I see things from the other side that no one else gets to experience. I do things that teenage girls dream will become their reality. However, working on a movie set isn't always butterflies and sunshine.
My typical day starts at 2 am and runs for the next 18 hours. The only hot meal I'll receive is the one in my coffee cup from craft service; the one place you might find a happy crew member. Hollywood is the eye of the film industry and home to more than three-thousand celebrities. Although we drive mustangs, live in a million dollar palace and answer regularly to our full name, we are just like the middle class population.
We often enjoy barbecues on Saturday nights, high-fives and warm hugs. When the camera isn't rolling, you might find us at the local grocery story or even walking down Main Street. Our hands may cramp from signing autographs and our cheeks will ache from keeping a straight face all day, but once it's all over I remain Monica: a sister, an aunt, a daughter to a family. My name may be talked about throughout the world, but the only people who truly know me are those whom I can call my core friends and those who know how to keep a secret.
"Monica Geller, over here!" I turn my head slightly as the camera flashes "Monica Geller!"
The ropes are the only thing separating me from the crowd as I feel like I'm being shoved. Just when I feel like I could go into a full on crowd surf, Nick's hand finds my back, leading me to the awaiting vehicle.
"Monica Geller, when is the big day?" I hear someone shout but have no idea what they're talking about. If by big day they mean my flight home, then tomorrow is that day.
I haven't seen my family in well over 5 years; or rather, since my career took off. As I'm ignoring cameras left and right on the big screen, my mother has gathered all my family members to watch my performance in her living room. I'd say she's proud of who I've become.
Focusing on staying my true self and not letting the big city lights change my personality is easier said than done. The red carpet entrance, campaign dinners and ball-gown formals are much different in person than what I watched growing up. It's a lot to take in coming from a small town outside of New York city.
I think it's about time I visit home again and remember who I once was before all of this publicity.
The car door slams behind me causing the voices to become muffled. The windows are tinted; only allowing my eyes to form the outlines of everyone on the streets. Their cameras continue to flash but I'm sure the film won't turn out...at least, not with me in it.
I've gotten use to all the publicity but it still manages to feel unreal. The starlight can bring out the worst in people, especially when you let it. Fame is just a job to some, while others, it's a chance to show everyone the person they've become.
As for me, I was just in the right place at the right time; at least, some would say that.
I wasn't discovered in the middle of a performance, nor was I spotted on the streets. In fact, acting was far from my mind. I never even dreamed of becoming a star. It just...happened.
I was discovered in a local Starbucks drinking my coffee on a regular Tuesday morning. Nothing was out of the ordinary around me, as I was engrossed in another book I happened to pick up that same day.
The sun wasn't shining, the birds were quiet, and everyone seemed to be hunking at the driver in front of them. It was the first day the rain had stopped in about week. You'd assume that would make someone happy but it seemed all of mankind woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
Except for one particular person.
"Hello, I'm Garrett Evans, I work for the Hollywood Film Industry in Northern California." My eyes slowly leave the page I was reading only to find someone standing before me "I'm here on business hoping to find a small town, young adult around 23-or so." He continues to talk as I glance around me. We have gathered the attention of the people sitting in this small café. Their soft whispers are muffled but their eyes are scanning Garrett Evans up and down. Clearly, no one was happy about this interruption in the peaceful environment.
His voice gets louder as my thoughts vanish "I want to give them the chance to make their big break and become a leading star in the next box office movie." He smiles "I was just enjoying my Cappuccino when I looked over and couldn't help but notice how stunning you look." He informs me, even though I never asked "Do you have time and maybe I can explain myself a little better?"
I must have felt exactly how I looked. Stunned. Because I don't remember breathing in that particular moment. I could feel the room spin as the clock ticked by. I probably looked ill when his eyebrows shot up and he asked if I wanted some water.
Shaking my head, I finally spoke "I'm sorry, I just don't quite understand what you're getting at."
He exhales deeply "Oh, thank God, you talk. It took you awhile to speak, I wasn't sure." He joked, sitting down and extending his hand toward me, causing me to let go of my book "I'm a Celebrity Manager for beginning stars in San Diego, Chicago, New York, Atlanta, Nashville...you name it. My job is to travel across the country and bring out new names to pop culture. Julia Rogers, James Franklin, Bob Downy Jr. I found all those stars pretty much in the same situation as you." He looks me up and down and I suddenly feel self-conscious.
"I'm sorry, I think you've got the wrong girl. I don't act-"
"No worries." He cuts me off "There are professionals willing to teach you the basics. You think all these celebrities just so happen to be gorgeous? No. We find the goods and then we make a star out of them. Julia couldn't speak two words without it sounding like it came straight out of a script."
Well, it kind of did.
Sighing, I try to stop my inner thoughts. "I thought you just gave them all makeovers?"
He shakes his head "Makeovers aren't easy." He tells me. Like I put this look together in 5 minutes, trust me, I know it's not easy. "We find the beauties and then we teach them how to keep a straight face during a very serious situation."
I grip my coffee with two hands "Wait." I exhale slowly and run my thumb over the top of my coffee lid "Are you trying to tell me that you want me to star in your movie?"
"Exactly!" His hand bangs the table causing me to jump. "So what do you say..." He pauses and I wait "I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name?"
"That's because I never said it." I say with an edge but his preppy smile never leaves.
"You're already perfect, the reporters are going to love you-" Again, he pauses waiting for my name to come to him.
"Monica." I fill in "Monica Geller."
Nodding, he glances down at my coffee cup where the name is scribbled "We can work on that later."
Although he came up with some pretty great screen names, I stuck hard to my original title. Besides, it's the name that makes you who you are.
I hear shouting coming from the paparazzi outside the car as the passenger door opens and closes a second later. "Sorry about that Ms. Geller." My bodyguard, Nick, apologizes.
"No worries, it's not your fault they have cameras." I brush off his apology.
He grins back at me before facing forward. Nick may be a heavy built man, but his personality is like a Buddha; you just wanna rub his tummy. "Oh, and Ms. Geller-"
"Nick." I raise my eyebrows, teasingly
He chuckles "Monica." I nod. Better. When people call me 'Ms. Geller' I feel like it's my turn to provide snacks at my 6 year old sons soccer game. I'd much rather be called Monica, and only Monica.
"It's Timothy's birthday tomorrow but I know your flight is at 9-"
"Nickolas, you better not miss that little boys 7th birthday party." I warn "I'll be fine getting to the airport by myself. Besides, if you don't show up, who do you suppose is going to give him my present?"
"You didn't." He shakes his head
"Of course I did! That little boy of yours gives the best hugs." I comment "If I didn't return the favor I wouldn't be able to live with myself." I say dramatically, putting my hand up to my temples and looking out the window. "It's a tough world out there." I sigh "Without his hugs I don't-" I stop myself unable to continue that thought "I don't even want to think of a world without Timmy's hugs."
I get a chuckle out of my driver Pat (which is not an easy task) and I gasp "Patrick, is that a smile I see." I look up into the rear-view mirror and grin.
I can feel my phone begin to buzz inside my purse "This is why I love you guys." I search around trying to find the device "I don't know what I would do if Garrett Evans was still my manager. I'd probably be called Patricia or something..." Mumbling, I grab my lit-up phone from behind my wallet and glance down at the caller ID.
Sliding my thumb to the left, I accept the call. "Hey mom." I say, bringing it up to my ear. "No, not yet, but I will be."
When answering a call from your mother you better have at least an hour to spare. If anyone's mothers is like mine, they will continue to talk until someone has to pee.
However, this conversation is about me, so I don't mind listening.
My hands start to roam around inside my purse as she begins to talk about her plans when I arrive. "Oh..." I find my lip-gloss in my bag and push the cap off with two fingers before rubbing it against my bottom lip. Smacking my lips together I stop when she brings up a familiar name. I don't know if my heart dropped into my stomach by the mention of his name or the fact that we came to a red light and Pat basically slammed on the brakes.
"Chandler?" I question, confused why his name was coming up suddenly after all these years. "You talked to Chandler..." My hands stop what they are doing and I focus on what she is telling me.
I notice I have gathered the attention of the front seat when their heads quickly snap forward as I glance up at them.
"Mom-" She cuts me off and I sigh "Mo-" With her rambling on I can't seem to get two words out. So I just remain silent and continue what I was doing as I wait for her rant to finish.
Sometimes I wonder if my mother even listens to what I have to say before she goes on and invites everyone I once knew to a party that is only suppose to be close relatives. "Mother, just because we dated for a while doesn't make him family." Rolling my eyes her 20 questions begin "No, but I have a project at the beginning of October." I inform her "Because I have a life here-" I cup my forehead and close my eyes "That's not what I meant." I try to explain that she took that out of context but it sounds just like she told me.
Looking out the window my house comes into view. "Listen mom, I have to go, I'll call you when I'm about to take off." I start to gather my things back into my purse "Love you too, bye bye." Pressing the end button with an exhausted sigh, I smile up at Nick.
"Everything all right?" He asks
Nodding, I grip all my belongings in one hand and grab for the door handle "Just my mother, always trying to bud into my personal life." I smile softly before opening up the door "Thanks guys, I'll see you tomorrow Pat," I look over at Nick "My gift should arrive for Timmy at 11, tell him I said Happy Birthday."
"Will do, have a good one, Monica."
Sliding out of my leather seat, I slam the door behind me and walk towards the giant metal gate. Lifting the flap of the keypad I enter the code and wait as the doors slowly open. Turning around I wave goodnight a final time before Patrick drives off.
It's quiet most nights but it remains peaceful. Do I wish I had someone to talk to? Always. Yet, sometimes I wonder if this is what my life was meant to be like; alone at 27 and pursuing something so unbelievably amazing. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hit snooze on my alarm and woke up a few minutes later? Or if I ran late and missed the subway into the city? Or even got stopped by one more traffic light? I would not have been in that Starbucks on that Tuesday morning reading the spectacular book, Jane Eyre. If I was never interrupted by Garrett Evans where would I be now?
I may not know exactly where I'd be at this particular moment, but I do know that I may be married to the most amazing man on the planet right now.
If only I didn't say yes.
Opening the little flap of my mailbox that is attached to my house, I grab all that is inside. Tucking it under my arm I dig out my keys and find the specific one that will unlock my front door.
It takes me awhile with all my things in hand but when hearing the lock click I sigh with relief knowing I can finally kick off these 3'' heels.
As my alarm begins to beep with warning, I walk over to enter the 5 digit pin. Sliding out of my shoes I toss them towards the door as I enter the last number and shut the flap, hiding the keyboard once again.
I didn't invest all my money into a huge mansion up on the hilltop. I couldn't do that; I needed neighbors to interact with. To hear the birds chirping each morning and a friendly hunk next door is something that gets me smiling. I love to watch as my neighbors cross the street to chat with those living by them. They discuss the morning paper as their little one pets the dog. I can't help but laugh as I hear the 4 year old giggle while the puppy licks the syrup off their sticky fingers from the breakfast they ate 20 minutes prier.
They know my work and the fame I've developed, but they continue to treat me as an equal. Which is something I am very grateful for.
With a small smile that I couldn't contain, I walked across the foyer and over to my answering machine that sat on a small table with a seashell lamp. This ugly lamp was given to me by my best friends as sort of a good luck in show business.
It's hideous but I love memorabilia.
Pressing the button on my answering machine I finally grab the stack of mail that I placed under my arm before walking in the house.
Flipping through it, I listen as my brothers voice rings through my ears.
"Hey Mon, it's Ross, did you talk to mom? She's on her Labor Day Party Planning high, stay clear because she gets a little edgy when planning huge events. Which by the way, she is inviting everyone she comes in contact with. I tried to stop her but she already sent out the invitations..." I roll my eyes; typical mom. "Anyway, I just thought I should warn you. See ya soon. Oh, and make sure to wear something nice coming off the plane there might be people at the house when you arrive; so ditch the sweatpants."
Pressing the delete button I stop all other messages and set my mail on the table. With an exhausted sigh, I move towards the kitchen cabinets in search of wine.
I could really go for a bubble bath right now.
AN:
Damn, this story was at 3,595 before I changed the ending...
So what do you say, am I continuing this story or is it too far fetched? I really hope you like it because I've already started writing the next chapter. AKA Chandler's POV!