Casting

I discovered Eric. Made him what he was, as they say. Not that you'd
know it from his careful reinvention, which probably happened the
second he arrived in LA (Los Angeles to the hoi poloi). When I saw his
pictures in the gossip columns I almost didn't recognise him.

Sometimes I think I should have known, but he always took great pride
in us being "down to earth". The only exception was the chunky Gucci
ring he bought me. Not exactly an engagement ring, more like a
"promise" ring. A promise of the future, was what he called it.

No. Eric sort of snapped. He dreamed of being a successful actor in
London, which went with staying faithful to your roots. When he reached
LA I suppose he couldn't find a branch of Top Man - hence the Armani
suits.

Of course he's been through the other arc of fame; the burnouts, the
sessions in rehab. The first time I did try to contact him, thinking it
had something to do with our break up, that he needed my forgiveness.
His agent didn't know who I was.

I suppose in my own way I'm getting a bit successful, a little bit
famous now. Not that anyone would ever recognise me in the street. I
like that about being a director, none of that baseball cap and
sunglasses crap. Anyway I guess I must be getting successful or else
Eric wouldn't have called. No, that sounds awful, it's just that we're
moving in the same circles again.

When he left for LA I thought I was going with him. He called me and
told me he'd got the part. I was working in another crappy temp job.
Despite popular opinion they really don't give a shit how many personal
calls you have. I think the receptionists sometimes like to get a bit
sniffy, but it's only because they're bored. I told them I could stay
to the end of the week. (I was in such a good mood I didn't tell them
to stick their job, much as I'd fantasised about it.) They did the
whole "How will we ever replace you?" business. I thought "Yeah, how
are you ever going to get anyone with enough brains to fill half a
dozen envelopes and type two memos a day." But I just smiled, and
thought what a great fuck Eric and me would have that night.

(Another remarkable aspect of the "going out with an actor" curve:
Great part plus great performance equals great sex, otherwise we had
big sighs and "pick my career apart" night.)

But, as I say, I was expecting the works, so I did the dutiful
girlfriend thing and picked up a bottle of champagne, smoked salmon,
cream cheese and bagels (his favourite) and returned home to a house in
chaos.

It was only when I asked him to make sure he packed my strappy black
shoes and got a blank look in return, that the shit hit the fan.

"I feel this is my big break."

"I know."

"And I need to give it everything I've got."

"I know."

"And I'm not sure if I can do it with you there."

And that was the first time I realised we might not be spending the
rest of our lives together. Several hours, the champagne and some
whisky later he came clean.

"I want to make a new start out there."

"Without me?"

"On my own. Everything we've done so far, we've done together. You've
always been there, in the background."

"So what, you need to prove yourself - without me?"

"You're strong, Julie, and talented, no matter what happens I know
you'll get there in the end. But I'm not like that. This could be my
one shot, and I can't let anything hold me back."

And I didn't get a shag. (Just in case you were wondering). No break up
sex, no reconciliation sex, no fucking sex at all.

Of course he left me with the bills, the rent and everything else.
There's gratitude for you. I don't mean I supported him. There was
always a bit of a balancing act with the bills. Sometimes he supported
me, sometimes I supported him. Not like those poor women who put their
husbands through medical school, then get dumped for a younger model
(but I suppose at least they get alimony). I wouldn't say no to alimony
now, not with what Eric gets on his movies. I suppose I should have
taken him up on one of his offers for a quickie. Wedding that is, the
other was never anything but quickie.

Anyway I like to think the younger (and a damn sight more attractive)
models came after he dumped me. I think I'm pretty safe because they
were all in LA, until he started coming to London for premieres. I must
admit when I saw him escorting Helly to his first one my sister had to
restrain me from lining up with half a dozen eggs in hand, but I do
have my (ever so slightly famous) reputation to protect.

Well I guess that's all in the past. The films (and the parts) have got
a lot smaller since the last few celebrity overdoses (which the
insurers take a dim view of), and Eric's last few attempts at
sobriety.

I now have a shot at the big time, with a contract to direct a high
profile literary adaptation (see if you can guess which one.) The first
film was a wing and a prayer low budget, held together with spit and
sellotape, but with a really hot new girl in it. (She's off to LA now,
but I really don't mind this time.)

I think Eric might be fishing for a part, but I think if that was the
case he would have got his agent to call. We're having lunch today (yes
- a very swanky restaurant - I think I'll let him pay) so I'll find out
what it's all about.

He's probably getting married, or at least engaged (again). I must
admit the only time I really did question his sanity was when he got
engaged to Pammy (I mean!), but he dumped her when she shagged half a
rock band (again.)

No. He did want a part. I'm going to have to run it past the producer,
and the insurance company. If his apologetic front, and his inability
to pay for lunch are anything to go by, things are a lot worse than I
thought. He swears he's clean now, and I know it would do him good to
work on a drug free set. He wouldn't be half bad as Alberto, a little
younger than I would have cast him, but it would give things a
different slant. And he is a name.

All go. My producer is an angel. She understands the situation
perfectly, except she thinks I'm trying to save Eric with this part. I
don't think the part will save him, I think me being his friend (and
director) will. I know it's a little crazy, but if you could have seen
Eric when we were together you would have seen how centred he was. None
of our friends could believe it when he left. I mean, with some guys
there's always a bit of the arsehole about them, but with Eric, it was
just a sudden attack of arseholitis.

I think everyone is entitled to freak out, to have a mid-life crisis,
(whenever it happens,) and not to have it held against them when they
realise it. I'm not saying I would take Eric back without question, but
maybe he was right about needing to go out there and make it on his
own, and I've made it on my own too. Maybe sometimes people get pulled
apart by their disparate lives, and they can only come back together
when those lives collide again. If two people are really meant to be
together&;#8230; oh dear, even I can see I'm getting sucked in
again.

Maybe it's the way he looks so deep into my eyes (he used to do it, it
was one of the first things he said in the audition when I met him). He
said "You've got these incredible blue eyes." At lunch he said (as he
did when we were a couple) "I keep forgetting how incredibly blue your
eyes are." It makes me go gooey, I can't help it.

Dinner tonight. I feel my resolve is slipping away (not that there was
much resolve to begin with). The thought of sex with Eric again gets me
all hot and bothered. I find myself rambling when I talk to him, losing
my train of thought as I go over script changes. Maybe I should just
fuck him and get it over with. Maybe then I could think straight. It's
a shame Alberto doesn't have any love scenes for us to read through,
maybe he should have.

My producer, angel though she is, has made it clear there can be no
more additional lines for Alberto. She's right, I know. I'm blinded by
love, or is it lust? Who cares, it's good.

Heaven, utter heaven. I'm almost glad Eric left for five years. The sex
is so much better than it was. It's like sleeping with a different
(even sexier) man. Add to that the career high Eric is on at the
moment, (he's scored another part since starting the film), and you
would not have believed the noises emanating from his hotel room last
night. I think one of the porters might blab, but this kind of thing
can only enhance my (little bit famous) reputation if it gets in the
papers.

He says he's never stopped loving me, and he made me get out the Gucci
ring, and has told me to wear it every day. The next time he suggests a
quickie we're off to Vegas for a rock star wedding. I don't think I've
ever been so happy, and when the film's finished we'll still be working
together, going to premieres (I must think about what dresses to wear),
doing festivals. I wonder if I should think about getting pregnant at
the end of the shoot so I can turn up to the premieres in that glowing
stage of pregnancy, looking intentionally fat?

Remnants of coke in the bathroom. My bathroom. On set. And the only one
who's allowed to use it but me is Eric. I cannot tell my producer. She
will have a shit fit. If I ignore it, pretend he hasn't been sloppy,
then I can give him another serious verbal warning. Tell him if I ever
catch him using, or drunk, he's off the picture. Maybe I should tell
him I know and get him into rehab, but what if someone finds out? I
wish I could tell Kathleen, my producer, she'd know what to do, she's
hard as nails.

It just happened. I decided to give him one more chance, ignore all the
tell-tale signs and actual evidence and "turn the other cheek". But it
was just the look on his face, like he didn't believe I was serious.
"Oh yeah, here she goes again." He nodded diligently in all the right
places, and I realised he was acting, badly. Then I realised he's been
acting badly for a while, on set and off, I just couldn't see it. So I
told him.

"Screw it. You and I both know you've been using, and you know what I
told you about using on my film."

He didn't get it. Fried brain or habitual arrogance, I don't know. I
had to tell him again slowly. "You're fired."

It took him a while. "But&;#8230;but&;#8230;but&;#8230; you
can't, we're halfway through shooting."

I nodded. "Alberto is going to be a piece of piss to recast, and if I
don't have to pay your salary I can afford to reshoot. I should have
reshot the last half of your dialogue anyway, it'll just make it easier
if he's played by someone who's not stoned."

"But&;#8230;but&;#8230;"

"Don't worry, baby. I'll tell Kathleen you decided it wasn't good for
your image. Your agent can go to hell. We'll just keep this between the
two of us&;#8230;unless you want the insurance company on your new
film to hear?"

"How can you do this to me? I love you, you said you loved me too? We
were going to be together."

"You're strong, Eric, and talented, no matter what happens I know
you'll bounce back in the end. But this could be my one shot, and I
can't let anything hold me back."

He knew it was over, but he just kept talking. Eventually (after a
furtive visit to the bathroom) he started going on about how I couldn't
treat him this way, how he was a star. I walked him to the door before
I replied.

"You know what Eric, I'm the real star, I was before I met you and I'll
be when you're gone&;#8230; and it won't be too long the way you're
going. Guys like you come ten to a box. I think it's high time you were
replaced, on the film and in my life. I just need to call Casting."