How
would you like to be in the movies? Who
wouldn’t?
The
Latina Book Club welcomes author Liza Treviño, who shares with us an excerpt from
her new novel about a sassy Latina heroine off to make it big in Hollywood.
Book Summary: ALL THAT
GLITTERS is a women’s fiction Jackie Collins-type saga that introduces a
strong, driven Latina heroine at the center of a rags-to-riches story spanning
a decade of action. Along the way, Alexandria walks the fine line separating
ambition and self-destruction, and discovers that some sacrifices will cost her
everything.
All That Glitters:
A Tale of Sex, Drugs and Hollywood
Dreams
by
Liza Treviño
Koehler
books
EXCERPT
Los Angeles
Oscar Night, 1990
When did things start going wrong?
Alexandria Moreno gulped another swig of champagne from the bottle. She picked
at its broken gold foil. It was the same stuff
she used to buy back in the days when spending more than ten dollars on bubbly was an
extravagance. Now she sat in the best limo money could buy, inching along the
craggy hillside road waiting for
her turn to put in an appearance at the first of many scheduled post-Oscar parties. She
was obligated to dole out heartfelt hugs and kisses to any of the beautiful
people who might want one. Tonight, everyone was going to want a piece of her.
She was the girl of the hour.
Until recently, Moreno had been an unknown writer-producer. She rocked
Hollywood, winning Academy Awards for Best Director and Original Screenplay for
the lushly violent, low-budget
film, Win or Lose. Moreno,
widely considered a dark horse
contestant in the Oscar race, was the first Hispanic woman to be nominated, and win.
Two golden statues for writing and directing lay on the limo’s floor and the vehicle glided to the
top of Hollywood’s heights. Beyond
the winding canyon road, the Los Angeles electrified grid shimmered like Moreno’s own
personal cauldron of gold. She understood that more than just a movie had won
tonight.
She had won.
So why doesn’t it feel better?
Why don’t I feel better?
Despite everything she’d done to reach this moment of glory, Alex understood
that none of it mattered. Not one bit. No matter what happened to her, she was
still alone and drinking the same convenience-store champagne.
“Want some of this blow, babe?” Nick sniffed and dropped his head back with a slight shake,
giving the chemicals a little jumpstart
in the brain he liked to say.
“No thanks,” she said, “I don’t want to mix tonight.” Alex turned her attention
from the scrubby hillside to handsome Nick Sirianni sitting across from her,
casually relaxed in his Armani
tuxedo. Though he favored stiff Wall Street suits, Nick was always casually relaxed due to the
fact that he was worth millions
from a Hollywood Midas touch.
Alex heard Leonard Cohen’s gravel-rubbed, breathless voice floating faintly through the
air, crooning his patented melancholy
love proclamations, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander along Nick’s
impeccably tailored suit. Her hands absently grazed the familiar bluish-purple
marks on her wrists currently hidden under make-up.
Nick’s thin lips curled into a slow, understanding grin. “Fine, but I have some
X for later, and I don’t care what you’ve taken already,” he said in a tone
Alex had learned not to question. “I’ve got plans for you, babe.”
“I guess it’s gonna be a long night.”
“The longest ever.”
Alex could tell he had taken off. She absently twirled a lock of her black, shoulder-length hair.
“Hey,” Nick nudged her leg with his polished leather dress shoe, “let me see.”
“Not right now.”
“I’m not asking, Alley Cat. Let me see. And do it right.”
Alex locked eyes with him, but she relented.
She found the fold of her straight wraparound skirt of crepe and beading that draped to the floor.
She peeled it back and uncrossed
her legs beneath the gown, giving Nick a peek-a-boo of her
narrow ankle and high-heeled
foot. She loosened her knees, proving to Nick she’d followed his instructions.
Nick looked her over and loosened his collar.
“Good girl,” Nick said and shifted toward her, the leather seat creaking
beneath him. He knelt between her legs and softly traced the length of her pale
grey stocking from her shoe, along her leg, up to the matching garter, and over
her supple brown thigh exposed between the garter and its straps. Nick kissed
her just above where the stockings ended. He breathed in deeply and peered up
to her.
“I gotta have a taste, baby,” he said and dipped his handsome face between her
thighs.
Alex sighed and sank back into her seat.
How did things get so out of
control? Isn’t tonight supposed to
be everything I’ve worked for? Everything I’ve sacrificed for? Or,
what I’ve sacrificed everyone for?
Alex knew she had purposely cut off anyone who had the misfortune of ever giving a damn about
her. And there were such people.
It certainly wasn’t Nick. She’d made her deal with this particular devil nearly
a year ago. Things between them were comfortably tawdry. Nick owned her. She
knew it. He knew it. They had an understanding.
A flicker nudged her: so many things that could have been. She took another
swig of champagne, letting the alcohol’s fizz and
burn push everything back into the darkness.
Alex registered Nick’s velvet tongue expertly stroking her crevices, and she
couldn’t help but give him all the access he wanted. She felt him smile when
she dropped her head back and settled deeper into the limo’s bench. The car
halted forward and the lazy, swaying sax turned up the tension in Cohen’s sonic
plea for love.
Alex peered beyond the cracked sunroof, searching the starless LA sky for some
answers. A corner of the tinted sunroof caught
her faint reflection and she saw a vacant-eyed, thirty two-year-old wasted stranger. She’d
never known herself less than at this moment. Her passion for work was burned
out and, even tonight, she couldn’t muster excitement. Now, everything was just a game requiring too much
effort.
She shut her eyes tight and sucked in air sharply, breathing in the car’s mixture of broken-in
leather and artificial lemon scents.
She clasped at Nick’s broad shoulder, wringing the expensive jacket sleeve as
if it were nothing more than a cheap cocktail napkin. After a moment, she
relaxed.
Nick brushed a sweet kiss on her inner thigh before he returned the thin black
crepe material of her skirt to its full length. He slid back to his seat across
from her and smoothed his hair back.
“Damn, you taste good, honey.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“We’re next in line, ma’am,” the chauffeur’s voice crackled through the
intercom. The limo moved into place with a definite stop.
Nick grinned. “It’s show time, Alley Cat.”
The cool night air took Alex by surprise as she waded into the sea of people and flashing
cameras. She staggered, unsure she
could move.
“One foot in front of the other,” Nick said in his soft voice through her hair.
“I’ll get you a drink once we get inside.”
Alex smiled serenely and nodded. She focused on the live band somewhere in the
distance belting out a Sinatra standard. Her
eyes found the majestic Griffith Observatory looming in the distance, hovering above the white
party tents.
Inside, the camera flashes kept coming.
“And here we are,” Nick offered as he swiped a couple of champagne flutes from
a roving waiter’s tray. “This should get ya
right, babe.”
Alex took the glass automatically. Another bulb flashed near her and she saw blue sprinkles. She
regained focus quickly, but then
her stomach dropped. Across the room was the last person she wanted to see.
…
Jamie Douglas stood out in any crowd. Angular looks punctuated by oceanic blue
eyes, a naturally lean athleticism, and down-to-earth boyishness had made him a
reigning movie star around the world for almost twenty years. And right now, Alex saw Jamie’s eyes find hers through
the crowd. When they caught each
other, a flash sparked between them like one of those popping camera bulbs. Jamie’s
surprised look gave way to a lopsided grin; it was a look so familiar to her.
Alex registered Nick snake his arm around her thin waist and she broke her gaze
from Jamie.
“Okay, Alley Cat, time for our victory lap.”
“Perfect timing,” she said.
Timing—everything always came down to timing. It seemed to her that her timing had always been
off. Not crazy off, just that
extra millisecond that pushed everything either too early or too late. And now,
she understood that it was too late.
Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to go through with the whole charade of tonight.
Maybe, she couldn’t even bear to go through with the whole charade of her life
any longer. Just leave, a soft voice whispered inside her head. There’s nothing
written you have to stick around. It’s practically programmed into your DNA
that you’ll be checking out of this world early.
All at once, Alex understood that simple fact. She, Alex Moreno, would leave
Los Angeles tonight as anonymously as she had arrived nearly a decade earlier.
She knew that wasn’t an entirely accurate account of how she’d started.
Now I’m alone, and that’s just how I knew things would always turn out.#
About the Author: Liza Treviño hails
from Texas, spending many of her formative years on the I-35 corridor of San
Antonio, Austin and Dallas. In pursuit
of adventure and a Ph.D., Liza moved to Los Angeles where she compiled a
collection of short-term, low-level Hollywood jobs like script girl, producer
assistant and production assistant. Her
time as a Hollywood Jane-of-all-trades gave her an insider's view to a world
most only see from the outside, providing the inspiration for creating a new
breed of Latina heroine. Learn more
about Liza at www.lizatrevino.com.
READ LATINO!