Chapter 4
Ensley
It was Saturday night, and I finally had some room to breathe. After the week that I’d had with every minute of every day and night scheduled and planned, I felt like tonight was going to be a well-deserved break. I had organized a last-minute girls-only night out at a bar in downtown LA with four of my closest friends in the city. These were girls who I’d grown close to over the past five years, girls who were in similar positions as me-we were all struggling actors, only I was now a little different from them. I had broken through.
We arrived at the bar; all dressed to the nines. For a change, I didn’t have to take fashion advice from my stylist tonight. I had dressed in slim dark jeans and a copper-glimmering crop top. I’d styled my long gold hair so that they fell in soft waves around my shoulders and I went for a more smokey makeup for the night. I didn’t have to adhere to the “nice girl,” “sophisticatedly dressed” actress look tonight.
Just as we were entering the bar, I heard some giggles behind me. My friends Cameron and Fiona turned to look, just as I heard a girl’s voice.
“You are Ensley Adams!”
I caught the look of jealousy in Fiona’s eyes when I turned to face a girl who was my age and bubbling with excitement. I tried not to think about what Fiona was thinking in that moment.
“I am. I’m surprised you recognized me!” I exclaimed, putting on my public-eye smile for a fan.
“Of course, I did! I just watched your show and then saw you on Mcfarland’s Late Night show,” she giggled, and I smiled some more.
“Would you mind if I took a selfie with you?” the girl asked, throwing excited looks at her friends who had gathered around her now.
I looked over my shoulder at Fiona, Cameron and the others. They were standing by the door of the bar with their shoulders slumped, already looking bored. I threw them a look of apology and turned back to the girl who had already gotten her camera ready.
“Of course. Where do you want me?” I asked, and the girl and her friends gathered around me. I smiled at her phone and the flash nearly burnt my eyes, but I didn’t drop my friendliness. They had a million questions to ask me, and I knew that my fans were my biggest asset.
I hugged some of them, shook their hands and was just about to break away and walk back to my group when an older woman intercepted me. She must have been in her mid-forties and behind her was a shy looking man who must have been her husband or her date for the night.
“Would you mind taking a photo with me too?” the woman asked, looking sorry for interfering with my night. I wanted to tell her that I had to go back to my friends. I could already see a few more people behind her, looking expectantly at me. There was a queue forming! If I agreed to a picture with her, I’d have to agree to a picture with all the others. But I knew, I couldn’t turn her away. The fact of the matter was that my career depended largely on how my fans perceived me. Just talent alone wasn’t going to ride me through the storm of a Hollywood career.
“I won’t mind at all. What’s your name?” I spoke to the woman as she put her arm around me. The man she was with was getting ready to take the photograph.
“Louisa and I love your show!” she exclaimed, and we laughed together as the cameras clicked.
As predicted, Louisa wasn’t the last one to want a photograph. I was intercepted by at least a dozen more people who wanted photos taken or autographs and I felt overwhelmed by all the attention. I must have been standing at the door of the bar for at least half an hour, interacting with people who wanted a few seconds of my time and I didn’t want to turn them away.
When the last person presented a business card for me to sign on the back of, I quickly backed away, waving at the others who continued to take pictures and smile.
I almost fell through the door of the bar, slightly relieved that I had managed to get away and at the same time, pleasantly on a high from all the attention. This was just the beginning, I knew there were lots more where that came from.
However, as much as I looked around the place, I couldn’t find Cameron or Fiona or any of the other girls. Had they just left the bar without telling me? Were they really that jealous of my newfound success?
I tried to not rile myself up. These were girls who were struggling to reach the position I had already reached. Who knew how I would behave if I were in their position? I let out a small sigh. None of them were really my best friends anyway, they were just like-minded people who I’d connected, a new city when I was trying to make a name for myself.
Instead of checking my phone or calling one of them, I decided that this was probably exactly what I needed. If they didn’t want to support my success, then that is fine with me. I started walking towards the bar so that I could sit there and have a few drinks by myself. I didn’t need the company of people who were envious of me when I could very well entertain myself.
“I’ll have a vodka martini, please,” I called out to the bartender, as I took a seat.