Kyla in Monte Carlo
It all started when…
Why don’t you know the lines, Abbi?
No you don’t. It’s not a “wind” in a small town in Andalucia, it’s a “breeze” in a small village in Andalucia. Breeze, village.
I’m just translating in my head . . .
You’re distracted. You want to be at a party instead of being here?
Fuck you, Sean.
And if you put your hands on your hair again we’ll stop shooting immediately and everyone can go down to the bar and flirt. I don’t want you caring how you look.
I don’t. But that’s what models do. They touch their bloody hair.
Well, stop it. I need you to be on top of what I am thinking and feeling, and that’s betrayal. The hatred you feel when you know you’ve been betrayed.
Yeah, well I feel some hatred right now.
If you hated me right now, Abbi, we’d be fine. The problem is you hate yourself for not knowing the freaking lines. We took the mirrors out of here so you wouldn’t see yourself and I warned you about touching your hair. We’re not shooting next to a pool on the Riviera. Get your head in the game or do me a favor and quit now.
Everyone in this room knows you’re the one who will quit first! How many more times will you change the story? Why can’t you stop shooting and take what you have and make it into what you promised you would make it?
Abbi, the story is changing itself. I can’t help it. There are pieces missing, and I don’t have all of them and probably never will.
Bullshit, man. Why don’t you admit you like going into the bathroom and writing something new to see if we can act it out so you can remember the best days of your life?
I’m happy to admit that. Cool. But as long as we’re here trying to do this scene, you might as well remember the damn lines and say them exactly the way you agreed to.
It’s not that easy for me. I’m not an actress!
Oh, not this junk again. What the hell is an actress? You’re not here to act. You’re not here to be pretty. You’re here because no woman on the planet is looked at as much as you are and yet you’re still so alone in the world! Two million lonely motherfuckers on the internet fantasize about you and your all-night raves and they haven’t figured out that you’re the loneliest person on the planet.
I know, I know. I’m the perfect person to be the object of your betrayal.
You’re the perfect person to betray me, Abbi, and if you stood up right now and walked out of here I’d spend the next three years making a movie about you and how you stabbed me in the back, and all those lonely guys following your life on their computers would think, “Serves him right!”
I’m not quitting until I see you give up on all of us first, Blue. It’s not in my nature to quit.
Yeah, sweetheart, but is it in your nature to try?
Do you know the line or not, Abbi?
A breeze in a small village in fucking Andalucia.
Yes, thank you. Perfect. Let’s go.
The lines above were from a scene from Assassin 62, expertly played by Kyla Cole in both English and Slovakian. It was in these lines that I realized she was much more than a fabulous actress: her emotions run so deeply and her experiences as a sex star have twisted her gentle nature to the breaking point, that she has been forged into a person who feels heartbreak every time she smiles.
And despite all these thoughts, spooling in my head as a small volcano of literary intentions, I still followed the mesmerizing beauty in intimate moments when she was thinking or chatting with my assistants. Here was a prize who would be fought over by tribes wanting to sculpt their genetic futures, and a result of this fight for primacy, the right to mate with a female who looks perfect but knows her own deep flaws too well, is that she is never allowed to be alone. Physically, yes, of course, she can sit in the bathroom and take an hour to shit, but mentally, no, she is always being tugged at, petted like the brightest rock in a shop of gems. How much is this? What can she do? If you love her, will she love you back? Can I get a refund if she isn't what she seems?
From Kyla Cole
in the old world
an eBook coming out as part of "Kyla Cole & Me"
by Seanie Blue