Page 1 of The Actor: Harrison

I drive my Ferrari up to Stone Canyon Road in Bel Air. The night is a bit chilly, considering it’s not even mid-January, but the heated seats feature is a perk I wanted in my car even if I do live in Los Angeles.

The estate I’m driving to is nestled between the trees dotting this neighborhood. Kevin Peterson, the producer hosting this party, couldn’t wait to show off this new mansion he purchased a few months ago, after his divorce from his ex-wife became final. When a Hollywood producer personally invites you to a party at his house, you can’t say no.

For an actor like me, networking is vital to continuing to work in this industry, so even though it’s Wednesday and tomorrow morning I have an appointment with my agent, here I am, wearing my best shirt and trousers, driving my luxurious car in Los Angeles traffic, hoping they have valet parking because it’s a pain in the ass finding a spot up in these hills. I don’t think Kevin kept his guest list limited to a few close friends.

When I reach the gates, I’m immediately surrounded by paparazzi taking pictures of the guests arriving at the party. Flashes almost blind me and I’m glad I’m driving slowly, trying to figure out where to park, because they’re so close I could probably run over someone.

The gates are open and a couple of security guys in black suits are keeping the unwanted photographers at bay. Or at least they pretend not to want them here, the truth is everyone here benefits from their job. If you aren’t worthy of the gossip magazines, your career is probably free-falling into the pit of anonymity, and climbing back out of that pit is painfully difficult.

“Harrison!” I hear them calling me, and I school my face into a bored expression. Photographers are vital for every Hollywood actor, but the trick is to pretend they’re bothering you.

I spot the guy in a black suit who, when he first sees me, turns pale, then smiles and waves at me. I stop my car in front of him, turn off the engine, step out and give him the keys. He gives me a keyring with the number twenty-five carved on it.

“Thank you.” I smile while he walks around my car and sits behind the wheel.

I have no idea how that poor guy will find a spot to park my car, but when he turns it on, he lightens up. I don’t know how many chances he has to drive a Ferrari, but considering he works at these parties, I think he more than enjoys a ride in a luxury car.

I walk up the marble steps of the mansion toward its ten-foot, iron and glass front door and the two marble columns on either side of the massive two story. If he wanted something to show off his status as a rich dude in Hollywood—he nailed it.

I give my name to the security guy at the door who checks his list then motions to the mansion behind the door. “Enjoy the party, sir.”

“Thank you.” I smile.

The music is blasting from the living room, visible through the foyer with its double marble staircase leading upstairs, while a massive seven-foot statue of Aphrodite greets me in the middle of the marble floor. A sparkling gargantuan chandelier attached to an iron and glass dome in the ceiling looms over the statue, dwarfing it.

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur walking into the house and keeping out of reach of the fixture.

“Are you wondering if it will come crashing down by the end of the night too?” Aaron’s voice makes me turn around.

I smile at my friend and stroll toward him. “It’s, how can I say, unique.”

He chuckles and I follow him into the heart of the party. I watch him elegantly making his way to the bar and I can’t help but notice the difference between him and the host of this party. They’re both famous producers in Hollywood, but while Aaron is classy and doesn’t show off his money, the other is obnoxious and tacky. They couldn’t be more different.

“Have you been here long?” I shout over the loud music.

He shakes his head. “Just long enough to take in the crowd.”

I glimpse around at the people he’s referring to, taking a good look at the crowded space. There are a lot of people I know, from A-list actors and actresses to a bunch of producers, directors, and insiders. There are also a lot I don’t know, some looking like this is not their first gig, others gawking at every famous person in the room.

“Did anyone stay home tonight?” I grin and Aaron laughs.

“When you have a new toy to show off, you want to reach out a bit farther than your neighbors. At the end of the day, everyone in this industry has a house like this. You have to call the new faces in town if you want to impress someone.” He sips the glass of wine he grabs off the tray of the waiter in a black suit and white shirt.

I nod, knowing exactly what he means. After years in this industry, you see so many outrageous and crazy things nothing fazes you anymore.

“Are you here for networking or just for pleasure?” Aaron asks.

I shrug. “I’m in between jobs, so I thought it would be helpful to pop in here for a bit. I saw a couple of directors I want to chat with. You? Are you working tonight?”

“Dakota’s here because she’s auditioning for a role in a movie coming up this summer, so she’s sweet-talking the director and producer. I thought it could be a productive night for me too. You know, there are a couple of projects I’m interested in and the people involved are here too.” He doesn’t sound convincing.

“You’re keeping an eye on her, aren’t you?” I chuckle.

He rubs a hand over his face and nods. “God, yes. There are so many assholes in this room that I want to be here in case she needs me.”

I bark out a laugh. I understand his jealousy, not because I have doubts about Dakota, but because there are a lot of perverts in this industry. He’s one of the few producers with a moral compass who doesn’t require an actress to suck his dick to get a part.

A flock of five girls wearing their best party dresses approaches us with dreamy gazes and coy smiles. The blond one puts a hand on my arm and leans in.

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