Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl

But if there ever was a time to leave it all behind, it probably would have been four months ago—the day I got pregnant.

The night of August 15th, 10:00 p.m.

Raquel

Public executions are supposedly illegal, but as a celebrity in the public eye, I beg to differ. If they were really enforcing that specific law, I wouldn’t be here tonight.

“Five, four, three, two, one…” The assistant director does a fancy swinging point with one hand while holding on to his headset with the other, and Niall Beans, the host of Late Tonight, smears a smile into place and greets millions of people through the power of technology.

He’s arguably the biggest face in late-night television, so it’s good business to be here. But the reason for his popularity isn’t exactly a glowing commentary on the human condition. The majority of his following comes from people who love to watch him make fun of, poke at, and altogether insult his guests.

Oh, goodie. Lucky me.

I fidget slightly on the white leather couch next to him, trying to make sure my too-short dress covers all the important bits and slap on a smile of my own—one I’ve trained myself to produce at the drop of a hat over the years.

Plug and play.

That’s how I always handle these press tours. I have answers cued up in the same way that I had the script to the movie I’m promoting memorized. They’re lines, choreographed by a team of half a dozen individuals to best represent both me as a person and solidify fans’ views of me as the famous Raquel Weaver they expect to see.

Which is, of course, ninety percent makeup, five percent styling, four percent staged, and a whopping one percent of who I truly am.

But when you’re promoting a movie like I am—Gray River Falls, a harrowing tale of a woman’s resilience in the face of her husband’s death—it doesn’t matter who you are. It doesn’t matter what you want or what you think. What matters is the movie and the studio’s multimillion-dollar investment.

“Welcome back to Late Tonight!” Niall says enthusiastically as the band plays a final beat on the drums and lays into the blare of a saxophone. “We’ve got the lovely, luscious Raquel Weaver, star of the buzzworthy film of the month, Gray River Falls, with us tonight, and that’s right…you guessed it! We’re playing everybody’s favorite—No Comment!”

Another sequence of music flares up to transition us into the segment as the stage we’re on spins over in front of a different backdrop. No Comment is Niall’s most popular segment and is designed around asking the kinds of questions that would normally elicit a star or their team to say “No comment.” They’re personal and pushy and almost always a form of harassment in one way or another. Unfortunately, despite the agreement to answer the questions you have to sign before you come on the show, Niall keeps booking stars. Probably because their contracts with the studios explicitly state they have no choice, just like mine does. No studio anywhere is going to be okay with skipping the number one show in late night on their press tour.

I cross my sky-high-heeled feet at the ankles and embrace the kind of posture no one has naturally—the kind that makes you look skinny, even sitting down.

The music fades away, and Niall turns to face me, a different kind of smile lighting his eyes with an eerie glow. “Thanks for being here, Raquel.”

I nod and smile much bigger than my emotional state calls for. On the inside, I am one stubbed toe away from an impressive mental breakdown. “Of course. It’s great to be here.”

“The movie’s been getting rave reviews. Honestly, I haven’t heard a bad word about it, even from Hughey Ballas, and we all know the kind of idiot he is.”

The audience laughs at his colorful description of the infamous movie critic, and I force my smile to grow a little deeper rather than cringing.

“Ah, well, it’s a terrific film,” I say with pride. “The whole cast has a caliber of talent I can’t even believe I got the chance to be a part of.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. And I’m sure the opportunity to watch the most famous virgin in show business have sex on camera isn’t a part of the popularity at the box office at all,” he says with a wink and a laugh. The audience follows suit and turns uproarious as I swallow around the discomfort in my throat. “Right?” he goads the bloodthirsty mob. “I know it sure helped me get motivated to watch it.”

Wow. Dirty bastard much?

I clench my teeth and dig my fingertips into the heavy sequined fabric in my lap to keep from saying something I shouldn’t.

“How was it?” Niall asks, turning to face me again. “Acting out something you don’t have any real experience in?”