Miss Dunnaway

“Miss Dunnaway! Miss Dunnaway! Morgan, Morgan! Over here! Miss Dunnaway, this way! Give us a smile!” A strobe of flash photography lit up the street corner like a parade of lightning bolts. Morgan Dunnaway stood on the street corner and kept her composure as the mob of paparazzi begged for her attention. She stood in a tall, satin red dress with a leg slit at the bottom, flaunting her long legs, and a deep V neck. She clutched a small black handbag between her hands, which were dawned in long, white opera gloves. Her hair was wavy and brown – Morgan was everything the press dreamed a Hollywood starlet could be. Morgan wore large heavy sunglasses over her eyes, which helped block the obnoxious picture flashes.

A cream colored Cadillac arrived on the corner with a gold front grill; Morgan took a step towards the curb, anxious to get inside. The paparazzi squat and shuffled around the starlet in obsessive awe as she stretched her leg off the sidewalk and onto the pavement. The Cadillac driver ran out the driver’s side door to hurry and open Morgan’s door, but she had already gripped the handle and opened it herself. Morgan waved off the driver, ushering him to get her out of there; he sprinted back in the Cadillac. The crowd pressed their lenses against window and tried documenting her privacy inside the vehicle, chanting for her to roll down the windows. “Miss Dunnaway! Miss Dunnaway! Give us a wave, Miss Dunnaway! Come on, don’t be shy! We love you, Morgan!” The Cadillac eased through the photographers that huddled around the car, finally finding an opening and pulling away.

Morgan flung her sunglasses off her face, shaking her head in complete exasperation. The driver looked through his rear view mirror and noticed how upset she was. “Everything alright, Morgan?” he asked fatherly.

“Absolutely not,” she grunted. Morgan pulled the middle finger sleeve of her opera gloves and took them off, casting them aside like napkins. “You saw – all I did was stand on that street corner. Do they expect me to break out in song and dance? Pathetic.” Her voice was strong and confident, with the projection of someone who believes every word they say.

“Well,” the driver said regrettably, “that’s the price to pay to be Morgan Dunnaway right now.”

“I wish they’d stop making such a fuss about me,” she looked out the window disapprovingly, like shaming the whole of society. “I don’t even know why they care, Georgy.” She pronounced the ‘h’ in the word ‘why’ heavily.

Georgy looked over his shoulder at her for a moment. He had thin, dark mustache over his smiling lips and the kindest eyes. Georgy looked back on the road and shook his head once. “Morgan, now you know very well why folks want to know all about you.”

“I certainly do not, there is nothing I have done outside of this silly little movie that deserves that much attention! Georgy I can’t buy groceries anymore; I’m swarmed by men and women asking to autograph their grocery list – with what, this cabbage I’m holding?”

“You have to remember that these folks love their stars, Morgan. Folks see a good movie, like yours, and they can’t wait for the next one you’ll be in.”

“Maybe I should let them all know I don’t have anything lined up, maybe that’ll back them off for a while.”

“Oh, but you will, Morgan. You’ll see. Soon enough you’ll have so many role offers you won’t even be able to keep track.”

“Don’t insult me,” she glared up into the rearview mirror from the back seat. Morgan extended a cigarette holder and placed a cigarette inside. She lit a match and caught the end aflame, puffing a deep, white cloud in the Cadillac. Georgy waved his hand over his face, stressing himself not to cough as to offend her. She noticed and quickly cracked each window beside her. “Frankly, I don’t see what they all saw in my performance.”

“There’s Oscar buzz around it, Morgan. You were incredible.”

“Thank you, but I hardly agree. I didn’t expect anything out of such a simple script, if I’m being honest. You saw it – that story never caught you by surprise in anything, did it? No,” she didn’t wait for an answer. “It was as bread and butter as my mother’s diner. Snobby girl can’t win the affection of the man she loves because she hasn’t learned to love herself – I’m exhausted of that cliché.”

Georgy rocked his head slightly and shrugged his shoulders. “I actually liked the story, Morgan. I thought it was actually moving.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She exhaled a plume of white smoke. Morgan looked at her feet and chuckled. “It seems whenever I tried for anything, it’s like the world played keep-away. But as soon as I couldn’t give lick about it, everyone begs me to have it. The need me to have it.” Morgan looked out the window once more and watched the buildings go by down Sunset Boulevard. “I hardly deserve this.”

“Deserve what, Morgan?” Georgy asked curiously.

“Everything. Anything. All of this.”

“Oh, Morgan, you’ve worked hard for it, don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“No, Georgy, I didn’t. I didn’t work harder than some of the folks I know. The only advantage I had was luck, which I can’t even claim as my own. No, Georgy, I didn’t work hard.” She took a slow draw of her cigarette and let the smoke slip between her pursed lips. “Perhaps that’s why I’m so bothered by the press. I don’t want their expectations of me to grow any higher, as I’m sure to let them down. And the higher the bar is set, the harder I’ll fall. If that bar’s too high, I may not recover if I fall.”

“Now, Morgan” Georgy said gently. “This show business takes a fair bit of luck—”

“More than a fair bit, I’d say,” she chimed in.

“But luck only lasts if it’s given to someone who knows how to use it. Plenty of folks have had a decent shot at it. They’ve landed a nice role here and there, playing alongside some of the best known folks in the whole world. But if they don’t already got it, that special something inside that makes them talented, that luck won’t stick around.” Georgy glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled as Morgan. “You’ve got it, Morgan. That’s why the world is crazy about you. Luck picked the right gal.”

Morgan did her best not to smile from the encouragement. She only showed a subtle nod. “I appreciate it.” Georgy knew what she meant. “I’ve never liked being this honest, Georgy. At least, about myself.”

“You can always be honest with me, Morgan,” he said warmly.

Morgan shifted in her seat. She decided she’d test his invitation. “I don’t think I’m as good as they think I am. I get the feeling I’ll work on my next movie… and they’ll see I’m just a fraud.” Morgan looked up and saw Georgy watching the road. He didn’t look back at her. She felt embarrassed having confessed such a thing to be met with silence, and she hardened her heart.

“Morgan,” Georgy began softly. “If you keep your confidence in what they believe about you, you’re sure to fail in time. They might think you couldn’t quite hit this next performance like you did in your most recent. They might say you’re the greatest up and coming actor of this decade. But it won’t matter what they say, if you know in your heart that you’ve got the grit to get up and keep treading. Whether they love you or hate you, if you can look in the mirror and know you’ve got a shaker’s worth of salt, you’ll learn to enjoy this wave, as long as it lasts.”

Morgan gave in and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Georgy.”

“You’re welcome, Morgan.” He glanced in the rearview mirror knowingly. “Oh, and, Morgan?”

“Yes?”

“Between you and me, I think you’re the best actor I’ve ever seen.” He winked at her.

Morgan blushed, quickly collecting her cool and puffing through the cigarette holder, embracing her starlet persona.