Page 35 of Off Script
“That’s debatable,” Jo grins. She prods me along with a swirling hand motion. As I tell her what I know about Carlisle, Jo diligently jots it down. "I'll put a rush on the background check since your date is in a week."
My cell phone vibrates on the desk, and I hop up from the couch to grab it.
“Based on the smile on your face, I’m assuming that’s Carlisle, so I’ll get back to work and leave you to flirt.” Jo stands to leave. “Your bags are packed, and the studio is sending a driver to pick you up in two hours. Let me know if you need anything else from me today. Otherwise, have a good trip and I’ll see you on the flip side.”
Willa and I are flying to New York City to film a segment tomorrow forGood Morning, USA. Since I have a little time before I need to head to the airport, I plan on spending as much of it texting with Carlisle as I can.
Jo hasn’t even finished closing the door to my study before I begin composing my next text message.
Willa sits next to me in the first-class cabin on our flight from LAX to JFK reading the new issue ofArchitectural Digest. Though reading is probably the wrong verb to use since she’s aggressively flipping the pages at such an alarmingly rapid pace that there's no possible way that she can be reading anything.
I bat down the magazine and inspect her more critically. She’s dressed for a casual travel day, without any trace of make-up on her face and her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail. It's unlike her not to be dressed to the nines with her hair and make-up styled to perfection, especially since the chances are high that we'll get photographed at some point.
“What’s up, Willa?”
She adjusts her petite frame in the spacious leather seat and faces me. “When is this, all this,” she says, waving her hands around us, “too much to take anymore? When do we say enough is enough? God knows we have enough money, enough fame. When do we trade that in to devote time to our personal lives? Or is it too late for us? Have we already sacrificed our private lives for public celebrity to such an extent that there’s no going back? Is it too late for me to have a shot at a happy and fulfilling personal life?”
“Uh…” Flummoxed, I flounder for a response, but Willa continues her diatribe, barely taking a breath between words.
“Do I have any chance at finding lasting happiness in Hollywood?” Shaking her head and looking pensive, she continues. “I don’t know. The public scrutiny is enormous, and I can never escape it. You know that I had paparazzi waiting for me outside my gynecologist’s office last month?” She chuckles humorlessly. “God, I’m ready to leave this all behind and try to live a normal, quiet existence somewhere far away from Hollywood.”
I’ve never heard Willa talk like this before. Apart from the party at Jada’s house, Willa has always been happy-go-lucky and cheerful. Like everyone, she has bad days, but I’ve never heard her this unhappy before.
Gnawing the corner of my mouth, I recall something strange that occurred last year. Willa spent a week in the hospital, and when I heard, I reached out to visit her. She said she wasn’t feeling up to visitors and then Jada and Becky released a statement explaining that Willa was battling exhaustion and dehydration. I remember feeling like there was more to the story than that—there usually is in Hollywood—but Willa never offered me an alternative reason for her hospital stay. Wanting to grant her privacy, I never pushed, but now I wonder if I failed her as a friend.
“Willa, it sounds like you are dealing with a lot of stuff. Have you thought—”
“About therapy? I went last year for a month and then I was ambushed outside of my therapist’s office. Photos of me looking like I’d been crying were plastered all over the tabloids with a wide range of disparaging headlines.” She barks out a sardonic laugh. “Been there, done that, not doing it again.”
Disbelief and disgust cross my face. “Shit? Seriously?” I guess that must have coincided when I was out of the country for a shoot because I don’t remember seeing any of that.
“I’m just so tired of it all. I’m ready to walk away.” She crumples against her seat, defeated, and rubs her eyes. “I want to travel the world. I want to become anonymous again like we were before we were famous.”
“Are you thinking about retiring from acting, Willa?” As much as I attempt to refrain from sounding skeptical, I can’t help it. People would kill to have her career. I don’t want her to make a rash decision that she’ll later regret.
“Maybe,” she lifts her shoulders meekly, averting her eyes from mine. “Would that be so terrible?”
“No, of course not. If that’s what you need to do to find your happiness, then I’m all for it.” I stroke my hand across my stubbled chin as I think. “It’s just out of left field though.”Hmm, left field.“Does this have anything to do with that dumbass baseball player?”
“Tangentially, yes, but not completely.” She fidgets with the magazine lying on the tray table in front of her. “Baron and I broke up because of our work schedules. We literally never saw each other except for a random day here and there in between my filming schedule and his games. Twelve hours in Baltimore, two days in Miami, a day in New York. I felt lonelier in that relationship than I do when I’m single. Someday soon, I want marriage, kids, and the white picket fence.” She lifts her head to meet my gaze. “But how will that ever happen if all my time is spent hopping from one film location to another? Never staying in one spot long enough to establish roots? What kind of life is that?”
As the flight attendant strolls through the cabin, I raise my hand to grab her attention. We need alcohol for this conversation. “Two glasses of champagne, please.”
Willa leans over me and makes a clarification. “Make that a bottle, please, love.”Damn, Willa must be feeling even worse than I thought.“Don’t look at me that way, Benji,” she says, shooting me a warning glance.
I hold my palms up in surrender. I won’t give her shit about drinking. Now’s not the time.
Sipping our champagne, Willa snuggles under her travel blanket and rolls her head towards mine. “Maybe the answer is that we should find people who aren’t in the business, who aren’t famous. Maybe that’s what we should do.” Wincing, she laments, “Nah, that won’t work for me. Chances are that if I date a regular guy, he’d either be after me for my money or totally uncomfortable with me making so much money.” She lifts her glass to her lips and swallows the rest of her glass before refilling it. “The catch-22 of being a successful, wealthy woman.”
“As you know, I haven’t had a lot of dating success either, but maybe instead of focusing on dating, you should focus on finding good friends first. Then see if something romantic could grow from that friendship.” I shrug, thinking about my friendship with Carlisle. “Just my two cents.”
“It’s not a terrible idea, Benji,” Willa replies, scrutinizing me thoughtfully.
“In the meantime, take some time off and get out of Hollywood. You’ve worked on back-to-back films for what, seven, eight years now? After we finish publicity forCaptain Commander, take a break, decompress, find some hobbies, volunteer.”
“I think I will.”
“You know, I love you and I’m always here for you, right?” I brush some hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. She clasps my hand, pressing it into her cheek as she nods.
