All characters in this story are over the age of 18. This story is not endorsed by any celebrities mentioned therein; all celebrity depictions are completely fictional.
Special thanks to egb3rt for his diligent editing skills and to the real Brenda McGee who is very much looking forward to visiting Los Angeles in the near future. Despite the risks.
Becoming Angelyne
Brenda knew she would just regret it forever if she didn't visit Hollywood Boulevard at least once on her trip. What's the point of having a boring work conference in L.A. if you're not going to do some Hollywood stuff. Thankfully the hotel was smack in the middle of Hollywood, so she could just step out the door and be awash in Hollywood royalty..actually not...Hollywood, truth be told, was kind of a dump.
It was hardly glamourous...it was mostly just tacky. An endless parade of souvenir shops, plump out-of-towners, swarthy celebrity look-alikes, and tourists traps. Though truth be told, tourist traps are kind of fun in a slummy kind of way. There's a certain low-stakes thrill of stepping into the Hollywood Wax Museum and walking through and looking at all the stars. Or the Ripley's Believe it Or Not museum. Low brow entertainment, but entertainment none-the-less.
Earlier Brenda had taken a tour of the Paramount studios. So much great history there. If she was truthful, she did have a slight...very slight fantasy that a casting agent would spot her and declare, "That's her! That's the woman we've been we've been seeking for our next picture!" (though no one says 'picture' anymore, do they? That's very 1950s, isn't it). William R. Wilkerson certainly wasn't going to discover her while sipping on a coke at the drugstore. Brenda knew it was a silly fantasy; she was hovering around 40, and while attractive, no overwhelming beauty by any means. A rather modest figure. A slim bust but shapely legs and an ass she kept in good shape through quite a bit of hard work at the gym. She was also blessed with good cheek bones, but what man truly appreciates that?
Fantasy or not, she still dressed for it, with a rather daring (well daring for her anyway) skirt and a rather tight top. You could almost see her nipples a bit and with her calf-high boots, if there was a casting agent about this girl would be snapped up for sure. Before she left the hotel she got a good look at herself in the mirror. Yes, she'd definitely cast herself in a movie. Something romantic...and mysterious. Maybe she's a spy who's deep undercover. Maybe she has to assume a secret identity. Yes...she's disguised as a dreaded enemy agent sent in to discover her secrets and commit acts of sabotage. Maybe she's going to get found out and only Burt Lancaster can save her...
Sadly, no one discovered Brenda at Paramount. But she did enjoy the sideways glances of several middle-aged men on vacation with their families, learned a great deal about the studio and the film making process and maybe caught a glimpse of Tom Cruise working on the new Mission Impossible movie? Maybe? Well, he was kind of far away, but the tour guide did indicate they were filming there, so it was certainly possible. In Brenda's opinion, he was one of the last great movie stars, even if his personal life was little bit strange for her tastes. She wondered if Scientology had helped him stay on top of the Hollywood game. Perhaps being a cult wasn't so awful. She made a mental note to check out the Scientology Center. Her research indicated they served a legendary brunch on the weekends.
Later in the afternoon she wandered down Hollywood Boulevard reading the names on the sidewalk. She recognized many, but a lot of these people were completely unknown to her, and some didn't make sense at all. Why was Buzz Aldrin there? Or Muhammad Ali? Alvin and the Chipmunks? Really? She found Julie Andrews. Now she deserved a star. She deserved two stars!
Brenda soon found herself near Grauman's Chinese Theater. Brenda was over the moon seeing the handprints of actual stars, not the trash that populates the screens of today. In a hundred years from now, people will still be fawning over Judy Garland, while the name Kardashian will be but a forgotten footnote of when the term 'celebrity' had been drained of all value by talentless publicity whores. She wanted to spit; she detested the name so much and all the degeneration of actual worthy celebrities. She deliberately chose not to stay at the Hilton because the brand had been so tarnished by Paris.
As Brenda stood at Grauman's, she imagined the premiers of the golden age. Kleig lights lit up the sky while the stars pulled up in their limousines, waving to adoring, but respectful fans lining the red carpet. Tuxedos, ball gowns. Nothing but class. Clark Gable would never do a Tik-Tok dance. Gary Grant wouldn't be caught dead signing autographs for schulbs at comic-con. Ingrid Bergman would never send a single tweet.
The problem with Grauman's though...is that it attracts tourists. And with tourists come all the bottom feeders that want to siphon some of that loose tourist money into their coffers. So many tacky look-alikes charging for photographs and such. Beggars really. She counted three Jack Sparrows, two Batmen, a Superman who seemed slightly drunk, an Elmo who appeared even drunker, as well as other assorted riff-raff and hustlers. Some jugglers. A breakdancer. A breakdancer! In 2022! Who would have thought?
She almost didn't notice the man who was trying to get her attention.
"Miss, miss!" she heard someone call. She turned to see a young man, who must have been a magician of some sort, trying to get her attention. At least Brenda hoped he was a magician given his outlandish attire. She could not imagine any other occupation wearing such a garish outfit, save for an undertaker with no fashion sense or sense of decency. The magician himself apparently shopped at the magician supply store, as he was dressed as you would imagine a magician to dress like if you were asked to draw one from memory. A black suit over a red shirt with a black bow tie. He even had a black top hat that had a black and white spiral stuck on the front. There was a large sign on top of the large van that read: "Magnifico the Magnificent". Completing the magician stereotype was the comically large black mustache. Brenda imagined it had to be fake.
There was a small crowd gathered around him. Whatever he was doing was getting some attention. He stood in front of the van that seemed to be a sort of make-shift stage. There was a black curtain over the door and there were two chairs just outside, that were raised slightly, as if on a small stage. In one of the chairs there was a pretty young woman, who appeared to be fast asleep, as her head drooped lazily on her chest.
Brenda looked over to see what he was cawing about.
"Miss, Miss!" he said again with some urgency to her. "How would you like to make twenty dollars?"
"I beg your pardon?!" Brenda said with some indignity. "I could not possibly imagine what you would want me to do for twenty dollars, and I could not possibly imagine that I would ever agree to it." But of course Brenda was curious. Who wouldn't be.
"However," continued Brenda. "Just out of curiosity, what is it you are proposing...exactly?"
Magnifico doffed his hat and bowed deeply. "I did not mean to offend you miss! And I apologize for my miserly offer. I would like to up my offer to $100...if you will accept a wager!"
Brenda looked around suspiciously. What was going on here? Why was everyone looking at her like they were in on some grand joke that she was about to be the butt of? Still $100..." Magnifico sensed her hesitancy.
"$200!" he exclaimed. The crowd ooh-ed and ahh-ed. "If you win the wager, the money is yours! If you lose...it costs you nothing...nothing but my dignity and my humiliation of having been beaten by such a lovely and gracious young woman!"
Now Brenda was definitely interested. She could at least hear him out. She looked again at the woman, still sleeping on the chair in front of the van. Brenda broke through the crowd and approached Magnifico. He was smaller than she thought. A good 2 inches shorter than Brenda, and she wasn't even five foot eight. And the boots helped give her a little extra height.
"What is this wager then...Magnifico...if that's your real name!" she said. The crowd laughed along with her.
"It's what my parents named me!" he exclaimed theatrically. "I don't know why! Perhaps they wanted me to grow up to be a magician! With a name like that, it's hard to fit into any other profession! Would you have your teeth cleaned by Magnifico the Dentist?"
"No!" the crowd cheered at him. Clearly, he'd done this bit earlier.
"Would you trust to have your taxes done by Magnifico the Certified CPA?"
"No!"
"So what choice did I have but to become a lowly street magician?!" He said sadly. "And now...and now..." he turned to the girl asleep in the chair. "And now my lovely assistant has fallen asleep on the job! She said something about the magician assistant's union permitting scheduled nap times and just took a siesta, right in the middle of an amazing card trick! Wasn't that card trick going to be amazing folks?!"
There was applause from the onlookers.
