Starlet's Web - #1 {Exclusive Read}

Starlet's Web - March - WRAP PARTY

~    WRAP PARTY

I heard a knock on the door to my trailer while I was in the shower but ignored it. I could hear everything outside of the trailer so I knew people could hear every noise inside the trailer, too. The joke on set was that Byron’s trailer was very noisy.

I turned off the water and heard the knock on the door again. “Marie? I heard the water stop. Marie, I need to talk to you.”

I knew the voice. It was Byron. I put on my robe and towel dried my hair. I was in no hurry to get the door.

“Marie!” Byron persisted. “Please let me talk to you. This is our last night here, and I have to talk to you.”

I didn’t even raise my voice. “Byron, I have nothing to say. Go away.”

He begged, “Please, Marie.”

I opened the door, not caring that I was in my bathrobe. Everyone could hear him pleading outside. They would make much more of this than there was. I gestured to him to come inside. He came in and hugged me.

“Get off me,” I reacted.

He backed off from me immediately, frustrated and confused. “Marie, I’m so sorry about being an ass. We need to be friends. What the hell is going on?”

I admitted, “Working with you is frustrating. You forget your lines. You mouth the words to my lines. You don’t focus. You’re late for work. We have to do so many takes. You drink and smoke too much. You sleep with everyone. You move too fast. I just can’t deal with it.”

My words flung out faster than I could self-edit. The words stung. I scrunched up my face. I continued, “I don’t want to have a relationship with my co-star. I want it to be professional.”

“Well I didn’t ask for any of this life and can’t handle it. I need your help. You ground me, Marie. You get me, right?”

“I don’t know. When I’m around you I forget that you’re a playboy.”

“But that’s not who I really am. It’s just this place. I’m talented as a singer but I suck as an actor. I was so happy when I won the show for my songs. I did an album that’s now selling well back home, but I’m in this contract that ships me off here to be some loser pop star dancer/vocalist. Then I sign something to be an actor. I don’t have any idea about what I’m supposed to do. I got this part after auditioning for a few months during the time that they’re working me non-stop. I haven’t really slept for about a year—when the craziness started.  I can memorize a song, sing anything, but I can’t do scripts. I get so flustered. It’s unnatural, fake! Honestly, I wish I never tried out for that damn show. I don’t think I’m set up for this business but I’ve got these contracts so I might as well live it up, right?”

I decided to explain myself to him. “Byron, I’m sorry I’ve confused you and you had to be part of this nasty industry without knowing what you were getting into. You’re gorgeous. You should know that you don’t suck as an actor. You’re remarkable at getting into your character. But you need to stay in character and learn those lines. Remember our night. You learned them great. And about our night, I appreciate that you stopped right away, but I don’t like that you pressured me so much. I botched how I handled everything with you and am embarrassed, and sorry.”

“Shit, Marie. I’m sorry, too. I just want you so much, need you to keep me sane. I would have done so much more for you if you had let me.”

“Byron, it bugs me every moment I see you that I didn’t speak up. I know that I could have. When you said you loved me, I believed you for a half-second and felt I should go for it when you got naked. But I just froze. I didn’t want to be a tease. Then I had to see you every day. These last weeks have been really awkward, painful.”

“I didn’t lie to get you to sleep with me. You’re amazing.” Byron peered at me soulfully. “Marie, I need to know something. Please tell me the truth. I promise I won’t tell. Were you raped?”

I learned that I could not tell anyone who promised not to tell my secrets because they always told. He studied my expressions carefully. “Byron, my sexual past has not been great. I wasn’t raped but could have been. But I don’t want to talk about that. You ignored the twenty times I asked you to back off. You annoyed me when we had to do so many takes. I was annoyed with myself that I kept kissing you.  That was the tension I felt.”

My words were clearly a blow to his ego. But they were true. That was how I felt.

“Where does that leave us for the events, the premiere? You know we’ll have to kiss and hug for the cameras. It will hurt me if that is all acting, knowing that you hate me the whole time.”

I sat down on the couch next to him. “I don’t hate you. I like you. I just don’t want to have a relationship with you. I also mix up the emotions from on screen and off. It’s hard for me to keep it straight in my head. I’m sorry I acted so mental.”

Byron put his arm around me again. I let him. “Please tell me what you feel right away when we work together, do the events. There’s something about you. I don’t know: your soft skin, the way you move, your child-like sexy face, your unbelievable lips and eyes. You turn me on like no other girl.” He shook the thoughts away. “You’re the most amazing actress I have met and the best person I’ve met in Hollywood. I want you to be in my life. We’ll work through this weirdness together. Friends? Please?”

“Yes, friends.” I was uncomfortable with how he described me. I did not see myself that way. I looked like a kid, not some sexy woman.

We both got up from the couch. I walked to the door but stopped when he didn’t follow. My body shivered when I saw his smiling eyes. In an instant, Byron walked to me and pulled at my robe. I wobbled as he slowly hugged me and then kissed my lips. I put my arms around him under his shirt and returned the kiss. He put his hands under my robe, stopped the kiss, smiled at me, and covered my body. I huffed, bewildered. He kissed my forehead as he re-tied my robe.

“See, we’re just friends. I have self-control. Please call me when you change your mind about your boyfriend.” He winked as he left my trailer.

Shocked that I kissed him and sure I would have done much more, I finished getting dressed. I’m a whore, I thought as I did my makeup and hair. Shame and disbelief gutted me.

I filled my Marcia Sherrill backpack with the pictures of Manuel from my nightstand, running clothes and shoes, my wallet, iPhone and keys. Before I stepped out, I perused my trailer one last time. Goodbye home, I thought. See you in a few months on some other location for Muse III. I hoped I would be stronger then.