Maya
I felt like a caged bird—maybe not a good analogy in light of some messed up stuff affecting my life—pacing in my hotel suite waiting for my busy schedule for the day to commence. It would’ve been a much nicer day if I was allowed to enjoy the fabulous low-eighties weather before attending nightly events. Being poolside snacking on a country club sandwich and sipping a Bikini Sunset cocktail sounded divine.
Yes, I thoroughly checked out the menu.
Being indoors to do interviews sounded like a real drag.
Even if I was surrounded by beautiful furnishings and being fed amazing food, the closest I was going to get to fresh air was from the sliding glass doors I insisted on having wide open. If I had to do the whole film festival press-junket scene, I didn’t want to be subjected to air conditioning and stuffiness. I just hoped that I didn’t have any journalists opposed to the warm weather in my hotel living room.
I thought it was lovely and I hoped to keep everyone upbeat. I had a feeling that no one truly loved the business side of the film festival. People were on edge.
Would the public like the film?
Would we get funding?
Who would get on board with producing, marketing, distributing…
There were so many questions, but the main one was probably would we make back the over-the-budget money we had put into the project?
I knew all about jumping through hoops like a trained seal to get my movies distributed around the world… and how I got into the industry to begin.
Since I was a little girl, I put on one-person plays in my bedroom with my stuffed animals as my audience. I even danced around and sang, the latter part was something I did not do in public. My mother, a pageant girl in her youth, wanted me to follow in her footsteps once she caught one of my performances. She gave up when I refused to sing which was what every other girl did willingly. One good thing did come from the fiasco, a talent agent who handled child actors—mainly commercial work—was in the audience and handed my mother a card.
I never did get a national commercial, but I did pose for a few kid clothing catalogs. I hated it. I wanted to move around and was happy when she moved me on to tap and ballet classes. I didn’t want to be a professional dancer but I was getting closer to performing. I just needed to be given a few lines of dialogue and the world would’ve been a brighter place.
I finally got all of that in high school and college. I was a total drama geek. I tried out for everything and if I didn’t get a leading role I begged them to give me something. My easy disposition and willingness to pitch in with stagehand stuff won me a lot of key roles in school productions. No one ever helped me with my home skits, so why should I expect things to be different when we were an amateur team.
Pull your own weight!
That was a helpful attitude that got me right into a small playhouse group in Toluca Lake—mere steps away from big studios I dreamed of setting foot on. I took every part offered to me, from tiny ones to leading roles. We did full-length plays along with improvisation and short skits. It was a great experience and I learned a lot. It was, also, where I got my big break when I was discovered on the small stage by a director who sat in the back row on a folding chair placed on a stacked riser. It was not a fancy place for such a well-known cinematic figure to be hanging out.
That amazing introduction set me on a path of minor roles in a variety of movies. A period piece was my first time on the silver screen, followed by a slapstick horror to dramatic sci-fi. I had pictured myself in a romantic comedy but it had yet to happen. And with my lead role as an action hero, I was certain to be typecast. The only saving grace was that it looked like my character would be needed in several more films. Definitely a moneymaker!
I was sure that most people would say that was to be my “breakout movie” and would make me a household name.
Big star.
Big Box-office draws.
Big problems in the form of a stalker.
The last item was why my people had hired extra protection for my safety during the film festival in Palm Springs and most likely for the rest of the press tour.
When I stepped into the room to meet my protector, I was suddenly taken back in time as I looked at the gorgeous man in front of me. I swear to God he was the spitting image of a young Robert Redford…some might say Brad Pitt. However, I was practically swooning right there on the spot, picturing myself in an old movie where I was standing in front of a barstool in the role of Katie. With my protector as Hubbell wearing a white, full dress, Naval uniform and I was reaching up with my fingers to move his dark blond hair with golden highlights off his forehead. I don’t know how many times my mother and I watched The Way We Were and cried our eyes out with a box of tissues.
My heart was thumping erratically in my chest with that sexy vision in my head.
“I’m Logan.” I heard a manly voice say and wondered how he had moved across the room so quickly to be standing close enough to shake my hand.
The only answer; I must’ve closed my eyes and slipped off to la la land.
With my hand in his powerful calloused one, I wasn’t sure he was such a good fit for me in a businesslike arrangement.
How was I going to have him near me without thinking about how much I’d like to slip between the sheets with him?