Page 19 of Hollywood, Ending

“There is no joke, dear. There is no joke. Andy Warhol wants to be known. He even wants to be known, don’t take this the wrong way, by you and the likes of you. But Andy also wants to be known by other artists, by tastemakers, by the electric youth, by those who assign value to culture. He is not kidding when he becomes a model; he is modeling. He is not kidding when he becomes a businessman; he is…businessing. He is not kidding. He is absolutely radioactively himself. He loves the freaks and the gays and the bold because they have what you want, what we all want, which is to be at the edge of everything. They know what you’ll never know, which is how to love in a world that won’t love you back.”

“That’s going right into the trailer,” Kathryn said. “I can see it now. Cut.”

_____

We shot it again. I nailed my line each time, hit my marks, and Kai hit his. It felt like we’d found our way into the rhythm of the movie. The dialogue no longer struck us as difficult or foreign; it was now our shared language. Once you know your character, it’s a joy to live with them. One of the big problems with being a human is that you spend the whole time you’re here inside of one body, looking at the world through one set of eyes, unable to really imagine with any clarity what it would be like to be someone else. You see everyone, even the people who are closest to you, in the context of yourself. My mother. My brother. My friend. But doing that walk-and-talk with Kai, I didn’t feel like Carly was my anything. I was, insofar as it is possible to be, outside of myself and within her. That’s as close to proper magic as I’ve ever encountered, and while I did tire of shooting the same scene again and again (sixteen times, as it happened), the feeling of being not-myself never ceased to amaze.

_____________

Did I like acting, or did I like being good at acting? I liked being good at it, but I did also love the work itself. I enjoyed finding the right action, the right moment to flip the page of my reporter’s notebook, the right way of glancing up at my scene partner. Also, the money didn’t hurt. I was making $90,000 for this movie—less than most people think actors make but more than I could earn in three months doing anything else. And anyway it might lead to other opportunities, more deals like the one I had with Dior. I did not yet have Enough Money, but I had a path to it, which I understand is rare among twenty-two-year-old college dropouts. I was a child of abuse, but I was also a child of privilege forged by my abuser.

_____

I bought dinner for Kai that night—we had Thai food delivered to his apartment—and he showed me this TV show he liked about medieval people in a land of magic fighting for power. It was well-acted, and reminded me a bit of Gods of Andromeda. After the show ended, we were talking about it, then we drifted off into shared quiet. Eventually, I got up to leave.

“Love you,” he said.

“Thanks, Kai.” I stopped at his door and turned back to him. “Kai, do you like me or do you know it’s good for the movie to like me?”

“Oh, I like you. I like you a lot. I think you’re very smart and interesting. You compel me, if that makes sense. I always want to spend more time with you.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, it’s true. I wouldn’t tell Kathryn I like her, because I don’t like her.”

“What don’t you like about Kathryn?”

“You are much smarter than me but you don’t make me feel it. She does make me feel it.”

“You’re smart in a different way.”

“That’s what smart people say to be nice.”

“You’re a brilliant actor.”

“It’s easier for me. I know less than you do, so I have less to forget.”

I laughed. “And you’re funny.”

“Thanks, Juniper. We have a real Mutual Appreciation Society going. I like it.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

I took a step back toward him. “You talk a lot about the worst thing that ever happened, but you don’t say what it was. It’s hard not to be curious.”

“That’s not a question.”

“What was the worst thing?”

“I had to testify in a trial, basically.”

“What happened?”

He sighed. “There is this thing that people do. A thing I’ve noticed. Where they think if they show each other their most horrible horrors or whatever, then they are close. Then they are friends. You tell me about your mother, and I tell you about the trial, and then we are bonded. But it’s not really a way to know someone, just to see their goriest wounds. It’s like a shortcut. I don’t want to take a shortcut with you.”

I wanted to say, But you ask me about my mom all the time. I knew he was just being defensive, and part of me wanted to break down those walls and get to the core of him. But it was his life, his story, and his choice about whether to share it. “Okay,” I said. “Fair enough. I’m just saying I want to be close to you. I want to listen to you.”