Lack of Posts

Apologies for the lack of posts. Sandy is an evil bitch and I've been trying to get in contact with people and sort some junk out behind the scenes Grrrrrr!

Alone

I woke up aching everywhere. The sofa was ridiculously comfy to sit on, but not so much to sleep on. My shoulder was wedged at a weird angle and I’d reopened the cut on my wrist by pulling the gauze on in my sleep. At least it wasn’t bleeding everywhere. I got up reluctantly, switching off the TV and seeking out some plasters to cover my cut.

          I showered and all the usual junk, then sat and stared out of the window for far too long. What the hell was I supposed to do with myself today? I flipped open my laptop and reeled off an angry email to Van’s agent who had been withholding scripts. I suspected it was because they also represented an actor who tended to take similar roles to Van and they were showing him preference. I then looked up other agents just in case this all fell through, searched laws about breaking contracts in Hollywood and looked up similar cases online. I then checked Van’s twitter feed. There was a lovely photo of him and Luke; both were smiling, but it didn’t look convincing from Van. What had I done to him? Or was I being completely self-absorbed to think I could affect him so badly?

          I reported two new hate groups on face book, not bothering to update my status. All the people who had ‘friended’ me were haters anyway. I’d gotten bored of baiting them now that I was sat in an empty flat missing Van.

I spent the rest of the morning looking up the movers and shakers in Hollywood, projects that were up and coming for Van and just researching my job as much as I could. I didn’t have much else to do as he had nothing until Monday, and that was two straight days of auditions (7 in total) so I set about researching the directors of those and writing notes of what they liked in an actor and basically cyber stalking them. I had pages and pages of notes by the time I was done, but didn’t know if it would be of any use to him.

          God I was bored. The problem with this being a temporary accommodation was that Van hadn’t brought much with him; no books I could read (I hadn’t brought any of mine as I didn’t want to carry them around in my case) no DVDs apart from the Breaking Bad sets we’d bought, and I couldn’t watch them without him. It was either stare at a wall, go out or watch videos of cute kittens on the internet.

          When my phone rang I jumped clean out of my skin as the flat had been so quiet all day. I rushed to answer it, but it wasn’t my beloved, Masa or even my mum.

          “Miss. MacManus? This is Stacey Oberon from the *Agency’s name* Agency. I trust I find you well?”

Oh snap. I was going to kick this woman’s ass if she thought she was fobbing me off. It was easier over the phone when you didn’t have to look the person in the eye. Plus she couldn’t kick my ass if she didn’t know where I was.

          “Ms. Oberon, I’m glad you called. I assume this is regarding the concerns I outlined in my email?”

          “It is. I’ve called to apologise profusely for the delays we have been experiencing of late. The person responsible has been let go due to this and I can assure you it will not be happening again.”

          “My problem is, Ms. Oberon, Mr. Murphy could have lost out on several of those roles as he has not been receiving the scripts. I can only assume this was done to secure the roles for another actor on your books, and as such, Mr. Murphy would be well within his rights to find alternative representation that is able to accommodate his needs and behave in a more professional manner.”

          I could hear her stuttering on the other end of the line. She hadn’t been expecting that. I had encountered two types of business interactions since coming here. There was the ‘we’re bestest buddies forever’ bullshit where nothing ever got sorted out as everyone was too busy flattering each other and never coming to a proper agreement. The other was the badass, douche bag approach where screaming and threats were involved. I agreed with neither, so was trying a different tack. I was pissed off and I made it clear, but I saw no reason to shout or swear. I had threatened to leave their agency, but only because it was something that would potentially happen. I don’t make empty threats. I also liked to think that the over the top snobby British accent I put on helped. It sounded quite impressive if I did say so myself. There was no way she was going to tell me it was ‘cute’.

          “Ms. MacManus, I can assure you…”

          “Mr. Murphy and I are not impressed at how he has been treated recently and are in talks with several other agencies who are offering smaller commission rates and have better success stories than you are able to provide.”

It wasn’t true that we were in talks, but I had found other companies that looked a lot better on paper and did in fact take a smaller cut. They were newbie companies, but that just meant they’d try a lot harder to impress. They might not have the same contacts, but Van’s name was enough to get scripts, the agents didn’t actually do anything anymore other than receive his mail.

She stuttered again, not sure how to save this. He must bring them in a lot of money, and he was high profile. To lose him would not only cause a loss of cash, but also a loss of face. They couldn’t afford that, it would be all over Hollywood before a week was out, and would lead to other stars on their books thinking of jumping ship.

          “Would you both give us the chance to prove ourselves to you? We are very proud to have Mr. Murphy under our representation and would very much like to repair the damage done to the relationship.”

          “I would be willing to put it to Mr. Murphy, but I can only assume you will be working without commission for two months for a trial period, and I want first refusal on ALL scripts that come through your doors that may be suitable for Mr. Murphy.”

          “I…I can’t… I…”

          “Then I am very sorry, but it is unlikely that Mr. Murphy will wish to stay with you. Your agency has done serious long term damage to his reputation by withholding scripts. It makes him look unprofessional for not at least acknowledging that he has received them. It is utterly unacceptable and…”

          “Ok, ok Ms. MacManus, you have us over a barrel. Two months without commission and first refusal.”

          “Can I take you at your word Ms. Oberon? I would very much like that in writing via e-mail and also to Mr. Murphy’s account.”

          “Of course.” She said, sounding defeated, hanging up.

          Wow, that had actually worked! Research rocks! I was feeling slightly proud of myself, and couldn’t wait to tell Van. I tried his mobile, but it went straight to answer machine. I hate those things.

          “Hi Van, I’ve spoken to your agency and they’ve agreed to work commission free for two months and you will get first refusal on ALL scripts that suit you, before anyone else. They’re going to email these details to you so we have proof if they try anything. I hope you’re ok. Give my love to Sofia and Luke for me. The flat is seriously depressing when you’re not here.” I said, regretting it instantly. Crap, crap, crap. “Uh…bye.”

          After banging my head on the table for five minutes, I felt I had punished myself enough for telling Van I missed him. Urgh. I had been all uber professional and kicked his agent’s ass, then I’d called him and undone all my awesome work and been unprofessional to a fault. No wonder he’s run away to another state. Hell, what an idiot!

          I spent the rest of the day channel surfing. 400+ channels and nothing was on. I watched a marathon of a reality show about someone who made cakes. It just made me hungry. I still hadn’t heard from Van, Masa or mum and was feeling pretty miserable. I decided I needed to get out of the house. It was yet another glorious day, I should not be moping about indoors. I’m British, I should be out getting red like a lobster. What was the saying? Only mad dogs and English men go out in the midday sun? Well, it was mid-afternoon, but whatever. Besides, I didn’t feel like I’d get murdered if I went out in this neighbourhood.

          I threw on some flip-flops, my most well-loved jeans and a strappy top, locking up behind me. I was greeted warmly by the man behind the desk and stopped to make polite conversation with him. He must get incredibly bored sat there all day, and he was the sweetest guy! Mid-fifties with salt and pepper hair and eyes that creased at the edges when he smiled, which he did a lot. I introduced myself properly as before it had just been ‘hellos’ and was mid-way through answering one of his hundred questions about England, when my phone rang. I excused myself, heart in my mouth. It dropped a little when I saw it was Masa rather than Van, and I felt guilty for that. I wandered out into the sun and answered it, wanting to feel a little of the excitement I had when I thought it was my beloved calling.

          “Hey Masanobu, how are you?” I tried to inject the right amount of enthusiasm into my voice.

          “I’m ok, are you free? I thought we could get a drink.”

          “Sounds like a plan.”

We arranged where to meet and I headed off, not caring that I probably should have changed. I was a lazy cow, but if he didn’t like me for me, it wouldn’t matter what I wore. It was casual, or so I told myself. There wasn’t anything left of the left knee of my jeans, but that was apparently in fashion right now.

          I walked inside the bar and grabbed a table, ordering with a waiter that passed me. I got Masanobu the same thing he’d drunk last time, and sat humming to myself, looking around at the movie posters that graced the walls. Just about every bar in Hollywood was decorated with either sports memorabilia or movie props. It was great, but I was yet to see anything from my favourite movies, which was a little disappointing.

          I was checking my phone, when I noticed a girl staring at me from the corner of my eye. I looked up and smiled at her, but she just carried on looking. The waiter brought the drinks and I sipped my diet coke slowly, wondering what the hell the girl’s problem was.

She began to edge closer, her steps nervous, her eyes still fixed on me.

          “Can I help you?” I asked when she reached me, trying to hide my irritation.

          “You’re Georgiana aren’t you?” She said, her voice shaking.

I nodded, unsure as to where this was going. I just hoped she didn’t have a knife -I had enough wounds as it was.

          “I just wanted to say that I thought what happened to you at the premiere was awful, and it wasn’t fair.” She said, looking at her feet.

Her gaze moved up to my stomach. I hoped she didn’t think I was actually pregnant. Van and I had taken to the social networking sites to point out it had been a joke, but some people chose to believe that we were hiding our secret relationship. I was painted as a black widow, intending to move on to the next movie star when I was done with Van.

          “Were you there hun?” I asked. She was wearing a t-shirt from one of Van’s movies. “Love the t-shirt.” I said trying to smile, but feeling really uncomfortable.

          “No, I couldn’t make it. Is Van here?” She asked, looking around desperately.

          “Sorry hun, he’s in New York at the moment. I’m just meeting a friend.”

Masanobu appeared then, smiling brightly.

          “Oh…I see.” She said, shuffling away. How weird.

          “Who was that?” Masa asked.

          “One of Van’s fans. Try saying that ten times fast.” I pushed his drink towards him and was about to ask about his day when he cut in.

          “I saw you at the premiere, I didn’t realise you were so famous.” He looked even more uneasy with me than he ever had before. This wasn’t just shyness, it was intimidation. I wasn’t famous! I just wanted to be a PA and be left alone! I had no desire to be in front of the cameras, and I was thoroughly fed up with people thinking I was.

          “Masa, I’m not famous at all, apart from for being the most hated person in town. It was the first premiere I’ve ever been to.” I stopped before I blurted out how rabid and insane his fans were, and how many death threats I got a day.

          “You’re Van Murphy’s PA, he’s huge.” He said with wide eyes.

          “Yeah he is, which I didn’t realise when I took the job. I had no idea who he was.” I said with a laugh.

          “I had to buy all the newspapers you were in, I got a bit excited.” He admitted with a self-depreciative smile, his eyes on the table. He was so incredibly sweet, humble, grounded –just like My Van, but he didn’t have that spark that Van did. He was too much of all those things to the point where he almost seemed scared to be alive.

          “So did I. I also asked my mum to buy all the ones in England. No one’s interested in me Hon, it’s just that I was with Van.” I hadn’t noticed any paps following me when I was alone thank god, so I took that to be true. Small town, skinny, pale Brit girl- who’d want to see that in a magazine?

          “It said you’re pregnant.” He said sadly.

I snorted, coughing up coke.

          “It was a joke my sweet. Van likes winding up the paps. Look at me, do I look six months pregnant?”

          “I guess not.” He said looking relieved. “Are you and Van…?”

          “Nope. But try telling his fans that! They want my blood!”

We chatted about work, though I wasn’t able to say much as I didn’t want to risk leaking anything about Van. Who knows whose listening. Besides, I lived my life, I wanted to talk about something else. I demanded Masa give me his recipes for the gorgeous cupcakes he’d made. He blushed and wrote it on a napkin for me. He knew it by heart it seemed. I was going to make a shit load of cupcakes for when Van came back. The whole flat was going to be full to bursting with them. All with pink icing of course and little sugar flowers. I needed to stop thinking about Van, it was getting obsessive. I didn’t want to end up on face book making hate groups for every woman he had a conversation with as that’s where it seemed to end up with his fans.

I gave Masa my full attention and banned myself from thinking about Van for the rest of the day.

          One of the great things about America is that there is always SOMEWHERE open. I bought no end of cupcake ingredients from a local health food store that was open practically 24/7. They were a Vegan’s idea of heaven with every kind of fake meat and fake cheese you could think of. I spent way too much in there, but I figured I don’t really spoil myself very often. The most recent thing I bought of any value was the picture for Sofia. I should text her, just to check Van’s ok. I should text her because I love her to pieces, but also to check on Van. I could pretend it was purely in a professional sense, but I knew she’d see through it. She had a read on me that I’d never experienced with anyone else before, even people I’d known since childhood.

          I got back to the flat, the caffeine from the coke streaming through my veins. I wasn’t going to sleep. I set about making batch after batch of cupcakes, leaving the TV on in the background so I didn’t feel so lonely. It just so happened the cake program was having another marathon, so I could compare mine to the ones on the TV. Theirs won obviously, but mine were ok considering I’m not someone who bakes very often. I’d leave them to ice tomorrow, it was gone midnight when I was done, and regardless of how little sleep I thought I would get, I needed to try.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Fallout

Van woke me by throwing random objects at my bedroom door and yelling that breakfast was ready. He was up before me! Now that was a first. I still hadn’t recovered from the exhaustion of last night. Call me melodramatic, but it was so draining as I know I was getting as much attention as Van was (though very little of it was good)

My phone was flashing manically with missed calls and texts. I opened the first;

          ‘Why wasn’t I the first to know you were pregnant? I’ve had newspapers calling me up wanting my version of events. What do I tell them?’

Her voice messages were along the same vein, though each successive one got more hysterical, her voice getting higher and higher. I’d left my phone on silent as I didn’t want to get woken up. Maybe I should have turned it off altogether. The other voice messages were from magazines wanting interviews about the baby and wishing me congratulations. Ooops.

          I threw on a robe and wandered out to the smell of bagels being cooked, and something else…

          “YOU FOUND CRUMPETS!” I squealed, running over to hug him.

Yes, I had more important things to be worrying about now, but there is no love like the one between a girl and crumpets. I felt like a crack whore being given a hit just from the smell.

          “Yup. Sit down I’ll bring them over.” He was amused by me, as usual.

          “We have a problem. No, we actually have several problems. Have you checked your phone today?” My voice was growing higher the more I thought about it.

He shook his head and yanked the crumpets out of the toaster, popping them on a plate and putting a thin layer of vegan marge over the top. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. What was I saying? Oh yes.

          “Well I have a lot of voice messages from my hysterical mother and several magazines that want all the gossip about the twins.” My tone peaked out of hysteria and disbelief. It had been funny yesterday, now…my mum was never going to speak to me again!

He looked at me in confusion and carried the plate over to the table, setting it before me before planting a soft kiss on the top of my head. What the hell?

          “The twins, you know, Zebedee and Loony.” I snorted at the names.

          “Oh.” He said, turning away to hide the laughter.

          “Oh indeed.” I said, sinking my teeth into a crumpet.

Better get this over with. I dialed mum’s number, chewing slowly. This was going to be very, very bad.

          “Georgiana! I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day! You are all over the news over here and in the papers.”

Shit.

          “Mum, I know what it looks like, but it was all a big joke. Come on, my stomach is flat in those pictures, and I haven’t been out here six months so how could I be that far gone?” I took another bite and paused for breath.

          “No baby?” She asked, sounding deflated.

          “No mum, I’m sorry. Don’t you think you’d be the first to know if there was? I don’t want kids. That hasn’t changed and I doubt it ever will if it hasn’t by this point. Van is wonderful, but he’s my boss, not the father of my fake babies.”

          “I am slightly relieved as I had some concerns over the name choices.” She always did get straight to the crux of the problem.

          “You think I’d let my kids be called Zebedee and Loony? If anyone else calls, just say ‘no comment’, hell if you like take the money and make something up, just don’t talk about Van ok as he has a career and it’s kinda my job to ensure that doesn’t go down the toilet.”

          “You sound different.” She said.

          “How do you mean?” I asked, feeling cagey.

          “Happy. Healthy. Perky even. I’m not used to it is all, it’s a relief actually, you don’t know how long your dad and I have worried that we’d come home and find you swinging from the loft hatch.” Such nonchalance for the subject matter!

Awesome. Thanks mum. I looked over and Van to see if he could hear, but he was tidying up in the kitchen, humming to himself.

          “Could you get copies of any mags or papers? They’d be great to look back on when I have to go back to a crappy retail job.”

She laughed slightly, still sounding disappointed. I hadn’t even thought she would hear about it, let alone this quickly.

          “I saw you get attacked, are you ok?” Her tone softened a little.

          “Yeah. Van’s fan girls hate me with a passion. They think I’m using him to advance my career or something. There are hate groups dedicated to me on face book.” I said with a laugh. She didn’t return it. I wasn’t sure she knew what FB was.

          “Be careful Georgiana.”

          “Van won’t let anything happen to me. He’s very protective. We were just winding the media up last night as the premiere was dragging. It was amazing though, the film was great, you both need to go see it when it comes over there.”

          “George, the UK premiere is in a fortnight, I thought maybe you’d want to come?” Van said from across the room.

          “See, I’m his PA and I have no idea of what’s going on. He should fire me.” I said with a laugh.

          “It would be good to see you George. Would it be in London?”

          “I assume so, yeah. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I know them. Take care mum.”

          “You too. Bye.

I hung up and sighed. I didn’t really want to go back to England if I was honest. It was just rain, grey skies and the old me, the one I thought would remain there forever and not follow me here. She might jump on the plane home and get back with me. I finished the crumpets and carried the plate over to the sink. Van was chewing on his fingers.

          “What’s wrong my love?” I said.

It was something I said to everyone, regardless of whether I loved them or not. I hadn’t even thought about it, but he looked surprised.

          “What? Van? What’s wrong?”

          “Nothing.” He mumbled. “Just tired I guess. Yesterday was draining. We don’t have anything for a few days, so I thought I might go to New York and see Luke.”

          “That’s a great idea. I’m going to get in contact with your agent and see why there’s such a waiting time on actually getting the scripts. They’re really doing a sucky job at the moment. Anything you need me to do while you’re gone?”

He shook his head and left the room, still chewing on his fingers. Had I said something wrong or done something to offend him? I thought back on the conversation and couldn’t think of anything, but then I had a habit of talking without thinking.

          I followed him to his room and knocked on the door. He called me in.

          “Talk to me, what’s wrong?” I asked as he began packing a suitcase.

          “I’m fine, really. I’m just tired and have a lot on my mind.” He avoided looking at me as he grabbed things from drawers and threw them in the case.

          “Anything I can help with?”

He shook his head. I took it as a sign to leave, closing the door softly behind me. His mood had just dropped out of nowhere. I must have said something, but what?

 

I had expected him not to leave until the next day, or at least the evening, but he was gone within the hour. I’d been given a curt goodbye, a hurt look lingering in his eyes as he closed the door behind him. What the hell was going on?

I felt like curling up in a ball and crying. Everything had been going so incredibly well, I should have known something would happen to ruin it, that it couldn’t last. I wandered around the apartment morosely, not really knowing what to do with myself. I’d gotten out of practice of being alone and I hated it now. Before it had been necessary as I’d never found anyone I really cared enough about to be around all the time. Former boyfriends had been kept close for fear of being alone, and they had done the same to me, cheating, stealing and using me in a hundred different ways.

          I snuck into his room and stole his robe, putting it on even though I was hot. It still smelt like him and the aftershave he used which I could identify on any man that wore it. I’d even squealed at Masanobu that he was wearing it. It had scared him a little by how excited I was by the fact, but he was frequently freaked out by me. We’d been chatting via text, unable to make schedules click again, but now that I had a few days off and no Van, I really wanted to see Masa. It might have been a case of loneliness and Van replacement therapy, but Masa was a good guy and I enjoyed his company (when he actually spoke) it would be good to see someone other than Van for once. To be a normal person in normal surroundings, or at least as normal as this place got.

          I rang Masa but he didn’t pick up, so I left a message telling him I was free and happy to meet up at any time as I had no plans. It sounded a little desperate, but he wasn’t the kind of man to judge me like that, he’d hopefully just be happy that we’d finally get together. He was how I used to be, scared to talk to people for fear of rejection or ridicule. As my mother had said, I’d changed. I was a tiger mother now (without the kids) ensuring that my ward (Van) ate, slept, didn’t smoke too much and had all his veggies. Since we’d moved in together he’d become practically Vegan. We cooked together, so it was just easier to use meat replacement, and he didn’t miss meat he had admitted. I could put money on him binging on the stuff in New York though. I rarely thought about meat anymore, but I did miss the ease of it, just going in somewhere and picking anything off the menu, instead of having to ask exactly what was in everything.

          I sat at the table and stared out of the window, feeling a bit useless. I was used to planning my life around Van and had grown to hate my free time, unless it involved spending it with him. We’d become inseparable, going shopping, watching Breaking Bad obsessively together (he was now as hooked as I was), we’d even baked together once after he’d gotten excited about finding a recipe for Vegan muffins online. They sucked, but that wasn’t the point. It was fun and a ’couple’ thing. I’d ended up with more of the batter in my hair than in the bowl after Van had decided to start flicking it at me, but the side of me that worried about that kind of thing didn’t seem to exist here. I didn’t buy into the ‘stiff upper lip’, ‘uptight’ British stereotype, but it was true in my case, or maybe it was the sun? The new surroundings? Having a job I loved? I could tell myself whatever I wanted, but I knew it was down to Van, and Sofia. I found myself wishing she lived closer, but she was in New York, as was Van.

          I sent him a text to let me know that he got there safely, and set about cleaning. The flat was never messy, but I went OCD and moved all the furniture, dusting, sweeping, mopping, cleaning, washing… I emptied Van’s washing basket and dragged his and my clothes down to the laundry room, feeling sad as we usually did this together. I had no one to chat to as the machine went through its cycle, so settled for staring at a wall and brooding. Once the stuff was in the drier, I began checking my phone every two minutes to see if Van or Masa had messaged me. They hadn’t. I texted my mum and then began neurotically tidying up the laundry room. I had to keep busy or I was going to drive myself mad. I’d done it before. The Devil makes work for idle hands or whatever the saying is. If I had too long to think, I would do an excellent job of depressing the crap out of myself. I would dissect every conversation and look for signs that I’d messed up, or that he had been acting the whole time just to make working with me easier and he’d now had enough of it. Living together maybe hadn’t been the best idea, but he’d suggested it. Did he think I was getting too attached? Well duh, of course I was, he was wonderful. How could I not?

          I remembered what Sofia had said about his previous PA using him. Did he think I was doing the same? I couldn’t think of any time where I’d taken advantage to my knowledge. Everything he had done for me, he had offered, I’d never asked. Or was this something else entirely and I was reading too much into it? Was it simply that this place was getting to him again? But that wouldn’t explain why he was in such a good mood when I first got up and then it disappeared after I’d spoken to my mum. What had I said that could have upset him? I was going around in circles.

          I took the clothes from the drier and lugged them back upstairs. I loved this building, I loved the flat, I loved the view over the skyline and the sun, I loved living with Van and I especially loved how close we had gotten recently. I wasn’t ready to give all that up. If I had to, I’d move back to that shit hole, that was fine, but I couldn’t give Van up. I couldn’t comprehend my life without him now. He was the first thing I thought of when I woke and the last thing at night, and it wasn’t just because I was his PA, that didn’t even come into it. I loved him. It had been creeping up on me for a while now, but I’d just thought it was a silly crush like the rabid fan girls. I knew it wasn’t now. It was a lot stronger. Yesterday had been proof in the way I’d wanted to defend him. I couldn’t stand the idea that people were upsetting him. I had risked pissing off some serious players around here just so they would leave him alone. I wasn’t scared when he was around, I was this braver, stronger version of the girl who’d left England all those weeks ago. I had fallen so hard in such a short amount of time.

          Moping wasn’t helping. I set his iPod to random and turned the docking station on. I couldn’t help but smile at the song that came out of it. ‘Rhythm of Love’ by Plain White Tees. It was a song I’d had in my head for a whole week once and couldn’t stop singing. I’d driven him half mad with it, humming, singing even though I didn’t know the words… Evidently he missed me repeating it all the time as I didn’t think it had been on there before (I’d stolen his iPod every time mine needed charging and he did the same with mine, loving my cheesy 80’s tracks.) Well, it was now in my head for another week. I wasn’t going to mope, I was going to jump around like a nutter, something I hadn’t done in a while. I let my hair down (literally, I’d had it in a bun) and started hopping around in a weird, stupid dance that people only do when they don’t think they’re being watched. I hope to God he hasn’t got security cameras in here. He’s probably sat in New York laughing his arse off and streaming it to the internet. The fan girls would love that.

          After the fifteenth time on repeat, I couldn’t stand it anymore and turned it off. The forced happiness hadn’t lasted. It was growing dark outside now the sun had set, and he hadn’t replied to my message. I hoped that was because he didn’t want to talk to me and not because he was hurt. I was being paranoid. He was fine, he was just enjoying seeing Luke. I was tempted to message Sofia, but I didn’t want to hassle her. She was a freaking world famous super model after all and had better things to do than listen to my angsty whining.

           I fell asleep in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with my phone in my hand, checking it obsessively. Even my mum hadn’t replied. I was feeling a little unloved, watching people scream abuse at each other on a talk show to cheer myself up. (I slept with my sister’s friend’s cousin’s goat and then her brother’s neighbour’s dog, or something equally confusing.) Talk shows in England were pretty tame compared to that.

The Premiere

I had begun counting the days down until ‘P’ day, and each hour closer that it came, the more my anxiety began to climb. Life was great apart from that, Van and I got on like a house on fire, doing chores together, not having a single argument about anything and getting a lot of prep done for things that weren’t happening for a while. I was almost giddy with happiness most of the time, and he seemed content too. He was eating properly, only smoking two or three cigs a day and was down to two coffees. He was sleeping better, his eyes weren’t ringed anymore and in general he looked bright eyed and bushy tailed. I’d like to think it was down to me being such great company, but I knew it was because he was finally looking after himself like a sane person.

          I had worried that living with him would make me see parts of his character that I wouldn’t like I.E; leaving dirty underwear all over the place, not cleaning up after himself, picking his nose and other gross ‘boy’ habits, but he had none that I could find. He was surprisingly domesticated, but I supposed that was probably due to living with a twelve year old boy and being responsible for raising him. Luke split his time between Sofia’s and Van’s, but both were such incredibly wonderful people, he would end up being an eco-warrior or curing cancer. This was the difference between older men and ones my own age. Every guy I had dated had expected me to be their mother and I wasn’t willing to do that 9apart from with Van). I don’t like nagging, I just find it is sometimes a necessary evil, and I would get so worn down by fighting over dishes, washing, cleaning the bathroom…I wasn’t going to be anyone’s slave. Van being a ‘grown up’ (solely in the numerical sense) could and did take care of himself, and the flat was always as tidy as it would be if I lived alone.

          We spent a whole morning washing and drying clothes, talking about our childhood’s and all the other parts of getting to know someone. I knew his favourite colour, his shoe size, his favourite foods, the toothpaste he used, what he loved, what made him angry, where he refused to shop, his political views, his stances on gay marriage (it was big in the news at the moment, but neither of us could see what the fuss was about. England had civil partnership, and quite rightly so. The fact that it was still being debated in some states made us both angry. As long as it’s between two consenting adults, it’s no one else’s business.)

We’d buy a newspaper each day and dissect the articles, we’d buy trashy magazines and see which celebrity Van was apparently dating that week (usually he’d never even met the person!) and the projects he was supposedly tied to (he’d never heard of half of it) and as his PA, I liked to think I’d have some clue if he were working on them.

Life was good. No, it was better than good, it was damn near perfect. All I could possibly ask for would be a dog and a garden where I could grow fruit and veg. Oh and for Van and I to be married. Not asking for much really.

 

The day before the ‘event’ I contacted the hair stylist and make-up artist that Sofia had recommended. They were friendly and very sweet sounding on the phone, putting me at ease instantly. I think Sofia must have warned them about my premiere virginity, but they were old hands, even though both were in their mid-twenties. I was trying to enquire about cost, when they told me it was covered. Sofia had done it as a gift to me. I felt like crying. She already had done so much for me, how could I possibly pay her back or show my appreciation?

          “Van, could you give me Sofia’s address?”

          “Uh oh, why?” He was watching a ‘fail’ video on the internet, something that I had gotten him into. The flat was always full of the sound of one of us laughing like drains as people fell off things or ‘failed’ epically.

          “I want to do something to say thank you for all her help with the dress and everything. Does she like flowers?” It was lame, but I couldn’t think of anything.

          “Hay fever.” He said, biting back a snort. It just sounded cute when he did it.

          “Chocolates?”

          “You want to buy a model chocolate?” His eyes left the screen and met mine with an incredulous expression.

          “Good point. What then?”

          “She loves interesting art, the weirder the better. I’ll show you who she’s currently into, and they’re not extortionate either.”

He was right, I could afford to buy her something even though it was on the small side. Urgh! Why couldn’t I just have enough to spoil the people I loved? We arranged for it to be sent to her in New York, and I felt a tiny bit better.

         

The day dawned. It would be a whole day of prep apparently which I was dreading. They were literally taking me apart and putting me back together again. All Van had to do was shower, dress and arrive. I hated men, they had it so easy. I personally would have just rocked up in my tatty jeans, but it was Van’s night and I didn’t want to do anything that would make him look bad, and if I looked awful, it would reflect badly on him. That was Hollywood -as I was learning to my horror. So that meant me being buffed, waxed, plucked, painted, filed, brushed, styled and god only knows what else. The Hollywood elite thought nothing of spending a whole day at the salon getting ready, but I would need a lot more work than them on account of me being a virgin and all.

          Van would be clearing out of the flat so the ladies could work their magic and I’d be meeting him there so he would be all surprised when I turned up looking like an actual female and not the freak in the bloody shirts or knackered jeans. But first, to the salon! The hair stylist worked at the one closest to me, so it made sense to go there. I was shaking when I arrived, my legs wanting to run in the opposite direction, but Hayley had me giggling within minutes. She was so incredibly sweet, it was like she had been separated from this crazy superficial world. She’d worked with all kinds of crazy famous people (not least Sofia) but she was so humble and normal (my brand of normal) that we were chatting like old friends before an hour was out. I even found it hard to hate her when she tore all my leg hair out with wax strips and plucked unholy hell out of my brows. She made sure I still looked like me, keeping my eyebrows close to their natural shape, just neatening them up a little. It made me realise how sadistic women are. Why would you choose to endure this on a weekly/monthly basis? It’s crazy! And bloody painful! I was going to be exhausted before I even got to this thing and my skin would probably be bright red and throbbing. I was going to look like a cooked lobster with a facial injury. I no longer needed the butterfly stitches, but the cut was obvious. I didn’t think foundation or make up would cover it and frankly I didn’t want it to. Despite all the changes that were being made to me, I wanted to point out to all the shallow, vain people that it’s ok to be flawed. I made a point of asking Sariah the make-up artist if she would let it be shown.

          So, I was aching all over, my skin stung, my fingers felt weird from all the filing of my nails and the glue to stick the falsies on, I was unable to move for long periods of time so things could be done to me and I was starting to feel like I’d been taken out of my skin and put in someone else’s. I was also scared. Scared that I’d want to be like this forever, and also that Van would love how I looked when I was buffed to within an inch of my life and would expect me to be like that forever. I loved him, but I didn’t know if I could cope with having my brows plucked and all the rest for my entire life (or however long he employed me.)

          Once there was nothing left to do on my body, Hayley turned to my hair. They were dying, bleaching, trimming and styling it, though it wouldn’t be in the style I’d be wearing it tonight or it would be ruined before I got there. I had foil sticking out of my head and a cape around me, looking for all the world like some steam punk Oiran, itching all over but unable to scratch as my hands were under the cloak and I was too scared to do anything.

I think I fell asleep at some point and woke to the foil being pulled out. It hurt like a bitch. I was feeling disorientated and confused and took a while to remember where I was.

 

When it was all finally finished, I couldn’t help but be impressed by my smooth legs (I usually shaved and wasn’t good at it), my hair that was now a gorgeous golden blonde rather than the dull shade I’d sported before, the highlights making it look sun kissed. Had it been worth it? I didn’t have to look at me, so I would reserve judgment until Van saw me. He might be an actor, but if I looked bloody awful, it would be written across his face.

          Sariah and Hayley met me at the flat as I had finished a late lunch, texting Van to ensure he’d eaten (‘I had a coffee and a bagel, does that count?’ he’d replied. I rang him and gave him an earful, fuelled by my aching body and tiredness. I apologised profusely afterwards, but he found the little outburst amusing)

Then the real work began. My hair was first, and I had to say Sofia was bang on. I loved the ringlets they’d put into it, with most of it gathered up on my head. That doesn’t sound pretty when I say it, but it really was gorgeous. I looked like an adult, it was so weird seeing myself in the mirror. The girl looked a bit like me, but was freaked out.

My make-up was next and again, Sofia knew her stuff. Sariah stuck to colours that would complement my paleness and the pink dress, accentuating my eyes and lips and giving me the faintest blush that made me look surprisingly wide eyed and innocent. I looked like both a child and a woman. It was crazy. They then helped me dress and got me down to the car as I was shaking so hard I could barely walk. They would be driving me there before heading home.

          “I can’t thank you both enough. Seriously, thank you so very, very much.”

          “It was a pleasure doll.” Hayley said with her heavy Brooklyn accent and a wicked grin. “Here.” She handed me an expensive looking jewelry bag. “Van asked us to give you these.”

I opened the bag and took out two plush velvet boxes. Inside were earrings, a necklace and bracelet, all adorned with what looked like diamonds in patterns like feathers. He listened! I’d told him how much I loved wings and feathers, and he’s remembered. I just hoped these hadn’t cost too much. I could feel myself welling up at how good everyone was being to me, like I was in a fairytale with a fairy godmother.

          “Don’t you dare cry!” Sariah said from the front seat.

I blinked back the tears and swallowed several times, trying to compose myself.

          “Well, here we are Cinderella.” Hayley said with a giggle.

How did she know what I’d been thinking? Van was stood at the curb waiting to open the door for me. He knew how scared I was and it was a relief to see him. The red carpet started where the car had stopped and ran all the way into the biggest cinema I had seen in my life. It was at least ten times the size of any I’d seen back home, and just looking at it from this far away made me feel tiny.

Van opened the door and extended a hand to me, helping me as I tried to balance on my heels. They sensibly weren’t very high, but it was like putting them on a chimp, I was worried about being that uncoordinated.

          Van looked…well, he always looked beautiful, stunning, sexy, perfect, wonderful, amazing…but in that suit…holy hell. I could see why the fan girls got so rabid over him as he really was something else. It was also completely unfair as I knew it had probably taken him all of half an hour to get read.

          “Miss. MacManus….Wow!” He said, his smile so wide I thought his face might split. “You look amazing. Truly.” He kept hold of my hand and linked his fingers through mine.

I told myself it was because he knew I couldn’t cope with the heels, but my heart was telling me it was more than that. Stupid heart.

He made me give him a twirl which was difficult, but the dress flowed out beautifully like the petals of a blossom. I felt…pretty, for the first time in my life I felt like I might not stick out like a freak in this parade of beautiful creatures.

          “Georgiana, I can’t get over how beautiful you look.” His eyes had taken on a slightly glazed and dreamy look, and my heart went completely mental.

The excitement of his approval displaced my terror briefly, but once Van stepped out of my line of sight and I could see all the people…well, my knees locked, my palms began to sweat and I had to concentrate on my breathing.

          “I won’t let go of you all night, I promise.” He said, putting an arm around my waist as we started to walk up the carpet.

This was completely insane. I was just some nothing girl from a small town in England, the most glamorous event I’d attended back home was the Leaver’s Ball at school, and that had descended into a drunken mess after an hour. I’d managed to sprain my ankle after being there ten minutes and spent the night with my foot on a chair, trying not to cry from the agony. I couldn’t leave because I couldn’t walk, and two people (who had ditched me the second we’d gotten here) were staying at my house. Not the best night of my life.

          “Van, I can’t thank you enough for the beautiful jewelry, but you’re taking it all back!”

He stopped walking and looked at me, really looked. He took my face between his hands and gently kissed the line of my cut.

          “They could have hacked you to ribbons and you’d still be the most beautiful girl here.” He said, taking my hand again.

Thank goodness for the twenty layers of makeup as I was blushing like I never had before.

          There were crowds on both sides of the carpet, kept back by security and metal gate things. Van’s name was being screamed from both sides. On the right were the paps and TV stations, on the left, the public. Van went straight to the left, ignoring the interviewers yelling his name over and over. He gave his fans a one handed, one fingered salute and they all returned it, laughing hysterically. Despite the fact that there were other successful actors in this movie, there wasn’t one person with a banner saying any of their names.

          I looked over the sea of happy faces and the many, huge, coloured card banners. Most of them were; ‘We love you Van’, or ‘Van, Van, he’s our man!’ or even slightly cringe-y ‘I want to have your babies Van’. Nice. He took it all in stride and chatted with everyone he passed. The girls were scrambling to get closer to him, pushing and shoving each other in desperation. Would that be me if I didn’t have his hand in mine? I doubted it, I wasn’t the kind of person to fight through a crowd, but if I had heard of him before I came here, my internet browsing history would probably be full of his fan-sites where I had been cyber stalking him.

I noticed that whilst the faces were smiling joyously when looking at Van, they either fell, or turned nasty when they saw me. Holding his hand. It should have been them in their opinion as they loved him far more than I ever could. I noticed a couple of people pointing it out, whispering behind hands and narrowing eyes at me. I smiled to them, hoping they might see that I really wasn’t a bad person. I wasn’t a good one, but I wasn’t bad either. I hadn’t done anything to garner this loathing and muck spreading. I loved him as much as they did. Surely if that was the only reason they hated me, they should be tearing chunks out of each other for the same thing.

          I released his hand slowly so he could be in photos, sign autographs and chat to people, but his eyes always returned to me, smiling in a dappy way when he saw I was looking at him too. Was he drunk? That was the only explanation I could come up with as he’d never looked at me like that before, or was it that he was starting to see me as a female now that I had been stuck in a pretty dress and made up?

A couple of women near the front of the crowd were trying to get my attention. I’d been standing out of arm’s reach just in case they felt like scratching my eyes out, but they were smiling warmly.

          “Miss. MacManus?” One of them called, a middle aged woman in a t-shirt with Van’s face on it. She had his name across her forehead in face paint.

          “Hi.” I said, feeling like an idiot. “Thank you for coming out to support Van.” My voice shook in the most ridiculous way so that I sounded like a goat given words.

          The woman looked over and Van to check he wasn’t listening, before grabbing my arm and pulling me to her.

          “We all want you to fucking go and die.” She said, digging his nails into my arm.

I couldn’t fight her off due to the press of bodies in front of me. I couldn’t flip around and pin her arm to her back as everyone was so closely packed. Another hand grabbed my arm, and another, all pulling me to them and sinking talons into my flesh. I didn’t know what to do, looking around desperately for security. One of the tuxedoed guards rushed over and saved me, his eyes wide in horror at the marks they’d left on my arm. He called over his colleagues over his walkie-talkie and they ejected the women from the crowd.

Blood was trickling down my arm. How? Could nails break skin so easily?

          “One of them had a ring on the tip of her finger that had a sharp point on it.” One of the guards said, taking me arm and leading me to the entrance of the theatre.

          Van appeared of my side looking haunted.

          “What happened?” He asked breathlessly.

          “I’m ok Van, don’t worry.” I said, trying to be breezy, but my shaking hands gave me away.

The guard explained to him what had happened and he looked at the crowd in disgust. He pulled me into an embrace, being careful of my wrist, his arms wrapped around my waist made me feel safe and loved even. I couldn’t feel the pain from the cuts when he did that.

          “I’ll come in with you.” He said, taking my hand in his.

          “Don’t be silly. As your PA, I demand you go mingle. I’ll get this cleaned up and come back out.” I tried to smile, but it felt false. It was a shame I wasn’t an actor sometimes.

He pressed a hand gently to my cheek and asked the security guards to look after me. They both smiled at him, then at me. They clearly thought it was cute. I did too.

I held my arm as far from my dress as I could, the guards taking my elbows gently and helping me inside. Had they known how much I was struggling with these bastard heels?

          “He really cares about you.” The guy who had saved me said.

I blushed and chewed on my lip.

          “Thank you both so much, I didn’t know what to do when she grabbed me.”

          “It’s our job. We should have been there quicker.” The other one said, sounding annoyed with himself.

          “Well, you’re my heroes.” I said smiling.

It was lucky the carpet was red from the droplets I was leaving on it, the material drank them up until it blended in, a different hue, but barely noticeable.

They patched me up quickly, cleaning the cuts and covering them with gauze. They were so gentle. It was completely at odds with the tall, well build men that had performed the task. They helped me back to Van’s side and he turned his full attention to me. I thanked the security guards again and looked to Van. His eyes were full of concern, and his hand quickly found mine. It was then I realised my bracelet was gone.

          “Shit.” I hissed. “Van, they took that beautiful bracelet you gave me.” My throat was tightening again. Crying would be the worst thing to do, but I couldn’t believe those bitches not only cut me, embarrassed me, but also stole from me. Some people had no morals.

          “That’ll be on e-bay tomorrow then.” He said with a grimace. “There’s nothing that can be done about it now unfortunately. I’ll get you another one.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

          “I don’t want another one, I feel bad enough that you bought me that one!”

          “Well now the set isn’t complete, I can’t return it. Looks like you’ll be keeping them. Sucks to be you.” He said with a laugh.

          “Go on, shoo, mingle, work the crowd.” I said. “Oh by the way, have you eaten?”

He stuck his tongue out at me and squeezed my hand, an eyebrow raised in something of a challenge. I ‘saluted’ him with both hands, sticking my tongue out too. The crowd copied me, aiming it at Van. Some of them were nice it seemed.

          “Just try and kick my ass with all these witnesses.” He thought he was safe! He clearly had no idea of how much damage I could do with these heels.

          “Don’t think I won’t bucko, your ass is mine when we get out of here.” I whispered in his ear, smiling.

          “Kinky.”

He began chatting to fans again, but was loathe to let go of my hand. When he did, it was so briefly I barely noticed.

Three girls that were half way down the line turned to me once they’d spoken to Van.

          “We’re so sorry those hateful bitches attacked you. We’re not all like that.” The girl was about my age, slightly shy like me. She was slim and short, with hair of the shade mine had been before it was dyed. I wanted to hug her for showing me some kindness after those hateful hags had attacked me.

          “Thank you.” I said, not knowing what else to say, and worried that she would turn into a psycho and tear my arm from its socket.

          “Some of his fans love you for getting him to cut down on the cigs. We’ve been nagging him for years.” She said with a laugh. Yay! I had the fan base helping me in my crusade! Awesome!

          “Keep at it my lovely, maybe it’ll happen once day.” I said, keeping out of arms reach, but trying to be friendly. She was lovely! Part of me felt that she deserved to be in my position far more than I did, she’d probably been dedicated to Van for years.

          “They stole your bracelet didn’t they?” She said, looking at my wrist.

I nodded, not wanting to speak for fear of welling up again.

          “Here.” She said, unfastening her silver charm bracelet and handing it to me.

          “That is so sweet, but I couldn’t possibly take it.” I was blushing. I was awful at accepting gifts, and she clearly had been meticulously collecting the charms for a while. I felt awful, but she wouldn’t accept a no.

          “Please. I would love to see it in a magazine. You can give it back to me at his next premiere.” She said with a grin.

          “That is incredibly sweet of you. What’s your name?”

          “Leila.” She said, fastening it around my unwounded wrist for me.

          “Thank you so much Leila, it’s beautiful.” I loved how it tinkled whenever I moved my hand. I examined the charms and found an apple, a horseshoe, hearts and any other number of mini silver items. It was gorgeous. I felt awful for taking it, but I didn’t know how to refuse without being rude.

          “But only until the next premiere.” I said smiling warmly at her. “Did you get to speak to Van?”

          “No, I got pushed out of the way.” She said sadly.

          “Hold on, I can fix that.”

I tugged Van’s hand gently, and when he was finished talking to one of the fans he turned to me.

          “This is Leila, she just leant me this beautiful bracelet.” I said.

He couldn’t have been sweeter to her, posing for photos, chatting, signing things and even speaking to her friend on the phone who couldn’t make it. Her expression said it all, she was as giddy over him as I was.

          “Message me on twitter and we’ll arrange for me to give this back.” I said, giving her a hug. It seemed like the right thing to do, and no one tried to drag me behind the gating and murder me. Small mercies.

          Once we’d reached the end of the line of fans, Van had to go over to the paps waiting impatiently on the other side.

          “God I hate this.” He said through gritted teeth.

          “It’ll be over before you know it.” I said.

He still had hold of my hand and made no move to let go. He lead me over to the baying mob and stopped to talk to the first interviewer, a platinum blonde with huge…eyes. And boobs. Huge, fake, plastic boobs that were hard to look away from -and I’m a girl. Van was perfect though, he met her eyes and ignored ‘the girls’, being his usual charismatic self.

She turned to me and stuck the mike in my face.

          “How are you enjoying the premiere George?” She said, her expression making it evident that she didn’t give a shit about anything I had to say, she wanted to trip me up, but would lead me into a false sense of security with simple questions at first.

          “Georgiana.” Van corrected.

 He knew I hated it when people I didn’t know shortened my name. I found it rude.

          “Georgiana…you got in some trouble earlier.” Oh she was thrilled about that! I could see her eyes glowing as she relived it in her head.

I nodded.

          “I’m not the most popular girl here tonight.” I said, looking at her and not the huge camera that was pointed at me. I could hear the tremor in my voice, and felt Van’s arm snake around my side.

          “You two seem pretty close.” She said, looking between us. She did not approve. It was amazing what you could read from a look; I wasn’t good enough, I was plain, dull, unworthy and should pack my bags and go back to England.

          “We drove to Vegas last night and got married.” Van said in a serious voice.

          “And I’m six months pregnant with his child.” I added.

I hadn’t known him six months, but what the hell! Might as well start some rumours that weren’t as offensive as ‘I used to be a man.’

          “Really?!?” She said in shock. “Your stomach is so flat!”

Van placed a hand over my tummy and rubbed it in a paternal way, his eyes on my stomach. He’d be talking to it next. I wondered what he’d call out fake baby. I was trying to think of something completely mental just to see how people reacted.

          “The baby’s tucked up under her ribs apparently.” He said grinning.

I bit back a laugh. Baiting the media was fun! What other ridiculous things could we make up? How was she believing this! I knew it would come back and bite me in the arse, but for now I’d enjoy it, it was a game we played together, trying to outdo each other with ridiculous things.

          “Well, congratulations! That’s…wow.” She said in badly suppressed surprise. Of course no man would impregnate a skinny little freak like me right?

          We moved on to the next person and were amazed that the news of my pregnancy had already spread right to the other end of the line, people were yelling out congratulations so that we might move down to them quicker. Uh oh. I just hoped my mum didn’t see this or I would have some serious explaining to do, not least because I told her I didn’t want kids. It was getting to the point where she was going to start bribing me soon as she was so desperate for a grandchild.

          “So you’re expecting? How exciting!” Another blonde, another pair of ridiculous boobs. Another mike shoved in my face with such speed I was scared she was going to knock a couple of my teeth out.

          “Yes, we’re very pleased.” Van said, his hand still on my stomach.

          “Do you know the sex?” She screeched in a fake, over perky tone.

          “Twins, one of each.” I said. I couldn’t look at Van or I’d be giggling.

Van bit his lip to stop himself laughing.

          “Any names planned?” She asked, looking at me with revulsion.

          “We’ve been arguing over that actually. Mac wants something traditional, but I was thinking something more original. I like Zebedee for a boy and Loopy for a girl.”

I had to turn away and pretend to cough. How was he keeping a straight face? The interviewer’s expression dropped, before she remembered herself and gushed at how cute they were. What the fuck? They weren’t cute, they were mental! Giving those names to a kid was bordering upon child abuse. No fake child of mine was being called Loopy.

          We moved on to the next, and the next and the next. It was exhausting, but also hilarious. Not being an actress myself, I found it harder to keep from laughing, but generally hid it behind a cough. Van was having a field day, changing the names for more insane ones the further down the line we got.

          “We’re going to get in so much trouble.” I whispered.

          “Trust me, this is no weirder than some of the things I’ve read about myself. I’ve been abducted by aliens, part of a drug cartel and a porn star. It’s insane the things people come up with.”

          “Well I used to be a man.” I said laughing.

          “I’m open-minded.” He said nudging me gently with his elbow.

By this point, the fans had heard about our fake baby, and were screaming hysterically to get Van’s attention. We’d gotten here really early (to the point where the other stars still weren’t due for another half an hour) so he walked back over to chat to them all again.

          “It’s a huge joke, she’s not six months pregnant. We haven’t known each other for six months.” He said laughing at the mix of ‘congratulations’ and ‘I’d have had your baby if you’d asked’ being yelled from the sea of people. They all gave him the one fingered salute which he returned with gusto. Usually by now he’d be on his tenth cigarette, but he hadn’t lit up once. He didn’t smell of smoke, so I guessed he hadn’t snuck any before I’d arrived either.

          The cameras were still snapping at us madly, and I realised I would possibly turn up in a magazine or two tomorrow. I would have to send a few to my parents, they would be so shocked. I couldn’t imagine how it felt to walk into a corner shop and be greeted by your own face on the front page of every mag on every shelf. Hopefully they’d Photoshop me out of them. It also meant more fodder for my haters to edit for their face book groups. They must be on their fourth or fifth page by now as they kept being removed. Heh heh heh.

          The cuts on my wrist were beginning to itch, but I tried to ignore it. Thinking of those itching made the ones on my back join in, along with the one on my cheek. I was feeling vain. Not wanting to scratch my cheek and ruin my makeup. Oh god, I was going Hollywood! The move to New York could not come soon enough!

          After Van had been chatting to the fans for a while, more cars began to pull up.

          “You might want to go inside - just about all my co-stars are complete ass holes.” He whispered in my ear.

          “90% of this city is, I need to get used to it for next year’s pilot season.”

He grinned so widely that his eyes almost disappeared. He clutched my hand a little tighter when one of the occupants of the cars approached. He was…well, he looked like an advert for steroid abuse. His t-shirt had had the sleeves ripped off to show off his muscles, though I was tempted to ask him to cover them up as the veins pulsing over them were making me feel ill. He strode over to Van like he thought he was God, ignoring the fans (not that many of them were interested)

          “Van.” He said in a snippy tone.

He turned to me and extended a hand. I gave him mine, but was suddenly terrified he might crush it. He pulled it to his mouth and kissed the back of it. I wanted to wipe it on my dress, but instead smiled sweetly.

          “This your PA? She’s hot.” He said, his eyes tracing my legs.

I shuddered, wanting to go shower as he made me feel dirty. Van’s hand tightened on mine, but he would be the diplomat today.

          “Georgiana, this is Bruce.” He said, his tone and blunt as steroid man’s.

          “I’m sure you know who I am.” He said with a wink.

I didn’t, I had absolutely no clue whatsoever. I could see Van bristling with every word this pumped up creep said, so thought I would have a little fun.

          “No, I’m afraid not.” I made my eyes wide and twirled a strand of hair around my finger, blinking more than I needed to.

          “You must have, I was in the ‘Dark’ series.”

I shook my head and smiled vacantly.

          “Bruce, Bruce Norris…” He looked devastated.

          “Afraid not. It doesn’t ring any bells.” I aimed for vapid and dumb.

He narrowed his eyes and stalked away, striding straight over the paps, who were only mildly interested in him.

          “He’s not the worst one.” Van said with a sigh as a stunning ash blonde sashayed over to him, ignoring me completely.

          “Van!” She hugged him and kissed both of his cheeks.

I gritted my teeth, noticing how she was trying to get between Van and I, even though he had his fingers laced through mine.

          “It’s so good to see you.” She purred, taking his free hand and pressing it between both of hers. He didn’t look happy. “So how have you been? I’ve missed you.” She made big eyes at him, constantly edging closer.

She was another Barbie doll with her tiny waist and perfect hair, but her boobs were of the joke sized variety. How could people take these women seriously? It didn’t matter if they had a degree in quantum physics, people would only see a walking pair of boobs. I was a girl and that’s all I was seeing.

          He was smiling politely, but I could tell he was looking for an excuse to leave.

          “I’ve decided to forgive you for not coming to lunch with me. I know how busy you are and all. Maybe we could spend some time together at the after party?” Her fingers were on her throat, her cleavage, her hips. I wanted to vomit.

          “I won’t be staying for it, but thank you anyway. Let me introduce Georgiana to you.” He said.

Her eyes started at my shoes and worked their way up and she clearly didn’t like what she saw. Her expression made me think she could smell something bad in the way she wrinkled her nose and slit her eyes at me.

          “Who are you wearing?” She asked.

          “My dress? Oh it’s from a small boutique just off the strip.” I told her the name, but she sneered at me.

          “I was sent this Versace dress yesterday. It was designed especially for me.”

          “How lovely.” I said, looking to Van for help. He shook his head, he was as lost as I was.

          “So who are you to Van?” She asked, stepping closer to me in a way that was meant to intimidate. In her six inch heels she towered over me, her false nails almost twice as long as mine. I had an image of her using them to gouge my eyes out.

          “I’m his PA.” I said quietly.

          “Oh is that all?” She said looking relieved. “I thought he’d gotten himself a girlfriend without telling me. We’re incredibly close you know.” She placed a hand on his chest and he unconsciously stepped back. They weren’t close, he cleared hated her. “All those weeks working together, you learn things about each other and share certain experiences.” She purred.

She may as well have marked her territory by peeing on him, she was so blatant about it. I wasn’t going to play her game, I had his hand in mine after all, which she hadn’t failed to notice.

          “Oh, he hasn‘t mentioned you. Maybe he doesn‘t want to make the other girls jealous.” I said with a gentle smile.

She stood open mouthed, unsure of how to react.

          “Van, have you been neglecting your good friend? That’s unworthy of you. Maybe we could all get lunch together. I’d love to know you better Miss….?”

Her whole face almost collapsed under the weight of her horror. I didn’t know who she was! How could that possibly be? I was getting depressingly good at being a bitch whilst seeming polite. I didn’t like it, but if it made her leave.

          “Violet DeBois.” She said in an icy tone. “The star of the ‘Holly’ trilogy and beloved of Broadway.” She was torn between horror and confusion. How could someone not have heard of her?

          “Ok.” I said, saying more with those two letters than a hundred sentences could have. I hated who I was beginning to turn into, I just hoped it was solely in defense of Van, but part of it was rooted in jealousy. He might hate her, but she was gorgeous.

          “So when would you like to get lunch?” I asked sweetly.

She pretended someone was calling her and rushed over to the line of media hounds, trotting like a dressage horse.

          “Who are you and what have you done with my innocent little George?” Van whispered in my ear.

          “Got rid of them didn’t it? And I genuinely have no clue who either of those people are.” I smiled sweetly at him.

          “Not an actress my ass.” He laughed as we headed into the cinema.

 

The movie itself was an action adventure, and Van was…amazing didn’t cut it. I was completely in love. His character was like a new Indiana Jones type, without the ‘sticking his tongue down the throat of every female going’ he was intelligent, witty and kick ass with hand to hand combat. I was on my edge of the seat the whole time.

          Violet played the generic ‘eye candy’ role and was a complete bitch throughout the film - just like in real life! Not much acting involved I think. Bruce was the meathead henchman of the bad guy, again, not much acting involved. The audience loved it, I loved it, even the critics were buzzing as they left. Van thanked the organisers, director and crew before we snuck off. He had no intention of going to the after party, and if we were spotted, he might be obliged too.

          “I should just tell them that being six months pregnant, I have to take you home.”

I rolled my eyes and him, loving that I came in an expensive, sleek, black (Bentley? Benz? I had no idea) thing and left in his truck. Very cool. The second I was inside I took off the heels and let out a relieved sigh. It felt amazing! It was almost worth wearing the damned things for all that time just for the feeling when I took them off. Van was loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

It had been a good night, not nearly as scary as I had thought and I’d made it through without any of his co-stars punching me out, or the media asking me why I was there as I had no right to be. The cuts on my wrist stung a little, and I realised since coming here I was gaining quite the collection, but it wasn’t so bad. A fly in the ointment, but no big deal.

 

It took me ages to get the bastard make up off when we got back, but once I had, I was snoring on the sofa within minutes. I woke the next morning in my bed, so could only assume Van had carried me in…and undressed me! The dress was carefully hung up on the front of the wardrobe, but thankfully I was still in my underwear. Lucky it had matched as usually I couldn’t care less about that kind of thing!