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Authors: Leah Remini, Rebecca Paley
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me.
As his secretary.
He did offer me another job as his personal assistant. My first task was to go up to his house on Mulholland Drive and bring his shirts to the cleaners. Easy enough. But I was bewitched by his Greek wife, Valerie, with her blond hair and her long, pretty nails. Valerie was also from New York, and she laughed at everything I said. She was always pinching my cheeks and saying, “You are so cute.” Who wouldn’t be smitten? It was hard to believe hours had gone by.
John fired me.
As his assistant.
And hired me as his accounts receivable person, where I was given a crash course in getting people to pay their bills. While I may have failed him as a secretary and an assistant, I quickly learned the art of manipulating people into paying their bills on time, all the while using church tactics to find their weaknesses and prey on them.
When I wasn’t working I would hang out with a bunch of kids around Nic’s and my age whose parents were Sea Org members, but who themselves no longer wanted anything to do with the Sea Org and Scientology. As mentioned, in Scientology, minors are considered spiritual beings and not children in need of protection and guidance. You are the only one responsible for the condition of your life, regardless of your age. The Sea Org members believed that their kids could make up their own minds. As a result, these kids could nolonger live with their parents, most of whom had berthing in the Blue Buildings. Even if that meant they ended up practically squatting, or sleeping in a stranger’s apartment, their parents felt that it was the child’s decision to make. They weren’t running away from a home where a mother and father worried about them.
Nicole and I were compassionate and we hung out with these kids. They got us—meaning they knew the ways of Scientology even if they chose to leave it—and we, like them, had basically said “Fuck you” to Sea Org, if not to Scientology. Shouldn’t we be friends with these people and set a good example for others?
So with everyone basically left to their own devices, some kids lived with other regular Scientology parishioners in the neighborhood. Others buddied up and moved into their own apartments with one Scientology kid or kids old enough to sign a lease. Or kids lived with complete strangers if need be.
We spent our days working, our evenings going on course, and our nights together smoking, playing gin rummy, and scrounging for jobs, even food. Hanging out in front of Hannon’s (which was a local mini-mart) at the corner of Edgemont and Fountain, we formed a tight-knit community.
We were children trying to be adults. Whenever we met someone who was struggling in his or her life—be it with drugs or alcohol or other addictions—we were convinced we could save them with Scientology. It didn’t matter if they were twice our age or battling demons we couldn’t begin to understand; we thought we had the knowledge and skills to help!
During this time I wavered between acting like a typical teenager and like someone who thought she was a spiritual being. I carried on with my friends and partied and drank thinking,
I have all the answers in the world, nothing’s going to harm me.
I would walk in at three in the morning after a night out and hear my mother say, “What the fuck? Why is it okay to come in at three a.m.?”
“Who cares?” I would say.
“I care. You still live under my roof.”
One morning my mother found me at home instead of on course. She asked why I wasn’t at church. I told her that I had been drinking and so I couldn’t go on course (Scientology policy states that you are not allowed to be on course within twenty-four hours of drinking). She started yelling at me and I laid into her about how I work, I go on course, am I a spiritual being or not? According to Scientology we are all equals. “What, are you going to wait for my body to turn twenty-one?” I tried to use Scientology against her
As his secretary.
He did offer me another job as his personal assistant. My first task was to go up to his house on Mulholland Drive and bring his shirts to the cleaners. Easy enough. But I was bewitched by his Greek wife, Valerie, with her blond hair and her long, pretty nails. Valerie was also from New York, and she laughed at everything I said. She was always pinching my cheeks and saying, “You are so cute.” Who wouldn’t be smitten? It was hard to believe hours had gone by.
John fired me.
As his assistant.
And hired me as his accounts receivable person, where I was given a crash course in getting people to pay their bills. While I may have failed him as a secretary and an assistant, I quickly learned the art of manipulating people into paying their bills on time, all the while using church tactics to find their weaknesses and prey on them.
When I wasn’t working I would hang out with a bunch of kids around Nic’s and my age whose parents were Sea Org members, but who themselves no longer wanted anything to do with the Sea Org and Scientology. As mentioned, in Scientology, minors are considered spiritual beings and not children in need of protection and guidance. You are the only one responsible for the condition of your life, regardless of your age. The Sea Org members believed that their kids could make up their own minds. As a result, these kids could nolonger live with their parents, most of whom had berthing in the Blue Buildings. Even if that meant they ended up practically squatting, or sleeping in a stranger’s apartment, their parents felt that it was the child’s decision to make. They weren’t running away from a home where a mother and father worried about them.
Nicole and I were compassionate and we hung out with these kids. They got us—meaning they knew the ways of Scientology even if they chose to leave it—and we, like them, had basically said “Fuck you” to Sea Org, if not to Scientology. Shouldn’t we be friends with these people and set a good example for others?
So with everyone basically left to their own devices, some kids lived with other regular Scientology parishioners in the neighborhood. Others buddied up and moved into their own apartments with one Scientology kid or kids old enough to sign a lease. Or kids lived with complete strangers if need be.
We spent our days working, our evenings going on course, and our nights together smoking, playing gin rummy, and scrounging for jobs, even food. Hanging out in front of Hannon’s (which was a local mini-mart) at the corner of Edgemont and Fountain, we formed a tight-knit community.
We were children trying to be adults. Whenever we met someone who was struggling in his or her life—be it with drugs or alcohol or other addictions—we were convinced we could save them with Scientology. It didn’t matter if they were twice our age or battling demons we couldn’t begin to understand; we thought we had the knowledge and skills to help!
During this time I wavered between acting like a typical teenager and like someone who thought she was a spiritual being. I carried on with my friends and partied and drank thinking,
I have all the answers in the world, nothing’s going to harm me.
I would walk in at three in the morning after a night out and hear my mother say, “What the fuck? Why is it okay to come in at three a.m.?”
“Who cares?” I would say.
“I care. You still live under my roof.”
One morning my mother found me at home instead of on course. She asked why I wasn’t at church. I told her that I had been drinking and so I couldn’t go on course (Scientology policy states that you are not allowed to be on course within twenty-four hours of drinking). She started yelling at me and I laid into her about how I work, I go on course, am I a spiritual being or not? According to Scientology we are all equals. “What, are you going to wait for my body to turn twenty-one?” I tried to use Scientology against her
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