Jackie LeBouf sat on her lounge chair, cell phone in hand, and once again angrily punched her agent's number. Each of the five times she tried that week she'd reached his answering machine. Each time he had neglected to call her back. "Fucker," she screamed into the phone after the fifth ring. Only this time Ben Slaten miraculously picked up.

"Excuse me?" he said, in his nasal, New York drone.

"Oh, sorry, Ben. It's me, Jackie." There was a long pause on the other end. "Jackie LeBouf," she added defiantly before finally receiving a reply.

"Hi Jackie. Listen, sorry I haven't gotten back to you. It's been a madhouse around here. My secretary's on vacation and my wife, er ex-wife that is, has been after me to pick up the kids, and, well, you know how it is."

"No, Ben, I do not know how it is. What I do know is that I'm languishing here. Dying on the vine, so to speak. And if I don't get plucked soon, it will be on your ever-balding head," she scolded, loudly.

"Hey Jackie, you shoulda been a writer. You got a real knack for turning phrases."

"And you shoulda been an agent, but instead you're a shithead who clearly doesn't know his ass from his elbow."

Bitch , he thought to himself, but instead replied, "Now Jackie, calm down. I've been trying my hardest to land you a plumb role. But at your age."

"Forget the plumb, I'd settle for a raisin right about now." Jackie was well aware of her age and didn't need any more reminders. Her bathroom mirror was reminder enough. And it told her exactly what she had been avoiding for years: Hollywood casts its actresses aside when they reach a certain age. Jackie had reached and then traveled way beyond that age years ago. Many more years than it said on her resume. Many more than she'd admitted in well over a decade. Even her plastic surgeon was left in the dark on that one.

"It's just that it's been awhile since you've been in the public eye, and."

"What, now you're saying I'm a has-been?"

"Jackie, you had to actually have been in order to become a has-been. I'd say you're more of a wanna-be."

Jackie slammed the phone shut and crossed her skinny arms over her narrow chest. "What the fuck does he know?" she screamed out over her tiny, lap pool. "I'll show him. I'll show all of them."

With a devilish grin she reopened the cell phone and dialed 911. She then promptly placed the phone down on the cement patio and sauntered unhurriedly into the pool. She knew she had at least several minutes before someone came to answer the call that was being placed on the phone that lay ten feet away. She swam a couple of laps and bided her time.

Moments later she heard the telltale sirens and counted to ten before she dove down to the bottom. She always loved the silence down there. And the blueness. Her record for holding her breath was a good minute. She figured that was all she needed. Then she let her body float to the top, her face submerged, and her arms splayed out. Within seconds the water around her was displaced by two men who promptly dragged her seemingly lifeless body back up to the concrete patio.

Minor roles in "The Devil & Sahara Smiles" and "Once, Twice, Three Times Your Dead" had well prepared her for what was to come next. Feigning death was a snap: hold your breath and don't move until the director yells, "Cut!" Or in this case, until the policeman is finished giving you mouth to mouth resuscitation; which couldn't have come soon enough for Jackie. The man obviously hadn't shaved or brushed his teeth that morning. It was all she could do not to retch. She knew she was a much better actress than that, though, and played the part of the victim with Oscar-worthy aplomb. And after many fetid breaths and plunges on her less-than-ample bosom, she twitched, coughed, and promptly tossed the ruffian off her nearly naked body.

Her head rocked back and forth and her eyes suddenly open. She was greeted to the site of two police officers, two paramedics, three firemen and, thank the good Lord above, a team of cameramen that were rushing, at that very instant, though her fence door and into her backyard. She might have lived in a less than fashionable area of Beverly Hills , but it was still Beverly Hills , nonetheless. The local news always responded anywhere in the vicinity in case an actor or actress was either in trouble, or if the reporter was lucky enough, getting themselves into trouble.

Jackie pushed herself up and shook her hair in as a seductive a pose as was possible for a recently revived drowning victim. Granted, she wished she was better dressed for her first television spot in ages, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

The light from the camera crew bathed her in a warm glow. Jackie would take that over the sun any day. But she was quickly blocked by the paramedics who started checking her vitals almost instantly after being "revived". She tried to push them out of the way of the camera, but was rebuffed, rather rudely she thought, considering who she was and all.

"Ma'am, can you hear me? What is your name, ma'am?" one of the paramedics asked, as the mob of onlookers watched?

"My name? My name? Are you joking young man? Do you not know who I am?"

The paramedics looked at each other, then up to the cops and over to the policeman for guidance. "Um, an actress of some sort?" one of them finally answered. All things considered, it was an easy guess.

"Some actress? My dear, I am not just some actress. I am Jackie LeBouf," she responded, with a flourish.

Again, everyone looked at each other quizzically. Apparently, the name didn't ring any bells. But just as the news team was getting ready to pack up their things and head out to the next call; one of the policemen snapped his fingers and said, "Jackie LeBouf. Yeah, I remember you. Weren't you in 'The Thing That Crawled from the Deep'?"

"Yes, and the sequel to it as well, but that one is sadly often overlooked," she responded, brandishing her radiantly capped pearly whites.

"Geez," the officer added, "I thought you was dead."

"Apparently not," one of the paramedics said, causing a round of laughter from the encircling group. Jackie pushed the man out of the way of the camera and started to stand up. The officer that recognized her offered his hand in assistance.

"Thank you," she purred, and stood defiantly in front of the camera.

"Miss LeBouf," the reporter shouted, "How did you end up in the pool? Were you pushed? Was someone trying to harm you?"

Jackie's mind swirled around the possible answers to that. She hadn't actually thought that far ahead. Perhaps those endless improvisation classes would finally prove useful.

"Harm me?" she asked. "Why, yes." A look of absolute terror all of a sudden crossed her face. "It's all coming back to me now." The camera crew edged in closer. "A man. A tall, dark man in a black overcoat and black baseball cap." She breathed harder and clutched at her swimsuit. "I'd been lying here half asleep when I heard him enter through that door. I thought it was probably the pool man and didn't bother to look up. That is, until it was too late." She paused for effect and watched the crowds' eyes grow larger in anticipation. At that moment, she wished she'd been a stage actress, but, alas, she had always been destined for the big screen. Or at least that's how she pictured it. Though most of her movies had barely made it to video.

"What happened, ma'am," one of the police officers asked.

Jackie continued. "He rushed me and before I could scream or kick or punch, he had his hands wrapped around my throat." She grabbed her throat for effect and then finished her tale in that stance. "He squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed, and then everything went black. The next thing I remember is waking up with all you lovely people around me." She smiled and nodded at her admiring rescuers.

There was a momentary silence before everyone started screaming questions:

"What did he look like?" the police asked.

"Had you ever seen him before today?" the fireman asked.

"Do you need to be taken to the hospital?" the paramedics asked.

And, last but certainly not least, "Are you working on any movies right now?" That came from the reporter and that's the question Jackie chose to answer first.

"I'm currently in between projects, but my agent, Ben Slaten, is fielding offers. Now, if you all wouldn't mind, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed and need to rest for a while. I feel as fine as can be expected. I don't think I need to go to the hospital, but will consult my physician as soon as possible." Her only physician was her plastic surgeon, and if all went as planned, she'd be consulting him even sooner than possible. "As for the man in black, I've never seen him before today, and I didn't get a good look at him. He strangled me from behind. All I can remember is that he was about six feet tall, slim, and strong. Perhaps he simply wanted his fifteen minutes of fame by murdering a star." Jackie prayed that her fifteen minutes would stretch a bit farther than that.

She was grateful, at least, when they respected her wishes and quickly departed. The police were the last to leave after they wrote down as much as Jackie could remember which, naturally, wasn't much.   And then she was alone and once again resting by the pool. She fell asleep with visions of Oscars, Emmys, and Golden Globes swirling around her head, each with her name emblazoned across them.

When she awoke it was already starting to get dark outside, so she went inside, fixed herself a snack, and flicked on the television. She had only to wait a scant few minutes before she found her story sandwiched in between an arson fire and a downtown robbery. She merited a mere two minutes.

The reporter that had been in her backyard was speaking. "Jackie LeBouf, B movie actress of such films as 'The Thing That Crawled From the Deep', 'Hold the Mayo', and 'Slow Train to Nowhere', was found floating in her pool today, apparently the victim of an attempted murder, perhaps at the hands of an obsessed fan." Scenes of her pool and backyard were quickly flashed across the screen, and then there was Jackie, wet and haggard looking, recounting the scene that never happened.

If the camera truly did add ten pounds to her, it apparently plucked it from her face and chest and stuck it on her stomach and ass. Perhaps I should have checked myself in the mirror before placing that 911 call , she thought to herself. Still, at least she was in the spotlight again. "The phone is bound to start ringing any time now," she whispered to herself.

Though when the phone did start to ring later that night, it wasn't at all what Jackie was hoping for.

"Miss LeBouf, what brought you to this desperate act?"

"Miss LeBouf, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Miss LeBouf, when did you realize your career was shot to hell?"

"Jackie, it's your mother. Call me!"

That last one really worried her. The first three, she figured, where obvious cranks. Still, with a shaky hand, she flicked the TV back on. Again, they were showing her poolside interview. Again, she looked like crap. Again, she heard the familiar reporter's voice. But this time, the story had a new and unexpected twist.

"Jackie LeBouf, the B movie actress who earlier today reported a break-in and attempted murder, was caught on tape by a photographer who was filming the house next-door to Miss LeBouf's, apparently from a tip that Britney Spears was shooting a video there." The camera switched from Jackie's earlier interview to an angle from a nearby rooftop. The house next-door was in the center shot, but then the scene panned right to Jackie stepping into the pool and then, a minute later, popping up face down, followed by an edited scene of the police, etc. arriving.

"Oh shit," Jackie said out loud.

"Miss LeBouf, apparently, was only a victim of her own deceit," the reporter finished the piece with. Jackie flicked the TV back off and unplugged her phone.

A half hour later she was taken into custody and arrested for filing a false police report. The one saving grace was the throng of reporters that were at the police station to greet her. The mantra that ran through her head as she was whisked inside was, "Any publicity is good publicity. Any publicity is good publicity. Any publicity is good publicity."

She was then booked, questioned, and placed in a one-woman cell, where she spent the night before being bailed out early the next morning. She was too depressed to ask by whom, though she assumed it was her mother. "Bitch will never let me live this one down," she said, as she entered her dark, empty house. A minute later her cell phone rang and she ran to pick it up, though she was terrified at whom it could be.

"Jackie, thank goodness you're all right," came the familiar New York accent. "I've been worried sick about you."

Jackie paused before answering. She knew that Ben only worried about himself first and his wallet second. Jackie was certain that she wasn't even in the top one hundred. "Cut the bull, Ben. What's up? Calling to gloat?"

"Gloat? What kind of a way is that to thank your agent?"

"Thank you for what, Ben?" Jackie wearily sat down and closed her eyes.

"Well, for starters, for bailing you out." Jackie's eye's popped back open in disbelief.

"Bailed me out? Now you're bailing me out? Where have you been for the last ten years while I rotted in this house?" Ben ignored the question and countered with, "Well, if you don't want to discuss your upcoming interviews with Access Hollywood, Extra, and Miss Mary Hart of Entertainment Tonight, then I guess I should be going."

"Wait!" she shouted, emerging from her stupor. "They all want to interview me?"

"Them and about a dozen others, not to mention Variety, USA Today, and People Magazine." Jackie flushed with glee. She said a silent thank you to the Lord above and fell back on the couch in shock."

"Well.then.thanks, Ben. But what about this, this mess I'm in?"

"Mess? Nah, already have my lawyer's working on it. Minor fine and some community service and it'll all be water under the bridge. Besides, you start filming 'The Thing That Crawled from the Deep III' in about three months. The producers called me last night and asked if you were available. I assume you are, right?"

Jackie flashed a true, honest-to-goodness smile for the first time since she could remember. That could only mean one thing: she was in need of a Botox booster, and quick. "Yes, Ben, I'm available. But you better be working on something bigger than that as well. I'm not getting any younger, you know?"

"What, you? Jackie you're ageless." If only , Jackie thought. Still, ageless is a hell of a lot better than washed up, she figured. Ben waited for a reply from Jackie, but quickly added one more thing before she could respond. "Your back, Jackie! Your back!"

Regaining her usual composure, she replied, "Ben, my dear, I've never been away. I've been here the whole time."