“JENNY, CAN you smile a little wider? You look like you are at school picture day.”
“Uh, yes, I’m sorry. Sorry,” I say, giving a small wave of my hand, as if it will banish my dark thoughts.
The photographer nods and ducks back behind her camera, asking Kane Lucky to look “fatherly” toward me. It’s been a week since the film premiere for Fear Recoil and the movie opens this Friday. A popular movie magazine is having the cast on the cover for this week’s issue. Normally I would have been thrilled. But with everything that has unfolded over the last week, all I want to do is take a tub of cookie dough, curl up in bed and watch bad movies until the end of time.
Instead, I plaster a smile on my face that hopefully looks enchanting and stare at the camera. Kane Lucky tries to look fatherly, although I doubt he knows how, judging by the age of his dating history. Behind me, Marina is assisting the cast to get ready to move outside for the rest of the shots. I know it means I will be taken off to hair and makeup yet again. Photo shoots are exhausting.
“Okay, perfect. Let’s take a twenty-minute break and then get everyone ready for the second round of photos.”
I nod and everyone wanders off. I see one of my co-stars, Libby Montant, sneak outside to have a cigarette. I had been planning to sneak outside as well but Libby constantly acts as if her shit doesn’t stink and I don’t feel like being around that right now.
So instead I dart through the people working on the shoot, hoping to avoid any conversations and duck inside the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I exhale a little, my head throbbing. I was supposed to be enjoying this. This was my big break. My career was going to explode after this movie. Or at least that is what everyone is telling me. Filming on Beloved is almost complete. My small role on a slasher film will start soon after. I have people calling Jon for auditions instead of the other way around. I was on the brink of really becoming someone.
My phone, which I had snatched right as break was announced, gives out a soft ping. I unlock it and look at the screen, knowing I honestly needed to turn off Google Alerts for my name. But as much as I want to, I can’t. Not when my boyfriend is the one feeding the rumor mill. This time the alert was simply for an article asking if I was the next big thing or simply a girl with a leaked sex tape.
I let out a sigh of frustration, wishing I could call them up and tell them off. First off, I am a woman, not a girl, and secondly, I am talented and more than just a leaked sex tape.
Yet the small voice in the back of my head began to taunt me – are you really, Jenny? I try to ignore it. The last thing I need right now is to feed into it. That is just what it wants. But the voice becomes louder. You only got the role on Beloved because Robbs and Rich leaked the sex tape of you…
“I am not listening to this right now,” I say out loud to my reflection.
I half expect my reflection to reply but there is nothing forthcoming from it. My phone vibrates, and I look down to see Rich has texted me. A sour feeling grows in my stomach as I open it.
You done soon? Remember we have dinner tonight with some investors.
I don’t reply. I know he will be furious with me for not replying but I am feeling rebellious. How can I be civil to him when I wouldn’t mind bashing his face in with my own fists? I close my eyes and tell myself to calm down. Rage won’t suit me. I need to focus on how I will keep my career as well as get away from Rich.
Rich – my boyfriend, officially, only because I am not sure how to get away from him with my dignity intact and my career still blooming. Rich – a slime ball I escaped from once before and then stupidly believed had turned over a new leaf. All he really wants to do is attach himself to my rising star and use me for money and fame. A fame leech – one of the worst kind. Rich wants me all to himself and he will destroy me if I don’t give him what he wants.
I scowl and turn away from the mirror, trying to push Rich from my thoughts. He’s just a new version of Robbs, and this came to fruition all because I had been too much of a coward to tell Robbs to fuck off in the first place when he slinked back into my life to blackmail me.
I leave the bathroom, getting ready to head back into makeup and put on a new outfit. This is my first real magazine shoot and while I like being all dolled up in pretty dresses, it isn’t nearly as glamorous as it appears to the general public. For one thing, most of the outfits don’t actually fit. Sure, it looks gorgeous in the photos, but the back of the dress is a mess of clothespins pinning the dress in just the right angles. Not as completely glamorous as I had assumed growing up.
Soon the cast is outside in a large field. We are using a mansion on the outskirts of Hollywood for the photo shoot. I don’t know who the house actually belongs to, but it looks old fashioned. I wish I had more time to explore it. But as the sun is at the perfect height, we are all ushered out by the pool for more photographs. Libby is grumbling next to me about what the sun will do to her fair skin. She is awfully pale, which I suppose is part of her appeal. Lucky, who has more experience in photo shoots than the rest of us put together, is hitting on one of the young assistants. It would be funny if it weren’t so gross.
As the photos are taken of us, either together or separate, I try to focus. The cast is about ten people, both major and minor roles, and we try to look natural, as if we all have chemistry with each other.
But my mind is far off. It feels as if it is full to bursting. I cannot enjoy anything anymore and I am not sure if I am ever going to be able to.