Starlet's Web - March - WHERE'S THE EXIT?

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~    WHERE’S THE EXIT?

Aware of the knot in my stomach, I texted Dad, “Pls call asap.”

Dad, Tom Durglo, also turned his back on the film industry before he and Mom divorced, and he lived through it. He thrived actually. Content living in Palo Alto, California with his wife, Celia, he tended to his horses and ran a large animal veterinary clinic in Woodside.

Dad met Mom when she was twenty years old, shooting The Scent of a Rose western in Montana, the sequel to The Mountain Rose.  Rose frees a captured innocent Arapaho American Indian from the U.S. Cavalry. In the scene, Rose and the Indian look deeply into each other’s eyes and share a look of compassion and thankfulness before the Indian escapes into the brush and Rose escapes undetected.  Dad took the part for fun without the intention of committing to the two sequels that followed. But the scene was so powerful in the theaters that Dad stumbled upon an acting career.

It wasn’t until the next film, Rose Blush, that Dad and Mom became a couple. They married right before the premiere of Rose Blush, and the critics and fans loved the film.  Dad was a heartthrob and Mom was critically acclaimed. Then she got pregnant with me. Oops.

Of course, they were both contractually obligated to do the fourth film, A Single Rose, the same name as the TV series.  In it, Rose is pregnant, the U.S. Cavalry kills Dad’s character, the community sorts out the injustice, compassion rules, and Rose has the baby. End of movie. The TV series focused on the obstacles Rose faced raising her bi-racial son in Southern Montana and taught compassion and thankfulness to all who witnessed her inner and outer beauty.

But Dad was done. He didn’t want to be an actor. He wanted to be with his wife and have kids, teach them to ride horses and go fishing. Mom was in contract for several more years. Acting was her life, and she was very good at it. They were at an impasse.

Mom’s series ran eight seasons and was getting stale. Instead of walking away from Hollywood, she agreed to co-produce a drama in which she would star as the adult victim of child rape in a small town where I would play the child victim in the flash-back scenes. She thought the drama would be riveting enough to get her back on the A-list.  I went along for the ride. And Dad fumed!

It took me a second to realize that I still had the cell phone in my hand when I heard Dad’s ringtone. “Hey Dad, I’m a mess.” I gulped.

“You and Manny?” he worried.

“Nope. We’re in love.” I giggled. “Listen, Dad. I’m not renewing my contracts. This is my chance to get out—not of everything, but of so much. Mom will be beyond mad; everyone will. She emailed me today that she and Martin are on the final draft of the contract. I only have to do another five-year commitment with three feature films and four supporting roles but that will be tons of interviews, promotions, maintaining my brand, plus doing Muse. She’s so happy with herself because it’s for $60 million. Royalties are as gross points. Martin thinks it could easily be worth double now that I have an Oscar, even with a flop. They’re all ready for me to sign it. I’ll probably get sued. Can you help me? I’m so done.”

I exhaled. My chest was ready to explode out from my ribs. I told him what I wanted and felt the disappointment from hundreds of people. Hundreds of people won when I won. I was a known, proven commodity. Thanks to Evan’s sacrifice, I had a huge fickle fan base but strong, established brand. The social media swing to the positive was so powerful that I was now being called things like heroic and inspirational. I ignored it all, knowing it could change in an instant. But, like Mom, I rattled off the script perfectly, expressed the non-verbals, and looked the part. I was a reliable, consistent product.

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