Starlet's Web (The Starlet Series, #1) (2 page)

“I just got your text.” Manuel worried, “Are you okay?”

“No. I hate my life. Evan and I have to sacrifice our relationship because the public thinks my life is too good and easy. What is this? Exploitation number ten in my five years of acting hell?”

“At least. Listen, I have to bike with Beth but will be there in five minutes.”

* * * * *

Beth and Manuel dated their sophomore year and remained great friends after their breakup. They had a connection much like he and I had but their relationship was more competitive. When Beth dated Mitch, the school's popular and athletic valedictorian, their friendship deepened into a platonic one.

Kate, Manuel's ex-girlfriend and my ex-best friend, used to complain to me about their friendship but I didn't see evidence of romantic feelings between them. I figured Kate was jealous that Beth transformed from being the big girl to having the most beautiful body in the school. Since Beth and Manuel shared the same interests in sports, they biked, swam, and ran together outdoors.

I scanned the only photo I had in my room, concentrating to focus my blurred vision. The photo captured Mom, Grandma May and me on my fifteenth birthday at her ranch in Montana.

Grandma looked like a female version of Dad. Dad was, and still is, ruggedly good-looking, with his Native American dark hair he keeps buzzed, high cheekbones, striking amber-green eyes that complement his bronze skin, and a tall, muscular body.  Mom always reflected on that first moment she saw him—she said that his eyes penetrated her soul.  According to Grandma, I have Dad's eyes and spirit.

Mom contrasted Grandma with large blue-green eyes, thin eyebrows, long eyelashes, large lips, smooth pale skin, and thick auburn hair. I resembled both of them and neither one. Mostly, I looked tired in the photo because I just wrapped
The Beautiful Outcast,
a movie about Virginia Woolf's difficulty dealing with her mother's sudden death when she was thirteen and her mental collapse after the death of her father.

I visited Grandma at her ranch after our wrap party because I was so depressed after making that movie. I stayed for over two months and did all my schoolwork online. I rode my horse every day and learned how to fly a plane. I escaped public scrutiny. I learned to ignore tweets and never check Facebook. I was complete that summer.

While I waited for Manuel outside I thought about my recent award-winning performance for
Jefferson's Muse
. I did a good job with the script and with emoting. I nailed the character. Mom and her producer buddies created the character for me: a ‘not really black but not white' slave.

* * * * *

Seeing Manuel approach on his bicycle made my body sparkle from the inside out and diminished my sullenness. Manuel was tall, like his Latino father, and muscular. I never asked his specs, but I figured he was 6'1” and 185 pounds. He had high cheekbones, perfect lips, a thin, straight nose, short black hair, and creamy skin like that of cappuccino ice cream—his skin was not white but not dark either. He was lighter than me. His eyes were his most attractive feature, with impossibly long, black eyelashes veiling his rich coffee-colored eyes. The color of his iris was light enough to express all of his emotions to me with one glance but dark enough to hide those same emotions from strangers. I loved being one of the people who held the key to unlock all of his thoughts when I peeked into his soul.

An acute pain crippled me as soon as I saw his eyes when he removed his helmet and sunglasses. I couldn't help loving Manuel but couldn't possibly tell him that I loved him in case he didn't feel the same way about me. I could no longer pretend that my feelings were only platonic. I wanted him desperately. My eyes watered as I accepted that Evan was right to dump me. It wasn't fair to him that I loved Manuel so completely.

Manuel hugged me immediately, “I'm sorry. It's okay.”

“Already I feel better just by seeing you. But also worse.” I explained, “I feel like I
am
Muse, a slave to the gods of Hollywood.”

“Feeling bitter? It's just like last time when you said you were a fly in the spider's web.” Manuel put his arm around me as we walked through the front gate. “Remember, you have a great life and can quit soon. It's just several hours of acting tonight for the Globes. You'll leave unscarred. “This too shall pass,” as your mom says.”

“Oh, I hate that saying and feel very scarred right now.” I hugged him again and relaxed. Ever since we were kids, Manuel's hugs pushed out all my worries.

I stopped crying and explained, “The cheating isn't true. Evan would never do that for real. It's to balance our brands, make women like me again and give him freedom to be a total heartthrob. But Evan really did dump me. It's over.”

Unlike industry people, Manuel didn't use worthless words.  He kissed my forehead and walked to the outdoor love seat. He was so unusual in my world—humble, content, considerate, affectionate, loving, and practical. He floated between the two social classes in Santa Monica: the high-net-worth families and the low-cash-flow households. His mom owned an apartment building worth several million dollars so his family had high net worth. But they lived on his dad's salary as a driver for a delivery company. Manuel's spending money came from working his restaurant job. He grounded me.

Manuel stood unbalanced in his cycling shoes and shook out the cushions. His muscles flexed in his tight biking shirt and shorts. He seemed like a man, not a boy. 

“It's only been a few weeks since I've seen you but you look taller.”

“Yeah, my mom thinks I'm having another growth spurt. I eat everything in sight.” He laughed. “She bought a bag of cookies and I left three. My dad was mad.”  We sat down together. “I think it's the triathlon conditioning I'm doing with Beth. We're both getting fast.”

“Well, you look really good.” Manuel played varsity water polo and basketball and swam for Samohi (Santa Monica High School). I changed the topic, “So how was work yesterday?”

“It was fine bussing tables for pricks and posers. For every star, there must be a ten-person entourage of posers.” He hesitated. “Marie, do you have an entourage?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” He was quiet. I asked, “Are you thinking I'm one of the bitchy stars telling you to fetch them more sparkling water?”

Manuel answered, “No. I know you. You're a sweetheart and my best friend.  You're kind and smart, super generous, witty, pretty, and a really good actress. It's just…never mind.”

I pleaded, “Please tell me what you're thinking.”

“Did you know that the number one graduation gift that the girls in our high school want is plastic surgery? There are tons of girls who are getting their noses done and tons more who want their boobs done. They want to look like you, even though you're all natural. Beth and I talked about it yesterday. She likes you and wants to hang out with us more. She just got asked to model again. She doesn't want to be trapped in contracts like you and her mom but is worried that she will be when she swims for Poland in the Olympics.”

Beth's parents moved from Poland when she was ten years old. Her mom is a striking TV actress who plays a Russian. Her dad is a German and Russian language teacher at an elite private high school in Brentwood.

I agreed. “She will be played if she's successful. She should get her swimming scholarship to college and then purposefully swim slowly in the qualifying Olympic heats, say she's sorry and blame her failure on nerves. People forgive humility, you know.”

I snuggled back into Manuel's chest and noted, “Beth doesn't like me. We had fun last summer double-dating with Evan and Mitch, but, after, Beth told Kate that I'm a fake.”

Kate was my only girlfriend until last December. When she and Manuel broke up, I tried to call her and talk to her but she refused to talk to me. Instead, she sent me an email saying that being my best friend was too lonely. She also wanted to forget Manuel and said I'd be a constant reminder of him.

He objected, “That's not true. What would Kate know? Beth can't stand her.” He added, “Beth likes you. You need friends. You should be friends.”

“You're my only friend.” Aware that the truth sounded pathetic, I sat up straight on the loveseat. “Anyway, I'm certain Beth hates me. Kate recorded the conversation and played it to me. Beth shared her frustration that you couldn't see me for what I was, a movie star, not some humble sweetheart.”

“No, Marie. I mean, yes, Beth couldn't understand how someone so successful could have insecurities. She has this thing about suffering. It drives her not just in her workouts but in how she sees the world. Since you're rich and had your career handed to you, she didn't think you struggled with anything. Just like the public, right?”

He paused again, “Why the hell would Kate record it and play it back to you? Did she do that a lot?”

I answered, “All the time. She'd press the Memo button on her iPhone.”

“
Lo siento
.” Manuel put his arm around me. “What I've said, too?”

“Yeah. One time, you told her it would be incest if we dated. Anyway, she said it's better for me to hear the truth firsthand so I'd know who my friends were.”

“Oh, sweetie, that was really mean.” He exhaled. “I shouldn't have lied. I mean I've learned from our whole messy break-up to always tell the truth.”

“You lied?” I wondered what he lied about. “You mean you still love Beth?”

Manuel exhaled again, “For me, my feelings for Beth didn't end after we broke up. Dating her was a disaster but I love her and think she's hot.” He studied my face, bit his lip, looked away, and sighed.  “My feelings for Kate ended though. I can't believe she did that. No wonder you don't have friends.”

“I don't see the point when I know what they think anyway.” I gazed at his loving eyes. “I trust you. I trust Evan, but he thinks like my mom.”

“Marie, I promise that Beth likes you, Mitch adores you. Evan loves you, too. He's just doing the best for your careers. I said those things to get Kate off my back about...” Manuel stopped mid-sentence and started a contingent thought. “It makes me sad that you've got, like, ten people around you at all times but don't have more than about three friends, always lonely in a crowd. I don't want you to feel abandoned when I start dating someone or…” Manuel stood up and switched the subject. “So you leave for Beverly Hills soon?”

“Yep. Elise is coming to run with me first, make sure I don't look fat for tonight. Then Sashi's driving me.” Elise was my personal trainer. I scanned my iPhone. “Elise is late. I have to be at the hotel to get ready for the Globes by ten this morning.”

“So the story is Evan cheated on you?”

“Yep. He says he still loves me but…” I shrugged my shoulders. “So we're friends. Byron will be my date to everything.”

Byron Jones was my co-star in the film we were currently working on,
Constantine's Muse
. I had kissed him again since Manuel and I had talked. I needed to be even more direct with him at the Academy Awards in February.

“You're quiet.” Manuel eyed me disapprovingly and crossed his arms across his chest. “You kissed him again, didn't you?”

“Ugh, I stopped the kiss. I just don't expect it. It's like I forget that I don't like him when I'm around him.” Trying to explain how I could not get Byron to stop kissing me was very difficult. Manuel gave me plenty of strategies to make Byron stop but nothing worked. “It just happens.”

He shook his head and walked through the gate. We both peered around the street for the paparazzi that would be arriving at any moment.

“Did Evan know?”

“No.”

Manuel scrutinized me reproachfully. “Ironic. You were the cheater.”

“No, I wasn't. I didn't want Byron to kiss me. I always shut him down.”

“You need to be cold, an ice queen, to get him to back off.” Manuel concluded, “You're too sweet for that, naturally. But that's the only way, Marie.”

I followed him. I saw an opportunity. I could test his reaction to me physically, see if he loved me without having to tell him how I felt.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “but it's something about how smooth Byron moves and how he knows what I'm thinking that catches me off guard each time.” 

I slid in front of Manuel, put my hand behind his neck, and pulled his lips to mine.

The kiss happened in slow motion. My heart stopped as his body jolted. Probably within an instant of feeling his lips, he pushed me away with so much force that I tripped backwards and fell on my butt. Nonetheless, my lips tingled and the hairs on the back of my neck and hands stood up. No one's lips felt like that. I couldn't deny that I was in love with him.

He bellowed, “What the hell, Marie?” He stared at me, fists and jaw clenched.

I stood up, fighting the urge to puke and hoping my body wouldn't tremble. I hid that my heart broke. “See, Byron is just like that. I have the same reaction. See, it's not cheating.”