Ida Red is not her real name of course. Very few people’s names—or souls—are real in Hollywood. It’s all invented. Every actor was born and then named twice: once as a baby by their mama, and once again by their agent.
Ida Red grew up Emma Jean Simmons in Fort Smith, Arkansas. No one is born in LA, they are drawn to it, like gays to the desert. Emma Jean moved to Hollywood at the age of eighteenand was discovered working at the ticket counter by a famous producer who wanted to gauge the crowd reaction to his latest horror movie in a real movie theater. At the time, he was casting for his latest low-budget movie. It was a new take on the horror genre in which the producer intended to take the mechanics of a scary movie and incorporate them into a thriller where the hero and villain were equally matched. When he saw Emma Jean’s flame-red hair, emerald eyes and porcelain skin and heard an accent that needed no work, he brought her in for an audition, and the rest, as they say, is Hollywood history. She was cast as Kyle’s girlfriend, Loretta, in theBilly the Hillbillymovies, an innocent country girl whose brothers and father kill Billy’s family for simply being darn good people.
And which character took the last shot that killed her brother and uttered a line that became legend?
“You was right,” Loretta said to her brother, holding a gun over him as she watched him die, a swimming pool of red at her feet. “Weisblood relatives.”
Ida Red is wearing an emerald gown that matches her eyes and my envy. Her hair is still dyed flame-red, but now it’stoored, as if her head has burst into flame. Ida has undergone more work than a mid-century home. With makeup and extensions, she looks like a wax figure melting under the sun on the red carpet. Ida has been married more times than Elizabeth Taylor and—for the past few years—has been “working” as a Real Housewife of Hollywood, where her drunken behavior has made her a fan favorite. I’m sure that helped fuel this remake, too.
“You high, man?” the security guard asks. “I told you to move away from the carpet.”
He puffs his chest and again places his hand on his holster.
I turn and retreat on the carpet. I cut between a camera forEntertainment Tonightand a woman wearing a media badge that screamsPeople. I am about to step into the shadows and hightail it to my car when I hear, “Barry?”
I turn. Kyle is standing on the red carpet—surrounded by ateam of handlers—in a too-tight suit and a crisp white shirt that is open a dangerous number of buttons. He waves and motions for me to come closer. I near the red carpet again when the same security guard blocks my path.
“It’s okay,” Kyle says. “He’s with me.”
I shoot the security guard a look that walks the line betweenI told you soandfuck you, asshole.
For a moment, the fault line underneath my feet stabilizes again.
“Where were you going?” Kyle asks.
“Getting in line with the other guests,” I lie, gesturing toward the colonnade.
“Bullshit,” Kyle says. “Sherry, this is a dear friend of mine from long ago. Would you have someone escort him inside and put him in one of the reserved seats up front?”
She nods and speaks into a headset. Seconds later, a girl who looks like she should be home babysitting puts her arm around my back and guides me through the crowd.
“See you after the event!” Kyle yells.
When people hear his voice, they rush the red carpet.
“Billy the Hillbilly!”
I glance back.
Fans are weeping, snapping photos, trying to be a part of his aura for even a split second.
This should have been my life.
Instead, another gay Moses is parting the Red Sea.
“That was quite a spectacle,” I say.
“Just part of the game,” Kyle says as if red carpet galas are as normal a part of one’s day as pumping gas.
We are seated at the intimate curved bar in Counter Reformation.
Counter Reformation is a “secret” restaurant, hidden in the gardens behind the famed Parker Palm Springs hotel, whichwas once owned by Merv Griffin and recently redesigned by Jonathan Adler, the place where celebrities, Coachella acts and hipster wannabes can linger in mid-century luxe without being ogled. Counter Reformation serves decadent small plates paired with an eclectic selection of exclusive wines and champagne.
“I’ve never been here before,” I say.
“You haven’t?”
Again, a two-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne is as normal to Kyle as a stop at In-N-Out is for most folks. His reality is a little different.
