The Price

1,003 auditions, fifty callbacks, zero bookings. Apart from loading boxes into a warehouse and all of these unbooked roles, that’s all that my time here has shown these past two years. I suppose I should be lucky, considering most celebrity-wannabes don’t even get the chance to make it to California, but it’s difficult to appreciate that since I’ve seen new stars tear their way through Hollywood with success after success. All while I’ve had none.

My childhood was spent in movie theaters, much to my parents’ dismay. They sat through endless movies, eating the buttery popcorn and drinking the much-too-large fountain drinks while I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen.

I knew I wanted to be an actress after the first movie I watched, but I just didn’t expect it to be this difficult. A few of my friends also faced similar challenges but went to this little store that deemed itself as a “fortune granter” that makes Hollywood-hopefuls’ dreams come true. I had been skeptical, of course, but after my friends started seeing success in the form of booked commercials and bestselling books not long after their visits, I decided to check it out. I’ll admit that their newfound success could’ve been from their talent, but I was desperate and tired of wasting away at this warehouse.

I scraped together the $99 fee and found myself patiently waiting in line behind twenty people.

It was a quaint, faded blue house that was outdated and frankly falling apart with its cracked and rocky foundation. The sign in the tiny front yard read, “One visit = Lifetime of Fame & Fortune.” I shook off the ridiculous sign and found myself sitting in front of Pearl a few minutes later. My stomach dropped at the sight of the crystal ball on the table, and Pearl could see my apprehension and distrust and tapped on the ball aggressively. “It’s fake, just an added effect.”

My shoulders relaxed, and I exhaled. I hope this will amount to something. “Now why do you want to be famous, and what do you want to be famous for?”

I plastered a smile on my face. “I want to be an actress, and I want to make people fall in love with storytelling in motion pictures like I have.”

“I can see that from you.” Pearl smiled and grabbed my hands tightly. She closed her eyes, and I followed suit, keeping them closed until she squeezed my hands once more.

“The rule of this deal is simple: Use this gift of fame wisely and for good.”

“And if I don’t?” I joked, though a smile didn’t reach her face.

“Then you’ll see.”

I narrowed my eyes, and she waved me off, calling for the next person. I shook it off, feeling as though that was her famous scare tactic, and felt lighter despite the uncertainty of it all. I trudged back to my little apartment that costs entirely too much and plopped down on the couch. I grabbed my laptop, seeing if I had any new emails, and nearly dropped the laptop on the floor upon seeing an email titled, “Callback for Megan Glasser, lead main character in The Hopefuls.”

A lead? Not an extra? Could this be Pearl’s fortune-voodoo? Either way, I squealed and eagerly scheduled the callback and booked the part in less than a week.

My luck and well fortune only went up from there. I couldn’t stop booking roles. A few commercials, recurring TV gigs, and more than a handful of movie roles, I had more jobs booked than I knew what to do with, and I loved it.

Instead of watching other actors and actresses on the screen, my parents and I saw me, and there wasn’t a better feeling than that.

With all this money, I traded my little apartment for a bigger house than I needed and went all out on revitalizing my closet, shoes, décor, anything that I wanted, frankly. With each role I landed, I couldn’t help but think of Pearl’s words about how I needed to use my fame for good.

Anytime that I thought of donating money or time to a nonprofit, I’d book a new role and would be too busy to do anything else but prepare for the role.

Two years into this exponential fame, I found myself lost, fuzzy in the head after spending all my time trying to get into the minds of my characters I play. I had lost all my friends and hadn’t spent more than a day or two back home with my parents. After a lengthy phone call with my parents and explaining that I needed to see them, they flew out from the Midwest to visit for a couple of days and met me at a restaurant for lunch.

My mom, as usual, talked my ear off while my dad sat to the side and listened. I half-mindedly listened to the never-ending family updates, though I never felt so far away from them and my life in general. Instead, I couldn’t help but think about my latest character, Margo. She was a devoted wife to a serial cheater, trying to play the part of the loyal wife while she tried to find ways to expose him and ruin his life. My mind kept drifting to the mannerisms I was going to give her, maybe a sneaky little grin or a hair twirl. My mother gently grabbed my hand and brought me out of my thoughts as I realized I was staring at the table.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself.” My mom’s head tilted to the side, concern written all over her face.

“I’m fine, I swear. I’m preparing for the role of Margo-”

“No, no, honey, no more job talk. How are you doing? Have you made any new friends, reconnect with the old ones, or meet anyone special?”

“No, I haven’t had the time.”

“You have to make time for yourself, honey. You can’t just keep running yourself ragged over these roles, you’ve already made it.” My mom pointed to a billboard across the street with my face on it. “You could go to the spa, the nail or hair salon, or hell watch a movie without you in it in a theater. You gotta know who you are outside of these movie and TV roles. I don’t want this Hollywood life to ruin you.”

My dad didn’t say anything, but it was clear he agreed.

“But I don’t want to know who I am. I am these characters, and I’m making loads of money and fans are stopping me in the street and everywhere you could imagine for photos and autographs. This is everything I’ve ever wanted, can’t you see that?” I replied. The words fell out of my mouth without even thinking about it.

My parents looked taken aback, their eyes wide as they took in my words. The next few days were spent by my parents trying to convince me to return to the Midwest, leave this “damaging” Hollywood life behind, and return to the simple life. They weren’t happy when I disagreed, and that I couldn’t seem to get out of my own head, or I guess my character’s head.

When they left, I became engrossed in the character of Margo and another new character, Sammy, all day and night. I’d stay up till 3 or 4 am and wake up at 9 am and immediately start either working on a set or trying to dive into the character.

Bags under my eyes started growing, and the makeup artists had to pile on pounds of makeup to make me look a little less tired. After weeks of this, one of the makeup artists told me that I needed to take my health more seriously if I wanted to remain one of the top stars.

Later that night, I returned to my big empty house and took a hard look at myself in the mirror. My hair was ragged and stringy, my eyes had no life and were dull, and my skin was breaking out in acne patches. I didn’t look like myself in the slightest. I could now see what my parents were concerned about.

That next day, I returned to Pearl’s little house and barged through the long line. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of me. I shooed the person who was talking to Pearl out of the chair and plopped down in a huff.

“Need more fame? I see you on damn near every billboard or movie poster across LA.”

“No, I need to know what the consequences of this fame are that you mentioned years ago. All you said was ‘you’ll see,’ what does that mean?”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been experiencing?”

“Could you just cut to the chase and tell me?” I asked, rage building within me as she kept stalling.

“There’s a price to being famous; stars lose themselves in Hollywood, doing whatever they can to remain relevant. I’m guessing you’ve felt that?”

I nodded. “All I do is work and think about my characters. I don’t have time for anything else, and I can’t tear myself away from my work. I’ve slowly became someone I don’t recognize, I’ve slowly become… my characters.”

“Then leave Hollywood. You’ve experienced the fame you’ve chased your whole life, do you need more? Find yourself, get away from this overrated celebrity life.”

I left that session and immediately packed up my house and rented a truck to drive back to the Midwest and live with my parents. I locked up my house for the last time and sat behind the wheel of the truck. My hands shook as I tried to put the car in gear, but I couldn’t. I can’t leave this life. I can’t live in the what-if, wondering if my career would’ve taken off even more if I hadn’t left.

So, not even ten minutes later, I found myself back in the house and accepting a new TV show role as I stepped foot in the front door. For the next few years, I lost myself in the mind of my new character, Charlotte, and when I don’t think about Charlotte, my mind is foggy and blurry.

My parents tell me that I’m a shell of what I used to be, but at least I’m growing more and more successful and am now the biggest star in Hollywood.