Page 5 of The Actor: Harrison

Their problems are so far from mine that I could be an alien from another planet. The most challenging experience I had this week was finding five hundred dollars to pay the plumber for a problem with my kitchen sink our landlord refused to fix.

“What did you do this weekend?” one of the wives asks me, her fake cleavage pushed high by the corset of her thousand-dollar dress distracting me from looking her in the eyes.

“I went to a friend’s opening exhibit at an art gallery. She’s a painter,” I blurt out.

She lightens up. “That’s lovely! Where is it? Maybe I can pass by and take a look. I’m in desperate need to replace some art pieces in our house.” She seems genuinely interested.

“The Spirit Gallery in Burbank,” I answer and the conversation around me dies down.

Every eye is focused on us and I can see more than a few looks of pity aimed at me. The woman who asked the question seems a bit surprised but she recovers like a champ.

“There are art galleries in Burbank? I didn’t know that. It’s not on my usual route to the yoga studio.” She smiles sweetly to try, maybe, to make me feel less uncomfortable. She is not succeeding. I feel like every eye is on me, scrutinizing my fifty-dollar dress and the hair Harper tried to fix up a bit before we came here.

“Quite a few, actually,” I answer.

“Lovely,” she says, and the conversation dies down in an embarrassing silence.

“Sorry, I have to go…over there,” I blurt out when I can’t take it anymore. I walk away as fast as I can without looking like a maniac or tripping in these heels. I walk to a corner next to a photo booth and try to regain my composure.

How can Kevin think I can ask these people for money when I have nothing in common with them? They have a lifestyle so far from the reality I’m used to, I can’t even strike up a conversation with them, let alone find a way to ask them for money.

I take a deep breath and try to regroup. I need that movie, I believe in this project, and I know it can be a massive success. I can overcome my insecurities for a couple of hours, just enough time to get some support from these rich people.

I look around to find another group of people, maybe smaller this time, less intimidating. I swipe my gaze over the familiar faces and my eyes land on the only one I’m not interested in tonight: Harrison Bates.

He’s at the bar talking to Aaron Steel, smiling and having a blast. He’s comfortable at this party, because these arehispeople, not mine. He’s so full of himself he struts around like he owns the place. I hate him. Or rather, I hate what he represents in Hollywood.

He comes from a rich family, private schools, best college in the country. He could have done anything, but he stomped his feet like a kid when his dad told him being an actor wasn’t a real job and did it out of spite.

“If you keep looking at him like that, he’ll catch on fire.” Harper’s amused voice makes me turn toward her just in time to see the smirk on her face.

“I hate him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

I stare at his perfect body wrapped in an electric blue shirt that makes the color of his eyes pop even more. Not that I can see them from this far away, but I’ve looked at them so many times driving around Los Angeles when his movies come out, plastered all over the huge billboards, that I’m positive he chose that color to appear even more attractive.

“He is a daddy’s-boy who got this far because of his father’s connections.”

“I would call him daddy.” She giggles and I throw her the stink eye. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you don’t find him attractive. He’s like a Greek god walking on earth!”

He is. He is a wet dream for every woman in this room, but that doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.

“So what? He’s evil incarnate. He keeps using his body, taking off his shirt to make money. He’s the reason why there aren’t many good movies around. He makes more money being naked than acting.”

“Wow. That was harsh.” I turn toward her and she’s frowning at me.

I sigh. “Maybe it’s harsh but it’s the truth. Production companies don’t pick up worthy scripts anymore, because they make more money if they put some naked dude on screen that has millions of followers on social media. Harrison got where he is because he’s got rabid fans drooling over him as soon as he shows his face anywhere. Any kind of merchandise they put out with his face on it gets sold out in minutes. Minutes.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and raises her perfectly plucked blond eyebrow. “Are you jealous of him, Sienna?”

I scoff. “No, I’m not jealous. I’m pissed because I’m here begging people to give me money for a really good movie and he got money thrown at him because he smiles and winks in front of the camera. It’s not fair. I don’t want to be like him, I just want to have the same fighting fair chance at success.”

“Well, he was unbelievably good in the movie that won him the Oscar,” she points out.

“He was lucky.”

“Okay, now you’re just bitter. It wasn’t luck, heistalented.”

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