d still be chasing success, still crying over Holden, wasting my days away. Waiting for something I was never meant to have in the first place.
If it wasn’t for them, I’d still feel like a stranger in my own body.
I would’ve never found home.
“I love you so much,” I say to Jules.
“I love you too. Please tell me you’ll stay in contact? Call me every day.”
“Call you?!” I laugh. “Girl, we’re getting you up to the mountains and into some hiking boots.”