Upside Down

Chapter 1

The line of limousines snaked down the driveway of the Beverly Hilton hotel at a snail’s pace to drop off stars and starlets, producers, directors, ingénues, the famous and the infamous and the unknowns and wannabes, desperate to be seen at one of Hollywood’s most glittering annual events, the Golden Globe Awards. The greatly respected award was second only to the Academy Awards. At sixty-­two, Ardith Law, one of Hollywood’s biggest stars for the past forty years, had won three Golden Globes so far. And she had two of the Academy’s coveted Oscars to her credit as well. This was an evening she never missed, as much to pay her respects to her fellow actors as to be seen herself. It was one of those things one had to do. It was expected, and you had to keep your face out there if you wanted to continue to get work, and your face had to look damn good or you’d better not show up!

Ardith was known for the variety and depth of the roles she accepted, and the quality of the movies she starred in. Occasionally, she took a small, unusual part if it intrigued her, which happened from time to time, but as a rule, she only took major starring roles. She was an extraordinary actress with a huge talent and a well-­deserved reputation. She was picky about the parts she took. She wanted to be in movies with depth and merit, which weren’t always easy to find after a certain age. She looked exceptionally good at sixty-­two, was still beautiful, and unlike nearly every actress in Hollywood, she had had no “work” done. She preferred to keep her own natural face and left it to the makeup artists on set to correct whatever needed attention. And she was never afraid to take an important part if it aged her beyond her actual years.

Ardith wanted roles with substance that stretched her to the limits of her abilities. She turned down most of the easy parts. Although for the past two years, there had been no offers. No one dared to cast her in minor roles, and producers knew that her agent, Joe Ricci, would turn them down before the offers even got to her. But once she turned sixty, there had been no appropriate parts for her. She read scripts constantly, looking for the right roles, but hadn’t seen any she wanted to play. Her high standards and perfectionism on set had won her the reputation of being difficult or a diva, which wasn’t entirely true. She was an extremely dedicated actress and demanded a lot of herself and everyone she worked with. So now and then, when others fell short, forty years of the best parts available and producers who would do almost anything to keep her happy had led to rare but memorable outbursts that supported the notion that she was a diva. She was above all a consummate professional, and a star to her very core. It wasn’t about ego, but more about wanting to be the absolute best she could be in every role, at all times. She hated working with lazy actors, and she hated stupidity and phonies. She was true to herself and her high standards in every way. She was an honest woman, and a great actress more than a diva, no matter what people said who didn’t really know her. Her career was vital to her sense of well-­being and purpose. She had missed working for the past two years but preferred it to accepting roles in second-­rate movies. She was waiting for the right film to come along, and she knew that eventually it would. In the meantime, she read every book and script she could lay her hands on.

Her personal life had always taken a back seat to her career, and it still did. She had one daughter from an eight-­year marriage that began in her twenties. She had been married to one of Hollywood’s biggest producers, John Walker. They had been a powerful pair and had made several movies together, which had been legendary box office successes and enhanced both their careers. It had been a tumultuous but creative match, which also produced their only daughter, Morgan, who was now thirty-­eight years old and a plastic surgeon in New York.

Morgan had avoided the Hollywood scene all her life, and chose medicine as an exciting, satisfying alternative. It suited her. She was a partner in a successful practice of plastic surgeons, with two senior partners who had worked together for years. One was close to retirement, the other was in full swing, and Morgan was the only woman they had ever invited to join the partnership. One of the senior partners also taught at Columbia medical school. They set the bar high.

Ardith wished now that she had spent more time with Morgan when she was younger, but her own career had been white-­hot then, and she was too often away on location and away from Morgan, and didn’t deny it. Ardith had missed all the important moments and landmarks in Morgan’s life, the school plays, her first prom, her first heartbreak, many birthdays, and there was no way to catch up. She felt guilty about it now but there was no way to make up for it, or relive the past. Once Morgan was an adult, the two women were very different. Morgan respected her mother’s career but had never enjoyed it, and the differences in their personalities and respective careers were hard to bridge now. They spoke often, out of duty and respect, but agreed on very little. Morgan had few memories of her father, who had died when she was seven. There had been scandal around her father’s death, which had troubled her for years.

John Walker had died in a tragic helicopter accident, which was even more traumatic for Ardith because he was killed with the young woman he was rumored to be having an affair with at the time, a budding actress who was appearing in one of his movies and whose career he was shepherding. She was twenty-­two, and Ardith was thirty-­one then. The letters she found after John’s death with his protégée confirmed her fears and suspicions about their involvement. Ardith had never forgiven him for it. The press had turned his death into a lurid event. Morgan knew the story once she was older, and had harbored illusions about him anyway. His films remained as tributes to him, but his reputation as a womanizer lasted after his death. Ardith knew it wasn’t his first affair by any means and had said as much to Morgan. He could never resist the actresses in his films. Ardith had never married again and had no regrets that she hadn’t. It was an experience she never wanted to repeat, as she had no desire to be married to another cheater and she didn’t want more children. Morgan was enough to deal with on her own, and their relationship had never been easy, and less and less so when Morgan grew up. She’d been rebellious in her teens, and angry about the parents she didn’t have. Ardith readily admitted that although she loved her daughter, motherhood wasn’t her strong suit. Morgan agreed. Ardith hadn’t been prepared for how much she needed to give a child, especially after her father died. They occasionally had a good time together, but they didn’t see each other often anymore. Ardith had the time to give her now, but Morgan didn’t have the interest or the time. She was busy with her career as a physician in New York, and her mother was proud of her, but Ardith still had her own life as a star in L.A. Morgan was single at thirty-­eight and said she didn’t have time for a husband and children, or even dating. Her work and her patients were her priorities. In some ways she was like her mother—­her career came first. And the tables had turned. Ardith hadn’t made enough time for her when she was a child, and now Morgan made no effort for her. It was a cycle they couldn’t seem to break, and Ardith had accepted the fact that it was too late and they would never be close. They existed on the periphery of each other’s lives. And living on opposite coasts, they saw too little of each other to heal the damage of the past. They had the occasional nice dinner together, and then Morgan flew back to New York, and they didn’t see each other for months.

For the past twelve years, Ardith had found comfortable companionship with William West, who was almost as big a star as she was. He had been a readily identifiable hero over a fifty-­year career, even longer than Ardith’s. He had never won an Oscar, and hadn’t taken the challenging roles she had, but audiences loved him. He took parts that endeared him to his fans. Since he wasn’t as demanding about the parts he played, he worked more often than Ardith, and still did one or two pictures a year. He was leaving in two days for England on location, playing a worthwhile role, although he was no longer the romantic lead. At seventy-­eight, he was healthy and energetic and wanted to continue working, even in slightly less important parts. He had no desire to retire.