How to Be a Star

Chapter 1

Big City

It amazed him that New York was so alive, even at 4 A.M. when he was stumbling home. That was one of the things that he used to convince himself to move to the city. When he lived in Scotland, he felt so alone at this time of night.
Things were different then. He was unknown, drunk and alone. Now, he was drunk, but never alone.

There were hundreds of cars and he wondered where everyone was going at this hour. He was certain where he was going, bed. Celina would not let him forget that. She was all over him. He knew she wanted him, but he also knew she needed him to hold her up.

“Gerry?“ Celina had that Slovenian accent that bordered on annoying, “Gerry, can we stop for a second?”

“Walk faster, love. It just two more blocks.”

“I still do not understand why we couldn’t get a cab. My feet hurt.” She whined. Most people in her life responded to it and Gerry would too, but he knew two blocks was silly.

“Ok. Stop right here.” He propped her up near a lamp post and bent down.

“Not here! Gerry! I heard you were adventurous, but I never dreamed…”

“Give me your foot.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Just do it, so we can get home.” He reached down and took off her shoe, then the other one. He put one in each pocket of his jacket. “Let’s go.”

“I can’t walk barefoot on the street!” She screeched.

“You couldn’t walk with your shoes on either.”

She pouted, but took his arm and they continued the treacherous two-block journey.

Gerry had met Celine at the fashion show he attended earlier that night. It seemed like days ago to him, but it was only several hours before that he was sitting at the show. His new celebrity status ensured him the best seat to sit and choose his model companion for the night.

Celine was the new “it” model. She was everywhere, billboards, magazines. He felt like he already knew her before they were formally introduced. He saw her first as she strutted down the stark white runway in a hot little Gucci number. It was bright green, tight and low cut. She was always dressed in the scandalous outfits. She had the body that the designers loved to use to show off their sexiest clothes.

Fashion was new to Gerry. He had no appreciation for the clothes. The eye candy was good, but that was all he got out of it and maybe a press photo. It was amazing that he was still standing after the day he had. He was up at 7 A.M. to begin the preparations for going out that night. His assistant had scheduled appointments with his stylist, the spa for a facial and the hair stylist. Why did Miranda always schedule his appointments so early? He would be ready a few hours early with nothing to do except grab a beer and wait.

He finally made it back to his apartment after the long night. He slightly resembled the polished man that left here only a few hours ago. He had his jacket draped over his arm with Jimmy Choos stuffed in the pockets, his tie undone and a gorgeous companion tripping up the steps behind him. He rummaged through his pockets for his keys.

“Here they are. “ He fumbled with the keys for a moment, trying to convince himself that even if he was sober, keys could be tricky. Celine draped herself on his shoulder while he worked with the lock. This did not make his task easier.

“Are you sure you live here?” She mumbled.

“Yes darlin’, I do.” He turned the key and opened the door

“This better be worth it.” She stepped inside and dropped her coat on the floor.

“You mean the apartment, right?” He questioned her.

“What?” She made her way through the sitting room, dodging unpacked boxes along the way.

“You said this better be worth it,” he threw his coat on the chair as he made his way to the bar, “what did you mean?”

“Did you really think I meant your apartment? “ She unpinned her blonde hair and it fell perfectly over her shoulders. “I meant you. You better be worth it.”

He grabbed a beer and shut the fridge. “Walking barefoot for two blocks in New York City is worth it to spend the night with me. Trust me.”

“Are there boxes in your bedroom?” She wandered down the hallway toward his room. “I just hate boxes. They are so ugly and brown.”

He heard her bump into the wall. “You alright?” He took a sip of beer and unbuttoned his shirt. He took it off and laid it on the chair. He walked over to the windows. He had to waste a little time. Had to finish the beer before going to bed. He stared out the window, but happened to notice his reflection in the window. He checked himself out in the glass and wondered how he made People Magazine’s Hottest Bachelor list. His body was not perfect. His meditation was broken by the now familiar whiny voice.

“Gerry?” Celine stood in the doorway in the underwear she had gotten from the Victoria’s Secret Runway show she did last week.

“What do I need to do to make you stop calling my name?” He took one last big sip.

“I don’t know, but I can think of what you can do to make me scream it.”

He placed the beer on the window ledge and darted after her playfully. “Do you think it’s worth it?”





Chapter 2

The Assistant

Miranda Carey had met Gerry Benton when she was a production assistant on his first feature film. It was his first featured role in a Dreamworks picture and her first “real” job after college.

Gerry had never been to Los Angeles and he got to know it quickly when he lived there for nine months during filming.

He had no confidence in his first role. He had only done stage work up to that point and now he was in front of all the cameras and a director whose name he heard numerous times when watching the Academy Awards.

It was his first day on set and he had been up since 3 A.M. in hair and makeup. He was playing a soldier, so they needed to use some prosthetics to make him look wounded. He was panicking inside his mind. He was dead tired and trying to act like he knew what he was doing.

It was time for his first scene. Sun was coming up and they needed the light to get the scene. Lots of pressure. He only had a couple of times to nail it or the sun would be completely up and he would blow that shoot for the day. Great first impression that would be.

As he rode in the golf cart toward the set, he recited his lines over and over. He felt awkward in all the makeup. How could he give a good performance like this?

His stomach was churning and with each bump he felt worse and worse. Between the early wake up time, no breakfast and his nerves, he was certain to blow this chance.

“Could you try to avoid the bumps.” He asked his red-headed driver politely.

“Sure. Sorry. I just want to get you to the set as quickly as possible” she responded nervously.

The one thing Gerry was good at was acting OK, even when he was not. “There is no hurry, really.” He joked.

“I don’t want to get in trouble my first day on the set.”

“It’s Ok.” He took a deep breathe, hoping to calm his nerves. “Can you pull off to the side there?”

“Are you sure, sir? They are calling for you over the radio?”

“Seriously, you do not have to call me sir. What is your name?”

“Miranda…Miranda Carey.” She held her hand out to him. He did not take, but responded quickly.

“Well, Miranda, I just wanted to know your name before I threw up in front of you.” He leaned over the side of the golf cart.

“Are you serious?” Miranda panicked and slammed the brakes, throwing Gerry out of the cart. “I’m sorry.” She jumped out and ran around to see if he was hurt. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah…I was kidding about the throwing up part.” He laughed.

“Are you kidding me? How could you do that to me?” In a huff, Miranda got back in the cart, “Let’s go.”

Gerry climbed into the cart, brushing off dirt and leaves, “Sorry, I just had to. It calmed me down quite a bit.” He laughed again as he watched her blood boil even more.

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re an easy target.” He smiled at her.

The rest of the ride to the set was silence, with a few giggles from Gerry and eye-rolling from Miranda.

When they arrived at the set, everyone was rushing around preparing to take advantage of the sunrise. Gerry was quickly escorted to his position, which was a muddy ditch with lights and cameras all around it. The relaxation he got from his prank on Miranda had worn off quickly.

As he laid in the ditch, a make up artist buzzed around him until someone yelled, “Enough! Let’s get started people.” All the people around to take the attention off of him were gone to their places behind the camera. The focus was on Gerry. He started repeating his lines again, then the nerves took over and he could not even remember the first word. The first word was so important. For Gerry, if he remembered the first word that was it. The rest of the words would come to him like magic from his memory. Not happening this time.

“Action.” Gerry said nothing.

Still nothing.

Gerry watched the horror come across everyone’s faces. They were all staring at him, as if to will him to say the words. Miranda was in the crowd, watching her new prankster friend blow his chance at stardom. She actually felt bad for him. He was nice to her, even though he nearly gave her a heart attack. She glanced down at the script to see what he should have been saying.

She read it quickly. Guns will never be enough to topple their defenses.

As she read on, she got as close as she could to Gerry’s sightline. He had that deer in headlights look and she got right in front of him. She wanted to help him, but could not think of anything else but shouting out the lines for him. She held her hand like she was making a gun and pointed it at Gerry. It took him a second to notice her, but when he did a sweet smile came across his face.

“Guns will never be enough to topple their defenses,” a production assistant yelled from behind the director.

“Guns will never be enough to topple their defenses,” Gerry yelled in his rough, Scottish voice.

Miranda smiled and watched as Gerry’s acting career took off. He nailed it on the second take. The director of that film, kept Gerry in mind for all of his projects. He also put a good word in for him to the film community.

Miranda worked for the nine months on the film and during that time, she became Gerry’s confidant on the set. Anything he needed, she was there to support him. Miranda liked being around Gerry, because he was not what she expected an actor to be like. He was a real person. He wore jeans and a T-shirt when they were not filming. He also had real human flaws.

Miranda discovered Gerry’s biggest flaw the night of the wrap party. They had been filming in this deserted location in Northern California and the hottest club nearby was a hole in the wall. It was not even a club. It was a wooden shack that served alcohol. Mostly beer. Gerry was OK with that, since that was his drink of choice.

The cast and crew drank late into the night. The pitchers of beer kept coming. Even after nine months of filming Miranda was still trying to impress her co-workers, so she did not drink as much as everyone else. She definitely did not drink as much as Gerry.

The crowd began to clear out. Everyone was ready to get to bed without having to worry about getting up at 3 A.M. for once. They would be getting in at 3 A.M., so it was a good thing that the work was done.

Miranda watched Gerry stumble out of the bar. She watched the door to see if he would come back. He just left. No goodbyes to anyone.

Why was she so concerned about him? They had a friendship. That was it. She was not his girlfriend or anything. That was impossible; since he was probably more than ten years older than her. She also felt he was out of her league. She was the brainy, organized type and he was the reckless, brooding actor.

She started to worry, so she went out there to look for him.

“Gerry?” She surveyed the parking lot. There he was, sitting on the curb. “Gerry? What are you doing?”

“Are we leaving?” He mumbled.

“Sure. I’m Ok to drive. Did you want to say goodbye to everyone?” She helped him up.

“Nahh…Let’s go.” He got a sudden burst of energy and ran, not very straight, toward her Nissan XTerra.

Miranda unlocked the car and opened her door. Gerry was on the other side. With some fumbling, he made it into the passenger seat. Miranda had to help him buckle the seat belt.

“Ok. Let’s get you home.” She began to drive. She was a little nervous driving at night on the winding mountain roads. She had done the drive thousands of times during the day. At night, she could see nothing except the road in front of her, although she remembered how far down the cliffs actually were.

Gerry flipped on the radio and cranked the volume up. Miranda knew the song was by the Talking Heads, but she was not sure of the title.

Gerry mumbled the words along with David Byrne, “I can see my lifetime piling up. I can see the days the turn into nights.” He rolled down the window and the warm air whipped Miranda in the face.

Great. Loud music and annoying wind. That’s all I need while I drive on these dangerous roads. She sat up straight in her seat and kept both hands on the wheel. “Gerry, maybe you should shut that window.”

He hummed along with the music and did not even look at her. She just kept driving. They did not have much farther to go.

“I can see my lifetime piling up, reaching from my bedroom to the stars,” Gerry was becoming less coherent as Miranda drove on. He unbuckled his seatbelt and started to climb out the window.

Miranda swerved as she realized what he was doing. “Gerry! No! Stop! What are you doing?” She grabbed at him with one hand and pulled him back in.

He sat still for a second, then quickly flung open the door and stepped onto the step-up ledge on the side of the car. He screamed, “I can see my lifetime piling up! I can see it smashing into yours!”

Miranda had never been around someone like this before. The fear she had seen on the set the first time they met was gone. He was not afraid of dying. He was hanging out of her car screaming. If he fell out, he would fall down the cliff and be killed. She stopped the car.

“Why did you do that for,” Gerry asked disappointed.

“Sit down. I can’t believe you would do that! You could be killed!” She scolded him and he sat back down in the seat. The door was still open. “Are you going to close that?”

“No.” He slumped in the seat.

“Fine,” Miranda jumped out of the car, ran around to the other side of the car and shut the door. She got back into her seat and hit the child lock on the doors. No more hanging out of the car for Gerry. She reached for the keys to start the car and Gerry grabbed her hand. It was a forceful grab and it scared Miranda.

“What are you doing, Gerry?” She tried to pull her hand away from his grasp.

He held her hand tightly and stared into her eyes, “Let me have my fun.” He let her hand go and looked away.

“Ok…” Miranda muttered. She was a little scared, so she drove a little quicker than she normally would. By the time they got back to the hotel, Gerry had fallen asleep in the car. Miranda did not want to wake him. How would she help him into the hotel? She also knew that it was not a good idea for anyone to see the “drunk Gerry”. It would not be a good career move for him, so she left him in her car.

The next morning, Gerry woke up after an uncomfortable night of sleep. His neck was stiff and his lower back was sore. He was a bit disoriented and it took him a minute to realize that he was in a car. The bright sunlight burned his eyes. He squinted as he walked from the car to the hotel. He found his room and crashed.

He woke up again, this time in his own bed and it was 4 P.M. He felt better than before. The aches and pains were subsiding. Foggy memories of the previous night started to surface.

Miranda slept late as well. She woke up and enjoyed her time in the hotel. This was the first day that she actually had time to do that. She ordered room service and enjoyed the afternoon.

At about 5 P.M. she heard a knock at the door. Still in the hotel bathrobe, she sauntered to the door to see who it was. Through the peep hole, she saw a scruffy-looking Gerry. She opened the door slowly.

“Good morning,” he greeted her awkwardly, “can I come in for a sec?”

Miranda let him in.

“How did you sleep” she asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Not very well, thank you,” he smiled.

“Good.” Miranda sat at the table and glared at him.

“So, if what I am remembering from last night isn’t a dream, I think I owe you an apology.”

“You nearly gave me another heart attack!” She screamed.

“I’m sorry Miranda. I get like that sometimes. Well…a lot.” He sat down across from her. “I can understand why you left me in the car.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“I was drunk and you didn’t want to deal with me anymore.”

“Wrong. You were drunk and I didn’t want you to jeopardize your career. What if someone saw you like that? That is a bad rumor to have going around about you!”

Before the filming wrapped, Gerry already had two other films lined up. His agent had suggested that he hire an assistant to help him stay organized. Miranda was perfect for the job. Her age would scare his agent to death. A 21-year-old assistant to keep a 29-year-old-man in check was unheard of. She had to be his assistant, since he knew she was older and wiser than he could ever be.




Chapter 3

The Morning Routine

Miranda had been Gerry’s assistant for six years and they had an established routine. Well, Miranda had an established routine and Gerry’s routine was to put up as much resistance against whatever it was that Miranda had planned.

She was hyper organized and disgustingly proper at times. They were polar opposites, so Gerry knew she would be a great assistant even if she annoyed him to no end at times!

She was an early riser. Definitely not one of those people that leaves the house ten minutes after they get out of bed. She woke up two hours before she needed to be at Gerry’s apartment. She would shower and get dressed in her methodical manner. The process would take her thirty minutes. She was not into makeup or fashion, so no time was wasted picking out the perfect outfit or the eye shadow to compliment that outfit. She was a simple girl that knew she was above all of the makeup-wearers in New York City.

Her usual outfit consisted of pants, never skirts, that were comfortable, yet professional and a conservative shirt or sweater. Clothing was functional not decorative to her.

Her hair was chin-length and red. She had it cut, so that there was minimal styling involved. She wore contacts instead of her glasses, because they were just another thing to keep track of as she went through her day.

She would eat a healthy breakfast each morning, that usually consisted of healthy cereal like Grape Nuts or Muesli. She subscribed to several newspapers, so she would browse through them while she ate. Her apartment was small, so she had a counter to eat at, rather than an actual table.

No pets or roommates to keep her company or distract her. Her apartment reflected her same theory about clothing. It also was simple and functional. She spent very little time at home, so she did not waste time or money on decorating her East Village apartment.

Gerry paid her well and her pay increased with each film that he signed on to do. He was a great actor to work for, because although he was reckless in life, he was not reckless with his acting career. Well, his manager and agent were not reckless with his career.

Miranda was one of the people that surrounded Gerry and kept him in line. She was the front-man in the battle against Gerry’s self-destructive behavior.

After Miranda ate and read the papers, she would check her email and Gerry’s email. She would print out anything important and bring it to him, with the important parts highlighted. Gerry was not techno-savvy, so checking email was a concept that frustrated him.

Before she left the apartment, she would call Gerry from her cell phone and let him know she was thirty minutes away. He was usually still asleep and she would talk to him for several minutes until she could tell he was more awake. He would plead with her to take her time or to push back any appointments he had that day.


She had moved from Los Angeles to New York after she had first met Gerry and agreed to be his assistant. He had the next two years of his life planned, going from one film to the next. Miranda knew she would have a steady job since his career was on the rise.



Chapter 4

The Wake Up Call

The lobby of Gerry’s apartment was grand, compared to Miranda’s apartment at least. It was an older building and it had not been updated with the ultra modern furniture that had been overtaking new apartment décor. It fit Gerry’s style perfectly. He was not comfortable with modern things. Coming from the Old World, he was not used to the stark, simplicity of modern in-town living.

Large columns flanked the entryway and marble floors echoed visitor’s footsteps. The doorman was always eager to help Miranda when she arrived in the mornings. Her hands were usually full papers and boxes and always two cups of coffee. Gerry needed the energy to wake up in the mornings and she needed the energy to fight to keep him on schedule.

Miranda, very acquainted with the doorman, greeted him every morning with a smile and a quick ‘Good Morning’. It was robotic, yet friendly all the same. This morning she was juggling more than normal. She had stopped by Gerry’s post office box to clear out all the fan mail that had accumulated while they were filming on location.

“Can I help you upstairs Miss,” the doorman politely offered?

“That’s OK. I got it,” she responded quickly.

Miranda never accepted help with anything. She felt that if she always relied on other people to help her that she would become useless and lazy.

She fumbled with the mail and coffees as she approached the elevator. Once the elevator arrived and the doors opened, she entered and placed the box of fan mail on the floor for the ride up to the 26th floor. She took a sip of her coffee and breathed deeply. She knew she had a tough job ahead of her today. Gerry had been at the fashion show last night and he was notorious for pulling all nighters afterward.

The doors opened on his floor and she was back to balancing the box and the coffees. She approached Gerry’s door and placed the box back on the floor, so she had a free hand to knock.

Miranda had an upbeat, happy knock that always annoyed Gerry at 9 A.M. It reminded him of his mother waking him up for school when he was younger. She was always so chipper and lively in the early morning hours.

Usually Gerry was already out of bed and smoking a cigarette on the balcony. The T.V. would be on, but nothing specific, just whatever channel it was on when he pressed the power button. It was on for noise only.

Miranda heard nothing through the door. No footsteps or muffled T.V. noise.

She knocked again, waited five minutes then knocked again. Still nothing. She rolled her eyes and placed the coffees down next to the box. She produced her cell phone from its place in her bag.

She pressed the #2 and it automatically dialed Gerry’s cell phone. #1 was already programmed for 911. Her parents were #3.

She leaned against the door while she waited for him to answer. She could hear his phone ringing through the door, so she at least knew he was home and then she heard unsteady footsteps and finally a groggy, “Hello?”

“Good Morning, Sunshine,” she greeted him in that peppy tone that made him want to throw the phone out the window.

“Where are you? Tell me I have more time to sleep.”
“Open the door.”

He rubbed his face and groaned, “Shit. Miranda.” He hung up.

She placed the phone back in her purse and scooped up the coffees. She heard his heavy footsteps approach the door. As the door opened, there stood an unshaven, groggy resemblance of the man that had a GQ fashion shoot that afternoon.

“We need to be downtown in an hour.” Miranda was in assistant mode. She handed Gerry his coffee and went about cleaning up his apartment. She picked up his shirt from the night before and carried it with her as she cleaned up the empty beer bottles. She had gotten him a recycle bin, since his production of empty beer bottles was perpetual.

Gerry slumped over the counter, using it to hold himself up. He wore tattered flannel pants and a T-shirt, not the look of a GQ model. He watched Miranda flutter around his sitting room, giving each area of his apartment a touch from her anal-retentive wand. She opened the windows and the warm, spring air rushed in along with the sounds of the traffic on the streets below.

“What time is the shoot?”

“1 P.M. sharp,” she folded his shirt into a neat package and began to walk down the hall to his bedroom. The sounds of the shower found their way to her ear. “Did you have a sleepover again last night?”

Gerry nodded his head and took a long drag from his cigarette. “Celine needed a place to stay last night.”

“Her upper west side penthouse was not good enough?” Miranda turned around and came back to the kitchen with his shirt. She could put it in the dry cleaning pile later.

“Miranda, you know I hate when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like a jealous girlfriend.”

“Are you still drunk?” She threw the shirt back on the chair.

“Not yet.” He walked to the fridge and browsed his beer selection. “The shoot is at one, so I have time to relax a little.”

“I am not jealous of a blonde, sleazy model who hooks up with a different man every night.”

“That’s more jealous talk.” He looked over his shoulder at her. He always knew how to push her buttons.

“It is not jealousy at all,” She exploded. “I work for you. If you have no job, I have no job!”

Celine walked down the hallway like it was a runway and interrupted Miranda’s speech. “Good Morning.” She walks over to Miranda and looks over from head to toe. “Gerry, who is this? Your housekeeper?”

“Miranda, my assistant.”

“Housekeeper is not too far off!” She grabbed the shirt off the chair and charged down the hallway to put it in the dry cleaning pile. It was tearing her up inside that she could not put it away earlier.

“Did you sleep well, love?” He handed her the pack of cigarettes.

“It was fine.” She took a cigarette. “You look like hell. Did you look like this last night and I just didn’t notice?”

“I woke up a few minutes ago. Not everyone is a supermodel.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him, trying to kiss her.

She struggled and got herself free from his grasp. “Are you kidding me?” She walked over to the couch, picking up her bag and coat. “I have appointments today.”

“No kiss goodbye?”

“What for?” She turned and opened the door.


Chapter 5

Adoration

Dear Gerry,
I saw your latest movie and I am in love! I have 5 children and I just know you would make a great father. My husband left us two years ago and I have been single and searching for the perfect man. I have enclosed a picture. Please call me and we can set up a date!

Love,
Mary Jo (a.k.a. Gerry’s Love Goddess)

“They love you.” Miranda placed the letter back into the pink, rose scented envelope and back into the box.

“You know this freaks me out, right?”

“You need to respond to some of this eventually. You don’t want to get a bad reputation with your fans.”

Gerry’s fan club started after his first film was released. He had a supporting role and that was enough to light a spark with women and men everywhere. His fan club had been growing and it had picked up intense momentum after his last film.

“Why are all of my fans overweight, middle-aged mothers who want to marry me?” He glanced at the fan photo and immediately handed it back to Miranda.

“You’re a bad boy and they want to tame you.” She took out a handful of envelopes and began to open them carefully. “Seriously Gerry, we need to go through and respond to some of these.”

“I don’t want to write back to any of the crazy ones.”

Fan mail disturbed Gerry. He had been getting tons of it for years and the few that he had read were from obsessive fans that were teetering on insanity. Miranda usually picked out a handful and sent autographed pictures. That was enough to keep them at bay.

These Gerry Fans were relentless. They were at every movie premiere with banners and screams of adoration. They really did help promote Gerry when he was starting out. His peers saw how the public responded to him and they wanted him in their movies. The fans were actually a supportive network of people sending their love, respect and of course desires to Gerry.

“Are you going to shower before we head to the shoot?”

“They will do my hair and makeup there, right?”

“That is the plan.”

“Then why do I need to shower.”

“You smell like a brewery.”

“And that’s bad?” He smiled and winked at her. His charm never worked with her. He always gave it a try though.

“Not a good first impression on an award-winning photographer like Ray Connor.” She gave him a disapproving stare.

“What would I do without you?” He turned and headed for the bathroom.

She yelled down the hall to him, “We still need to figure out this fan mail situation!”

“You’re not going to let this go are you?”

“You have to respond to some of these. My generic pictures have held them off this long. We don’t want to have rumors going around that you’re unapproachable. Your appeal is that you are a “real” man, not some glossy model/actor. You need to be approachable and down-to-Earth. It’s so simple to achieve that. Five letters. That’s all I’m asking you to do.”

“So I have to go through that entire box and find five sane women?”

“I’ll go through and pick out five letters and leave them on the table for you. I’ll even get you some cards you can write a short message and you’re done!”

“Think sane Miranda. I’m not writing back to Mary Jo who wants me to father her children!”


Chapter 6

Another Night Out

The photo shoot went well, even though he needed caffeine and a white powder pick-me-up half way through. Gerry was put in various outfits that he would never choose to wear himself. Stuffy shirts and tailored pants were not his style. He opted for a more relaxed look in his everyday life. His favorite outfit was a pair of beat up jeans and a T-shirt he had since college. Thank goodness for stylists!

His stylist was on call at all times. She had the big events on her schedule, but she was always prepared for an emergency call from Miranda saying that Gerry had a last minute event. One of the big events on the Gerry calendar was the Golden Globe Awards.

He had done a film last summer about a man who discovers himself after a messy divorce and a weekend in Miami. He had to learn an American accent for the role. All the buzz was around this film, Waking Up at 35. This was not Gerry’s first awards show, but it was his first where he was in a nominated film. It was nominated for best picture and he would have to go up on stage with the director and the rest of the cast to accept the award, if it won. The director was about to start another project and was considering working with Gerry again. He had some doubts due to Gerry’s late nights and not so chipper mornings on set, but he was close to taking another chance on him.

The usual routine started at 2P.M. in the afternoon; wardrobe, hair, drinks. By the time the limo arrived at his apartment, he looked like a model and felt like a super hero. He was going unescorted to this event, except for Miranda who was always along to keep him in line.

The limo was stocked with champagne, even though the ride was only minutes, the traffic jam of limos once he got there took forever. He usually sat in the limo and polished off a bottle by the time it was his turn to make the walk down the red carpet. He always needed some extra help to make it through the flashes and reporters screaming his name. It was such a surreal event to him and it overwhelmed him. He would think about when he was growing up as a kid and how he never even dreamed of being famous.

The door to the limo opened and the flashes and crowds of reporters awaited him. He kicked back the last of the champagne and stepped out onto the red carpet. He was always uncomfortable at these things. He loved attention, but this kind made him feel awkward. He was wearing clothes that were restrictive and shoes that had never been worn. The crowds and flashes were blurry to him by this point. The champagne was hitting him and fast, on top of the beers he had before the limo ride. His head was swirling. He was tense and he started to feel like he could black out and pass out face down right on the carpet.

They were back…his panic attacks. He had trouble with panic attacks when he was in his twenties, but he got over it as his life became busier and he had no time to think about his irrational worries. In his twenties, the panic was brought on by his uncertainty about his career. Deep down inside he wanted to be an actor, but he struggled with taking that risk and living a life of uncertainty until he was successful.

The cause of this new bout with panic was uncertain to him at this point. He just knew that he could not give in to the panic, that it would ruin his career. He drank more throughout the night to mask his growing anxiety. The best picture award was the last to be given out and the fact that he would be going up on stage with everyone to accept it was playing over in his mind. What if he passed out? What if he got tongue-tied? What if… What if… What if…

His head was swirling and he knew he needed something stronger than alcohol to get him through the last hour. During the next commercial break he would go to the bathroom where, at these award shows, he could score what he needed.

He could feel the relaxation immediately wash over him. It was a relaxation followed by a boost of confidence. He felt like a super hero again and not a weak, insecure average man. He left the bathroom and wandered into the lobby of the auditorium. He was a bit disoriented and thought the awards were over. He fumbled passed the TV equipment that lined the lobby. The TV News Magazine shows had their backdrops set up and ready for when the show let out and the celebrities came pouring out with awards in hand. He walked passed their set ups and thought he was in an alternate universe. Where was everyone? He thought he was having a nightmare. He checked to make sure he was wearing clothes. Yup. Got my clothes on. It’s not THAT dream again.

“Jerry!” Miranda’s voice broke his trance as she came scurrying toward him. “Jerry?” She caught up to him and began her scolding, “What are you doing? You said you were going to the bathroom and you’ve been gone for an hour!” She took his arm and lead him back toward the auditorium. “I am such an idiot. I should have gone with you.”

“I can go to the bathroom on my own, Miranda.”

She let go of his arm abruptly, “Obviously you can’t.”

“Everything is fine. We’ll go back and sit down and everything will be fine.”

“Everything is not fine, Gerry. While you were in the bathroom FOR AN HOUR, your movie won best picture and you were no where to be found.”

“Everything is fine.”

Miranda stopped suddenly and turned toward Gerry, “I’m calling the limo. You’re going home.” She took her cell phone out of her pocket.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine. Let’s go sit down.” He started to walk again toward the auditorium and suddenly the doors flew open and a rush of people came toward them.

Miranda got separated from Gerry and she could not see him anymore. She hung up the phone and put it back in her pocket.

Gerry got turned around in the crowd. As his friends passed by him and they patted him on the back and congratulated him. Next thing he remembers, there was a mic in his face.

“So Gerry, tell us how does it feel to be a part of the cast of Waking Up at 35?” A gorgeous, blonde correspondent stood before him awaiting his answer.

“It was good,” he mumbled.

“So why did you not go up on stage with the cast,” she pried, wanting the scoop before her fellow reporters.

Miranda finally appeared next to Gerry and she handed him her cell phone. She looked him straight in the eye. It was a look that was filled with disgust and friendship at the same time.

“I was on the phone,” he paused, searching for a good story, “with my mom.”

The correspondent ate it up, “That is so sweet.”

The press ran with the story and plastered it all over and his fans adored him for it. It fueled their “bad boy with a good heart” image of him. His fellow cast members and Miranda hated him for it, because they knew where he really was. This episode sealed the deal with his director and Gerry lost the part in his next movie. He had nothing lined up at this point. The down times between films tore him up. He had not had any down time lately and this would be his first in several years. Even though he was part of an award-winning film, word was beginning to spread through the film community that he was gamble.

After the interviews wrapped up, it was on to the after parties. More drinks and mingling. More beautiful women to throw themselves at him and more dirty looks from Miranda. She was getting tired of saving his career everyday and she had made enough industry contacts to know that if Gerry’s career was suddenly over, that she could find a job with someone else.

She called the limo for him at the end of the night. He had been trying to talk this young actress into going home with him, but he was not successful. He would be going home with Miranda instead.

They got in the limo and rode silently back to his apartment. Gerry loosened his tie and got as comfortable as he could in a suit. Miranda’s thoughts were racing. She was thinking about how disappointed she was with him tonight. She wanted him to know how angry she was and how she thought about leaving him. She finally decided to say something, because she knew she would not sleep tonight if she did not.

“I’m speechless.”

“That’s a first”

“I can’t believe you are willing to throw away this wonderful life that you have.”

“I’m not throwing anything away. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Did you see the way Trent Burns was looking at you? He was ready to give you the final word on his next picture and you made the decision for him.”

“It was one night, Miranda.”

“No. It is all the time. It’s the drinking, the drugs, the women. It’s going to come out with the press and your fans someday soon.”

He stared at her from across the limo and shook his head.

“I’m serious, Gerry. I actually thought about leaving you tonight. I don’t want to go down on this sinking ship.”

The limo pulled up in front of his apartment. He paused for a second and thought about sitting in the car longer and finishing this discussion, but he was too tired to fight. “Go then. I’m not going to beg you to stay. You’re replaceable.” He stepped out of the car and did not look back. The door slammed and the car pulled away.



Chapter 7

A Long Night Alone

Gerry stepped into his apartment and tossed his keys on the bar. He walked over and got a beer out of the fridge. He unbuttoned his shirt, removed his tie and laid his jacket over the couch. He felt drained. The festivities of the night were catching up with him. Things were starting to sink in and his no fear attitude that had been around in the limo with Miranda quickly disappeared. He was alone tonight. No model to distract him from his thoughts.

He surveyed his loft in the darkness, as the moonlight poured through the window. It was quiet and the stillness was maddening to him. He was uncomfortable with silence. His heart began to race and his chest tightened. He had not been alone in months and it was a foreign feeling to him.

He sat on the sofa, breathed deeply and took a sip of beer. He repeated this calming ritual several times. He came back to reality and resumed the study of his loft. He thought about the unpacked boxes that sat untouched in the corner of the room. He had been in his place for six months, but due to the heavy work schedule had not found the time to settle in. He wondered what was in the boxes, obviously nothing that he needed immediately. He placed his beer on the table and was about the get up to inspect the contents, but he noticed some papers on the coffee table and another box next to the sofa. He was now distracted. He flicked on the lamp next to him.

He sifted through the papers and realized these were the delirious rants of his devoted fans. This must be the pile of letters that Miranda had selected for him to reply to. The first letter was written in red ink and there were hearts on the stationary, as well as a few extra drawn next to his name. It looked like a 10-year-old girl had written the letter, yet the first paragraph proved that was not true.

Dear Gerry,
I have never written a fan letter before, but I could not hold back anymore. I have seen Waking Up at 35 ten times and I can’t wait until it comes out on DVD, so I can watch it whenever I want. You are so handsome as a blond. I just can’t get enough of you. I know you are 35-years-old and you probably meet all these young girls, but you really need an experienced women to keep you interested. I will turn 49 next month and I would love to spend my birthday with you.
Please call me.

An enclosed picture did not accompany this letter, but he knew that she probably had the typical Gerry-fan look: ratty hair, possibly a mullet and sunken face or a chubby face with extra chins. He just could not fathom what would inspire someone to write a letter to a movie star and seriously think they had a chance on being “the one”.

He browsed a few more letters, each one just as obsessive as the next. Normal people don’t write letters, I guess.

He picked up the pile of letters that Miranda had chosen and was about to dump them back in the box, when he noticed a small package wrapped in brown paper. His fans occasionally sent him gifts and they were usually nice, except for the used underwear and other homemade oddities.

He removed the brown paper and revealed a small book with a beautiful green landscape picture on the cover. He thought it reminded him of the green hills of Ireland. He opened the first page and immediately noticed the exquisite handwriting. It was not fancy, but it had a unique style and it was still legible. These days people had no time to write. Typing had taken away from the art of writing. He began to read the first page.

Tuesday, January 4th
"I was in a bookstore today and found this new journal. I was drawn to the cover and the scene was somewhere I wished I could go. The green rolling hills reminded me of Ireland, well what I imagine Ireland would look like. This picture calms me. I could get lost in it and my imagination all day. It also saddens me a little, because I remember when I was a kid and how I dreamed that I would travel the world. I haven’t even left the States once."

Gerry stopped for a moment to take a sip of beer and he closed the book and stared at the cover. It was an amazing scene that really did look like Ireland. He had taken a trip there last year, but he did not remember the details. He remembered flying in and seeing the rolling hills and the unique green color. After that, he saw the inside of many pubs and his hotel. He met this local girl and spent a couple nights with her and her young college friends.

This was the oddest gift. There was no mention of his amazing hair or muscles. There was no request to meet or marry, just a real life thought. The entry made him feel a bit guilty. This woman had never left the country and could appreciate the scenery of Ireland from this simple picture. Imagine how she would feel if she saw the real thing? She would not waste her time in the confines of a pub.

Thursday, January 10th
"Today I got up a little late and was racing against the clock all day. I felt like I had no time to breathe. I inhaled lunch at my desk and I barely remember what I actually ate. It was such a hectic day. To top off my insane day, Tom and I went out for dinner and it was miserable. He was on his cell for half the meal, beating down some poor guy on the other line. I just sat there and tried to relax.
Greg was so rude to this man and I prayed that he never spoke to me that way."

"Tom is a good man, but he gets off track a lot of times. Work consumes him and it is his number one priority. We’ve been together for 2 years and I think we’ll end up getting married."

Gerry thumbed through the pages of the journal. It was filled to the last page. Each entry was dated. He found it odd that there was no mention of himself yet. Was this package even meant for him? He felt awkward reading this woman's personal thoughts.

Monday, January 14th
"My mind is a prison. I feel like everything that I want to do with my life is impossible. I have all of these amazing dreams and I can't make them reality. My life is slowly being sucked away by my 9 to 5 job. I went on an audition today during my lunch break and I screwed it up. My nerves took over and I forgot the lines. I have been trying to control the panic episodes, but I lose every time."

Gerry stopped suddenly. He felt like this woman was in his mind. It was so strange to him that she had not mentioned him yet and somehow they had this odd panic connection. His fans knew nothing about his condition, so how could this woman know?

To Be Continued....