You’re right, I did get a lot of attention from well-known, powerful men. That was how I got opportunities to work, to make money and also build a career. Robin Thicke and Adam Levine hired me to be in their music videos. In the video for Maroon 5, I straddled Adam Levine in underwear as he rubbed blue paint all over my body.
The year I met you, a famous man flew me from Los Angeles to London on the promise of a job opportunity. I landed in the morning, jetlagged and sore from my narrow seat on a crowded flight. My agent had said I’d have an hour to freshen up before being taken to the man’s studio, but the hotel phone rang immediately as I walked in the room to notify me that there was a car waiting. At the studio, a team of people changed my clothes and pushed me out onto a platform a few feet above where the man was sitting. His expression was unreadable as he kept his eyes on my body before I was whisked away again. I was relieved, thinking that the casting was over. I wanted to go to my hotel room and sleep, but someone came to say that the famous man wanted me to have a drink with him.
“Okay,” I said, catching my reflection in the mirror. I looked exhausted. What time was it in Los Angeles? I wondered, afraid of the answer. “Sure.”
The conversation was awkward in the backseat of his car while his friend or his assistant （in my experience, all the friends of famous men seem to be on their payroll） sat in the passenger seat. The driver stared straight ahead robotically. The man opened his laptop and lazily pressed on the keyboard as we spoke. I watched the slow-moving traffic out the window. When I glanced back, I saw that he had turned the laptop to face me. On the screen, two men and two women were having sex. The man pointed to one of the bodies.
“That one’s me.” He grinned, his eyes on the screen.
When I’d agreed to fly to London, my agent told me to rely on him if I needed anything. “I’m happy to be the bad guy,” he’d said. As the car stopped at an upscale hotel, I shot off a quick email, without specific details, asking him to nudge his contact to release me.
We sat and ordered drinks, and just as I had with you, Steve, I did my best to present myself as more than just a body. I talked about art and music and even politics. In a way that reminded me of my meeting with you, we genuinely connected on some things.
The three of us took an elevator up to his suite. We sat in the living space for an hour or so before the assistant began to fall asleep on the couch, his eyes rolling back in his head. The famous man opened his laptop again and started to play a video I’d done for Treats!
“I mean, damn.” he said, indicating my naked body in motion. “I can’t stop watching you.” How odd, I thought. I’m right here in front of you.
I checked my email for a response from my agent. “You’re a big girl, Emily. Figure it out.”
I mustered some courage and stood up, announcing loudly enough to wake the assistant that it was time for me to leave. As we began to walk out, the famous man stood to hug me. He pressed his body against mine and then slowly kissed my neck. We were suddenly alone; the assistant had disappeared behind the shut front door. I giggled nervously, trying to bring some levity to the vibe. “I have a boyfriend,” I said, knowing that invoking another man’s ownership might deter him. He breathed in my scent.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” I promised, smiling politely as I placed my hands on his forearms to move them off my body.
The next morning, I woke to my phone’s alarm, realizing that neither my agent nor the famous man had arranged a car to take me to the airport. I found myself in the back of a cold black cab, watching the fare rise on the monitor as I silently converted pounds to dollars, hoping my credit card would clear.
The man emailed me for months. He called a few times as well, each time from a different number and always at strange times of the day and night. I stopped picking up calls from numbers I didn’t recognize. Still, I was flattered by the powerful man’s pursuit. I knew that if I played my cards right, making sure to distinguish myself from other women while maintaining clear boundaries, I might be able to benefit from whatever notoriety and jobs he could offer. But my heart wasn’t in it. My responses were flaky and inconsistent. After I made an excuse to avoid him when he was in Los Angeles, he wrote to me: “i really wanted to Muse you and I haven’t had a Muse in years smh.”
* * *
When you visit New York City, you have likely passed by her. In Central Park, on the Manhattan Bridge, in Columbus Circle, or at the Main Branch of the New York Public Library. Perhaps you’ve admired the golden figure atop the Municipal Building downtown? She is everywhere: on bridges, on buildings, in parks, and in fountains. There are thirty statues of her body inside the Met alone. All these likenesses are of the same woman.