You know the movie stars you watch on that huge screen? Does it surprise you that they are humans just like you and I? Would you be amazed to know that they eat like you do, sleep like you do, and, yes, that their shit clogs toilets, just like yours?
I work at a hotel, alone at night. Yes, I said alone. We didn't have the huge five star hotels in that little town her company chose to shoot production in. The hotel where I worked was the best available. We didn't have a chef on duty twenty-four and seven. We had a cooked to order breakfast available from six ack emma to ten. And we didn't have a full staff to wait on her "majestie's" every silly little whim. There was just me.
Well, there were two of us on the weekend. But, her nibs and the rest of the one hundred people involved in shooting that movie didn't stay over on the weekends. They fled back to "civilization" on Friday and returned on Monday as a one week stay turned into five before they managed to get what they wanted.
That first week, I almost didn't have a job. Saying "no, ma'am. I can't do that." is evidentally not something the big kahunas are used to hearing. Frankly, probably the only reason I did keep my job was due to a fight behind the grocery store next to us. Evidentally, the way I handled it and the subsequent heart attack one of the boom operators had when it broke out under his window impressed the security people. At least that's what I was told. I told them I was just doing my job. Apparently, that... bothered her? I'm not sure "impressed" would be accurate. "Bothered" is probably the best term. It bothered her that I would treat anybody the same way I treated her and her people. In her mind, I should have treated them better than anybody else, I suppose.
By the third week, there were no more spacey oddball requests and she and I had entered into a... wary nodding acquaintance. I said her security people were impressed by me. I had no idea at the time just what a compliment it was to me that they would let her hang out in the atrium near my station with only one of them awake and reading the paper nearby at three in the morning. I just wished they wouldn't have me babysit.
"God, do you people roll up the sidewalks when the sun goes down or something?" She said one night.
"No ma'am." I smiled down at the paperwork I was shuffling into order for the day accountant. "We leave them out until one in the morning. Then we have to take them in and wash them down for the next day. All the blowing dirt, you know."
"I'll say,. The damn dirt ruined another shot today. I'm never getting out of this dustbowl." She sipped on her glass and looked around at the atrium empty except for myself and her security guy. "But, what do you people do for fun?"
"Well, ma'am." I scratched my head and tried to fight a grin. "I guess you could alway get some liquor at the bootlegger and go tip some cows."
"What would cows do with money? Or do you mean the waitresses?"
I had to look up to make sure she wasn't joking. The security man's newspaper was bouncing up and down so that I know he couldn't actually read it.
"Uh, tip them over." I said after a moment. "Cows sleep standing up and you tip them onto their side."
"What for?"
"It's actually a prank country boys and girls play on city people that don't know cows." I explained. "See, it's very rare to catch a cow just right so you can actually push it over. So, this city slicker will be pushing and pushing and nothing will happen. Or if they get lucky and do manage it, the cow will go apesh-... ah, that is, the cow will be a little cranky at being woke up that way."
"That sounds dumb." She wrinkled her nose.
That didn't sound like it called for an answer, so I didn't. I finished putting the papers in order and sealed the envelope to slip under the accountants door. If I could ever get the asses to go their rooms so I could leave the desk.
"But, what is there to do around here at this time of night?"
" At this time of night?" I smiled and shook my head. "You can work, sleep, or get into trouble. About the same as anywhere I imagine. If it's three in the morning and you aren't working and you aren't sleeping, somebody with a badge is probably going to get a call from someone."
"Yeah, from someone boring." She said.
See what I mean? The words sounded like we were speaking the same language, but there was zero communication. Most of our conversations were like that once she started talking at me. I say "talking at" because I'm not convinced she talked to me.
Not until the last week they would stay with us, anyway. I'm trying to be careful not to give name or anything a legal beagle could fixate on. But, I guess it's safe to tell you she had a break up with her male actor signifigant other. I mean, every weekend some hot movie box office couple splits up, right? So, saying that isn't giving away too much, I don't think.
I'm going to admit something here that probably won't make me very popular with the female segment of the population. A woman's tears make me horny. Hey, don't blame me. I figured it out when she cried on me.
You've seen this woman cry on a huge screen with several other people around you. One glistening tear rolling out of the corner of her beautiful eye and sliding down her cheek. The image was lovely. She was even nominated for a certain prestigious award for that scene.
Yeah, what she was doing when she walked out of her hotel room and stumbled across the atrium to where I stood wasn't that. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her nose was running and she was rubbing at it with one sleeve. Not a picture for her FHM pictorial, I assure you.
Her security goon opened his door and when he saw the scenario, glanced around to make sure no one was watching. I glared at him, wanting him to stop whatever was about to happen. He shrugged and smiled at me and went back to scanning for anyone who might happen to come out of their rooms.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" She asked.
"I don't think you need me to tell you that," I said, glancing past her for a clue what was up. "You don't make top billing if you aren't pretty. And weren't you in some magazine for sexiest women or something lately?"
"Yeah, I guess." She wiped her nose on her sleeve again and looked down at the counter as she began to trace designs on it with her finger.
I took the chance to raise my hands in a "what the hell" motion to her security guy. He shrugged and covered a yawn with his hand and motioned for me to keep going.
"Seriously," I said. "Teenage boys all over the world have your picture on their closet doors or in their lockers. They wouldn't do that if you weren't pretty, would they?"
Her security guy slapped his forehead and shook his head. I could see him laughing at me. I made the "what" motion again. He pointed at us. At me.
"Um. Yes," I said, catching on. "You are very pretty."
The security guy mimed clapping. I shot him the bird and quickly changed it to scratching my head as she looked up at me through a curtain of hair.
"Do you think I'm ... shallow?"
Oh, God. How the hell do you answer that without being a complete dick? I couldn't exactly tell her that the only way she could be more stuck on herself was if her press on nail glue leaked.
"I think... there could be more than meets the eye with you," I said after a moment. "But, I think, maybe, that you play so many roles that you don't really know who you are."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," I scratched my head and wondered how to put what I was thinking into terms she could understand. "You are always on stage. I mean, even when you aren't, you are. You have an image you have to maintain. Right?"
