Shiksa, AKA the Creative Writing Assignment that lives on
Shiksa
How do you think it would feel to be watched every moment since you were born? For every birthday, every family holiday, a million flashbulbs stalking your every move. When I was born, my parents sold pictures of me to Star magazine for five million dollars. On my first day of school, I was very nearly kidnapped by a crazed fan of my father’s. My valedictorian speech got over a billion hits on Youtube.
That’s my life. There are millions of people constantly looking at me, waiting for my reactions as my parents went through a very messy and obviously public divorce, followed by a quiet reconciliation. And tonight, I was acting for the cameras again. To help repair their equally damaged reputations, they’d decided a show of family unity was in order. Which lead to me sharing yet another private moment of my life, my twenty-first birthday, with the general public.
Camera men glided as unobtrusively as possible through the crowds, and press lined one side of the room like ugly kids at a school dance. I was bored. Actually, I was beyond bored, which was a shame as this party was for me. It was even more of a shame as the ballroom was beautifully decorated, accented by the swaths of gauzy white cloth that draped above the windows and doors. There were a few wrought iron tables for those who chose to sit, all with a centerpiece of a single slender gold tapered candle in burnished silver holder. I was nestled in a small alcove along the back wall, staring silently at a man in a well fitted Armani suit. My father was, as usual, hijacking my occasion. The light caught him, showing off the deep red highlights in his brown hair. I smiled as he threw an arm around my mother, who grinned and bore it despite how she hated public shows of affection. Smoothing down my black Galliano, I stepped out of the alcove and made a discreet break for the ladies’ room.
About to step out after finishing my business, I clipped someone with my shoulder. Looking down, I realized one of the reporters must have spotted me. She had to be reporter, with her mousy brown hair and a small frame, on which hung the cheapest polyester mix suit I’d ever seen. I gave her a shallow nod, stepping back inside the restroom, trying to spy her name on the obnoxiously large press pass she wore. Amused, I watched her fumble with a tiny recorder, finally hitting the right button before looking up with a slight blush. I raised a brow. “Well, um, Ms. Goh-” Her first ambush then? Slipping back around her, I locked the door.
“Please, call me Jaime,” I said warmly, laying a hand on her arm and grinning inwardly as her blush returned full force. She locked brown eyes onto mine, and must have spied my amusement. Her back stiffened and her expression morphed from flustered to determined.
“Jaime, then. How do you feel about your parents’ reconciliation?”
I smiled, feeling the skin tighten around my eyes. “I’m absolutely thrilled, of course.”
“Is there still any tension in the household?” I met her eyes coldly.
“Did they look tense to you?” I laughed lowly, and turned back to her. “Everything is perfect, of course. With my parents, how could it be anything less?” Shit. There was way more venom in that statement than I’d intended. Shifting, now slightly uncomfortable, I smiled again, as she leaned forward, having obviously caught my discomfort.
“And do you believe the allegations of sexual misconduct that were filed against your father while he was on his last movie?”
Of course I did. Many things am I but a fool is not one. And I was my father’s daughter, after all. “I don’t believe that my father would ever conduct himself that poorly. It’s just not in his nature.” At least, the getting caught part wasn’t.
A gleam entered the reporters’ eye and I braced myself for whatever she would say next.
“I see. And what do you say to those who claim that you and your father share certain…personality traits?”
My hand contracted into a fist. I am calm, I reminded myself. I am the ocean, the desert, vast and never ending. I will not pop this bitch in the mouth because I don’t want to have to pay her off.
“And what traits do you speak of? Our charm? Or maybe the fact that we share the same quick temper?” Careful little mouse, I could easily end your career.
She smiled, obviously too caught up in what she surely thought would be the story of the year to notice my subtle warning.
“I meant the fact that you’re supposedly quite the womanizer.”
Smiling, I took two quick steps towards the reporter, towering over her. I took the recorder from her now slack hand as she looked up at me with fear in her eyes and turned it off.
“Listen bitch, I can tell you haven’t been doing this very long.” She opened her mouth to protest, and I slipped my left hand around her jaw to snap her mouth shut.
“Don’t talk. I’m going to do you a very big favor. Nod if you understand.” She nodded, eyes wide. “I’m not going to call your editor at,” I stopped to check the press pass, “the L.A Gazette and tell him what an ungrateful bitch you are. I won’t tell him how thanks to Barbara Greyson, all ads for either of my parents’ movies will be pulled and that my whole family will refuse to do interviews or have any other kind of dealings with your paper.”
Stroking my hand across her jaw, I smiled again as she shuddered. “And in return, this is what you’re going to do for me. Are you listening?” She nodded as sharply as she could with my hand tightening its’ grip on her jaw. “You are going to forget whatever you’ve heard about me. I’m going to hand you back your recorder and you’re going to go home and write up a nice little fluff piece about how great this party is. And if you don’t…” I trailed off as I released her face, then hit the erase button on her recorder before handing it back. “Have a nice night, Barbara.” I smiled, sugary sweet. “I’ll be sure to remember your name.”
Unlocking the door, I slip out past a stock still Barbara. I stopped by my table to grab my clutch before snagging a glass of champagne and heading for the balcony. Taking in the lights of L.A below me, I placed my glass on the railing before leaning up against it. Sighing, I opened my clutch and removed my silver cigarette case, popping it open to reveal rows of neatly rolled joints. Placing one in my mouth, I snapped the case closed and stuck it back inside my bag. Grabbing my lighter, I closed the clutch and lit the joint. Taking a deep hit, I allowed myself to relax for a moment.
Some things would never change, I mused. On another night, at another party, I would surely meet Barbara again, and I’d do my level best to terrify her as much as I just had. But it was getting much harder to subdue the truth. But for now at least, the truth about the daughter of two of the most famous actors of decade would remain hidden. Yes, when I had my moment, no one would be thinking about my parents. I could nearly taste it. Entire spreads devoted only to me. My name made, I would be like manna from the heavens, devoured by saint and sinner alike. And I would finally, finally be facing the public on my own terms. There would be no more orders from my parents, only glorious control over my own life.
Exhaling, I lifted the glass of champagne to take a sip, idly wondering what would happen if I dropped the glass over the ledge.
“I hope you’re not planning to jump,” came a low voice from behind me. “That smells like some good shit and I’d hate for it to go to waste.” Spinning around, I was fully ready to bitch this girl out for interrupting my only moment of peace in this otherwise shitty night. But when I turned, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Standing before me clad in a golden sheath dress was Lana Wilkins, international model. We ran in the same circles, but we’d never met before. The same rumors swirled around us both, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I smirked. At last, something interesting.
“Would you like some?” I let my eyes roam her frame, taking her in from her honey blonde hair to the Louboutin’s on her feet.
She chuckled lowly. “Sure. You’re Jaime, right? I’m Lana.” She stepped towards me, hand held out to receive the joint.
“That’s me,” I replied. Handing it to her, I leant back against the ledge. “So what brings you to this party?”
“Don’t you mean your party?” She took a hit, and I watched her mouth.
I smirked. “Every party is in actuality my fathers’.” I reached out to retrieve the joint before taking my own hit.
She exhaled and smiled. “Really? That must get…boring.” She looked me up and down and stepped closer, placing her hand on my arm.
I handed back the joint, exhaled and laughed. “I find ways to make my own fun.”
“I can tell.” Her hazel eyes held mine, sparkling wickedly. Pinching out the joint, she stepped closer. “And… can you help me find the fun?”
I wrapped an arm around her waist. “Baby, just follow my lead. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” She chuckled and leaned forward, and I met her halfway in a kiss that lingered. With both arms wrapped around her waist, I mentally patted myself on the back for managing to snag such a nice diversion. Deepening the kiss, I nearly missed the familiar click-click sound of photographs being taken. Pulling myself away from Lana, I turned to face a grinning Barbara Greyson.
“Really Barbara,” I purred, now well and truly pissed off, “Can’t a girl get a little privacy?”
She laughed, stepping closer to gloat. “I knew you would screw up, Jaime. I just didn’t think it would be this soon.” Shifting so that Lana was at my side with her back still facing Barbara, I gauged the distance between us. I might be able to lunge across the four feet that separated us, but if someone were to see or hear a struggle I could end up in twice as much trouble. And I had to protect Lana, as well. Though the truth about me wasn’t widely known, my reputation wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. Lana, on the other hand, had launched her career pretending to be the All-American girl. I tightened my grip around her waist slightly. Leaning down slightly to reach her ear, I whispered, “I’ll take care of this.”
Her hand clenched around my arm briefly. “Of course. Make it quick.” I kissed the top of her head lightly before letting go.
I smiled coldly and took two steps forward. “You’ve got me, Barbara. I suppose I shouldn’t have underestimated you earlier.”
She laughed again, edging a little closer. “You’re damn right you underestimated me. I may be new at this, but I’m damn good at my job.”
I snorted inwardly, but did my best to look harmless as I inched closer. Once I got a couple steps closer, I could definitely take her.
She looked up at me still flushed with triumph, camera hanging loose from around her neck.
“You’ve got good instincts, obviously. But Barbara?’
“Yes?” she said, finally looking somewhat cautious. Too little, too late.
“Never let anyone get close enough to touch you.” I reached out and grabbed the camera, the cheap strap breaking under the strain. Turning, I hurled it over the balcony, watching it hit pavement three stories below and get rolled over by a jackass in a Lexus. God bless consumerism, I thought idly. Turning my back on Barbara, I grasped in shock as Lana threw herself on me and landed a nearly vicious kiss. I stumbled back slightly, surprised. Regaining my composure, I peeled her off me.
“Come along, darling. I think Barbara’s going to want the balcony to herself for a bit.”
She smirked. “Enjoy the view. I know I did.” Blowing a kiss at Barbara, she linked our hands. Tugging her along behind me, I entered the ballroom and made a beeline for the nearest door, exiting back into the balmy California night. Victory was sweet, and with any luck, I would be getting laid tonight.