Hollywood's Secret Baby

So enlarged is his ego that flagrantly swiping his finger down my arm wasn’t an action he even attempted to cover up. I know I wasn’t the only one to see it, but I was the one who should have protested. But like all those women I promised myself never to be, all I could do was stand there. Shocked into speechlessness. I didn’t put up any sort of confrontation. If anything, I was just another affirmation that Jeb Eli can have whatever he wants.

Even more than before, I feel lost at sea. Not only do I not belong at this party; I don’t belong in this city. I’m spiraling, running through all the regrets I’m having. From following Cory here in the first place to believing that I actually have what it takes to be a movie star.

Just five minutes earlier, I found the strength to navigate these celebrities and pretend that I belong, but now my feet flee. I’m outside the house and walking across the lawn without the slightest idea where I’m headed. I veer to the left to avoid the figure headed my way, when she calls out my name.

“Augusta?”

I didn’t recognize her before because the streetlights behind illuminated her silhouette while washing out all her other features. But now that she’s close, I recognize that lithe figure I was so jealous of the first time I met her.

“Joan?” It’s Cory’s assistant. The same one that took care of Lizzie during that fateful audition.

“I heard about Lizzie,” she says and holds up a plastic bag. “I stopped by the store and picked up a few things. You doing alright?” She’s leaned forward and focused on my face.

“Fine, fine.” But my tone is anything but. Leaking out around the words is the undeniable sound of stress breaking free of the bottle I’ve kept it so neatly stored up in until now. “Someone else already got drinks and medicine for Lizzie. But thanks.”

Joan nods at this. Calm. Collected. “Do you have a minute?”

I don’t respond except to maybe grunt and then follow behind this pretty thing. It’s while I’m watching walk, wishing I could fit into jeans like hers, that I make a connection. “You weren’t at the party?”

“Cory’s a good boss, so I don’t think he means it, but I don’t usually get invited to these sorts of shindigs.”

“But you came here for Lizzie?”

She shrugs. “I got a half-drunken call from Cory saying that I needed to pick up some stuff for her. Normally, I might just tell him to wait until the next day, but this is Lizzie.” She turns around for a second. “You’ve got a good kid. You should be proud of that.”

Before I can thank her for all the things she’s done up to this point that I’ve absolutely taken for granted, Joan stops to pull off her shoes, an action that I copy as we descend onto the beach. After another two minutes of walking, we're standing right where the waves end their long journey across the world, curling at our ankles before returning to the sea.

“The first time Cory asked me to bring something to him from the office, I got lost on the way to his house. This area’s way more ritzy than I’m used to. I remember getting out of my car and just walking around, convinced that I would be better off on foot. I think really I was just too nervous to drive. I mean, it was my first week at a real job, and I had landed the jackpot in working under Cory Flint of all people. Anyway, I ended up on the beach. I’d been so busy hustling that I hadn’t gotten down to the water for a good year or two. Smelling the ocean got me in this sort of nostalgic, dreamy mood, and when I finally managed to find Cory’s place and drop off whatever it is he wanted, I made a move on him.”

Even as I turn wide eyes at this thin, sexy thing standing beside me, she keeps staring off into the moonlight rippling across the living ocean water.

“He turned me down. Some people would say that he should have taken advantage. I mean, that’s what fame and power means, right? At least for men. That women throw themselves at your feet. And I’m ashamed to say I was once on of those fan girls. You know what he told me though? He said that he had a girl already. Which was news to me. I had never seen him go home with anyone. I mean, that’s why I thought I had a chance in the first place.”

She finally turns to meet my gaze.

“I hated you when we first met. Or, at least, I wanted to. Because I realized you were that girl he was talking about. And you weren’t special. Cory could have had anyone, but he chose you. It wasn’t fair. But then I got to know you. And Lizzie”

In the past hour, I’ve gone through just about the whole gamut of emotions. Now I don’t know whether to feel offended, grateful, jealous, or something else entirely. So I revert to confused. “But we’ve hardly said two words to each other before this.”

“Like I said,” Joan continues. “You’ve got a good daughter. While I was showing her around the studio, she couldn’t stop talking about you. About what you do. About how you were going to be this huge star. About the trip to Disneyland you were going to take. She’s quite the hype girl.”

I smile at this, because it’s true. Lizzie might push her boundaries (like drinking enough champagne to make herself sick), but I couldn’t ask for a more perfect daughter. The same can’t be said for her mother.

“Cory’s her father.”

Joan doesn’t act as shocked as I expected at this bombshell. “I figured.” She points to her nose. “All you have to do is look at them side-by-side to see that.”

“And Lizzie’s wrong. I’m not going to be a star. If can’t even hold myself up in front of Jeb Eli, how am I ever going to believe in myself when the cameras are rolling?”

“It’s terrible to say this, but welcome to the club. Now that you have your own Jeb Eli story, you’re a true member of Hollywood.” She pauses before adding, “In case you're wondering, my experience with Jeb Eli isn’t even worth commenting on. Others have much worse stories than mine.”

“Like Sarah.”

Joan nods.

“Hollywood isn’t what I expected,” I say, trying to discern where the water ends and the night sky begins. “I thought everything was going to be faster. Shallow. Like a thin gold layer on top of something worthless.”

Joan must be digesting this, because she says nothing. It’s the sound of the plastic bag in her hand shifting that signals her movement. I turn to meet her and we’re looking at each other. She takes my hand in hers, and when I think I’m going to need to turn down an unexpected romantic advance, she says, “Don’t let Cory fail. I see you struggling to keep your head above the water, but you can’t give up.” Joan’s grip tightens. “It’s not just about Cory. It’s bigger. If his movie is a success, despite Jeb’s attempts to shut it down, that means anybody can break free of Jeb’s grip. Right now he holds the keys to the city. Any star that wants power has to bend to him. Metaphorically and literally.” She blanches at this last part. “But you can break that. You and Cory and Sarah.”