Page 9 of Hollywood, Ending

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During the break, the three of us caught the same van back to the trailers, so I took a couple selfies of us. Kai seemed quiet—drained, even—and Matthew was typing on his phone the whole time, so I just sat there and posted the pics as a carousel to my Instagram, and then we were at the trailers.

You can judge your career status by your trailer situation. Matthew, of course, had a full trailer. Kai and I shared the unfortunately named “double-banger,” where one trailer accommodates two living spaces. I had a faux-leather couch that folded out to a bed, as well as a bathroom with a small shower. The only issue with a double-banger is that you can hear everything going on in the room next to you, so if your costar is playing video games or fucking someone, you’re able to follow along. Also, the bathroom noises.

Then there’s a triple-banger, at which point you’ve barely got enough room to get dressed, and finally for day players a so-called “honeywagon,” which contains several dressing stations, each a few feet wide. I’d been in a honeywagon when I booked my first commercials and guest appearances on TV shows. On Star Catcher, I’d had a triple-banger at first, then a double-banger after the show’s second season. For the two teen movies I’d made after Star Catcher, neither of which were big hits, I’d had double-bangers, and then on my last movie I’d had a full trailer, because I was the lead. Now I was back down to a double-banger.

I’d only been in my trailer a few minutes when I heard a knock. “Hey, it’s Ellen,” she said, as if on day one I’d know who Ellen was. “Ellen Kim. The studio publicist,” she added after a moment. Aha. I opened the door. Thin woman, shortish straight hair, wearing black jeans and a turtleneck sweater. “Hey,” she said, “I’m sorry about this, but the studio is asking for you to delete your Instagram post.”

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. That’s my bad. I didn’t—”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just, we offered People the first look, and that means costumes and everything. When you’re in civilian clothes, absolutely, take pictures. I hate that they’re doing this actually, because your socials are so key for this movie.” Another way of saying that my socials were part of the reason I’d been hired. “We want you to post. Just nothing with costumes if that’s okay. And yes I realize that you’re in costume and makeup most of the day so it’s not ideal. But the studio—”

“I get it and I’m so sorry. Is there anyone I should write or call to apologize?”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that, but there are some fans back at set and when y’all go back, if you could walk over and take selfies, that’d be helpful. And then you’ll notice that one of the fans has a very nice camera, and if you can take some pics for her, I’d appreciate it, because she is actually a photographer for People magazine. We moved up the exclusive.”

“Yeah, of course.” I felt terrible. I’d hurt the movie before I’d even been in the movie.

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Thirty minutes later, Kai and Matthew and I walked over to the security perimeter half a block down from set and signed autographs for kids in the neighborhood and took selfies. Indeed, one of the purported fans had a very nice camera and said she didn’t need to be in the picture; she just wanted a picture of the three of us together. It appeared on People’s Twitter and Instagram that afternoon.

7

Someone told me once that when your mother is dead, you are living both lives—your life and hers. I lived my mother’s life even when she was alive. We stayed each pilot season in an apartment building full of other child actors who were also there for pilot season, and whenever I booked a commercial or something, Mom would brag about me around the pool like she’d booked it. Supposedly, I loved acting. But I was six. No six-year-old dreams of labor.

And yet. I missed her. I kept thinking about her, how excited she’d feel the first day on set. I thought about how she’d leave a little early for lunch each day to make me a plate so I wouldn’t have to stand in line and could eat quickly and stay focused. She’d been a constant with me until I had to kick her out the last season of Star Catcher. Except for when she’d abandon us on her drinking binges, we were never apart. And then we were always apart.

Now, I was living her dream. She’d always professed a crush on Matthew Malone, and I was looking up at him, saying words that had been written for me by a properly good screenwriter. I felt sick about having pissed off the studio with the Insta post, and so it was harder than usual to lock in to Carly, but after a couple takes of the wide shot I felt like I had a good rhythm. Kathryn offered the kind of abstract notes I find a bit annoying—“Can we try it with more air,” or, “There was something very generous about that one that I loved”—and again she kept wanting me to play it young or innocent, which just wasn’t the Carly I imagined. After we finished that shot, I was on my way back to the trailers when the producer Natalie came up to me and said, “Good first day so far?”

I didn’t want to live up to my reputation for being difficult. But I also didn’t want to make bad movies. “She’s having me be all doe-eyed and ignorant,” I said.

“Well, you’re, like, twenty-two in the movie.”

“I’m also twenty-two in real life, and that doesn’t make an idiot.”

“Sure,” Natalie said. “Right. Absolutely. I’ll have a word with her.”

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Matthew, meanwhile, was acting campy and overstated as Andy. But there was no other way to be Andy. I mean, when Carly asks him about his affection for Basquiat, he says, “Jean-Michel painted me out. Everything we did together, he painted me out of it. It was wonderful.” How can you say those words without a bit of camp?

Kathryn kept trying to rein Matthew in. “Think Vertigo,” she told him. “Imagine we’re swimming in a small pond, not the ocean.” But when you’ve spent most of the last two decades embodying literal comic book characters, it’s hard to keep subtlety in your toolbox. Still, Matthew seemed down to work hard, and I appreciated that he gave a reasonably good performance during the shots that were close up on me.

A lot of times big-name actors won’t stick around for your coverage at all, or else will read their lines in a monotone. Matthew stayed, and kept being Andy, which made it a lot easier to be Carly. Just before we wrapped on that first day, Kathryn found me and hugged me and said, “You’re our anchor. I thought it would be Matthew, but it’s you.” That felt nice, even if I was being treated like a wide-eyed ingenue instead of the smart and worldly girl I’d imagined.

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When I made it to the makeup trailer after we wrapped for the day, I was surprised to find Ellen the Publicist waiting for me. “Juniper,” she said, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“How’s that?”

“Your Instagram post got more likes in the one hour it was up than People magazine has received in the last seven hours. So we’re shifting. Do whatever you want. Post costumes. Post conversations. Post everything. You’re this movie’s number one media outlet. I had no idea how engaged your following is.”

“It’s the Nickelodeon thing,” I said. “This whole generation of kids who kinda grew up with me.”

“Well, post everything. That’s an order from the studio. You have total creative freedom.”