Page 36 of Reel Love

Mother takes a sip of her water. She’s about to say something when Samantha shows up with our drinks.

“Oh. Wow. Um. You’re here too,” Samantha says to Rex. She looks between the two of us, obviously drawing a false conclusion—one that thrills my mother deeply. “Wow. Okay. Well, can I get you something to drink?”

“Sparkling water is fine,” Rex says with his dazzling smile. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back with that.”

When Samantha leaves, I nudge Rex. “She drooled over me. Got an autographed photo she says would be the first thing she grabs in a fire. Sorry you’re not her favorite.”

He chuckles. “I never could outshine you, Alana.”

“True. True,” I tease him.

And just like that, we’ve fallen right back into our comfortable friendship.

I’m glad we’re reconnecting. Making movies with other actors is so different from what the public imagines. They picture us all hanging out at one another’s houses, raising our kids together, going on vacations with one another. The truth is, a major motion picture takes about two months to film. We’re just getting to know one another well by the time we wrap up production and go our separate ways. Of course, Rex and I have done more than one film together, so we have built a rapport and casual friendship.

“See,” Mother says from across the table. “You two have chemistry to spare.”

“What we have,” I say. “Is a friendship.”

“Agreed,” Rex says. He can’t say more or he’ll tip the delicate balance that is my mother’s good favor.

“Well, friendship can deepen,” she states, not so subtly.

The subject of our publicity stunt is abandoned for the duration of our lunch. I’m nearly giddy with the outcome of my newly-stated boundary. And for some reason, I can’t wait to get online and tell Wordivore about my success. Only, I can’t divulge details about the lines I’ve had to draw to keep a fraction of my life untouched by fame. In what other universe would two co-workers be forced to put on this kind of a charade? Only in Hollywood.

Over lunch, Rex catches us up on the projects he’s been working on since we finished filmingBlasted. I fill him in on my next role. My mother manages to keep things delightful. She is able to be extremely charming and sweet, usually when she’s had her agenda met, but still.

Rex insists on paying. We stand to leave, and I sense a phone being raised in our direction before I even see the person across the room, seated at a table with a friend, snapping a shot of Rex and me. Rex places his hand on my back and leads me out of the restaurant. I fall into my role. This is a show like any other. I just have to follow the script and look believable.

I’m slipping my sunglasses on, Rex still has his palm to my lower back. The door swings open and cameras flash. The din of shouting is like the moment you click the remote and discover the volume was accidentally left at full blast.

The paparazzi are here.

This is not an accident.

We’re at a restaurant where influential people come to eat, but many other local residents dine here too. And the surrounding area isn’t especially bougie. The press were tipped off.

Rex guides me to Tank who is standing directly down the small set of concrete steps, just outside the waist-high, black wrought iron railing surrounding The Henry. Tank nods to Rex as he opens the gate to let me through. Cameras flash and voices overlap with shouts intended to get me to turn their direction. Rex bends and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. I turn and look up at him.

He leans in and whispers into my ear. “It’s going to be okay. This is publicity. It will boost the film. Hang in there.” When he pulls away, I smile up at him. Not because I’m in love, but because I’m not alone in this chaos. He’s here. We’ll muscle through. My boundaries are clear, for once. And Rex is right. The frenzy around our alleged reunification will boost the film.

As soon as we separate, the shouting punches through my awareness. People are screaming my name. “Alana! Alana! Are you and Rex back together? Alana!”

“Rex! Did you leave Ingrid Lund to get back with Alana?”

“How long have you been back together?”

“Look over here!” “Rex!” “Alana!”

Tank swoops his gigantic arm around my shoulders and Rex steps back. I’m ushered into the car, where somehow, my mother already has taken her place in the back seat. The door slams. Tank slides into the front seat. Miguel hits the gas and pulls into traffic, and the sound of people shouting my name dims into the background as we drive away.

TWELVE

Alana

You can't complain about the pressures,

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