You'll Never Nanny in This Town Again: The True Adventures of a Hollywood Nanny (38 page)

So many life changes. It wasn’t until I started packing that it finally hit me:
I was really, really never going to work in this town again!

I was so glad to be home and thankful that Ryan drove twelve out of the fourteen hours. During my short time behind the wheel, however, I managed to receive a speeding ticket, somewhere between Weed and Yreka. It must have been California’s way of saying good-bye and please come back soon.

Little did I know how quickly I’d be back. I had barely unpacked when a distraught Rhea called.

“I need to let this girl go,” she said. “Is there any chance you could come back, just for a little while?” She said her gut told her something just wasn’t right with the new nanny. Max was crying a lot and didn’t seem nearly as happy as he had been with me.

Rhea had never sounded so sad, and I agreed immediately. I kicked myself for not finding a better replacement. She said she’d send me a plane ticket right away (thank God I didn’t have to drive!).

I called Mandie, who was back home in Montana after sticking it out at the Goldbergs’ for two whole years. Turned out that her replacement hadn’t lasted long, either, and she would also be heading back to LA to pinch-hit. Would we
ever
move on with our lives?

When I landed at LAX, I dialed the Ovitzes’ immediately. Almost
before I could speak, Delma suggested sneaking out to the park to meet.

It had been more than a year since I’d laid eyes on Brandon, and when I saw him on the playground, I couldn’t believe how much he had grown. He was almost a toddler. No longer a baby, as he had always remained in my mind. He immediately threw his arms around me, and we hugged for a long time. My throat started to form a familiar lump. I was overjoyed to see him, but I knew that this would probably be the last time. Now he could talk. Soon he’d be able to tell his parents.

The two of us plopped onto a swing, and Delma took our picture. I had no idea that someday I would blow up and frame that one snapshot, giving it a place of honor on my dresser for many years. The camera caught so much. Brandon stared ahead with wide-eyed innocence and an enormous smile, showing off those wonderful chubby cheeks. I looked a little like someone whose beloved pet had just died.

Reluctantly I let him jump down and play. Delma and I perched together on the edge of the sandbox, just two of many nannies at the park that day, clucking over the kids.

“I still miss Brandon so much,” I said, watching him toddle in the sand. “It’s like I’ve lost a part of me.”

“I know you do.” Delma patted me on the arm. “He misses you, too.”

“Does he even remember me, though?” I asked.

“Take my word for it, you’re one of the best things to ever happen to him,” she assured me kindly. “He is such a sweet little boy now. I think he’ll always remember you in some special way.” She always knew just what to say.

“Thank you for saying that.” I smiled at my friend.

I could’ve stayed at that park forever, but I did have work to do.

This time I’d be watching Max and both the girls. More work, but it seemed easier in some ways. This time I was in a different emotional space; I knew the gig was temporary, and I had applied to a nursing program that I was looking forward to starting. Max warmed up to me quickly, and this time I let myself enjoy him. Helping fly the kids to Danny’s movie set in Sante Fe sounded like a fantastic way to cap off my nanny career. Rhea was not so enthusiastic.

“With your help, we’ll make the best of it,” Rhea said. “Audrey’s ears
always bother her on planes, so it’s no fun for her to fly. I have a feeling she’ll have a hard time.”

This turned out to be an understatement. Audrey wailed for nearly the entire five-hour flight, triggering stares and huffs from the other first-class passengers. Just like on my flight to Hawaii. It was as if wealthy travelers thought screaming children only sat in coach. Max sat quietly on my lap, but he
was
a baby, and, of course, he kept trying to crawl onto the lap of the perfectly groomed—and fairly pissed-off—stranger sitting next to us.

To top it off, some passengers recognized Rhea and sent their kids to get autographs: “Daddy told me to tell you he watches your show all the time,” they’d say, napkin and pencil in hand. After a while, first class started to look like a kindergarten class.

Worn out by the time the plane landed, we stepped out into the sauna that was Sante Fe.
Hot
was simply not a strong enough word for the weather. We slogged our way to the hotel. I couldn’t figure out why on earth the producers had chosen to film Danny’s movie—
Twins
, costarring Arnold Schwarzenegger—in a boiling-hot town outside of Sante Fe, when the script didn’t even mention New Mexico.

We trekked out to the set to meet Danny for lunch. I briefly got to meet Arnold Schwarzenegger and Kelly Preston, but the actors were on a tight leash. The director’s yell carried over everything. “Let’s move it, people. We need to get this shot before the sun sets! We are behind schedule. I do not want to pay these extras for another day because we couldn’t get it done!” The cast and crew bustled around, corralling the actors and props for each scene.

I don’t think they banked on the interfering townspeople, however. The excited residents weren’t accustomed to seeing celebrities and quickly mobbed the streets, and apparently the studio hadn’t hired enough security to handle the crush of people. The local police were supposed to provide protection, but they seemed to be doing a lot of gawking themselves. On top of that, the crowd became much more unruly than expected, to the point where the director had to cut certain scenes because there wasn’t enough room to move on the streets. I’d heard that two bodyguards would safely escort us to lunch, and I was beginning to think they might be necessary.

Soon Danny made his way over and directed us to start walking briskly toward the restaurant. But suddenly I felt like I was in the mosh pit at a rock concert, surrounded by crazed lunging fans. I tried to keep going, to push Max’s little stroller forward, but I couldn’t even move it because of the swarm of people. “Is that Danny DeVito’s baby?” teenagers asked, trying to touch him.

Finally some security guys came by to help, but in all the commotion Audrey lost Rhea’s hand. The poor six-year-old started crying out, and suddenly a huge ocean of fans swept between her and the rest of us. I was closest, and Rhea took Max, yelling, “Grab her!” Heart thumping, I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the yells and stares and not making eye contact. It was a weird feeling, to be so close to all those people but so apart from them. I scooped up Audrey frantically.

The private room at the restaurant felt like an oasis. We ate our food in a secluded area, with a guard monitoring the door. I’d never been so thankful to be away from the swarming public. Who was I kidding—usually I was the public! But inside this fishbowl of fame, everything seemed skewed and a little surreal.

For the next five days, we tried to avoid the blistering heat and the hounding autograph seekers. Rhea, the kids, and I mostly stuck to the pool and anywhere with air-conditioning, but Danny had to work in the stifling heat for hours. I never realized how long it took to get the shots right. The actors and actresses had to take and retake the same scenes over and over while the people in charge buzzed over things like which of the eighteen different colors of ties an actor should wear (when the
tie would be hidden by an overcoat)
. The shooting of one particular scene lasted an entire day, and that scene was literally in the final cut for six seconds.

I guess that’s why movie stars get paid so much. Maybe sitting in the spotlight—or the sun—takes more out of a person than you’d expect.

A few days later, as I sat on the plane headed back to Oregon and to my new life in nursing school, I scribbled in my journal.

I was bone-tired and thrilled to be back in my own comfortable bed. A letter from Mandie, covered with foreign postage stamps, was waiting for me, and I curled up to get the latest.

I chuckled. Mandie always made me laugh. But I knew what she meant. Enough with timidly penciling in the future. It was time to ink in my plans.

I was beginning to think that I had a magnetic attraction to Hollywood.

In three years, I’d managed to chug forward on all fronts: I was studying at a respected nursing program at a private college in Portland, and for the last six months I had been dating a great guy named Wes, whom I’d met on a blind date set up by Mary, my nanny school mentor. Ryan had joined the Navy. His family, whom I had always adored, gave me updates every now and then. I was glad to hear that he was doing well, but my heart had definitely moved on. Like Ryan, Hollywood seemed to be a million miles away.

But somehow it always seemed to tug me back.

Out of the blue, Rhea called. I hadn’t seen or talked to the DeVitos much since my previous stint in New Mexico, and sure enough they needed another hand again. The itinerary was a working vacation followed by a jaunt to Hawaii, and I didn’t have to think twice. I had the time off from school, and I really thought Hawaii deserved another chance. I’d hardly seen any of it during my last visit.