Chapter 2
Ensley
I walked back towards my dressing room, with the sound of receding cheers in the background. It was my third late-night talk show of the week, and just like all the other ones, this one too had been a complete success. It was surprising how comfortable I had gotten with being in the public eye. I enjoyed the attention and the love that people around the country were showering on me. It made me feel like every decision I had made till now, had been the right one. They had all got me here, to this moment, when I was on national TV.
I had been assigned a personal stylist, ever since I landed the new role on the sitcom. I didn’t particularly like the idea of someone dressing me on a regular basis, but I was trying to persuade myself to appreciate all the things that my newfound fame had to offer.
So, I had put on the tight red dress, the pearls at my neck and the super high black stilettos that my stylist had picked out for me for that evening. She was gone now, as was my personal makeup artist and I returned to the dressing room on a high. Still reeling from the success of the interview.
When I shut the door behind me, I could hear the live audience clapping. It was still a crazy thought to accept that these people were falling in love with me. I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it.
Until a few weeks ago, I was nothing more than a faintly familiar face on television. I’d bagged a couple of roles on soaps and a few smaller roles on TV movies in the past few years. None of those roles had been even close to being as big as the one I had now.
The sitcom, Failing at Love, had its whole series out on popular streaming service. Maybe the show would have gone unnoticed if it was aired on any other cable network, but with the streaming service quickly becoming one of the most popular ways for people to watch their shows in the country now; Failing at Love received rave reviews. Within weeks I had already become a household name before I even knew what hit me.
I had always wanted to be an actress. Ever since I was four years old, I had dreamt of being a well-known and well-loved face on TV. Acting in films, on the big screen hadn’t ever been my end objective. I had always believed that being a daily presence in people’s lives on TV was more personal. That I would be better appreciated by an audience that way. Now, at the age of twenty-five, I had my big break, and all my Hollywood dreams were coming true.
It had definitely been a good decision to move to LA.
The thought made my fingers twitch, as I sat in front of the lit mirror in the dressing room. I was working away carefully at taking off my makeup. The red lipstick came off, as did the thick layers of mascara from my eyelashes and the foundation from my face. I didn’t want to think about New York and the life I had left behind there. I’d had a good night, just like every other night these past few weeks. Thinking about New York would only make me anxious, and that was the last thing I wanted right now.
I stared at myself in the mirror, my face was makeup free and yet there was a glow on my skin, my blue eyes were wide and bright. A smile creased the sides of my mouth, and I knew I was content. I was happy with the direction my life was taking.
I undid the sleek bun that the makeup artist had tied for me earlier, and my long blond straight hair came tumbling down. I touched the strands with my fingers; they were slippery smooth, and I thanked myself for remembering my grandmother’s advice and brushing my hair a hundred times every night when I was growing up.
Standing up from the chair, I started changing out of the dress into the clothes I had arrived at the studio in. A pair of skinny jeans and a silk blouse. That smile was still on my face. I couldn’t stop being excited about the rest of my life. This sitcom was only the beginning, very soon I’d get more offers and then some more. All I had to do now was work hard and show my fans some love. I could do that. I was already doing that. I was trying to attend as many talk shows as I could before the next season was released.
Apart from being giddy with excitement, I was also tired. I didn’t want to admit it but the last few weeks had been a rollercoaster ride; leaving me exhausted now. I hadn’t had a moment to myself; I hadn’t had a chance to breathe. Before I got ready to leave the studio, I skimmed through my calendar on my phone. I had the night off on Saturday. My face lit up at the thought that maybe finally I would be able to spend some time with my girls, out of the public eye.
Popping my phone back into my bag, I picked up my car keys and was ready to go.
It was at that moment when the feeling returned. That familiar dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was being watched. My limbs froze, and I stood stock still at the back door of the dressing room. It was the door I had come in through earlier and the door that would lead me out into the parking lot. All these weeks, I had a chauffeur driving me around, but tonight, desperately craving some privacy, I had asked him to take a break, and I had driven myself to the studio.
Now, I was beginning to regret it.
Who could be watching me? I looked around the silent dressing room. The windows and the doors were shut, there were no cameras around. I was the only person here and yet, I felt like there was someone else here with me.
A deep pit formed in my stomach when I realized it was Ryan I was thinking of. For the past five years, since I left New York and left him, I had always been a little paranoid. There would be days when I’d go without once thinking of him and then suddenly, out of the blue, I’d be hit by this nauseous feeling that he was here with me.
It was a ridiculous thought, I knew that. But he had gotten so deep under my skin that I knew I would always be afraid of him. Even though I hadn’t been in touch with him, and I hadn’t seen him in five years, he was always somehow in the back of my mind. I hated how he affected me the way he did.
Sucking in my gut and stabilizing my breathing, I opened the door again and stepped out. I refused to let him make me afraid. The daylight was slowly fading behind the clouds. The parking lot was full of parked cars because the show was taped on a busy studio lot. However, there was nobody there.
I weaved around the cars as I made my way towards mine. I hadn’t changed out of the stilettos and the sound of the heels clicking against the concrete was the only sound around me. I hurried towards my car and on the way, as I clutched, keys in my fingers.
The longer I spent in the parking lot, in the growing darkness, by myself, the more anxious I got. The faster my heart was beating.
At my car door, I thought I heard footsteps behind me. The keys fell from my hand on the ground, and I stifled a shriek and crouched down on the ground to pick it up as quickly as I could. My breath was caught in my throat. The sound of footsteps echoed near me, and I was convinced that someone was running up behind me and I was too frightened to turn and look.
I thrust the key into the door and finally gathered the courage to look. There was nobody there. I had imagined the whole thing. The footsteps. The convincing sensation that there was another human presence in the parking lot. It was all in my head.
Breathing heavy sighs of relief, I opened the car door and sat down. The key was in the ignition now. I checked all the mirrors in the car to make sure there was nobody in the car, and I locked the doors. I was well and truly alone. I put my head into my hands. I felt like I was beginning to go mad. What had gotten into me? When was I going to stop being so afraid?
I turned the music on loud on the radio, just to make me feel like I wasn’t so alone and I started the car. Things had been going so well tonight until I started thinking of New York and Ryan.