Hollywood friends

We had all agreed to meet at Sammy's Diner. The pleather booths were roomy and large, but shabby. The food wasn't that great, and the service was just okay. The reason we were meeting there was that Sammy, the owner, let us occupy a booth for as long as we wanted.

The first to arrive was Grant. Grant was a character actor, who was currently out of work. That meant that he was back to being a male escort. He hated himself for doing this, but the money was good, and he could remain financially stable between acting jobs.

"How are you, Grant?" I asked.

When I'd first arrived in Hollywood, Grant had been my shoulder to cry on. I'd come from a small town in Ohio, where everyone was kind, and everyone knew your name. It was like 'Cheers', the TV show.

Anyway, I'd cried because I wasn't used to rejection. I was too tall. Too short. Too big. Too small. Too shy. Too gregarious. I also cried when male directors and producers tried to grope me. In 2009, this happened a lot. As you know, from the news, this still happens.

I am jaded, currently, and in my thirties. I used to be up for the ingenue parts. I like to think it was because I was beautiful, but director after director informed me I had a child-like, naive quality to my face. Now, I am always up for Mom roles. The good news is that I've landed a lot of parts. The bad news is that I loathe these roles.

But, I digress.

Grant said, "not too bad. Mrs. Simmons tipped me a thousand dollars last night."

I raised my eyebrows. "Wow. Did you have to do anything special for that?"

Grant sighed. "Yes, and no."

I reached out a hand to hold his. "I'm sorry."

Grant scratched behind his ear. "Yeah, well, it is what it is, you know?"

I thought of the last Mom role I'd played. It involved being a traditional house wife for a TV series set in the 1960s. Getting my hair and make-up done was fun. Delivering lines like: "Whatever you think, honey," or "your father's right" made me shudder. At least this kind of work paid well.

The glass door opened and Valerie slid into the seat next to me.

"How are we, today?" she said to Grant and I.

"Alright," said Grant, sighing again.

"I'm good," I said. "I hate playing Mom all the time, but the pay is outstanding."

"God, I want a smoke," said Valerie.

"Are you okay?" I said.

Valerie flagged down the waitress and ordered coffee for everyone. "No, I am not okay," she said. Valerie was the only one of us who had a regular job. She played a villain named Montana on a TV western that had been going strong for about three years.

"If Frank writes another scene where I have to wear a bikini or lingerie, I'm going to quit." Frank was the director and writer of Kentucky, which was basically a soap opera with a lot of horses.

Grant and I exchanged a look. We both knew that Valerie would never quit because the pay was great, and she loved being recognized on the street.

"Why don't you just talk to Frank about the script?" said Grant.

Valerie took a dainty sip of coffee. "I talk to him every day about it," she said. "He always says 'no', threatens to fire me, and then says what a great job I'm doing on the show. I've decided to ask for a raise."

I knew that Valerie was making 6 figures a year. She was genuine prima donna, and I knew I would hate to work with her on a set. At least there were no 'Mom' roles on Kentucky.

"Earth to Kristen," said Valerie. "Isn't it exciting? There is a new single Mom moving in, with her kids, on the ranch. You should totally audition. I already told Frank you would be perfect to play Emily Waterson.

Valerie dug around in her Christian Dior bag. "Here's the script. Your audition is next Tuesday."

Grant choked on his coffee. He and I knew that Valerie would be a nightmare to see every day, excluding working with her.

Valerie smiled. "I already checked on the pay. If Frank decides to go with you, you'd be making about two thousand bucks a week."

I almost spit out my coffee. "Thank you?" I said.

Valerie pouted. "Don't you want to work with me? It would be so much fun. We could see each other every day." She smiled, hopefully.

One of my many faults is that I cannot say 'no' especially to two thousand bucks a week.

I gave Valerie a weak smile. "Thank you," I said.

"I knew you'd say yes," said Valerie. She rummaged in her bag, and found a packet of cigarettes. She waved her cigarette in the air. "Does anyone have a light?" she yelled.

Our waitress rolled her eyes. "Shh!" she said.

Valerie was livid. "Did you just 'shh' me?"

"Yes," said our waitress. Her name tag said: Beatrice.

"Don't you know who I am?" shouted Valerie. All of the diner's customers turned and stared at her.

Beatrice sighed. "Yeah, I do. You play a whore on Kentucky. Big deal."

Grant and I noticed Valerie was about to jump out of her seat. We both held her back, and she began to calm.

"Don't count on a tip," she said to Beatrice.

"I don't need your money," the waitress said, and walked away.

Valerie reapplied her lipstick. "Can you believe her?" she said.

"I've got lighter for your cigarette," said a familiar voice. It was Tom. His full name was Tom Bailey, and he worked as a stunt man. At 39, he was the eldest of our group.

Valerie batted her eyelashes. "Hello, Tom," she said. At one time, she and Tom had a thing. I heard it mostly involved sex, and then Tom got tired of hearing Valerie's voice. Back then, Tom called me to vent about Valerie, and Valerie called me to express love for Tom.

Tom pulled a lighter from his jeans' pocket, and lit Valerie's cigarette.

"How have you been, Tom?" said Valerie, with a wink.

"Great, actually," said Tom. "I'm lucky. Still in shape, and I haven't had that many surgeries." Tom had begun his career at 25, and it was unusual to continue work as a stuntman past the age of 35. He was universally liked by everyone. My favorite story about Tom is when he worked with Tom Cruise. Cruise would insist on doing his own stunts, even though the director and producers told him not to. Our Tom introduced himself to Cruise, as the stuntman. Once Cruise realized he was taking money from Tom's pocket, the Hollywood actor stopped doing the stunts.

"Hey Tom," said Grant. "We've all been wondering. Have you worked with anyone famous, lately?

Tom asked Beatrice for some coffee, and she smiled.

"Keanu Reeves," said Tom.

"No way!" I said.

"Yes way," said Tom. "Keanu is the best. At the wrap party, he paid for everyone to have a gourmet dinner from this ritzy craft services business."

Valerie held Tom's hand. I was expecting Tom to bat it away, but he tightened his grip.

Valerie smiled. "Tom and I have news."

I took another sip of coffee. "What news?"

"We're getting married," said Tom.

Grant and I exchanged another look.

"How did this happen?" said Grant.

"Well," smiled Valerie, "Tom was hired as a stuntman on Kentucky. Before we knew it, we were having sex in my trailer! I orgasmed, like, seven times in one day.

Tom's face turned beet red, but he studied Valerie closely.

"We realized we were meant to be together," he said.

"When is the wedding?" I asked.

"September 18th," they answered at the same time, and laughed.

Valerie pulled an enormous diamond ring out of her bag. "Isn't it gorgeous?" she said.

Grant and I admired the ring. Valerie finished her coffee in one gulp.

"Well," she said, "Tom and I have got to go. We're picking out wedding cake today."

Tom smiled, sheepishly. "We'll see y'all soon."

Grant and I grinned, and said our goodbyes to Tom and Valerie.

Grant drank the last of his coffee, and looked into my eyes.

"What?" I said. "Did my mascara run?"

"What would you say," said Grant, "if I asked you to marry me?"

It was my turn to choke on my coffee. "I thought you were involved with that woman named Candy."

Grant beamed. "I made her up. I just couldn't stand the thought of you thinking I was pathetic and single, when you were always dating."

I sat up straight. "That's not true. I didn't go on that many dates. And, when I went on dates, the guys were losers. Remember? I told you all about it."

Grant studied the table. "Okay, I was afraid. What if I asked you out, and you said 'no'? It would ruin our friendship."

I took a deep breath. "What if I said I wanted to marry you? I've been in love with you for the past ten years. It wasn't easy to hear about your work as an escort, when I wanted to be your escort."

Grant's brow furrowed. "You wanted to be a sex worker?" he said.

"No," I said. "I wanted to have sex with you, and I wanted a relationship with you. I was afraid that if I asked you out, you would say 'no'."

Grant beamed. "Let's do it. Let's go to Vegas and get married today."

"I concur," I said.

So, Grant and I married that day. Valerie was furious she wasn't invited, but forgave me when I was cast as the new mom on Kentucky. Tom and Valerie married in September. Their wedding was gorgeous, and I told Valerie so. Her face lit up, and she drank an entire bottle of wine. However, Valerie forgot about birth control that night. On set, she told me she was pregnant. I was also pregnant, but Grant and I agreed to keep this a secret. For a little while, we didn't want to deprive our friend of her baby moment in the sun.