Read Online Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood by Abby McDonald - Free Book Online Page B

went back into her room to collect her sunglasses and her well-worn copy of Sarah Bernhardt’s memoirs. Leaving San Francisco had been heart wrenching, but it had taken only a few days of poolside reflection for Hallie to realize that L.A. was her destiny. There had to be a reason for all the misery she’d been through this last year. Her father, Portia, Juilliard . . . Hallie sometimes felt like she was the princess in a cruel fairy tale — suffering one needless punishment after another, as if the universe had conspired against her and the Fates were laughing at her pain.
    But no more. The heartache was over; her evil stepmother was far away, and Hallie was finally right where she was supposed to be.
    Hollywood.
    Sure, it had taken her a while to come around. Los Angeles was, as all her friends agreed, a cultural wasteland: the domain of fake boobs and even faker smiles. Everybody knew that to become a real actress, you had to go to New York. Chicago, maybe, in a pinch. But L.A?
    Never!
    Hallie had despaired. How was she supposed to embrace her destiny as a true
artiste
in such a shallow, superficial place? This was where people came to become (and she shuddered at the word)
famous
— not serious actors, dedicated to their craft. Here, people read tabloid magazines, and thinly veiled celebrity “novels,” if they read at all! Here, women starved themselves half to death and injected bacteria into their faces, as if their wrinkles were something to be ashamed of, and not the canvas upon which great works of theater could be painted! Here —
    “Girls!” A voice echoed up from the backyard, all honeyed tones. “Come join us for breakfast!”
    Hallie sighed, and started down the stairs. “ ‘Girls,’ ” she mimicked as Grace followed behind. “She’s only three years older than me!”
    “Don’t be like that,” Grace scolded. “You should give her a chance. She’s nice, really.”
    “Sure she is.”
    Hallie wasn’t convinced. The one downside of Uncle Auggie’s generosity was that it came complete with his new bride, Amber — a former soap actress turned trophy wife who was a walking, talking, bleached, manicured testament to Los Angeles’s inferior cultural legacy. As they emerged from the guesthouse, the child bride was sauntering across the lawn in a gauzy white wrap — hair in a perky ponytail, lips glossed bright pink. The sturdy Mexican housekeeper followed behind with a tray of food.
    Amber waved them over to the dining area. “You’ve got to try some juice — fresh squeezed! It does wonders for your digestion!”
    Hallie forced a smile. Amber had been overflowing with advice and “helpful” tips since the moment they’d walked through the door. So far, she’d offered to “hook Hallie up” with her dermatologist, cosmetologist, and dietician. Hallie had asked where the nearest bookstore was, but Amber had just blinked at her in confusion, and then recommended a salon that she swore gave the best bikini waxes on the West Coast — complete with Swarovski crystal bejazzling.
    Hallie couldn’t even.
    “How are you girls settling in?” Amber asked as they joined her at the table.
    “Great, thanks,” Grace answered. Hallie gave a vague smile and tried to shoo away the matching shih tzus yapping at her ankles.
    “Marilyn! Monroe! Come to Mama!” Amber called them over and scooped one onto her lap. Whether it was Marilyn or Monroe, Hallie couldn’t say. “You know, I’m from out of town too,” she told them, nuzzling the dog’s nose. “Mayfield, Wisconsin. Middle of nowhere. Nothing but hogs and hay bales for miles, we used to say!” She giggled. “There was no way I was sticking around waiting tables the rest of my life, so the day I turned eighteen, I was out of there. Hello, Hollywood!”
    Hallie didn’t want to encourage her, but part of her was burning with fascination. “How did you meet Uncle Auggie?”
    “On set,” she declared, a note of pride in her voice. “You