Page 5 of Once Upon a Star

I had learned so much about New York City from Ara. I thought I would acclimate to it immediately, but I hadn’t a clue. It was so much bigger, wilder, more exciting than I had ever imagined. There was a vibe, an energy that reverberated in the city that Los Angeles never had. I thought I would be fascinated by New York and a little intimidated. I was but I also loved it. From the moment I got out of the taxi and I looked around at the huge skyscrapers and the people bustling around, heard the noises and random obscenities, and even the unique stale mildewy scent, mixed with nuts and something else I probably didn’t want to name, I knew it was the city for me.

The feelings only grew as I got settled into my apartment, found a bodega that I liked, learned the ins and outs of getting on the subway or better yet, just walking the city. Every day I was able to explore, though it hadn’t been much. I learned something new, something more to love. But it wasn’t enough, the more I saw, the more I wanted to learn, and hopefully that would happen soon.

I knew the stigma that went with actors from Hollywood. New York and the Great White Way. It was a different set-up. One with challenges that a lot of actors didn’t know how to deal with. There was no second take. I couldn’t call cut in the middle of a scene if it wasn’t going my way. I understood that. I knew it was going to be hard but I wanted to learn it all and prove myself.

Ara was the main reason that I was in New York City but she wasn’t the only one. I wanted a future with her, and that future was going to have to be in the city. In order to do that, I needed to establish myself as a serious actor. One that people would respect, hopefully admire, and ultimately want to work with. I expected that people would think I would fail. Even people who should have supported me, like my agent. I was going to prove her and everyone else wrong.

It was why I hadn’t tried to talk to Ara. It was why I had been staying close to home and not gone out much. The tabloids loved to say that there was something going on. That the reason I had come to New York was to hide away from a failed relationship Or I had pissed off a director and they had blackballed me from the industry. Or I was secretly in rehab.

Nothing could be further from the truth. I almost found it amusing to see the latest story and gossip each week. They never lasted long as another one popped up about me or someone else. I had been in the industry for years. I knew the game and never took it too seriously.

The play was going well. The workshop had been wonderful and we had been doing rehearsals for a few weeks now. Production of the set and the costumes were almost done. In less than two weeks, we would be off book. I knew that was when the fun would really begin and I would start to hone my craft. I was both nervous and excited about being in front of an audience in less than six weeks.

For the first time in a few months, I felt like I could breathe. Things were going well with the play; I had a good handle on my schedule and life. Now it was time to work on the next step, Ara.

As if the universe was on my side, Ara walked out of the hospital at that moment. Her head was down but I could see her long red hair flowing in the breeze. She had always liked to keep it long and I had remembered running my hands through her strands while the moonlight glistened in them. She was looking at her phone and I was almost worried about her and that she wasn’t aware of her surroundings but she maneuvered around some other pedestrians as if she was looking directly at them.

My breath caught at seeing her. Even from across the street, I could see how beautiful she was. She had always been the most incredible woman I had ever met. It wasn’t just her beauty, which was unparalleled, or her quick wit and dry sense of humor, or even how smart she was. It was how she would look at me, or anyone, and make them think they were the most important and only person in the room.

She had looked at me like that when we were teenagers. When she did, I felt like I could do anything, I could conquer the world, and the only thing holding me back was my imagination. It was that look that had given me the courage to go out for my first audition, to get my first starring role, and what gave me the courage to convince an unknown director to take a chance on me. I vowed I would have her look at me like that again.

I wanted to go up and talk to her. I opened my mouth to call out her name but no words would come. What was I going to say to her? Anything that came to mind made me think she would just turn in the other direction, or worse, slap me in the face. I had come on impulse and I hadn’t thought I would see her, but I had to try. Now that I was seeing her, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was only going to get one chance to make the right impression with Ara, and I didn’t want to mess it up.

Before I could turn to go, Ara lifted her head and her eyes immediately fell on me. My heart skipped, feeling the intensity of her gaze. It was like she knew I was there. As if my soul had called out to hers. There was no other explanation as to how she knew I was there. I could feel a sheepish smile creeping over my face as I lifted my right hand in a wave.

I immediately put it down, realizing I looked like a fool. She tilted her head as she continued to hold my gaze. I couldn't see her eyes but I could tell by the way she was looking at me, the tilt of her head, the lift of her shoulders, that she was not happy to see me. It was like I could read her mind and she was saying “Seriously, Bash, what are you doing here?”

There was no choice but to walk toward her. This wasn’t how I thought our first meeting would be but at least I was going to talk to her. That was more than I had been able to do in years. Squaring my shoulders, I went to cross the street only to hear my name being called at a blood-curdling volume.

I knew what was going to happen as soon as I heard it. I plastered a smile on my face as I turned toward the call. A young woman in her twenties was running toward me as if we were long lost lovers in a field of flowers. The smile on her face was huge and her eyes were just as big as she made her way toward me. She kept screaming my name as she approached, I’m sure because she wasn’t believing she was seeing me.

Living in California, I had gotten used to being recognized; I had even come to expect and accept it. When I was first starting out, nothing was cooler and more exciting to me than some stranger noticing me on the street. I would always take the time to talk to the fan, pose for a few pictures, even sign something if they wanted me to. I knew it had helped win fans over and helped with my popularity and success.

For the most part, I was glad to do it. Over time, it had gotten more excessive as my recognition grew and people wanted more of my time. Most people were respectful and didn’t try to ask for too much, but there were still others who thought they could monopolize me.

Since coming to New York, I hadn’t been recognized as much. Well, I hadn’t been approached as much. New Yorkers seemed to have this understanding that you didn’t go up and yell at a celebrity because you saw them on the street. They respected the need for privacy and instead would give me a smile or a nod, as if to say, “I see you.” I felt freer to live my life and as such, didn’t think I needed to wear any disguises when I walked the streets. I guess I was wrong.

I kept a smile on my face as I talked to the fan. Her name was Bridgette and she was from South Africa. She took a few pictures, gushed about how much she loved my movies, quoted a few to me, offered for me a place to stay in South Africa, suggested we go to dinner, and what might happen after. I politely turned her down and tried to get away from her as soon as I could. It didn’t matter, because when I turned to look for Ara after Bridgette had gone, Ara was nowhere to be found.

So much for making a good impression with Ara.

Chapter 4

Aracely

“Was he stalking you? Should we be worried?” Layla asked.

“No. I don’t think so. I mean he could have just been walking by and saw me leaving the hospital,” I suggested.

Ella leaned back in her chair and looked at me over her glass of Chardonnay. “I don’t know. It seems too convenient that he would just happen to be outside your work when you were leaving. It screams set-up to me.”

I glared back at Ella and shook my head. “No. There is no set-up. There is no conspiracy theory. The man just happened to be outside my work when I left it.”

We had met up after work at Henry’s, our favorite wine bar and happy hour spot, two days after I had seen Sebastian. I had thought I could put it behind me. It didn’t matter that he was there. New York City was a big city but it wasn’t that big of a city. I had assumed we would run into each other at some point. I told myself it wasn’t that big of a deal. I had thought I was going to be able to handle it. I thought that I would be okay seeing him. But apparently, I wasn’t.

“He didn’t talk to you? He didn’t try to say anything? He just stood there?” Layla asked.

“Well, he did wave,” I said and mimicked what he did.