Read Confessions of a Hollywood Star for Free Online Page B

signing, and a lot of stories that began with “Remember the time…?” and ended in hysterical laughter. A surprisingly large number of the “Remember the time” stories concerned me.
    “Well you can’t say you haven’t made a big impression on this school,” said Ella.
    Sam put an arm around my shoulders. “Nobody’s going to forget you in a hurry.”
    I smiled, but not with the completely unbridled enthusiasm you might have expected. It was always my intention to make a big impression on the student body of Deadwood High, of course, but what I wanted was to be a symbol of the great world beyond the golf course and three-car garages. An inspiration! A living legend! Years from now, when these same callow youths were wrinkled and grey, I wanted them to say, “Lola Cep was one of the biggest influences on my formative years. She opened my eyes to the glories of the universe.” Not, “I’ll never forget Lola Cep. What a character – she gave us a lot of laughs.”
    But this moment of gloom passed quickly. After all, I wasn’t exactly finished, was I? I hadn’t even begun.
    “They’re not going to have a chance to forget me. Someday the whole world will know who I am.” I squared my shoulders and smiled into the clouds. “But right now it’s time for me to bid my teary adieus to the Wicked Witch of the East.”
    Sam groaned. “I thought that was all over.”
    There wouldn’t be any opportunity for schmoozing at the graduation on Sunday and I wanted to say one last fond farewell to Carla before our paths parted for ever (it was like touching the corpse of your enemy to make sure she’s really dead). Also, I figured that a public bon voyage would dispel any lingering doubts that I’d been lying about the movie.
    “It is all over,” I assured him. “I just want that feeling of closure.”
    “I have a feeling of closure,” said Sam. “I threw out all my notebooks last night.”
    I took Ella by the arm. “Come on. It’ll only take a minute.”
    “And then it’ll finally be over, right?” Sam insisted. “No more Carla this and Carla that. You’re never going to say her name again.”
    “Never,” I promised. “Not even instead of swearing.”
    And I meant it. I know I sometimes exaggerate a little for dramatic effect, but I sincerely believe that in all serious matters a person’s word should be her bond. This was to be the last scene Carla and I ever played together.
    I would find Carla among the revellers. I’d go up to her all smiles and girlish gushing. A hush would fall around us. This was as historic a moment as Roosevelt meeting with Stalin or Tom Cruise and Nicole getting divorced. I’d say I hoped she’d have a great time running Europe. Carla would promise to give my regards to London. Then, just as I was about to turn away I’d make a joke. “Who knows?” I’d say. “Maybe the next time you see me will be in the movies…”
    Carla was holding court on the lawn outside the library, surrounded by the usual suspects (Tina, Marcia and Alma) and a gaggle of lesser hangers-on.
    “Carla!” I cried as Ella and I drew near. “I just wanted to wish you bon voyage! Have a great time in Europe. Do give it my love.”
    The disadvantage of real life as opposed to a play is, of course, that not everyone’s working from the same script. So although I knew exactly how this scene was supposed to go, it wasn’t how Carla read it.
    “Oh, haven’t you heard?” Carla’s smile was shy and perplexed.
    The disciples were all smiling, too, but their smiles were expectant. They knew there was a banana skin right in front of my feet.
    “Heard what?”
    “I’m not going after all.”
    Beside me, Ella whispered, “Oh God… I should’ve known.”
    If you ask me, human nature could use some improving. History repeats itself over and over, yet people are always surprised when there’s another war, or another famine, or another politician is caught lying. Just like I was surprised by Carla