I awoke with a start to the glare of the blinding mid-morning sun, and the space beside me was as empty as if I'd dreamed it all up. I turned onto my side, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and yawned. I still felt shaky and gross, but the improvement over the past 24 hours was like night and day.
I reached over to the nightstand and peeled off the pink sticky note that was stuck to the side of it, holding it up in an attempt to read it through my weary vision.
Hope you slept well, off to a meeting but I'll be back this afternoon. Text if you need anything while I'm gone.
After stretching my stiff muscles, I climbed out of bed, rummaged through my suitcase for my toiletries and something to wear, and started on the journey of locating a bathroom. Following a few dead ends, I found what I was looking for. It was nothing fancy; no rainfall shower-head or built-in sauna, just a simple free-standing porcelain bathtub. I remembered then that there were probably several other bathrooms in the house, a couple of which were likely decked out with the latest innovations in bathing technology. I liked this one the best.
Letting my sore body soak in the hot water, I decided to play the dangerous game of using my phone in the bath. Unable to resist the temptation, I opened Google and typed in 'Steven Harris', bracing myself for what I was about to see.
I clicked on the first headline I saw, 'Media Mogul Steven Harris Found Guilty', and my breath hitched at the picture they'd used. It was Brielle, Claire, and I hugging outside the courthouse. You couldn't see our faces, just three girls with our arms around eachother, clinging to one another like we were the only people in the world. I stared at the photo for a few minutes, my eyes stinging as the emotions came flooding back.
Scrolling down, I read the first part of the article; "The latest victory in the Time's Up movement is one for twenty-three year old actress Brielle Kensington. The Los Angeles native, who rose to fame at just six years old on the Emmy award winning sitcom, 'The Stevensons' (2000-2008), made history once again yesterday morning after taking one of the most powerful men in Hollywood to court — and winning. Since her emotional victory, several other actresses and film professionals have already come forward publicly with their own experiences with Steven Harris, applauding the starlet for her bravery. 'I know in my heart that this wouldn't have stopped if Brielle hadn't done what she did. She saved a lot of people from a lot of pain. When I finally admitted what Steven Harris had done to me six years ago, everyone told me that he was too powerful; going after Steven was a death sentence. I'd lose. I'd ruin my career. I'm sure Brielle was told the exact same thing, and she did it anyway. If you ask me, that girl is a hero.' Claimed fellow actress Kim Sweeny.
After a trial featuring shocking testimonies from the Soft as Steel franchise's Claire Lane, and Steven's own daughter, former Los Angeles socialite Rowan Harris, Steven was charged with two accounts of rape and felony sexual battery, and sentenced to twelve years in federal prison. The three women were seen after the trial sharing a teary embrace, proving once again the beauty and power of women rallying together in support of one another. Rowan in particular is sure to have a long road ahead of her, beginning when she took the stand and shocked all present, speaking those three fateful words, 'I believe her.' Cathy Harris was unavailable for comment, but inside sources say she is now under criminal investigation herself for unrelated offences."
I stopped reading there, electing instead to check Instagram, nearly dropping my phone when I saw the thousands of new followers and messages that awaited me. I'd been tagged in that picture from the trial about a million times, and I couldn't help but stare in wide-eyed shock as I scrolled through. I didn't know how I felt about any of this; I was relieved to see that the vast majority of the posts were about Brielle, but there were a few pointing out the suitcases in the photo, clearly putting two and two together that I'd been disowned and offering me their support. It was shocking, to say the least.
My phone rang and I picked up the call almost instantly, grateful for the distraction. It was Caleb.
"Holy shit, Rowan." He exclaimed, in lieu of a greeting.
"Good morning to you too, Caleb."
"They haven't been releasing anyone's statements, but from what I've read..." He trailed off, "I thought you were testifying for your dad."
"So did I, but I couldn't go through with it." I admitted. "How's everything back home?"
"You want to talk about NAF right now?" He gawked, and I was overcome by how much I missed my best friend.
"Yeah," I sighed, "I haven't checked my card yet, but I'm willing to bet I've been cut off already. I don't know when I'm going to be able to come back, or if —" I couldn't finish the sentence.
Caleb let out a trapped breath. "I figured. We have a new teacher for Claire's class, and he's fucking awful. I think our year hates acting more than ever before."
I laughed breathlessly, "That's saying something."
"You have no fucking idea. On the bright side, so many people have complained, I heard the Board is debating whether we've learned our lesson already. VT might get the axe. Is Claire coming back?"
"She told me she's on a leave of absence. Apparently she just scored the lead in some giant sapphic romance, so she's already back to work."
"Claire's playing gay? Life really does imitate art."
"That's pretty much exactly what Brielle said." I sunk further into the tub, letting the water wash over my shoulders.
"How's she doing?"
"Brielle? She doesn't like to talk about herself, so I wouldn't really know, but she seems better than before, at least. I think she thought she was gonna lose."
"Yeah, her and literally everyone else. I can't believe she won."
"Tell me about it."
The line was silent for a few long moments, and I wondered what Caleb was thinking about.
"Where are you right now? I know you can take care of yourself, but I just got back from the bank and I got my credit extended. I can fly you back."
I bit my lip to stop the tears from coming. "Caleb I — I don't know if I've ever told you this; I've always been afraid of letting people know that they meant anything to me, but I love you so much. You're the best friend I've ever had."
"What are they putting in the water in LA?" Caleb laughed, "I always knew that, Rowan. Maybe you don't tell people, but you show them. I love you too. Seriously though, you're not sleeping on a park bench, are you?"
"No, I think you'd actually drop dead if you saw where I've been sleeping." I looked out the window, taking in the gorgeous view as I absentmindedly created waves in the still bathwater with my free hand, "I'm staying with Claire in her house-slash-castle in Beverly Hills."
"You're kidding!" He gasped, and I could imagine the goofy grin on his face.
"Wait a second, I'm sending you my view from the bathtub, I swear to God, it's like a fucking Barbie Dream House over here." I quickly snapped a photo of the LA skyline and texted it to him, hearing him choke on what I assumed was one of the countless cups of coffee he consumed throughout each day.
"Only you could lose all of your money and end up living like Bill Gates." He mused.
"Temporarily," I corrected, "I'm going to have to look for jobs today, and I doubt half a year of University and my old job at Harris Co are going to open up many doors for me." I groaned. "If you ever come to California, you'll probably find me behind the till at McDonalds."
"You could PA again," He offered, "Living on the $225 daily flat rate isn't what you're used to, but it should be enough for a one bedroom."
"I could," I considered, seriously considering it. "Listen, I'm going to go see what I can find online, and I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Sounds good, make sure you leave out the part where we got NAF students blacklisted from Paramount last summer. And for what it's worth, I'm really proud of you, Ro."
"You!" I laughed, "You got NAF students blacklisted! I just happened to be there, and happened to be laughing about it in front of a producer."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night." He teased.
"And thank you, C. That means a lot." I replied softly.
The call dropped, and I smiled to myself. My skin was beginning to prune, and I clamoured out of the tub gracelessly, drying myself off and changing into my old NAF hoodie and a pair of leggings, leaving my hair to air-dry.
I grabbed my MacBook from my room and made my way to the kitchen, sitting at the table and getting to work.
After what felt like hours of sifting through jobs, I slammed the laptop, leaning back in my chair and sulking. It seemed like there were no positions being posted, and the ones that were required a degree in film or were filled almost instantly. I was used to having things like this handed to me on a silver platter — I was all but forced to work at Harris Co, a job I now know most people in my position would've died for, and the set placement at NAF was a required part of my program.
I was suddenly aware of how absolutely impossible it was for normal people to get their foot in the door, even when it came to securing employment as a production assistant. Nobody wanted to be a PA; the job entailed working hours longer than everyone else for a fraction of the pay, and you were just about the most expendable person on set, guaranteed to be blamed for anything that went wrong.
When Claire finally got home, I was too caught up with wallowing in self-pity to even notice her entrance. She came up behind me, shaking my shoulders, and I startled, jumping in my seat.
"Guess what?" She grinned, rudely interrupting my pity party.
"What?" I grumbled, staring at the closed laptop in front of me.
"Not the reaction I was hoping for, but okay." She mocked lightheartedly, "I just got back from my meeting and I overheard our casting director complaining about how we were behind schedule in the casting process."
"And?" I prompted, feeling a little bit guilty for taking a tone with her, but nevertheless not in the mood to hear about her exciting new job after facing the reality that I had no idea how I was going to get one of my own.
"And, I know you're not interested in acting, but I may have mentioned that I know someone I can vouch for who might be interested in auditioning for a minor role." Her smile faltered, and I could tell she was nervous about how I'd respond. "I mean, I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it, but I've seen you act and you've improved so much, I think you could really pull it off."
"Are you serious?" My eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Of course I'm serious! I picked up the sides for you just in case," She pulled out a thin stack of papers and put them down on the table in front of me, "Like I said, very minor role and we wouldn't actually have any scenes together, but you'd be on set pretty regularly and the salary isn't half bad."
"They'll let me audition with no experience?" I wondered aloud, trying to puzzle out how any of this was even possible.
"Grace and I are old friends," She explained, "Call it a personal favour, but if I call her tonight she's agreed to see you on Monday."
I skimmed over the pages in front of me, "She seems like a bitch!"
"Oh, trust me, she's a massive bitch. Super homophobic, causes nothing but problems — the whole nine yards." Claire smiled.
"And you thought of me for the raging homophobe?" I replied, bringing my hand to my chest as if she'd offended me.
"The villains are always the most fun to play. She's not really the antagonist — it takes place in the 1950's, so she's not much worse than anyone else, but she's got a few key scenes. It was that or an even smaller role, so I figured go big or go home." She shrugged.
"Do I get to call you anything offensive?" I smirked, "Tell you to go repent before the good Lord smites you down?"
"No," She laughed, hanging up her coat and sitting down across from me, "I told you, we don't have any scenes together. But you do get to call my sweet, angelic girlfriend a dyke at one point."
"Just lovely." I replied in a monotone voice.
"So are you in?" She leaned forward slightly in anticipation of my response.
I made a show of considering it, scrunching up my face. "The potential of a well-paying job," I held out my hands, pretending to weigh my options, "Being broke and homeless. How's a girl to decide between two equally appealing options?" She crossed her arms and I stuck out my tongue. "Perhaps I'll go with the former."
She clasped her hands together in front of her, excitement lighting up her face, "Perfect!"
"Don't get too excited," I warned, "I'm sure I'm not the only girl in Los Angeles who wants that role. I might butcher it."
"Not if I have anything to say about it." She rummaged through her bag, retrieving another copy of the sides and laying them open on the table before donning her reading glasses. "We've got three days, so get ready to meet the drill sergeant in me. Page two, starting from the top."
I saluted her, rolling my eyes, "Aye aye, Captain."