Brielle Smith

I had been scrolling through my timeline for hours, refusing to attack commenters, avoiding the hate speech and groaning...in anger.

As an upcoming actor, nothing beat a high-spirited night with a bottle of wine and a lot of good comments to read under your unnecessary stack of posts. So when all I saw were pure hate comments and then others hating on the haters without exactly showing me some love, all I could do was groan and hold back tears from touching my pillow.

I thought I stood a chance in this career line I'd chosen, but after my spicy scene with famous villain, Sawyer Green in the Guest Of Lust movie that premiered three months ago, I was finally certain I could not stand the pressure.

Sawyer Green had done justice to his villain role of claiming his brother's fiancée by force, yet I, his whore, seemed to be receiving the heat; both as the brainless secretary that obsessed over him, and also as Brielle Smith.

The kinds of comments I was seeing under my picture with the 'What do you think of Layla?' caption were crazy.

'Is it just me that didn't like the color of Brielle's hair?Too bland for that role.'

'And just who is this Layla girl? Does anyone know her real name?'

'My honest opinion? Brielle didn't bring out the true nature of Layla's character. What was the deal with her and standing behind the desk every time? Next character please.'

'She should have left Sawyer Green, loser. She just had to ridicule yourself until he threatened her away. But all in all, it was a good movie.'

Hello? I had followed the bloody script and done what was asked of me. I hadn't written it myself, had I? Plus, I only made it to four scenes that were all less than ten minutes put together, what kind of nature could I have shown with such a small time? And was I supposed to change my brown hair to blue because of four scenes?

I groaned one last time and pushed my phone under my pillow before I'd angrily reply and then get it hot from my manager in three minutes. Enough. My sanity was hanging by a thin threat. I didn't need to know what the little world I was in cared to say about me as Layla and as Brielle.

To have even gotten on that movie as a cleaner would have been a miracle. The Director was one hell of a perfectionist for a person like me, which had been the reason I sent my headshot, acting résumé, and demo reel to much more jocular directors that would be thrilled to have me on set as...anything. At this point, I didn't mind dusting shoes for the main characters.

I should have gone to make myself dinner, but my little fan base already ruined my night. I only had a hundred and twelve thousand followers on instagram, and that was because of my appearance in the blockbuster movie, it had been four times less than that before then. How did those extremely famous actors deal with negativity? Definitely not by skipping dinner and groaning.

About fifteen minutes later, I was heating up my pizza when Camila rushed into the kitchen, scratching her hair. She looked sleepy as hell but had followed the scent like a dog. "It's 9pm, Cam, what exactly is wrong with you?" And why had she been sleeping a lot lately?

She yawned, padding down to sit at the edge of the counter and almost lost her balance. "Christ!" This time, she widened her eyes and adjusted herself properly. "Unlike you, I have loads and loads of stuff to do without calling it a wrap."

A company's secretary didn't work month in month out, or did they?

Slamming the fridge shut and pouring myself a glass of orange juice, I passed her two slices of pizza, watching her snatch it like a hungry lizard. "Please, I'll beg you not to remind me of my wrapped up failure."

In between a bite, she laughed hard, tugging her bangs away. They slipped back down. "Don't think too much about it. Better deals will come."

It wasn't about the deals, it was more about my personality and the genre I was acting. Although, she my sister, so I doubted she could point that out. We got along too well to able to count a handful of flaws the other possessed.

"Hopefully," I said and took a bite. "So how did your meeting go?"

Shoving my question away with a flap of her free hand, she asked, "How did yours go? I don't want to bore you with deals and contracts."

But she wanted me to bore her. Funny. Only that, I hadn't put my mind on the interview with one of the biggest directors in the industry—the Ben Cameron that loved to say 'Ben's here, Camera on'. He was jocular, yes, which was the catch, but he was also big on concentration and dedication, and I was desperately learning those.

"Audition," I corrected her because it wasn't exactly a meeting. "Ben's so nice in person." That was all I said to get Cam to push her pizza aside and bore me a questioning look.

"What do you mean he's so nice? Did he not like you?"

Of course she was used to me. I always said so much by saying very little, and when it was time to just say a yes or no, I served an epistle.

Sighing, I looked away from those brown saucers she had for eyes. "Camila. There were other girls there, okay? Girls with banging bodies and interesting hair colors. Girls with confidence. Girls with taste—"

"Are you doubting yourself, Bri?"

I shook my head quickly, even though I was doubting myself. "It's just that, of all the rising stars that were there today, I seemed to be the least popular and the least confident."

At this point, Camila had finished eating the pizza. She tossed the crumbs in the trashcan and faced me. "Tell me something, sis, how did you get that information?" She palmed the counter and leaned in to grade me in a reverent manner. "Haven't you learned anything about yourself?"

I was twenty-four, of course I hadn't. She, on the other hand, had had more time to know me than I even knew myself, seeing that she was older with four years. She had watched me grow, watched me learn. She'd studied me completely.

I shook my head and said, "Ben Cameron will not choose me, you'll say I said it."

"Stop it!" She yelled me to a stand position and I blinked away the surprise that soaked. "If you knew that from the onset, why did you send your résumé, why did you reply his email, why did you agree to meet up with him, why didn't you just let it go?"

"Because I...I..." I hesitated because I didn't know what to defend myself with. I'd honestly hoped to get something from him.

"Because somewhere inside of you, you know you can do this, you already did it, so..." she shrugged. "You'll stay optimistic until he contacts your agent. How long does it take?"

I remained silent for a couple of seconds, going over her words. Stay optimistic. Could that have been why I never nailed anything, because I was so laid back and pessimistic?

Taking my plate to the sink, I replied, "I don't know how long he'll go over our reels and decide if we're good or not, but I'm certain he'll notice me and give me a call."

"That's the spirit, baby." Camila clapped, a smile obvious in her tone. "Don't lose it. Hollywood needs you."

They did. I had so much more than just my hair and a few jealous scenes to bring to the table. I was a good actor and had appeared in a number of movies, though they didn't do justice to my talents. If Ben...scratch that. When Ben Cameron would call me, I'd show them just how much I could nail my scenes.

"Josh is calling me," Camila said with a smile, walking up to me. "Don't forget to turn the alarm on before you go to bed." She kissed my forehead and exited the kitchen.

"Right. Goodnight."

"Night."

As I stared at her retreating back, I saw someone I needed to learn from. Camila was good at whatever she made up her mind to do. That was our mother. They both had that drive I needed to learn, alongside optimism even when everything seemed bad.

Ben Cameron had been so sensible to want young actors, and the upcoming ones, to play great roles in the Wild Reverence book that had over twelve million reads on the app it was first launched; by an upcoming twenty three years old writer—Jocelyn Bright. A million prints had also been sold.

I had read about the author, her fan base, yet I hadn't even read the whole thing of what I was entering. I only knew the plot summary. It was a beautiful piece—erotica, how yummy. And because I thought I couldn't make it past the interview, I had entered with the most mundane characters in the book. I didn't mind it, though. She had quite a lot of scenes that could portray the justice I was capable of doing to a character.

All Ben's movies had made it far, this one would be no different, and I'd get better opportunities from it. That was how it worked. No one ever landed right into fame, they climbed to get there.

Reaching the alarm system at the end of the long passage, I flipped it on and walked away.

After my miserable scenes in Guest of Lust, I had become a little popular and so hated. Camila wisely insisted on safety and had the alarm system installed. My life was gradually changing, from living with my parents here in Miami, to getting my own apartment and more followers on social media, and now, waiting patiently for Ben Cameron to contact me.

Wasn't that growth?

I went to bed that night feeling something I hardly ever felt—optimistic.