Starlet's Web (The Starlet Series, #1) (14 page)

Liz laughed. “Lord. You know you live in Santa Monica when a prospective tenant hands you a business card and her job is ‘writer and wellness enthusiast.' You know how that translates in my mind: unemployed. I see an eviction in my future.”

“You both look gorgeous together. Now let's see the love,” Janet said as she snapped some photos. Janet was stunning but had an edge to her. She looked much older than fourteen and already had tattoos and piercings.

“You do look handsome, Manuel,” I agreed.

“Thanks. You look totally gorgeous.” He smiled and held my hand as we followed Liz to the courtyard.

We had held hands since his break-up with Kate, but holding his hand in that moment was different. I felt his love emanate from his body, so much so that I didn't want to let go of his hand. I didn't want to be far from him. I wanted to be attached to him at the same time that I felt awkwardly nervous around him. I had to concentrate on breathing when we put our arms around each other for the prom photos.

I definitely thought my heart stopped when he kissed me before I got back into the Porsche.

As we made our way to the restaurant, I wondered why I was so odd. Most teenagers didn't talk to their parents about everything, including sex and insecurities. But I did, except about Byron—I didn't want Mom to punish him. I confided in Mom and Grandma May because I thought there was something wrong with me.

I didn't have friends besides Manuel, Evan and Franz so shoulders to cry on were few and far between. My best girlfriend used to be Kate but I had to choose whom to support before the break-up and I chose Manuel. Even with Sam, Alan, Beth and Mitch I guarded my feelings, guarded my privacy. As a celebrity, it was difficult to trust that someone would not sell my secrets.

I asked Mom about how she felt about her lovers to help me figure out what I should do with Manuel. She explained that she only felt passionately in love with Dad. No other lover held her heart as he did. She said that she was a virgin when she married Dad and making love to him was glorious. She never cheated on him. Although she had too many offers to count to cheat on him, she never wanted to. She loved him, just not enough to leave her career. She told me that she lost interest when she lost Dad.

Grandma May was against me having premarital sex. She was a Salish Christian and it was against her morals. She said she loved both her husbands completely, with passion and trust. She said she has lived three completely fulfilled lives.

Her first husband was her soul mate. Like her, he was Native American from the Flathead Lake Reservation who took her as his bride after his wife died in an accident. May's oldest sister was good friends with his wife. May met him at his wife's funeral and was ashamed of herself for flirting with him. She said it was love at first sight. A few months later, they saw each other again in Polson, Montana. He asked her out and they married a few months later after she finished high school.  She said making love with him was wonderful, a union of souls. He was a man of passion though he had no direction. He roamed from job to job and was kind of lazy, actually. It was no shock to her that he died while drunk driving. He was like a lion.

Grandma May said that her second husband, Bill, was also her soul mate. He was an educated white guy from Great Falls, Montana. His dad was a doctor. Bill graduated from Montana State in Bozeman and thought he could build a successful dude ranch enterprise. His family owned land in the Paradise Valley right on the Yellowstone River, so he pitched a business plan to investors and took out a small business loan to build the dude ranch.  He hired an architect from Bozeman but took on the role of superintendent himself. He helped build the stables, guest cabins and lodge. Most of the sub-contractors he hired came from Manhattan, Montana. Bill met May when he got supplies from the supply and lumber company where she worked.

May said that they didn't have a romance. Bill didn't even know she had kids. The project took about a year to complete and during the last month, he told her that he was crazy about her. Bill met her kids. He took them to dinner a few times. May liked him, too, but didn't think anything would come of it. She was a Native American living paycheck to paycheck to raise her kids.

May remembered that Bill's proposal was a gift from the spirits. Bill came down to the office to pay his final invoice in person. He asked May to lunch and proposed. She was completely taken by surprise but accepted. Then they had their first kiss. It wasn't earth shattering, not like the fire that ignited her with her first husband. But it was nice. And she liked that this man knew what he wanted and clearly saw it through. Bill was a force of nature—a man of action and a man of his word. He was like a mountain.

Grandma May said that she loves her third life, too. She said it is rich with the love from her five children and her grandchildren. She said she is a river now. Life and love flow through her.

I asked Dad, too. Dad asked me first if I really wanted to know, being my dad and all. I promised that I would not judge him for what he felt.

He reluctantly said that guys my age have little control and last no more than a minute or two— so I wouldn't get anything out of it, so don't bother.

He said that his lovely wife, Celia, was like the most prized rainbow trout in any river and he was the fly fisherman. He caught the most beautiful fish, decided to keep it because of its great size and beauty, and it became part of him. It nourished him. Celia gave up part of herself to be with him. She still nourishes him. He has no desire to fish again.

Then he told me he would keep a shotgun ready if anyone hurt me. He told me not to do it until I was married.

I couldn't help but think about what prom night would mean for Manuel and me. We certainly couldn't get married at eighteen.

 

We met up with everyone we ditched on the limo ride at the restaurant. We laughed a ton and reminisced. I even ate dessert. Manuel held my hand on the drive to the dance and told me the gossip about all our friends there. I was surprised that so much sex was going on amongst my classmates, and Manuel roared with laughter each time I was surprised by some scandal.

As we were driving I realized that Hollywood's casual sex expectation conflicted with my family's abstinence message, leaving me completely stressed out. I was torn between opposite cultural values. Fortunately, Manuel was, too.

He interrupted my thoughts. “Hey, you're miles away.
¿Cómo estás?”

“Sorry,” I said as we arrived at the Getty Villa and museum off of the Pacific Coast Highway and parked.

I wasn't sure if Manuel asked me if I was okay in English or Spanish. He always mixed his languages, like his dad. Manuel's grandpa was the son of a German academic who fled to Argentina with his Jewish wife during the Nazi era.

I was surprised when I was five years old that his grandpa didn't look at all like what I thought he was supposed to look like. His grandpa was handsome, a tall, fit man over 6'3” with sandy-brown hair and light brown eyes. My stereotype was shattered, the first time of many. I expected him to look like Ira when I heard that he was Jewish, not some tall, handsome white guy who resembled a professional basketball player.

“Wow. That's a pretty view,” Manuel said as we both got out of the car.

The Getty was like a castle on the bluff above the PCH, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. To the south, I saw past the Los Angeles airport. To the north, I saw past Malibu.  The large, round orange sun was low on the horizon to the west, casting a yellow orange glow on the water and streaking the thin clouds with purples, reds, and orange colors. It was breathtaking.

“Yeah, it is pretty.” I marveled and paused while I took it in. “This has been such a fun night!” I exclaimed. “And you know how I love the ocean.”

“And you know that I love you and have since I can remember,” Manuel said as he slowly took my hand and gazed into my eyes.

“And you know that I love you. You're my best friend.”

I pulled him towards me and pressed my lips to his. It was a slow movement at first, but then energy surged from him and he kissed me passionately, pressing his body against mine, which was pressed against the Porsche. Both of his strong arms were around me with his hands between the car and my lower back. It was nice. It was comfortable. I was happy and loved. I didn't feel a desire to make love. But I could kiss him all night, and we would have a great prom.

We slowly parted and started walking towards the Getty, still holding hands.

Mom urged me to self-reflect and make sure I was ready—put my needs first. We role-played speaking up, saying no, telling Manuel my feelings. But making him happy was one of my needs. He was everything to me. I wanted to give him a great prom because he deserved to have a wonderful time. We both did.

“Now let's go to prom.” I smiled again and put my arm around his waist.

We danced and kissed during the slow songs and kissed in the corners of the room. We drank punch and water and laughed with friends. I danced with some guys. Manuel was jealous and cut in on each one. However, I wouldn't let him cut in when I danced with Mitch, careful not to offend Beth. Mitch knew Manuel was jealous and teased him. We had fun.

Alan walked towards us. There was something off, something wrong. I suspected ecstacy, but I wasn't certain which drug.

“You're bailing already?” Manuel asked.

“Yeah. My date's a bitch. You still coming to my pool party? I'm not taking the bitch with me. I'm leaving her here,” Alan growled with glazed eyes and slow speech. “I need a drink. Dad bought kegs and I have plenty of extra to play with. The limo is leaving in ten minutes. Come soon, would ya?”

Alan lived north of Montana Avenue, too, about a block away from my house on the South side of San Vicente Boulevard. He lived on Georgina Avenue, a lovely street lined with palm trees. The view from his pool deck was pretty, too. He saw lots of sky and the tops of trees and houses as he faced north from his patio. It was peaceful. His dad, Ira, was a kind, generous man, but he had the strangest relationship with Alan's mom, a sleazy, plastic, shallow snob. They didn't divorce out of convenience but they didn't like each other whatsoever. I loved Ira but despised Alan's mother.

Alan always had parties with lots of booze, drugs, and private rooms. He hired bouncers and treated his parties as if they were VIP events.

The way Alan is at parties with drugs is like the way I was with alcohol. Nervous and awkward, I felt like I had to have a drink in my hand at each industry party when I was fifteen and sixteen, during my sophomore year. The drinks eased the tension. Many drinks eased a lot of tension. Unlike Alan, I didn't sleep with anyone or do hard drugs, but I certainly kissed a lot of men and one woman when I was a drunk sixteen-year-old protected by the best lawyer in Hollywood.

“Soon,” Manuel said. “We're having fun. Have you ever seen Marie smile and laugh so much? It's been a long time for me. Reminds me of when we played strip poker in eighth grade and she kicked all our butts. Remember how she gave us dish rags to cover ourselves and laughed hysterically at our embarrassment.”

“Damn,” Alan laughed. “We finagle a strip poker game so we can see her tits and she doesn't even lose her hat! At least I got to see Kate's.”

He knew he had stepped over a line and backed off. Alan glanced at me apologetically and then let his thought wander as he checked me out. Manuel stepped in front of me.

“Dude!” Manuel objected.

“Hey, sorry…” Alan mumbled and then brightened his tone. “It sure taught me to never gamble with an American Indian actress, even when she's high on peyote. Remember to invite me to your 21
st
birthday in Vegas, Marie. I can't wait to see you wipe out the poker tables. I want to be there too when you win Celebrity Poker and the World Series of Poker. Then you should donate your winnings to gambler's anonymous. That'd be ironic.”

“Alan, you're absolutely offensive. My poker abilities have nothing to do with me being an American Indian.”  I scolded and laughed, “Vegas here we come. Put it on your calendar for three years from next month.”

I smiled. Manuel was right. I was having an amazing time but the expectation that we should be making love was on my mind.

Maybe the desire I felt with Rex would never surface again in me because of how traumatic it was to feel it when I did. The situation was confusing. The feelings I had were repulsive. They didn't make sense in context. It was a rape scene for heaven's sake and my body responded with arousal as if it was an intimate first kiss.

I kissed Manuel again. Nope. No flame, but it was nice.

“What's Alan on?” I asked Manuel.

“He might be going back to pills because he's mellow. I saw him and his slut go into a room at one of the parties he dragged me to. She offered me a choice of ecstacy, coke, or meth. He turned pretty manic that night.”

“Have you done drugs besides pot?”

“I'm not interested in doing any drugs. You were there when I tried coke at Alan's sixteenth birthday party. You and Beth were the only ones who didn't try it. I haven't gotten high since our strip poker days. I don't like the scene and work too hard to throw my money away on some short-term high. You?”