Confessions of a Hollywood Star Read Online Free PDF

live in a new town. But instead of being haunted by Carla Santini, she’s haunted by the ghost of a fifties biker who doesn’t want her and her family in his house.”
    “Oh my God! Are you sure?” At last she’d caught my excitement. “But this is incredible! A movie right here in Dellwood! I’ve always wanted to see a real movie set. Do you think they’ll let people watch?”
    Since I’d visited several streets that had been turned into movie sets when I lived in the civilized world, I was the expert. “Of course they will. They’re filmmakers, aren’t they? They love to be watched.”
    “Oh, Lola…” A new, truly awesome thought had occurred to Ella. “Wait till Carla hears about this. She’s going to go incendiary when she finds out that something like this is going on while she’s in Europe looking at old buildings.”
    I smiled into the receiver. “Especially when she finds out that I’m going to be in the movie.”
    Ella was raised to be ladylike and demure, but she can squeal like a litter of pigs when she wants to. “Go on! Are you serious? You got a part?”
    “Well, as good as. I know for a fact that they’ll be looking for extras.” Not that I had any more intention of having a non-speaking part in a professional production than I do in life. “Of course I don’t really think that being the back of a head in a crowd is compensation for not going to RADA,” I went on, “but I’m confident that once they see me in action they’ll find something more substantial for me.”
    Ella said, “Lola…”
    “What?”
    “Well…” I could hear Ella choosing her words as if they were chocolates. “I don’t know if you should count on that…”
    I told her she sounded like my mother. But I was in too good a mood to let the naysayers dampen my spirits. Right at the eleventh hour I was going to take my final revenge on Carla Santini for all the years of grief and humiliation she’d caused me. “And anyway,” I continued, “the most important thing is that Carla will miss the whole thing.” I laughed. “It couldn’t be better if I’d planned it myself.”
    In the few precious minutes of privacy and peace we had before the free-for-all otherwise known as supper with Karen Kapok and her younger daughters, I told Sam about the movie.
    “I don’t get it,” said Sam. “So they’re making some movie here. What’s the big deal?”
    “What’s the big deal?”
    “Yeah. I mean, it’ll be good for the town – you know, for business – but except for that what’s the big deal?” He gave me a searching look. “Oh, hang on. You want to be in this dumb movie. That’s it, isn’t it?”
    “And what’s wrong with that?” Considering how annoying Sam can be, it often amazes me how much I like him. “I am an actor, after all. It’s not like being a mechanic. You can refuse to work on four-by-fours because you think they’re nothing but gas-guzzling status symbols, but actors don’t always have the luxury of being able to turn down jobs.”
    “Right,” said Sam. “That’s why all those big stars do those really crappy movies and commercials. Because they’re afraid of starving to death.”
    “Whatever. I don’t really want to have this argument right now.” This is what I mean about being annoying. I’m all in favour of principles, of course, but Sam’s inflexibility drives me nuts. “And anyway, that still doesn’t mean it’s not exciting. Personally, I think it’s the most exciting thing that’s happened around here since the revolution.”
    “Oh yeah? Well, personally, I think making another mindless, shallow, meaningless movie isn’t nearly as exciting as a populist revolt.”
    [Cue: the heartfelt sigh that can sometimes be the only communication between one parallel world and another – in this case the imaginative one of the artist and the practical one of the skilled craftsman.] “And how do you know this movie’s going to be mindless, shallow and