Joan was the ideal personal assistant. She was always twenty steps ahead and knew me better than I knew myself.
She was probably well aware that today, my two year anniversary with A-list actress Selena Ross, was something I really didn’t feel like celebrating. In fact, I wasn’t sure if Selena and I were in a real relationship anymore. We were nothing like we used to be and that was a damn shame.
Two years ago, I was sitting in some hole in the wall coffee shop in Tribeca. My latest film, So Amazing, was number one at the box office and I wanted to get away to read the reviews in private.
I pulled out the folder Joan prepared and started reading. All the major critics were letting me have it: Roger Ebert said I “was out of [my] league and looked lost for half the film.” The New York Times said I was “the weakest link in an already dilapidated film.” The Chicago Sun Times called me “bland and unbelievably boring even when barely clothed.”
Annoyed, I flipped through the remainder of the reviews until I reached a title that caught my eye: “Matt Sterling’s Amazing Romance.”
Finally, a positive one.
“So Amazing, the newest picture from Lighthouse Studios, casts Matt Sterling as Tom Stein, a hot shot billionaire who (GASP!) has never fallen in love. In Stein’s world, relationships are for the weak and the only things that matter are mergers and assets.
“That all changes when he meets Hilary Redding (Scarlett Johannsen), a young accountant in his company who dreams of being a writer.
“I wish I could tell you how these two fall in love, but the writers of the film managed to leave that part out. For one hour and forty minutes we are forced to watch Matt Sterling twist his face into an expression that can only be deemed “constipated and confused.”
“When he first sees the lovely Scarlett Johannsen—who, by the way, makes the most out of this trite romantic comedy—he gives us constipated and confused. When he realizes he’s falling in love with her, after just one encounter, he gives us constipated and confused. When he jumps off the train (after taking his shirt off first, mind you) and catches up to her, he gives us constipated and confused.
“Someone at Lighthouse Studios should make sure Sterling’s bowels are completely out of his system before filming, or else they’ll end up oozing into the film as they do in So Amazing.”
Ugh. Melody Carter. Figures.
I sighed. It was not my day. I closed the folder and ordered another cappuccino.
“Matt Sterling?” I heard a woman’s voice behind me.
Please don’t be a fan. Please don’t be a fan.
“Yes?” I turned around and was shocked to see Selena Ross, the star of the latest Scorsese series.
She took off her shades to reveal her gorgeous gray eyes and flipped her long black hair over her shoulders.
“Mind if I sit down?”
“No. Not at all,” I smiled.
“I thought I was the only one who came here to dodge the paparazzi.”
“I guess not. I come here to read film reviews in private.”
“You actually read those?” she scoffed. “I can’t bring myself to even look at them.”
“Well, I care about the craft you know? Sometimes the critics help me see things I need to work on.”
“And the other times?”
“They just trash my films to add excitement to their miserable lives.”
We both laughed. We spent the next three hours chatting about our latest projects, our favorite paparazzi dodge spots, and of course, our relationship statuses.
When we finally got up to leave, we exchanged numbers and agreed to meet the next week. By the time I returned home she’d texted me: “Can we meet again tomorrow? Next week seems too far away. Let me know. : )”
And that’s when it began. We started doing everything together. Traveling, dining, even biking. In between our film projects, we’d sneak away to remote locations—a highway Motel 8 or a small town’s diner—to have sex or revel in the priceless privacy.
Six months later, when I was about to consider taking “us” more seriously, our careers exploded. Both of our latest projects passed the $150 million mark and we couldn’t buy privacy if we wanted to. What’s more, is that Selena no longer wanted anything to be private.
She insisted that we shop on Fifth Avenue, in perfect view of the paparazzi, instead of sending our personal assistants. She insisted that we eat at window booths of premier restaurants whenever we had a date. She even insisted that we tell the media about our favorite dodge-spots to ensure someone was always ready and waiting to take our picture.
Even though I hated what we’d become, I went along with it for eighteen more months. I had more projects to promote and “dating” Selena Ross did wonders for my public image.