Disclaimers: Nope, sorry, can't say there are any. All of the characters are mine. I take full responsibility for all of their actions. Hmm ... On second thought ... I've never seen them before in my life. They just followed me home one day ... really ...
Violence/Sex: No violence, I don't think. I guess that would depend on what you mean by "violence" ... I don't think there is any. You can decide for yourself. And sex? Umm ... I'll go on the safe side and say there will be. But don't go suing me for false advertisement if you can't find any. It really depends on what you mean by sex. As there are people in some cultures that show their affection by licking each other's eyeballs, it is possible that my definition of sex may be different than yours. Mine may involve cows in ballet slippers for instance ... wait, that doesn't sound right ...
Warning: This story involves an in-the closet actress, online relationships, Puerto Ricans, the Spanish language, Starbucks coffee, angels, boyfriends, sexual relationships between women .. and a ton of other random things that poured forth from my artistic loins. If none of the above things interest you, then you may not want to partake in this little tour of my demented psyche.
Dedication: to you and you and you you and you .. to people living with living with ... ::notices there are people watching:: Ahem. Sorry. Too much "RENT" for me. Strike that. There can never be too much RENT. Unless it's the kind you have to pay. But my point.. and I do have one .. is that this story is dedicated to you. Thank you for taking the time to delve into my madness. What a brave soul you are .. muahahaha <coughcough>
Special Thanks: To Amber, Cindy, Camilla, Christy, Amy, and Robin. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I don't know what I'd do without you guys.
Write me: Cause I'd love to know what you think. I may be reached at email@example.com
The garden was in full bloom, much to Julianne's delight. She'd hired a gardener to take care of all of her flowers, since she personally had no interest in the art. She didn't really know the names of the flowers either, she just loved the way that looking at them made her feel; peaceful, calm.
Water gave her a similar feeling, so it was no wonder that her house over looked the sea. It wasn't an overly large house, far cheaper than she could've afforded, even by Los Angeles standards. But she liked the simplicity of it. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a garden in the backyard, and a beautiful view. All things considered, it was the perfect home. For her, anyway.
Out in the yard, where she currently sat with her feet propped up on another chair and her laptop firmly in place, she was content. She could hear the ocean roaring in the background. And her flowers smiled at her with their bright colors serving as brilliant signs of life. There was nowhere in the world she would've rather been.
She had Mozart playing from her stereo inside the house. After a long day at the set, she was finally at peace.
Settling further into the cushions of her chair, she took a sip of the iced tea on the table beside her. Blue eyes narrowed in concentration at the contents on the screen. Satisfied with what she'd read, she clicked 'upload'. With that, her latest poem was thrown into cyberspace. Nobody knew it was hers. And if she was lucky, nobody would ever find out.
Out of sheer curiosity, Julianne typed her name into an internet search engine. A list of corresponding websites appeared before her, and she stared at it in silent contemplation. It never ceased to amaze her that other people took time out of their daily lives to build homepages in her honor.
She picked a random one, and clicked the link, briefly thinking of John Malkovich jumping into his own portal in the movie Being John Malkovich. It was one of her favorite movies. The sheer brilliance and madness of the film both amused her and inspired her. But as she waited for the page to load, she was suddenly fearful that she'd be tossed into a netherworld where only look-alikes of her existed.
Snapping out of it, she turned to the now loaded site. A picture of herself from a photo shoot she couldn't remember doing stared back at her. There were links to more photos, to a biography, to rumors, to Guardian fan fiction, and to more links.
"Let's see what I've been up to lately," she said, smiling as she clicked on "rumors."
Another page presented itself, and she scanned the contents. "'Julianne admitted that she is in fact seeing a certain someone, and our best guest is that Julianne's finally given her heart away to the indie film writer and director, Adrian Cruz. The two of them were spotted making out on a secluded beach in Spain last month.'" She started laughing.
"'Our sources inform us, that Julianne may be quitting the show Guardian to pursue her religious faith. Apparently, playing an angel has opened her eyes to religion and the ways of God. She's scheduled to leave at the end of this season for a sabbatical in Africa.'"
She shook her head, beyond amused a the stupid things people came up with. "I'd get better sources if I were you."
Leaving the rumors page behind, she returned to the main page. She noticed a poll at the bottom corner. "Julianne Franqui, hot-stuff, mega bitch, or both? Take a moment to place your vote."
Julianne considered. "I'll have to go with 'mega bitch' for five hundred, Alex," she said, casting her vote. A few seconds later, the results were in front of her. "Both" was at 86% with "mega bitch" trailing behind at 10% and finally "hot stuff" at the end of the line, with 4%.
Sighing, she exited the website. It had been a few days since she'd checked her mail, so she aimed the mouse in that direction. She'd been ignoring her agent for weeks now. It was time to face the music.
She had two urgent messages from him waiting for her. The first said something about a movie contract. The second was a request for a prompt reply. There had been three messages on her machine from him when she'd returned from New York.
Deciding it was best to stop ignoring him, she sent him an email telling him to stop by whenever. Business taken care of, she switched email accounts.
To her delight, there was an response from the artist. Julianne had framed the picture she'd bought in New York. It now hung on her wall across from her bed, where she could admire it in the privacy of her room.
Julianne turned back to the e-mail.
Dear J. R.,
I'm delighted that you enjoyed my work. I'm pleased that it spoke to you. May I ask which it was? I could give you a better idea of what I was thinking when I created it, if you're interested. I'm afraid I don't have a gallery, but thank you for asking. Maybe someday, if all my dreams come true.
Thank you for your letter. It was an unexpected yet welcome surprise. It not only allowed me ten extra minutes of procrastination, but it also cheered up my otherwise depressing day.
The actress found herself smiling at the prospect of brightening somebody's day. Glancing at the flowers, she took a moment to decide what to write.
Dear Kris (may I call you that?),
I would love to know what led you to create such a fascinating piece of art. The picture was one of a figure standing in a crowd, with her gaze focused on something in the distance. It currently hangs in my bedroom so that I may admire it every night. I believe it's the only picture in my house that I picked out myself. I'm not big on decorating and I fear it's painfully obvious from the moment one steps into my home. But luckily, not that many people do.
It's not very often that I get to cheer up someone's day or even help them procrastinate, so I'm glad that I could give something back to the artistic community. If I can be of service in the future, please let me know. :o)
Satisfied with her response, Julianne hit 'send.' Suddenly in good spirits, she shut off the computer and headed into the house. Maybe she'd go for a jog along the beach.