Page 1 of Reel Love

ONE

Alana

Fame is a lot of pressure …

~ Nick Carter

“It’s not ideal,” my mother aptly assesses from her end of the phone call.

With her next breath, she tells her massage therapist, “A little to the left, Jobert. And deeper into the tissue. Ahhhhh. Ungh. Yessss.” She draws out Jobert’s name so it sounds like zshow-bear, only thebearpart takes her a count of three. Always a flair for the dramatic—that’s my mother—even off screen.

I stare out the window of my home, out through the copse of trees that keeps me happily secluded from the property to the east of me, past the rooftops of the house and cottage on my neighbor’s estate, to the vast expanse of ocean in the distance. I should feel separated from my Hollywood life here—protected from any demands and intrusions. But one minute on the phone with my mother catapults me across the twenty-five miles separating my island home from the mainland. I may as well be sitting in a chair across a desk from a producer in a Burbank high rise right now.

My mother returns her attention to me, “Alana, sweetheart, you have a legacy to uphold here, not to mention the importance of your influence for generations of female actresses who will come after you. You simply cannot take this role. It’s beneath you. It’s a typecast. It’s soooo Alana Graves twenty-seventeen. You’ve evolved since yourAre You Kidding?days. You’ve made such headway, redefining yourself, claiming the relevance worthy of your namesake. This role would be a setback. An attractive nanny, flirting with the single dad she’s hired to work for? Talk about cliché. I … I highly advise … ahhhhh. Yes, Jobert, that’s the spot … You are the best.”

A groan takes the place of whatever my mother was about to say, followed by a long sigh. She seems to momentarily forget she’s on a call with me, leaving me to briefly reminisce about my time as a television nanny on the hit showAre You Kidding?I do miss the camaraderie of being in a TV series. That cast became like a second family to me—one I never see anymore.

“Anyway, what was I saying?” My mother’s voice somehow manages to convey both relaxed and uptight tones. “Oh, yes. I remember now. It’s a no on the role, Alana darling. Just talk to Mitchell and explain your reasoning. I’ll handle the fallout with Starshine Productions.” Then she adds, “I don’t know why you won’t consider the script I had sent over last week.”

“The one Daddy is producing?”

“Irrelevant. It’s a good role. Aligned … mmmm. Yes … Aligned with your goals.”

Mygoals. I don’t think I could find my goals with a bloodhound and a private investigator working round-the-clock. It’s not that I disagree with my mother. I probably shouldn’t take this nanny part. I should pursue something more relevant, with more depth. I should make my mark, live up to my family’s heritage in the film industry, pick up my proverbial machete and clear the way for generations of female actresses who will come after me.

Should, should, should.

My life is a castle built on the foundation of “shoulds.” Eachexpectation settles like an ancient stone on that established bedrock, threatening to dim the appeal of my multi-million dollar views.

“Okay, well. Good talk,” Mother declares. “Text me when you’ve broken the news of your decision to Mitchell. I’ll plan lunch with Suzette at Starshine this week. She loves Petit Trois. I’ll let her down gently over a niçoise salad and a filet.”

Mother laughs lightly. Then she sends air kisses and hangs up before I can even get the wordGoodbyeout.

“Well, that went well, don’t you think?” I say to nobody.

Then I collapse back into my leather sofa and grab my iPad, pulling up thePlay on Wordsapp on my phone. Escapism? Yes. At least I’m not lost in a bottle like so many A-list stars. I prefer to lose myself in a battle of the minds on an online Scrabble platform. Here, no one knows me. I’m simply SaturdayIslandGirl.

The reason for the Saturday in my handle is ridiculous—something from years ago, a time when I didn’t carry the weight of the world on my shoulders—when I was Gwendolyn, not Alana Graves, world-famous movie and television celebrity, heir to the Graves Production empire. Back then, I was a girl like any other girl. At least, every Saturday I was.

I log on and wait for a challenge to appear on my game dashboard. I could start my own match, but I’m secretly hoping Wordivore is on here. He—or she—has become a fun competitor for me. I could play against the computer, or a random opponent, but half the fun ofPlay on Wordsis the social connection. Pathetic as it may sound, this is one of my favorite ways to hang out with other people—anonymously challenging one another to word games.

It’s not that I’m completely friendless. I’ve got a few local people I trust here on the island. And there’s my assistant, Brigitte, who lives in Hermosa Beach. If I’m on the set, she’s on the set. When I’m here on the island, she and I chat or text daily.

But, when it comes to our personal lives, Brigitte knows everything about me, and I only know her friends by name, as if theyare characters in a story. It’s not like we can hang out together. Brigitte would take a bullet for me. And she’s a straight shooter, often telling me what I don’t want to hear and keeping me in line and on time but with a dose of humor and a resilience that’s essential if you’re going to survive in this business.

Brigitte’s not an aspiring star. In her words, “You wouldn’t catch me dead living your life.” I pointed out she couldn’t live my life if she were dead and she laughed that airy, carefree laugh of hers and said, “See. It couldn’t happen.” I admire her spunk. She’s got mad organizational skills but isn’t at all neurotic about it like the assistant before her was. That woman needed the vacation she’d never take, and probably a daily dose of Jobert.

Then, just because I was thinking of her, I shoot off a text to Brigitte.

Alana:Hey. Just want you to know I got the script.

Brigitte:You’re texting me at dinner time, which means your mom called.

Alana:She did, but that’s not why I’m texting.

Brigitte:Sure it is. You need to be balanced out. Like the pool guy at my apartment.

Alana: What are you talking about?

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