When money comes into the picture suddenly the once empty social calendar gets filled. Everybody wants to know somebody. And it’s strange when the emphasis and attention suddenly shifts overnight. I was used to being the one sought after, the object of desire. And now my ability to imitate Vanna White is unparalleled. I had to learn to swallow the fact that it was no longer about me. But it wasn’t necessarily about Derek, either. It was all about Derek’s money.
With a private jet ready to whisk you off to somewhere exotic, there is always an A list, a B list, and a C list. This consisted of a strange melting pot of the independantly wealthy, the tragically insecure, and the completely desperate. Usually the A list has a prior engagement like a board meeting of a publicly traded company. The B list is, well, usually family because in their mind it is their God given right. Then there is the C list. This is usually the group of “friends” that can always drop something important for a weekend of indulgence with Derek.
I had traveled privately in the past when I was still modeling. It was usually a very lame scene. Simply a speedy transport from one photographer’s studio to New York fashion week. Girl gets on airplane; girl sits down and immediately puts in her Ipod earphones. Girl then pulls out book about Niche or something equivalently cerebral. Girl turns down any offer of catering. After all, “girl” was still modeling. Girl occasionally spritzes her clean face with Evian while pretending to not be interested in any outside conversation. Girl then catnaps.
This trip to the Dominican Republic was going to be different. Derek and I had been seeing each other casually for about six weeks. I had accompanied him to New York for day trips, I would shop and he would “meet”. This would be our first overnight trip and the pressure of expectation was at an all time high. I had been to the Dominican Republic before and was unimpressed so why would this trip be different?
As I started to hand my bag to Sonia, Derek’s flight attendant, all I saw was a hand. It wasn’t Derek’s hand but it was a mans hand. It was abnormally hairy and for some strange reason I couldn’t take my eyes away from it. Then I looked up. Derek said, “Oriana, this is Steve Seaver and his beautiful bride Jemma.” Yes, sitting before me with his hairy palms and his 6 foot tall wife who was 35 years his junior was one of Hollywood’s C list. He had been in many direct to video movies and occasionally peddled commercial jingles when he was short on cash. And Jemma, well, supposedly she was a one-time model. And I am not normally catty but she was, how should I say it, big boned?
In the four-hour flight I learned that Jemma signed a pre-nup that stated no more Seaver offspring but she was certain she could change Steve. Steve was pushing 65 years old and trying to live vicariously through Derek’s money. He wanted funding for some off, off, off Broadway musical of which he would produce, direct, cast, act, write music and sing in. Derek actually seemed interested. And while hanging on to Steve’s every word, he whispered to me to “try and not look so bored”. The truth is, I felt like I was in Asia again. I couldn’t understand the words that were coming out of Steve’s mouth. And Jemma was just loud. She laughed at all the wrong things and tried to appear well studied to Derek. This was a world that I was so used to being in. But the thing I had learned that Jemma never got was to be quiet. Intelligence and wisdom are two things that could always spook the wealthy. Jemma tried to pull rank by constantly referring to Derek’s past. “Derek, remember when you and so and so came to our wedding?” “Oh Derek, I still just carry around and show off that giant Louis Vuitton duffle bag you got us for our wedding…” Oh god, the puke was rising in the back of my throat. This was going to be a long weekend and I am hoping to be nominated for an Oscar for my performance.
We landed in the Dominican and immediately we had security rushing around us. I kept looking around for a celebrity who was actually noted. There was no one famous. It was for Derek. Huh? He had hired security because we were going to a third world country. The Dominican Republic wasn’t exactly the Middle East but Derek liked the ambiance that security added. Even though he paid for it himself, it was good for his ego.
I still was unsure about what we were exactly doing in the Dominican. I had managed to learn about all of Steve’s ex wives as seen through the eyes of Jemma. I had gorged myself with gross amounts of food because, well, I simply could. And I had seen an envy in Derek’s eyes. I knew we were there for some sort of charity outing where the rich and famous all meet to raise money for a needy cause. The catch was, nobody was sure about what the cause was. We arrived at a pristine hotel that we had driven through 3 barrios to get to. The lobby was decorated with C actors. Most of them in flux and hoping that their next project would give them their big break. And to my surprise they all seemed to know Derek on a first name basis.
“Derek Cohen, have you met so and so?” said one actor. It wasn’t until I recognized an actor who had a small role on Beverly Hills 90210 that I realized what was really going on. These are “celebrities” and I use that term loosely- mingling with the anonymous faces of donors. These actors were riding on the coat tails of the faceless rich to foot the bill of their weekend. It was all done in the name of charity. I was already being faced with the struggle of keeping my mouth shut when Derek pulled me over to introduce me to someone. Derek was standing proud and hoping to impress me when he said “Oriana, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Robin Leach this is the lovely Oriana.” “Please to finally meet you. It has always been a dream of mine,” I said with a light undertone of sarcasm. Robin just laughed it off and said, “of course darling, the pleasure is ALL mine.” I started to wonder if this was all a bad joke. Mother has always told me “be weary of those who try to hitch a trailer to a star.”
Derek and I finally separated ourselves from everyone and went to check in to our hotel room. I almost asked him if an onsite psychiatrist was available to make 24-hour room service calls. I didn’t know where to begin. I started to relive all the commentary of the day. It was random, I was confused, and frankly I was exhausted. I had arrived in this gorgeous environment with perfectly balmy weather and white sand beaches and I was scared. Fearful of what may come out of my mouth and fearful that Derek really did admire these people.
We had flown in on a private jet and we were staying in a first class suite in a setting that most would call paradise. But I was strangely turned off. I know I have spent most of my life selling different ideas of “beautiful” but this was crossing in to the superficially unknown. I wasn’t sure what the intrigue was. Usually as a model you are informed of the end result of what the client is hoping that you will successfully sell. And as someone who is familiar with trade the goal is to buy low and sell high. But this was just madness. This was a strange mesh of celebrity hopefuls or has beens schmoozing with the people who write the checks. And I did wonder, what was Derek getting out of this? And more importantly now, what the hell were we doing there?
The morning after we arrived I woke up strangely tense. Derek kissed my forehead and whispered “good morning, O”. I responded with “what is on our agenda for the day? Shaking hands and kissing babies?” I felt strangely like a trophy but I couldn’t decide if Derek was treating me like that or if I was just sensing my purpose in his life. So instead of peddling something that the sponsors weren’t even passionate about themselves, I did what every model would do. I put on my bikini and went to the pool. Derek joined me and kept trying to figure out why I seemed so cold. I just couldn’t kick the idea of this type of trade. It was a vicious cycle. Derek traded his money for a glimpse into the surreal life, Steve traded his pride by selling his Broadway musical to Derek, and I somehow just had to shelf every possible thing I stood for. And this was only day 1 of a 4 day weekend.
Freshly showered and made up I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I laid in the sun. My skin had quickly turned its standard golden brown, which makes my brown eyes look more intense. I always wanted blue eyes because I thought they would look so much better with my mahogany locks. But brown it was. Looking in the mirror I had always forgotten how ethnic I look with sun kissed skin. And I must admit that I was feeling a lot more relaxed than earlier in the day. I had managed to dodge Jemma on various occasions. For starters she keeps calling me Arianna. Aeriola was another favorite. So while she shouted the wrong name I pretended to not see or hear her. Thank heaven's for giant Chanel sunglasses. Some may think that I was being rude, but remember Jemma is the girl who did just fly here on my new beau’s jet. One would think she could remember a name.
I decided to go with a safe outfit. I felt like I needed to strap on some type of armor or maybe a muzzle. I could sense that Derek was feeling a bit nervous too, because I think I was reminding him of his life pre-riches. Oh, the good old days. Back when people did not want you to invest in property but more their lives. I bet he feared what I may react to and I think we were both questioning what we were doing there. I mean, doing there with each other. I was investing in him as a person and my fears were he was investing in me as a trophy.
Derek said, “O, are you ready? The dinner and auction are in about 15 minutes.” “Yes”, I said while smearing on some pink gloss. “Hey Derek?” I asked while throwing my last few items in to my little black clutch. “Yes honey bee?” Huh? Call me jaded but was that really my new name? “Is this going to be an event that is interactive?” I asked. “Interactive? First, there will be a silent auction followed by a mediocre dinner while Robin (Leach) mc’s a live auction.” In a world where people make a career by talking out of both sides of their mouths there would be a silent auction? Oh the irony. That alone was going to be entertaining for me. I get to watch C actors walk around and try to outbid each other by writing their name on a sheet of paper. Even better, as a “nobody” in their world I got to stand amidst them all while they gossiped about each other and judged their intensity of “caring” by how much money they offered up. But nothing could prepare me for the main event. It was amusing, it was predictable, but most of all it was humiliating. We sat at a table with the Seavers, the new happy couple and I were a front row spectator of a heated ping-pong match. “No Billy, I invited Derek.” Stated Steve Seaver. “Actually, it was me who sent the invitation to his office.” Retorted Billy. Back and forth it went throughout each course of dinner. It was unreal. I had never witnessed in the flesh a true non-K9 peeing on trees. “Are you kidding me?” I said to Derek probably a bit louder than I should. “Did you cure cancer or something?” He smirked. But it was obvious that he loved it. He leaned and whispered quietly but with a bit of authority “Oriana, just smile.” That is the first moment that I can remember when looking back that I had traded something myself.
It happens to every girl I know. There is a pivotal moment in a relationship that sneaks up on us when we are least expecting it. It is like a twisted game of hide and seek. Just when you think it is hiding in the closet BOOM! It jumps out from behind the door and scares the shit out of you. And it’s always a surprise. Even though you are looking for it and eager to find it, it inevitably knocks the wind out of you. And you can only pray to the God’s above that you are wearing your smartest jeans and it is a great hair day. Maybe this is what mother was referring to when she advised me to “always be sure to wear clean underwear.”
I continued to smile. Maybe it was all of my training from modeling. But how is it that I just switched from editorial model to commercial actress? I began to justify and dissect what he meant by saying “just smile.” And now began a new challenge that I set for myself. And to this day I wonder what if? What if I just stood up and placed my napkin gently on Derek’s lap and walked away? What if I had picked up my pride and stuffed it in my prada purse and cat walked my way out of Hollywood “has been” hell? Would that photo have made it into the coveted Page Six? Would there have been an impact of deliverance? I will never know. But it was this moment, this pivotal shift in the stream. “Fuck it.” I thought. “Here is your smile baby. Even better? I am one step ahead of you. I can smile with my eyes…”
The morning after the big event I woke up to an empty bed. I slid out of the protection of 800-thread count sheets to discover that Derek was sitting out on the balcony chatting away on his cell phone. I joined him and he smiled and mouthed “good morning sunshine.” After about 15 minutes of idle chit chat he hung up. I asked, “Who were you talking to so early in the morning?” “Helen” he said matter of factly. “Oh. Is everything alright with your kids?” I asked. “Oh yes, Helen was just telling me about some of the rumors she had heard about us at the tanning salon.” “Rumors?” “Well you know. It’s always your classic case of people and envy. The news is that you are just letting me be your sugar daddy.” My only response to that was “if I am just letting you take care of me and you are merely my sugar daddy, what does that say about you?” But oddly this wasn’t the thing I found unsettling. It was the fact that he got out of bed with me to call Helen. I strangely forgot about him directing me to simply “smile”. My focus was now on his lack of detachment to the ex.
When boarding the plane to leave the Dominican Republic Sonia asked, “How was your weekend?” Derek responded with “You know what the one thing that I don’t like about the Dominican is?” “What’s that?” Sonia replied. “There are a lot of black people.” I am certain Sonia is under a strict confidentiality agreement, but how in God’s name could she keep this under wraps? How could I? We all kind of chimed in with a nervous laugh. I wondered if that was really how he felt or was he just trying to retell some boring board member’s version of funny to us. Of course Steve laughed but Jemma was almost convulsing. She thinks everything Derek says is the gospel and I suddenly started to feel pity for her. Is it that she just didn’t know better?
Amen for earphones. This is the time and place that these inventions are crucial. Before we even began to taxi onto the runway, I was listening to music. It didn’t matter if it was The Judd’s or The Black Crowes. Anything to drowned out Jemma. After a passionless weekend on all levels, I was just thankful to hear different anthems being sung. It was only a matter of time before Derek motioned for me to remove the earphones and join the conversation. When I pressed pause on the tunes all I could think of was “Cheese!”
I attempted to be merely an observer in this meeting of the minds. I had determined in the past 4 days that there is no point in debating with these people. So I tried to practice reverence. The conversation was a debate about whether Derek’s new hired butler should go through a back round check before cohabitating with Derek’s kids. Yes, you read it here. A butler, and I am not talking about Mr. Belvedere. Derek had come to a realization that he was in need of a butler. To, well you know, manage things. So here I was at nearly 40,000 feet above anything solid listening to a debate of the’ should I’ or “shouldn’t I’s” of moving a strange older man into the house without any history on him.
All I said was “Derek, your children are the only thing of yours that is priceless. All it takes is 1 wrong move and your child’s life could be changed forever.” I never suggested that he not hire anyone, and this wasn’t an attack on older men. It was just a suggestion that he do his due diligence with this, as well. Maybe I have seen too many Oprah’s.
You would think that I personally attacked Jemma for clubbing baby seals. She retaliated by saying “Oriana, you and Derek have only been dating for 6 weeks or so. Are you that attached to his kids to even have an opinion in this matter?” “I mean, have you ever even met them?” I was speechless. It doesn’t happen often but I had nothing for her. No reaction, no response. Maybe Jemma should spend less time watching Jerry Springer and more time on youth violence prevention.
In the awkward silence after her “statement”, Steve’s embarrassment was evident. And so was Derek’s. And as much as everyone thought that I was the one to be rescued, I was filled with an overwhelming need to protect Derek. I was going to rescue him and show he and the world that money was only money. Nothing more. It can buy you admiration but it cannot buy you love...
*Oriana
oooohhhhh...it's starting to get really good
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