Open Letter From Rikki Lee Travolta

Corey and I struck up a mentor/student type of relationship. I knew it wasn’t all him just being nice. He was looking to make money and produce hit shows, and he was grooming me to be a star so he could make money. I had no problem with that. He got me on the list at fancy parties to hobnob with the right people. He always sang my praises to the big wigs at these things, told them I was going to be the next big thing. He got me into movie premiers. I was meeting all the right people.

One night he called up and said he’d pitched me to the network executives in LA for a new sitcom and they were flying out to meet me. They wanted me down at the studio the next day. He asked me to come over to his apartment so he could prepare me for the meeting. Of course I went. Remember, I was just a teenager, so I had to have my Dad drop me off. But he’d met Corey before. He just said to call when I was ready to get picked up.

Corey had the television on when I got there, and as we talked and he filled me in on what to expect the next day, he’d occasionally make reference to the people on the television. Arsenio Hall came on the screen and Corey claimed Arsenio only got his TV deal because he had a relationship with a producer with a lot of power. Sarah Jessica Parker came on and Corey told me a story about her supposedly using the casting couch to break into show business when she was my age. We talked a little more and suddenly Corey had his hand on my thigh.

At first I thought it was just one of those buddy things people do. But he didn’t take his hand away; he left it there. It felt like time was slowing down as I got more and more uncomfortable. Then his hand was running up and down my leg. Then he was leaning in towards me.

"You know what I want," he whispered. "I have power. I can make things happen for you."

I should have just left, but I wanted so bad to be a star. But I also wasn’t willing to do what he wanted. I picked up his hand and moved it away from me. He got really angry.

"Don’t be a little girl," he said.

He tried to kiss me and I moved out of the way and off of the couch.

"Don’t screw this up," he warned. "I can get you the deal, but only if you play nice. Now come sit down. You can close your eyes and think about a girl."

I didn’t want to admit this was happening. I tried to reason with him.

"Corey, I thought you were my friend," I said. I can still hear the pleading in my voice.

He was done trying to sweet talk me into what he wanted. "You come here or the deal is off. You’ll never work again," he threatened.

I was terrified. I tried to open the door to run, but my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t get the handle to turn. Then I finally did, but the security chain was still latched so I couldn’t get the door all the way open.

I felt Corey’s breath on my neck, his hand stroking my shoulder as I struggled to get the chain lock undone. I was trembling so hard I couldn’t even think, but somehow I got the door open and I ran. I tried the elevator button but it seemed like an eternity. I could see Corey coming down the hall after me. He was walking so calm and relaxed. He’d taken his time putting on his trench coat.

I bolted down the fire stairs. I ran all the flights down and out onto the street. I ran and ran, my heart racing. I could hear it beating. The feeling thundered through my whole body with every beat. Thump Thump. Thump Thump. I was hysterical. I couldn’t even breathe. My lungs hurt from running while not able to breathe. I looked behind me, and there was Corey emerging from his apartment building – walking after me as calm and cool as ever.

I saw a bus approaching the next corner. I didn’t know where the bus was going. I didn’t care. I ran and ran, scared to death that I wouldn’t make it to the bus and Corey would catch me. My legs hurt. My lungs hurt. I could hardly see because of the tears streaming down my face. But I caught it. I don’t know how, but I got on that bus.

My hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t get the change out of my pocket to pay my fare. The driver just sat there waiting for me to pay. I glanced out the door and there was Corey walking along so calm towards the bus – but his eyes fixed on me with this cold mix of amusement and hatred, taunting me, telling me he was going to get me. The driver’s voice was far away, like I was hearing him through water, as he asked if I was going to pay or get off the bus.

I turned and looked at the driver but couldn’t talk, couldn’t explain what was happening. All I could muster was a feeble "Please."

I don’t know if it was the terror in my eyes or the tears on my face or my shaking hands dropping coins on the floor of the bus or if they saw that same look in Corey’s eyes as he neared the bus, but someone behind me reached over and deposited money in the fare box. "There you go son, it’s okay" the other passenger said with a gentle hand on my shoulder. And the driver closed the doors and pulled away, leaving Corey staring at me through the door with those eyes.

Obviously I didn’t get that series. I didn’t even get the meeting. I doubt I would have been able to go had they sent the car as promised. I was a wreck. I blamed myself for being in that situation. I replayed it over and over trying to figure out some way I could have not had that happen – if I had said I couldn’t have made it to Corey's that night, then he wouldn't have been able to try to force himself on me and I would have had my series – right? He would still be my friend then, right? So it was my fault for having gone to his house, right? It's all my fault, right?

I've spent a lifetime having people view me purely as a sex object. I am so fearful that people will tell me they love me when all they want is sex. But at the same time if they don't tell me I'm sexy, then I think I'm not worthy and they're going to leave me for someone better. I think that's why my fantasy isn't about making love to a woman, but to lay naked together – to be admired so I'd feel sexy but without expectations so I'd feel loved.