Actress: Unauthorized Memoirs Ch. 01

Prologue

The following 10 chapters are my version of the truth. I have changed all names. I exaggerated only where I thought the exaggeration more accurately depicted the events involving myself. This account of my descent into a very particular world of Hollywood took place over the course of a year.

I don't want to be cast as a victim. I don't want this to come across as some kind of morality tale about the perils of being an actress in the entertainment industry. What happened to me during that unique time was as much a result of my own doing as it was others doing things to me.

Yes, at the end, I became a kind of slave to a man and to the business as a whole. Do I regret it? No, not in the least. It was a personal journey as much as a professional choice. During the course of it, I learned things about who I am as an individual.

I learned that the control I had attempted to maintain over myself, and over life, was not giving me what I really wanted at deeper levels. Not only was it not giving me what I wanted, but I came to discover that the very opposite was true. I discovered that by giving up control completely, and submitting wholeheartedly to the male-dominated business, I found a feeling of deep exhilaration that I had never known in my life.

Why have I decided to publish this? Well, the easiest answer I have to give is that a friend convinced me to submit it for publication. But that really doesn't explain the full truth. I have written this book to recount the events to myself and to better learn why I did the things that I did. And I have also written this book for other women and men out there who have had the same urges and thoughts, but believe there is no reality to their fantasies.

I have chosen to write what happened to me in the film industry in full graphic detail, both psychologically and on a sexual level. There are many people who work in Hollywood who are not going to be happy that I am writing this as I vividly recount both our sexual escapades as well as the private knowledge about how things sometimes work in the entertainment business. But my career as an actress is over so I really have no bridges to burn.

I am neither ashamed of anything I have done nor am I afraid to tell things like they are. All I can do is tell the events as they happened and describe the thoughts that were inside my head at the time. The readers will decide for themselves if the choices I made were good or bad, or so bad they were good...

Chapter 1 -- The Audition

au•di•tion : a trial performance to appraise an entertainer's merits

The audition was at the legendary Wilkes-Meyer building in the thick of the Sunset Strip, in the thick of Hollywood, in the thick of the place where every girl comes to be famous and never looks back. I don't want to say that I never expected to be there because that would be a total lie. I not only expected to be called in for an audition with The Agency at some point, I not only expected to leave the casting call with a room full of whispers and awes heard from Century City to Beverly Hills to Manhattan, I expected to finally get the part that I came to get.

Despite the years of struggles when all this seemed so far away, I was there because I deserved to be there. I was there because I was born to make it. I was there because my name is Madison Ava Jones from Biloxi, Mississippi who was now resides in a beautiful mid-century apartment in the Miracle Mile neighborhood of Los Angeles. Those are just the facts. I don't want to say that I was arrogant.

Someone has to be famous and that someone is always willing to pay the price to get there. That is the way it has always been. People need a celebrity to read about and ogle and love and hate. They need someone in which to see themselves, and to have someone to talk about, that everyone else knows. It binds people together. If it wasn't going to be me, it was going to be someone else. But it wasn't going to be someone else. No one else wanted it as bad as I did, had worked as hard for it and was more willing to do whatever it took to become famous.

What I didn't ever expect is that it would take this long, I would be this broke and I would spend the entire day before the audition methodically figuring out how to best use the final $78 on my student Visa card. I didn't expect that three years after graduation I would be spending my last pennies to purchase the little black dress and white panties I was now wearing.

What I thought that morning and what I had believed every day of my life is that happiness is about independence. Control your own destiny and don't let it control you. I was determined to make it in my own way and wouldn't let anyone tell me what to do. Ever since I was a little girl, I prided myself on being the leader and put together at all times. I was the girl in high school that every other girl looked to for what to wear, how to act, who to be with, what to say and what not to say. It became my role, my image and my responsibility.

But in the end, it was what made me a prisoner and what I discovered I wanted to be free from, but couldn't.

I had grown up in the Deep South that, despite the progress from the kind of place it once was, remained a culture where everyone knew their place. You didn't try to be too different or too modern. My family was different, though, because they expected me to make it on my own, expected me do anything I set out to do, expected me to be somebody, expected me to succeed, expected me to control my life and expected me to be the actress that I had told everyone I was going to be since I was a little girl.

It was a world of expectations that I had so deeply internalized, I didn't even see that there was a difference between the expectations and myself.

The day I left for California to become a real actress, it seemed like it was just a matter of time before I was discovered. Hardly a week had passed since I had graduated with a bachelor's degree in drama from one of the best schools in the country.

But that was three years ago. It was now the middle of the worst recession since the Great Depression, I was very much broke, I had only got a handful of parts in student films and commercials and I was still telling all my friends and family that everything was going great.

I had made them all think that I was always on the cusp of making it. I just needed to buy a little more time before I actually made it, buy a little more time before I got that big part that I deserved and that knew I would get.

The official notice for the part that was published in the trade magazines read: "Female, 18-25, speaking role, union. Untitled James Weinberg picture. The Agency." And not a single one of the hundreds of young women standing, pacing and reading the lines to themselves in the long, half-lit hallway that day needed to be told what those words meant.

They knew a union speaking role meant union wages and they knew that being in a movie produced by The Agency meant real fame. Billboard fame. Paparazzi fame. Name recognition fame. And it meant never again being just another actress trying to make it, another girl telling her glossed-up lies about her new part to friends and family on her way to waiting tables and getting another day older as a nobody pretending to be a somebody.

I had been to dozens of casting calls since I arrived in Los Angeles three years before but never one like this. The building was a granite Beaux Art-style fortress built in the 1920's in the heyday of Hollywood beginnings. It was rumored to have been owned by The Agency since the day it was built and never once had been sold.

Unlike other casting callbacks, I received no call. A few hours after I had submitted for the part, I received a text message on my phone: "Friday. 10am. Wilkes-Meyer Building. Arrive 30 minutes early for official check-in."

Little did I know then that it was the beginning of the story. And little did I know how fast it would all happen.

When I pulled into the underground parking lot, the security guard motioned me right away to pull to the side. I complied and waited while he circled my car with a long metal pole with a mirror attached to it, inspecting the undercarriage all around the car. He radioed to another man who arrived immediately with a German Sheppard and proceeded to circle the car for a second time.

"Please step out of the car miss," he instructed me.

"Excuse me?" I responded.

"Please step out of the car. We need to inspect you."

I was more confused than astonished at his request and I looked back and forth at the two large men standing there waiting for me to comply.

"I am here for an audition. I am supposed to be here," I told them curtly. One of the men lifted the clipboard he had in his hand and looked down at it.

"Madison Jones?"

"Yes," I replied strongly in my conviction that they had figured out who I was.

The man put the clipboard under his arm and took hold of his walkie-talkie. "Front desk, this is parking security," he barked into the device. "We have a Madison Jones here who is refusing inspection." Not a single second had passed before a response came through.

"This is the front desk. Refusal noted by The Agency. Please request inspection again. If Miss Jones refuses again, please remove her from the premises."

"Thank you, front desk."

I half expected the men to break out into laughter but they just glared down at me stone-faced without saying another word, waiting for me to figure it out and make the choice. I tried to peek around the subterranean parking lot but it seemed like I was the only one who had entered for a good amount of time.

I was initially fearful that the two men were going to do something to me but what could they possibly do and get away with? There must be cameras and whatever they were planning to do must be fine if it was authorized by the front desk. I glanced at them once more then prodded open my car door and stepped out onto the slick concrete lot.

I now noticed that one of the men had a long black metal-detecting wand with which he was approaching me.

"Arms out, legs spread," he commanded me.

I suddenly felt a bit relieved that it was all just precautionary security and that it was their job to be fairly strict with any visitors. I did as I was told, spreading my high-heeled feet wide apart and extending my arms straight out.

The security officer did not stop staring at me the whole time as he ran the length of the wand from the tip of my fingers toward my chest, down the length of my body to my toes and back up my inner thigh. He moved the device in a gliding motion so it was so close to my body that I could feel its exact position every second.

"Turn around," he commanded dryly. I quickly complied. "Legs spread. Arms out. We need to pat you down."

I turned my head back toward them indignantly. "Excuse me?"

"Head forward, legs spread, arms out," he barked back sternly. "Do what you are told young lady. We don't have time for your snotty refusal and we could care less if you make this audition," he added. My heart jumped again, more in fear at his lack of normal social etiquette with a stranger than the thought of not making it to the audition. But I barely had time to consider what I could do to get out of the situation when he grabbed me forcefully by the waist with his bare hands and started patting me down like a criminal.

He first moved his palms along the sides and front of my dress and then ran his hands up and down my bare legs, practically going up my dress to the edge of my panties. It all happened so quickly and the situation was so unexpected that it was all over before I could even think to react.

"You're all clear to go. Park in space S104 and take the elevator to the second floor. I'll let the front desk know." The men were walking away before I had even brought my legs together and turned around.

It was already five minutes until my audition time and I raced to the parking place where I was told to go. I quickly found the elevator while I was collecting my thoughts, trying to figure out if I should say something to someone about what just happened and who I would say what to if I did.

The elevator doors opened at the second floor to an empty foyer with a small sign posted with a black arrow pointing toward the long hallway to the left. Halfway down the hall was the ladies restroom where I stopped to collect myself. The bathroom was bright and immaculate with an enormous dancer's mirror set on the ground against the wall, slanted slightly upward, like someone had just left it there without hanging it.

I am always a bit fearful of looking in the mirror at myself, and after being manhandled by the security guards, I was scared of what might have become disheveled from the hours of preparation I had done in the morning.

I hate to admit it but despite all the confidence I have developed as an actress, despite all the years of education in the best prep schools, despite my deep convictions that I can do anything, despite the fact that I know I can get what I want when I want it, despite the fact that in my mind I am the freest young woman on earth, I am a prisoner to my body. I am a prisoner to my body and to people's judgment of it.

And standing there alone in the women's bathroom before an enormous mirror, moments before the most important audition of my life, the sight of my body was explicit and undeniable.

My blond hair curled in imperfect little waves, my shy brown eyes, my intentionally pouty pink lips, my snow white smile just so slightly askew, my breasts not quite as perky and large as I'd like them to be, my arms and legs always seeming just to hold on to just enough fat that I am never the skinny bitch I want to be.

All the flaws that I have always lived with since adolescence and have always used my mind and confidence to make absolutely meaningless were now staring me down with the only meaning that mattered.

I pulled the top of my dress down and beneath my black bra you could see the red marks on my body of where the security guard had grabbed me and fondled me. At least it was only beneath my clothes where no one could see.

I straightened my dress back on, refreshed my lips with a slick layer of dark red lipstick and I headed out. At the end of the hallway was a single unmarked door that I opened to find an empty waiting room. There was a secretary in the corner typing away on a computer that rested on a large desk made of brushed steel. She stood immediately when I entered and I closed the door behind me.

"Madison Jones?"

"Yes."

"I understand there was a problem with parking security. Do you have any issues following directions that you'd like to tell me about now?"

"Issues? Well I guess I was just a bit surprised by their attitude toward me."

"Their attitude?" she quickly replied. She came forward from behind the desk and walked up to where I was standing. She was in her early thirties and unusually attractive for a secretary.

She had crisp black hair and a perfectly toned, olive-skinned figure. She was wearing a gray pencil skirt, nude-colored stockings, a tight white blouse and black heels that made her tower a few inches above me. "Do you know where you are Miss Jones?"

"Yes, I do. I just thought the men were inappropriate," I told her.

The secretary looked at me up and down with an air of seething annoyance. She then walked past me and opened the door. "Have a good day Miss Jones."

"Oh my God, what is happening?" I said to myself. Were these people that crazy or was I just overreacting? I was not simply speechless.

I was afraid of saying what I felt at the moment, of speaking my mind and ruining my chance at even making it the audition. I quickly realized that I just needed to suck it up and not protest anything further.

"No, please, I think you misunderstood me," I told her. "I think I'm just a bit nervous and not used to how things work here." She held the door open and glared back at me.

The woman stared at my expression, trying to ascertain what I was feeling and how sincere I was. She shut the door and walked back to where she had previously been in front of me. She stood with her arms crossed and a stern glare on her face.

"Now I'm going to ask you once more. Do you have any issues with being inspected by security now or ever?"

I looked down, away from her. "No," I said.

She reached her hand to my chin and lifted up my face. "Look at me when you speak," she said sternly.

She must have watched my eyes quickly widen.

"No," I repeated.

"You need to understand and you need to understand right now. The Agency will not put itself at legal risk for a loud mouth little brat. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"The Agency gives you one chance for an audition and you need to understand that from the moment you arrived, you are on trial to determine if you are worth our time, if you are capable of following orders and if you know when to keep your mouth shut and when to open it. Do you understand?"

I tried to look away again to ingest the audacity of what she was telling me but she immediately grabbed my chin and then quickly slapped my face.

I gasped and looked up at her in disbelief. All I wanted to do at that moment was run away. I was sure she could see the total embarrassment and humiliation on my red face. When I hesitated to answer, she slapped it again.

"Don't think for a second I don't know what you are thinking. If you have any issues with our protocol, you will not make it past this office. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said.

She stared at me, making it obvious that she did not believe my response was genuine. She turned and walked back behind her desk and sat down.

I stood there horrified at what had just happened and wanting nothing more to just turn and leave, yet understanding at the same time the she knew that I could not. I felt like I was dreaming or that this was some kind of weird test. But I was just so shocked I really didn't know what to think.

"If you leave, it will be noted on your file and you will not get another audition with The Agency. You have no right to be here. This audition is a privilege, you are lucky to have been even invited and until you convince me you understand this, you will not be permitted to proceed past this office. Understand?"

To say I wasn't prepared for all this would not be close to describing how I felt at this moment. I replied yes immediately because I knew that to do otherwise would not be tolerated by this woman.

She sat back down gracefully in her chair, her body arched in a perfect and relaxed posture as if this was a daily routine for her.

"Do you see that clock up there?" she asked, pointing to a large old-fashioned school clock on the wall with the long black arm circling mechanically around. "You have five minutes to think what you really want as an actress and to decide how you are going to sincerely convince me that the attitude of yours will never be an issue again. Understand?" At that point, I almost welcomed the humiliation of standing there completely vulnerable to her stares as I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. I wanted to just leave and go home and cry but I knew what I would be throwing away. I knew I could never live with myself if she could seriously blacklist me from every getting another audition with The Agency. But was this really how things worked and I was simply unprepared for how insane these people were?

But there must have been some mistake. I could understand if I was just any girl off the streets with no credentials and no talent but that was obviously not the case. I was very grateful for the audition but this secretary must have been absolutely psychotic if she didn't understand that it was my skills and hard work that got me here.