Gianna
“Gia! This dress isn’t right!” A loud shriek reaches my ears, sending me to my feet for the 8th time.
I knew this would happen. I tried to tell her that it wasn’t going to fit. Instead of listening, she told me to stop being jealous because I weigh more than her which I don’t, but she’ll never know.
I rush to her room with another garment bag off the rack of clothes her agent had delivered this morning. Anxiety is taking up all the space in my chest, making it impossible for me to think straight. If Alisha doesn’t fit into one of these dresses, I might as well get ready to nurse her insecurities over multiple bottles of wine. I really don't feel like holding her hair while she pukes tonight.
“Here, Alisha. This is the Dior one.” I sit it on the bed as she comes out nearly naked if it weren’t for her skin-toned thong. She has tears in her eyes, ready accept defeat.
“This is a fucking disaster, Gia! If I’m too fat to fit into these dresses, how the hell am I going to stand in front of the casting agent?” Sobbing now, she carelessly swipes the expensive dresses onto the floor. “He’s going to take one look at me and laugh. They don’t want to cast Ms. Piggy.”
She slaps her thigh, making me flinch uncomfortably.
Alisha flops on the bed, running the back of her hand over her wet nose like a toddler. I knew this would happen. I knew the stress of this audition would make her unravel.
“Maybe, Mark can have something else brought over.”
The scowl Alisha gives me makes me regret opening my mouth.
“Yes, Gia, let’s call Mark and tell him that I’ve gotten fat and need something else to wear because none of the 15 fucking designer dresses he sent will zip!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Gia. Find me something to wear! Make yourself useful instead of sitting in my face doing nothing.”
Nothing.
Something about that word triggers me and anger fills my chest. While Alisha thinks I’m doing nothing, I’m actually juggling 15 things at once. I’m managing Alisha’s schedule, diet, meetings, interviews, and even when she has a free moment to pee in peace. On top of that, Alisha wants me on her hip every second of the day, giving me no time to myself until I get off. If I get off at all.
If Alisha goes out, I have to tag along. She could easily have more than one assistant, but for reasons only she and I know, she only trusts me, which is why it sucks when she undervalues what I do for her.
Hurrying out of the room with my lips sealed, I quickly call a designer friend who can bring some pieces in Alisha’s actual size. After getting that taken care of, I give Alisha two valium and put her in bed for an hour’s nap. Once she’s out of my hair, I pack the rejected dresses away, leaving them by the door for pick up later.
Next, I go through interview questions, scratching out the ones Alisha doesn’t want to answer, like, Why has your career taken a dive despite the success of your blockbuster hit movie three years ago? Or Are the rumors about bulimia and drug abuse true?
I send the list back, stressing to them not to ask unapproved questions, or Alisha will walk out. It’s happened before.
As far as the answers to those questions, her career hasn’t been the same because the price of fame grew the moment her name crossed the movie screen. In the beginning, she was a Hollywood sweetheart, cute as a button, and destined for stardom until directors didn’t want her to be cute anymore. Instead, they wanted sex, seduction, and nudity. She turned the offers down, not wanting to make those kinds of sacrifices, and it was a big blow to her career. That’s when the drugs came into the picture and soon after, me.
I know Alisha is rough to work with, but I have no intention of giving up on her any time soon. Plus, she pays me a lot better than most personal assistants in L.A. I have my condo, car and live a comfortable life. I’ve been on lavish vacations and met more famous people than I can name. Anyone would kill to be in my shoes, even if it does get lonely and verbally abusive at times.
With Alisha's sleeping, I take a moment to fix myself a sandwich before diving back into work. I know the moment she wakes, I will be scatterbrained for the rest of the day, especially with this audition looming over her head. She’s been stressing about it since the moment her agent booked it for her. She hasn’t told me much about the role except that it can make her big again.
It’s not that her career is a total flop, it’s that Hollywood doesn’t see her as anything more than a wholesome star who’s done a few small movies here and there. Never the main character, always the supporting character. I know that it makes Alisha feel a lot of pressure to conform to what people want.
Once I sit down with my sandwich, I flip open my laptop to check Alisha’s emails. One of the emails is a folder with some recently taken shots of Alisha for an online article. I extract the photos and when I open the first one, my mouth falls open a bit.
“Oh.” I flip through the pictures of Alisha wearing hardly any clothing. It’s a vintage type of photoshoot with Alisha playing the movie star in her dressing room. In only a robe, Alisha is sitting at her vanity, staring at herself in the mirror. She looks gorgeous, her blonde hair pinned up with little curls framing her face, not a blemish in sight. Her makeup is classic with a red lip, winged eyeliner, and bold lashes. It wouldn’t be so disappointing to me if the robe weren’t half-open, resting just shy of her areola.
The pictures make my stomach sink a bit because I know Alisha wouldn’t choose to do this. However, she feels as though she has to keep her name fresh in the media. I have no say in her choices, but I wish I could tell her that she doesn’t have to do this.
Breaking my attention, my phone starts to vibrate. Glancing down, I have to do a double-take because it’s not every day or any day that I see Owen Daniels’ name on my screen.
“Gia.” I answer, expecting horrible news to justify this out-of-the-blue call.
“Where is my daughter? I’ve been calling all damn morning.” Owen’s deep tone comes through with authority and irritation, but I still breathe a sigh of relief that it’s not serious. God, what has Alisha done to make her father call so suddenly? She rarely hears from him unless he’s calling to criticize her for whatever scandal she’s gotten herself into.
“She’s sleeping right now. She has an audition scheduled for this afternoon. Is there something I can help with, Mr. Daniels?”
“Remind my daughter that my flight gets in tomorrow evening at 6.”
He’s coming here!? Alisha didn’t tell me that. Crap.
“Yes, sir. Uh, would you like me to reserve you a car or hotel accommodations?” I scramble, pulling my laptop closer to add a new reminder, trying not to let him hear my sudden sense of urgency.
“Yes. Please have the confirmations sent to me as soon as the reservations are made. This should’ve been done days ago when I told her that I was coming.” With authority gone from his tone, his voice becomes a little more welcoming. It’s the voice I’m used to hearing when he’s talking to Alisha.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Do not apologize for my Alisha’s irresponsibleness. She’s 26. It’s time for her to grow up. When I get there, I expect her to pick me up, not some shitty car service.”
“Yes, sir. How long will you be in town?” I make a bunch of notes, making sure to run them past Alisha. The fact that she forgot about something as important as her dad coming to visit only means she’s going to be pissed when I remind her.
“A month.”
I nod to myself as I add that to the notes.
“Yes, sir, I will have all of this handled.”
“Thank you, Gia.”
“Yes, sir.” Goosebumps spike on my arm when he says my name, making my eyelashes flutter a bit.
Without another word, Owen hangs up and I feel more overwhelmed than ever now. I move some things around to make room for my new tasks for tomorrow.
Thankfully, the new dress arrives 15 minutes before Alisha wakes up and when she tries it on, she loves it. I breathe a sigh of relief when she comes out of the bathroom with a smile on her face.
“Gia! How did you manage to pick out a dress this nice?”
I squint a bit, reading between the lines of her question.
“Uh, I just...I just asked myself what would Alisha wear.”
“Cause God knows you’d never wear something like this.” She mumbles just loud enough for my ears to catch.
It’s comments like that, nice and nasty at the same time, that remain a constant reminder never to allow myself to get too close to Alisha. I take her comments because I love my job and to be honest, I don’t have a conflictive bone in my body. Alisha yelled in my face once, making me cry, and still, I never stood up for myself. I know deep down she doesn’t mean it. I know she values me in her own way.
“So, Alisha, while you were sleeping, your dad called.”
She rolls her eyes.
“What did he want?”
“Uh, he was calling to remind you that he’s coming into town tomorrow. You never told me he was coming.”
Alisha whips around with shock on her face. I guess she really did forget.
“Fuck! I forgot. I can’t believe I forgot. This is the worst possible time for him to come. I have the audition tonight and if I get it, I’m going to be so busy. He’s supposed to be here for a whole freaking week.”
I frown, unlocking my phone to check my notes.
“A week, you say?”
“Yeah.” She nods with a questioning glare.
“No. Your father said that he’s staying for a whole month. I have it right here.” I point at the screen.
“Fuck!” She shouts, throwing her hands up. “I can’t deal with this right now. Stop talking about it.” She waves me off, but I don’t move.
I don’t bring up Owen coming anymore. Instead, I sit in Alisha’s room while she rehearses the lines while doing her makeup. I don’t specifically know what the lines are and the soft mumbling through the bathroom door doesn’t give anything away. It has to be pretty major because it’s the first time she hasn’t talked my ear off about an audition. It raises my curiosity.
Once her agent shows up to ride with her to the audition, she gives me a few hours off to handle the arrangements with her dad. I’m not used to getting long breaks where no one is ordering me around. The quietness of Alisha’s condo is deafening, forcing me to listen to my thoughts. Even with the barely used 85-inch tv, it seems like no amount of noise can fill the space.
I’d rather be in my cozy condo, where it’s homey, warm, and well-stocked with my favorite wines. All Alisha has is liquor. No decor. No personalization. No love. She only has things that fill the empty voids inside of her. It’s been this way for a long time.
Thoughts of fame have consumed her so much that I doubt she realizes that she’s not living. She’s existing in a world that wants to chew her up over and over until she has nothing left before spitting her out. It’s frustrating to sit aside and watch.
I’ve worked for Alisha for almost three years, letting her consume my life, turning me into an adult nanny rather than an assistant. She doesn’t hold me hostage or anything, but what started as simple requests for my presence during off-hours turned into demanding me to get out of my bed at 2am to coddle her while she’s wasted. And I do it every time. It’s hard to say no when Alisha knows precisely what to say to guilt me into doing whatever she wants.
