Selfish Acts

Trigger warning: date rape drugs

Kyle never expected me to really go through with the audition, I have walked off many stages after drawing blanks and bombing lines for the roles of a lifetime. My acting resume proved to be impressive with C and D-list celebrities on some big productions that got me noticed, graduating from high school at the age of 15, and getting my Associate of Fine Arts degree from New York Film Academy also helped jumpstart my career. I met Kyle at an awards benefit for dinner where he won the New Writers Write Untied Award in NYC, his story was published in Time Magazine.  I went as the spokesperson for Women Create from NYFA, a group that supports all creative outlets. We spent the rest of the night laughing and comparing his life growing up in Michigan and mine here in the Big Apple. I showed him around the city the next three days he was in town, and made plans to visit him in Traverse City, near the pinkie of the glove of Michigan in a few weeks. 

In 6-months’ time, I moved my small apartment's contents to Michigan, upsetting everyone I knew, especially my mom, "what a waste of talent. You were destined to be a star and you

move to the Cherry Capital of the World to act where--The national Cherry Pie Festival and be a hostess at Michael Moore's TC Film Fest?" Which were both week long festivals here, although the word "pie" wasn't in the title, I explained to her. The slower pace life with a man who I knew I was supposed to find was a nice change. The trips back in forth to New York and California were pain staking and tiring. I was happy but restless as more calls

came in and I wasn't close enough to pop over for an audition or swing by to drop off my head shots. My very part-time assistant Carrie in New York was gracious enough to run those around town on her lunch breaks. I landed a few small roles, a dead body on Grey’s, a secretary on Suits, and a three-episode role on the Black List that really changed my life even despite being shot and

killed by The Widow Marker.  

     Warners Bros called one snowy day, I was on the next flight to audition next to Mark Wahlberg, who was supposed to be my husband after me and my friends rented, "Fear", the thriller about him being a crazy hot psycho boyfriend of Reese Witherspoon. I almost couldn't breathe I was so shocked. I asked Kyle to come of course but he was working on his novel and needed to finish the chapters by the weekend. A week later we were packing up our house in Michigan and moving to LA. The studio thought it would be better if we moved to California, my agent mentioned, "building your image at this level is no game and it's going to a lot of work." He rattled off countless radio and tv interviews being scheduled as we spoke and ended with the line, "who in hell wants to live in Michigan anyways?" before I heard the click.

     Kyle was devastated. He didn't want to leave his family and friends to live in a city who would devour a born and raised Michigan guy. He thought of staying in Traverse and just letting me handle Hollywood alone for the filming. That stung, I didn't want to be there alone, and I questioned why he'd be ok with not seeing me for months and months. After the announcement of the upcoming film and cast, they scrubbed our personal and professional lives to anything that may cause problems. We were cleared. Kyle took the interruption like a whiny child and had a temper tantrum of epic proportions liked the dropped ice cream cone with no more money to get another and having to share your younger brother's plain vanilla, or coming home from school November 1st to see all the Reeses and Snickers gone from your jack-o-lantern. It wasn't until my social media blew up with some attractive offers to show me around LA that he thought it'd be best to come with me be just until the movie premieres, stating, "then we could move back home." 

     I was starting to get overwhelmed, not

with the studio, press, fitting in and learning lines, it was Kyle who was draining the excitement for me. Everything was this huge chore to get Kyle to try to lighten up. "This sucks, the beaches suck, the food sucks, the air sucks, the highways suck, the traffic sucks, having a driver sucks, the new convertible sucks, going to events and rubbing elbows with people who could help his writing career suck, all the free swag suck, getting meals delivered

sucks, going to the store sucks, his new friends from the gym suck but not enough to go hang out with so he corrected it to mildly suck, a drugged out homeless man gave him a dollar to smile and his smile sucked. We went to Best Buy where I used my new shiny credit card and free rein to go to buy every new Apple product available. I signed him up for every highspeed steaming channel I

could, I scheduled him surfing and golf lessons and my agent sent over every sport ticket he could ever want along with gift cards to enjoy. I wrote a note and placed it at his desk, that read, "Kyle. Get ready to unsuck your life. Let's go to Best Buy-enjoy this lessons and perks for being with a sucky wife like me-in this sucky LA-and sucky condo. I really hope you can stop sucking the joy out of my dreams. Unsuck you later, you big suck. I love you, Kyle. Please be happy for us."

     We had planned a visit home, I told him to not let me forget to bring my script and itinerary so he made three copies and

put them in my purse, carry-on and luggage. That was the nicest thing he has done since we moved.  Staying with his parent’s

felt like a much-needed break with our hectic LA live. I wore sweatpants and Kyle’s MSU sweatshirt and was still freezing. His sister kept winking at me dancing and singing, "Yo!  It's about time

to bring forth the rhythm and rhyme. Come on, come on, feel it, feel it, feel the vibration," and asked me to get her a Marky Mark signed t-shirt for Christmas. Kyle's brother-in-law wanted to know if I got to hang out with famous actors like Jennifer Lopez or The Rock. His younger brother asked if I have celeb status into secret clubs that I could hook him up with, his nephew asked me if I wore a bikini everyday--he's fourteen. His ten-year old niece

asked if had a naughty habit from Hollywood that would be aired on TMZ anytime soon, because she heard that place sucks explaining how it would ruin my career and we'd have to move back home and live in Grandpa and Grandma's basement and

the movie would have to hire a real star to replace me.  I assured her that I had no nasty sucky habits and we weren't moving home anytime soon because I had some major auditions that

were lining up. She told me, "I know how to set the DVR to record all TMZ's and I'll just program it now so I don't miss anything."

     I wondered if my comment about having more auditions in the works upset Kyle. I   just wanted him to enjoy his time with his family because I knew once we got back to LA, everything was going to suck again. 

     I was wrong and Kyle's mood improved, he stopped being mopey, he read lines with me and seemed to care more about my career than ever. He called and texted me through-out the day saying things like, "you're so hot I can't stop thinking of you," going into detailed rants about what he wanted to do to me when I got home. Finally, I had my Kyle back only better. 

     I walked into make-up and sat down with my lines. This was a pivotal scene for me and the energy was perfect while I wasbeing questioned by the womanizing defense attorney played by Ben F'ing Afleck, Gone Girl's husband, Ben. I was focused on my testimony and I let out a booming, "No, sir! I never forced Miss McCarthy at any time during her therapy sessions in the hospital to discuss the details of her crimes,” the fire in my eyes came to rest on Ben's face waiting for his attack, but he just looked at me with his jaw dropped and muttered, "uh?" David Fincher,

David F'ing Fincher, Gone Girl's director, shouted, "cut! What the hell was that crap lousy line? It's sure not mine!" I sat back in disbelief, was this a joke? I continued on in a small mouse voice, "my notes are…crystal clear on what…wh…we talked about...in umm…ur......in the…oh God.”   It was greeted with silence and awkward faces. Carrie walked into the courtroom and

handed me a bottle of water and handed over a copy of the real script. I stared at it with my mouth wide open and eyes blinking back tears. "This wasn't what I had." I took my binder and handed it him.  With a loud clap, David stood up and gently told the room that it isn't funny and whoever switched them better come clean

because he can see a future for them in writing manuscripts, as he stormed off. The make-up lady, Kendra, ushered me

back to her chair and I was given 15 minutes to learn the scene. I somehow managed to nail it. David and Ben both gave me a side hug, Mark whispered, "great job, some advice though, don’t mix up your movies.  It pisses ‘em off.” Ben nodded and smiled.

     Kyle acted perplexed while I explained my horrific day. He asked me if David really thought the messed-up lines were really

that good. "No! Kyle. Really? He was joking." He brought me a glass

of white wine and I fell into a weird asleep, nightmare after nightmare, finally waking me up alone in a sweat soaked bed.

"Kyle? What time... is it? Kyle! WHAT TIME IS IT?" Kyle came in with a mug of coffee saying, "wakey-wakey my beauty," and he handed me my phone and kissing the top of my wet head. Blurried eyed I read 1:12 PM on the screen with 127 missed calls. "Shit! Shit! Kyle? Why didn't you wake me up what is going on?" Kyle explained that I had told him in between sips of white wine that I had the morning off and not to disturb me. I don't remember anything from last night. I got up, cleared my throat, just in time to answer the 128th phone call of the day, it was Carrie saying she was outside waiting for me. Thirty minutes later, I was showered and in the backseat being driven to the studio. "I don't know what happened Carrie. I feel like I was drugged," I told her with my head in my hands. Carrie smiled and let out a laugh, "What Laney? Kyle slip you a date rape cocktail? Let's get you a bagel and a Coke."

     "Let's just say," I told Kyle at lunch, "no one talked to me. I was being treated like a teenage girl getting who got caught with her boyfriend in her room." Kyle was sympathetic as I continued to tell him how funny I felt and couldn't really get my bearings, almost like I went on a bender last night. He changed the subject

and told me he'd make my favorite seafood pasta tonight.

     We didn't get done shooting until 3am

because of my stunt this morning and slide into bed without eating. I laid awake thinking of how stupid I must have looked today. I tried to tell David that I wasn't sure what happened and David he just turned away and said, "Laney. You've already taken up most of my precious time today with your weird drug excuse. Just get it done already." I felt depleted. Since I missed Kyle's special

dinner, he brought me breakfast in bed and I shoveled in shrimp and crab going through the morning’s scene. I was in make-up early, ready to go, no issues, no wrong lines. Feeling empowered to never screw up again. My eyes closed, I immediately felt a cramp twist in my gut. The blush brush stopped on my cheek

for a second or two and then started to swirl again. Another searing pain tore into my stomach and all of a sudden, I have a lined trash can smelling of coffee grinds shoved in my face. All the seafood pasta was making a reappearance on set. I heard my assistant Carrie's voice chant, "calm down

Laney. You're ok. Breathe. Oh God! Not in your hair!"

I was sent home with eye rolls and hearing the janitor curse alfredo sauce. Kyle was right there to comfort me. He sent me to bed with a water bottle and a kiss on my shoulder. I woke up much like I did the other morning I was late. Something is wrong. My

heart was pounding and I felt like I couldn't hold my head up. "I want to go to the hospital Kyle," I whispered. He sat with me the next couple of hours watching tv telling me I looked better and no need to make a scene in the ER, it's a stomach bug.”

  The next morning, still feeling foggy, I dazzled them outside a closed park in Northern California while I held Marky

Mark in my arms and stroked his hair. "Cut," David yelled, "yes

people! Laney you are forgiven. Let's break for lunch. No seafood pasta, ok Lane." Carrie walked with me back with it the food tens, she saw I was struggling and not myself, I reassured Carrie that I the flu and we sat down with our fruit salads.  Kyle called me and asked how I was feeling and laughed out a weird comment, "well Laney after the week you've had, think they going to can you?" I didn't find it funny but told him I didn’t think so.

     Kyle was in his office writing and didn't hear me come in. I went to grab the mail off the counter and saw a white of oval pill on the floor by the stove. I picked it up and examined it. I typed google into my laptop and googled, 'pill with 00CFF imprint'. The pill appeared on the screen and I read the description of the pill I had next to me. Evnagin, it was called, an interesting blend of hypnotic and antipsychotic drugs used for serious mental illnesses that listed serious side effects which includes violent vomiting, seizures, black outs, coma, and even death. There it was all typed out, Kyle's date rape drug. I deleted my search, shut the screen, put the pill in my pocket and went to draw a bath as I remembered Kyle’s face when he thought David really liked the made-up lines I belted out.  Am I dealing with a sabotaging husband--who

set me up fail and risk is my health to what-move back home? I felt a pang of guilt because I didn't want to believe Kyle would deliberately hurt me like

this and I wasn't going to ask him about it until I knew for sure. I pulled off the best acting that night as I pretended to be normal Laney, not taking the popcorn he offered saying I wasn’t that hungry.

   The next morning David was in the back seat

of my car with Harry from HR to talk. My heart raced as I braced myself whatever this was about. My credit card was used to buy every casting director at Warner Bros an Elite PornMax Membership with an email stating, "Who wants to find

my g-spot and next movie gig? Sincerely, Laney."

     After explaining the messed-up lines of

the important day of filming, turning over the pill I found in my kitchen which they had tested for me, and hiring techies to trace the emails and porn purchases back to Kyle's old laptop's IP addresses, I had all the answers I needed and David

was willing to move on but Kyle needed to leave LA.

   And the Oscar goes to…..a frantic wife who was fired from her first major motion picture, whose career was ruined, and life was over in LA, who pleads her husband

to back to Michigan to find their dream home. With one last hug and crying outburst, she says goodbye at LAX as he disappears into the terminal, she mutters after him, “you suck.”

     Going through a divorce, wrapping up the

movie and getting ready for the premiere couldn't have gone better for me. David had the most talented writers create a real-life thriller, of a naïve new star in LA whose husband descends into darkness and wants to end her promising fame,

I of course would co-direct and play a small cameo as sign of strength.  For Kyle in Michigan, things weren't going

well. His novel was saved on the computer from Best Buy which I paid for and were considered mine to keep as they had protected scripts of the movie she plays in that were illegal to have in his possession, his dream house turned out to

be in his parent's basement after all, and after my interviews aired on CBS This Morning, Good Morning America, Entertainment Tonight and my favorite TMZ, he

was now getting dismemberment threats.  I hope his niece DVR’ed them for her uncle Kyle.