9. Alana

NINE

Alana

You don't marry someone you can live with,

you marry the person you cannot live without.

~ P.S. I Love You

“ I t’s an all white party,” Mother announces over what sounds like her car phone.

“Okay. All white. I’m assuming I’ll need something new to wear.”

I’m on my deck this morning, my yoga mat unfurled beneath me, surrounded by the view of treetops and rooftops and the ocean beyond Marbella. Our call is on speaker so I can continue through my poses while we talk.

“Of course—a new dress. Hair, makeup. Some teasers in the press before the event. You’ve been out of the public eye for too long. I spoke with Caroline yesterday. We need to build a little buzz around you before Blasted releases.”

Caroline is my publicist. I like her, and she’s one of the best at what she does. But Mother and Caroline talking? That’s never a good sign. They cook up schemes, and I end up doing things that make me question all my life choices.

“Are you driving?” I ask.

“I am. I have nails and waxing followed by lunch at the club. I felt like driving myself today.”

My mother actually often drives herself around the Palisades where she and my father live in their primary residence. They also have a condo nearer to the studios for convenience, and homes in Banff, Lake Como and Maui which are maintained, but only occasionally inhabited.

“And you’ll be expected to come with Rex.”

“Rex?”

“Your co-star and ex-boyfriend? Don’t play coy, Alana.”

I sigh. So this is what she and Caroline have worked up? “The tabloids already leaked our breakup over a year ago. We’re old news.”

Rex and I co-star in a trilogy of films, Twisted , Combusted and Blasted. The plotline follows two spies in love, so of course a real-life romance became a speculation over the course of us working together. Eventually, our publicists—and my mother—determined it would be brilliant to give the public what they wanted. #Faves (Fordham + Graves) became yet another identity I had to sustain. I despised every facet of that pretense, except Rex. He’s a decent guy and a hard-working actor. Liking him was a plus. At least if I had to have a fake boyfriend, he was someone I tolerated.

Fans went bonkers for our love story. We had to stage meetups where we could be seen exiting a deli in Beverly Hills, or boarding a private jet in Burbank. People Magazine, TMZ, Page Six, and E! News all ran interviews, which we faked our way through while holding hands and looking adoringly into one another’s eyes, saying things like, “It was inevitable that we’d fall after spending that much time together filming.”

Our faux relationship had a scheduled end date, like all good time-limited contracts do. We officially announced our breakup, stating we’d remain friendly. We cited the pressure of working on different projects as our reason for ending things. The public bought it all. I was relieved when I could go back to being more authentic with my fans. I abhorred the idea of deceiving them, even though this sort of publicity stunt is done all the time in Hollywood.

That year of deception had a few perks. The world thought I was attached to someone. Online proposals from total strangers died down. I didn’t have to entertain the thought of another man. Rex actually was in a secret, real relationship with a model he met in Milan the whole time we were fake dating. I felt for them, having to hide just so we could go public with our charade. His agent and publicist were livid when they found out about Rex’s girlfriend. I couldn’t have cared less, obviously. I knew if his real relationship came out we’d spin it. As my publicist, Caroline, always says, bad press is still press. On paper it is. In real life, bad press is a bitter pill you either swallow or avoid.

Mom’s chatting on about where this screening will be held and how I need to meet her to go dress shopping.

“After the premier we’ll slip out for the party at Rooftop by JG atop the Waldorf Astoria.” She barely takes a breath before she quips, “I hope you’re minding your weight. I told Brigitte to give your size to the shops on Rodeo so they can have dresses set aside for us this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?”

“We need to get first dibs on these designs. We’ll make a statement, Alana. You will, especially. And the world will eat up this reunification story just in time to set the stage for the premier.”

“I don’t like it.” I speak up. Maybe I’m a little bolder after Wordivore’s encouragement.

“I know, dear. I know. But you have to realize, this is simply a form of advertisement. Your product is Blasted . You want fans to put that movie on their watch list. What better way than for them to reinvest in your love affair with Rex?”

My love affair with Rex .

My mother would like nothing more than for that “love affair” to actually materialize. A Hollywood wedding and marriage? Her dream.

I’m not fully opposed to the idea of marriage, or even marrying another actor if I fell in love. A commitment to someone in Hollywood would double the time I spent on red carpets, attended special screenings, and participated in fundraisers. If I were truly in love, all that would be worth it. But, since I’m not in love, I’m not interested in the equivalent of a merger. I’ve already given enough of myself to this career and lifestyle. I’ve also gained a lot—and for that I am grateful.

But I have lines. And I’ve been ignoring them far too long.

Wordivore is right. I hadn’t anticipated spilling my guts to him. His compassionate, challenging answer was everything I needed and didn’t even know I was waiting to hear. I was drowning. He threw me a life ring. He has no ulterior motive. I’m not paying him. I’m not the heir to his legacy or the key to his next blockbuster. He’s just some guy on a word game.

Who would have thought a stranger could end up being the first person to ever truly be in my corner?