Vanessa Jackson slipped gracefully out of her clothes and frolicked across the sand.  Her lithe body and flowing blonde hair fed my long-held fantasies.  She splashed into the shallow surf, and when the water reached her waist, she plunged beneath the waves.  After a few seconds her head bobbed up.

“Cut,” yelled Morgan Breedlove.  He gestured in my direction, and I snatched up a towel and robe and ran to meet Ms. Jackson as she emerged from the sea.  I held up the robe for privacy while she dried herself.

She rewarded me with a smile.  “Thank you, Angie.”  She slid one arm and then the other into the robe, knotted the sash, and linked her arm in mine as we trudged back to the camera set-up.  “The water’s damn chilly,” she said, shivering.  The scent of her body mixed with the saltiness of the ocean air made my head swim, and I stumbled.

“Whoa, girl,” she said with a laugh.  “Don’t injure yourself.  You’re all I’ve got this weekend.”  I righted myself and nodded.

Morgan approached, smiling.  “Nice, darling, but let’s do one more.  I want to see your joy, but don’t flaunt it quite so much.”  He turned to his cameraman.  “Take five, Christof.  We’ll get her dried off and have another go.”

I collected her discarded clothes and followed her into the small changing tent.  She handed me a battery-powered hair dryer and comb.

“Thanks for shielding me, Angie.  Ouch, too hot.”

I adjusted the dryer.  “Sorry.”  I fluffed out her hair while the dryer hummed hardly believing my fairy tale luck.  If her personal assistant hadn’t fallen ill…

After a few minutes she pushed the dryer away.  “That’s good enough, Angie.  It doesn’t have to be perfectly dry.  There’s no close-up to worry about.”  She stepped out of her robe and into her clothes.  “Let’s give the guys another chance to gawk.”

I must have looked shocked because she followed up.  “Nude scenes are just business.  This one’s not so bad – only the three of you on the set.  Anyway, half the time those scenes get cut to avoid the “R” rating, though I’ll bet Morgan and other directors preserve the footage for their personal enjoyment.  Come on.  Let’s get it done.”

It took three additional takes before Morgan pronounced his satisfaction.  Each time, I became bolder in stroking her hair.  After the final take I casually put my hand on her shoulder as I combed.  Did she welcome it?  She didn’t object, but neither did she offer encouragement.  My heart raced, and I struggled to stay outwardly calm.  Did she notice?  I couldn’t tell.  After all, acting was her profession.  I wondered if her publicized romance with Lawrence Fuller, an up-and-coming young actor, was a fiction dreamed up by the tabloids.

We walked together back to the hotel, leaving Morgan and Christof fussing over some issue with the camera.  Perhaps the scene would require re-shooting.  I hoped so.  Just before reaching the hotel, she turned to me.

“Make sure Morgan pays you.  He forgets details sometimes.”

“Yes, Ms. Jackson.”

“Call me Vanessa.”

“Thank you… Vanessa.  The money’s not necessary.  It’s a wonderful experience.”

“Don’t be a fool.  Always get paid.”

She gave my arm a squeeze, and we went up to our rooms, which were adjoined by a connecting door.  Morgan had impressed upon me that I should be ready to do her bidding on short notice.  I tried to nap before dinner, but thoughts of her just beyond the door kept me on edge.  My mind surged, recalling the unlikely circumstances that had brought me here.

***

The Literature Club at my high school had adjourned and everyone was gone, except for Alex Conley and me.  He had been trying to impress me with his superior intellect for months.

“How about a movie this weekend?” he asked.  “There’s a documentary at the Chelsea.”

I sighed.  He made an acceptable partner for literary banter, but I had no desire to go out with him, so I lied.  “Sorry, I’ve got a paper to finish.”

He frowned and stuffed a book into his backpack.  Before he could renew his request, Principal Boxer appeared in the doorway with a man I didn’t know.

“Angie, I’d like a word with you.”

Could I be in trouble?  What had I done, and who was the stranger?  The principal gave a dismissive glance at Alex, who zipped up his backpack and hastily departed, probably relieved he was not the object of attention.

“Angie, this is Eric Thorne.  He graduated from here eight years ago.  Now he’s with Ambient Films.  They’re shooting a few scenes around town and at the beach this weekend.”

I smiled.  “Nice to meet you.”

Eric looked me over with a gaze that left me slightly uncomfortable.  “How old are you Angie?”

“Seventeen.  Eighteen, in three weeks. Birthday’s the first of June.”  What did he want?  Was he hunting for extras?

His phone buzzed.  He gave it a quick check and then turned his attention back to me. “How would you like to make a little money this weekend?”

“Doing what?”

“One of our crew has fallen ill.  We’re a small operation and we need someone to run errands for our leading actress and generally help out with routine tasks.  Are you interested?”

The unexpected offer stunned me.  “Yes… I guess so.”  I wondered what “routine tasks” meant, though clearly Principal Boxer saw the opportunity as legitimate.

“One condition, though.”

I braced for a spoiler.

“You can’t tell anyone.  We’re keeping our presence under wraps.  Don’t want to attract spectators.  They slow down production.  The local police are going to block off a stretch of beach for us on Saturday.  Are you free?”

“Sure.  That sounds fine.”  A rush of excitement filled me.  I loved movies.  Here was my chance for a first-hand experience.

“Okay.  Give me your cell number, and I’ll call you tonight with the details.”

***

When he called and told me I would be an assistant for Vanessa Jackson, I nearly died.  She had been a primary object of my fantasies for a couple of years.  I had seen all her films.  Now she lay just beyond the adjoining door, probably having better success at napping than me.

The clock ticked slowly toward dinnertime.  Giving up on sleep, I decided to take a shower.  In the bathroom mirror I compared my body to Vanessa’s.  What a mistake.  I guess I looked okay, but I couldn’t compete with her stunning figure, not to mention her glamour.  At school, Alex Conley and some of the other boys pestered me for dates, but I knew what they really wanted.  I knew what I wanted, too, and it wasn’t them.

Eric had instructed me to dress casually, so I put on a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt and waited for the appointed time, listening all the while for stirrings in the next room.  At seven o’clock I went downstairs.

About a dozen men and women had begun to saunter into the private room that had been reserved for the cast and crew.  I took a seat at the table.  Eric came in and sat next to me.  Everyone talked shop and ignored me.  I didn’t really want to socialize with any of them.  But where was Vanessa?  Eventually, she breezed in and took her place next to Morgan at the far end of the table.  I couldn’t hear their words, but she rested her hand on his shoulder, laughing and whispering with him.  I passed the meal in silence, trying hard not to stare.

I was too young to legally drink, but the waiter brought wine for everyone.  Its sharp fruitiness didn’t appeal to me, but after a few sips it went down easier.

Toward the end of the meal, Eric turned to me.  “So, how do you like show business?”

“It’s okay.  I haven’t done much, yet.”

“Ah… that’s the secret.  Get paid without doing anything.  Hang around the set, pick up the lingo, and make a few contacts.  Connections will get you further than an acting class.”

“I don’t want to be an actor.”

“Everyone’s an actor, sweetie.  What’s your name, again?”

“Angie.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Right.  I remember now.”  He pushed his plate away.  “I’m going to take a walk on the beach.  Want to come?”

Was he hitting on me?  I had no interest in him.  “I’m kind of tired.  Think I’ll get some rest… if Vanessa doesn’t need me.”

“Ah… Vanessa is it?  On a first-name basis?  Sounds like you two are besties now.”

“She asked me to call her–”

“I’m sure.  Well, get your rest.  See you tomorrow.”  He seemed to have lost interest pretty quickly.

I returned to my room.  The glass of wine, or was it two, had gone to my head.  My previous drinking experience had been limited to a couple of beers with Sandy when I slept over at her house.  Her folks were broad-minded, unlike my strict, ultra-conservative parents.

I flopped on the bed with the TV remote and began to channel surf.  Through the open window the ocean’s surf rolled gently upon the sand.  I hit the mute button and lay there listening.

***

A light tapping sound woke me.  I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.  Groggily, I rose.  The TV, tuned to a shopping channel, silently pitched facial creams.  Ugh…  Only when the tapping ceased did I realize it had been coming from the adjoining door.  I staggered over and flung it open, nearly losing my balance.  Vanessa stood there in a t-shirt and sweatpants, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.  She looked great.

I blinked and stupidly asked, “Do you need something?”

“Just some company for a little while before bed.  May I come in?”

“Of… of course.  I must have dozed off.”

She took a seat at one end of a short sofa and sat the wine and glasses on the coffee table.  She uncorked the bottle and cast a questioning glance at me.  I nodded, and she filled the glasses halfway.  My heart pounded.  Was this really happening?  Could my wildest fantasies be coming true?  Did she see through my struggle to remain calm?

She gave me a relaxed smile.  “So, how do you like show business?”  Those were Eric’s exact words at dinner.  I was sure he had been hitting on me, but was she?

I took a big sip of wine.  “It’s fine.  I’ve never met a movie star before.”

She laughed.  “We’re like other people, some good, some bad.  Of course, we all have ego issues.”

“I’m sure you don’t–”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself.  Everyone lavishes adoration on us.  It’s really hard not to get full of yourself, though the attention gets tiresome… sometimes.  I’m as guilty as the rest.”  She shook her head.  “What about you?  Got a boyfriend?”

“Well, there’s Sandy.”  I hesitated and then blurted out, “She’s a girl.”  Immediately, I regretted it.  Damn that wine.  What did Vanessa think about our morning on the beach?  She must have realized she had aroused my fantasies.  Why did I reveal my secret?  I had told no one.  But it didn’t appear to faze her.

“That’s lovely.  You’re so lucky to have figured out your sexuality at such a young age.  So many deny their true natures and go through hell until…”  She gazed into her wine glass.  “Are you out?  Do people know?”

“Not really.  I guess some have suspicions.  My parents don’t know.  They’d be in denial even if I told them.  Next year, I’ll be away at college.  I can be myself there.”

Vanessa put her hand on the bottle.  “Another glass?”

“Okay.”  My confession left me feeling exposed.  The wine offered an escape from thought.

“You know, Angie, relationships are hard for everyone.  I’m trying to make things work with Larry.  He’s shooting in Europe.  I’m sure he has opportunities with women there.  I’d like to think he’s faithful, but my gut tells me he’s not.  It’s this damn business we’re in.  It isolates you from the real world.”  She shook her head.  “But I’m sick of talking about me.  What’s going to happen with you and Sandy after graduation?”

“I don’t know.  Her parents can afford to send her to an exclusive, private university.  I’ll have to go to a state college.  We want to stay committed to each other, but the distance…”

“I’ve been there.  My high school romance didn’t survive our first semester at the university.  You’re young.  You’ve got your head together.  You’ll be fine.”  She drained her glass.  “Well, got to get up early.  Thanks for your company.”  She leaned over and gave me a hug.  “Good night.”

***

The soft swoosh of the ocean fed my melancholy.  A wave of sadness washed over me, though I couldn’t say why.  Was it the alcohol?  Sleep proved impossible, so I walked down to the beach.  The stars and a half moon gave a lunar quality to the landscape.  I have often been lonely, but tonight the sensation overpowered my senses.  I damned the wine again and envisioned Vanessa making love with Larry.  What did she see in him?

“Out for a walk?”  The words stunned me.  I thought I was alone.  Between the night and the alcohol, it took a few moments to recognize Eric.  What did he want?  Why wouldn’t he leave me alone?  He came closer and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t,” I said, but he kissed me, and for some unfathomable reason, I let him.

He whispered something I didn’t catch, but then repeated, “Let’s go to my room.”

It felt like an out-of-body experience.  I put one foot in front of the other and allowed him to take me back to the hotel.  Thank God he was prepared with a condom.  The awkward, unsatisfying encounter lacked the tenderness I had known with Sandy.  I found refuge in imagining myself as Vanessa and him as Larry.  What was so appealing about being with a man?  The answer eluded me.  It was an episode I vowed to not repeat.

When we finished, I got up and dressed.  Eric drifted off to sleep.  I doubt he regretted my departure.  Back in my room Vanessa’s wine bottle still sat on the coffee table.  I hoped another glass would help me sleep, but it had the opposite effect.

***

At breakfast with the cast and crew, Eric ignored me.  I sought relief from my hangover with a cup of coffee and likewise avoided eye contact with him.  When Vanessa didn’t show up, Morgan grumbled about his star’s absence.

“Do you want me to check on her?” I offered.

He gave a dismissive wave.  “Let her sleep.  She can be a bitch if you wake her before she’s ready.”

I took my coffee down to the beach.  The cool, Sunday morning breeze blew in off the water.  I breathed deeply and replayed my confessional chat with Vanessa.  Last night’s words sounded stupid in the light of day.  What did she think of me?  I desired to be near her again but feared I had damaged our relationship.

“Angie?”

I turned to find a blonde woman with a cheerful, disarming smile.  “Yes.”

“Hi, I’m Leslie Watson.”  She must have seen the confusion in my eyes.  “I’m Ms. Jackson’s assistant.  Thank you so much for filling in for me.  I’m sure Ms. Jackson appreciates it, too.”

“Am I… to leave?”

“I’m afraid we no longer require your assistance.  I’m much better, now.  I’m ready to resume my duties, but thanks again for everything you’ve done.”

“May I say goodbye to Va… I mean, Ms. Jackson?”

“Let’s not disturb her.  She’s preparing for her scenes today.  I’ll pass along your farewell.  Oh, and I’ll have to move into your room, so I can be near when she requires me.”

I trudged upstairs and began to pack, pausing periodically to listen at the adjoining door, but I heard nothing.

A deserted lobby greeted me when I went downstairs to turn in my key.  I loitered for a few minutes, wishing for someone to say goodbye to.  I wanted to feel like I had been part of the company, if only for a short while.  It soon dawned on me that everyone had departed for the day’s shooting.  Feeling discarded, I gave up and went home.

***

Sandy and I had a glorious summer, spending lots of days at the beach and many nights of sleepovers at her house.  I think her parents knew, and I’m sure mine didn’t.  In the fall, we went off to separate colleges, vowing to maintain our relationship.

Just before leaving home in August, I received a belated graduation card from Vanessa.  Her note wished me luck and expressed hope I would find happiness.  She confided that her own love life was in turmoil.  That was hardly news.  I had seen the gossip in the tabloids.  She advised me to avoid a career in show business, though I knew all along that life wasn’t for me.  I never got paid for that weekend, but some things are more valuable than money, like memories of Vanessa Jackson dancing naked on the beach.

– Ken Wetherington