Jason Priestley (26 page)

“He just came bounding out of that ditch. We could not avoid hitting him. I am so sorry. My husband is so upset he can't even bring himself to speak. We have dogs, we can't imagine how this happened, we're just so, so sorry. . . .”

“It's all right, it's all right. I know it was an accident,” I told her as I leaned over the body of my dog, who fortunately appeared to have died instantly. At least he hadn't suffered. After the people left, I carried him back inside and put his body in the garage. There was nothing I could do that night. But little Ava was very curious. “Daddy, Daddy, what's wrong with Deckard?” she kept asking.

I was not anxious to introduce the concept of death to our two-year-old, plus I was still in shock at how Deckard had been there with us in the kitchen one moment and dead the next. “Honey, he's just sleeping. He's very tired and needs to rest in the garage tonight.”

Naomi and I were completely freaked out, but trying to hold it together and behave normally during dinner. The whole incident was so strange. Deckard liked to stick close to home as he was very attentive and protective of the family members. He liked to stay on the lookout. After we ate, I had to go to the garage to pick something up and of course Ava followed. She leaned curiously over Deckard and looked at his body for a long time. “Deckard's dead, isn't he, Daddy?”

“Well, honey . . . yes, he is,” I said, and prepared myself for a tricky conversation. As far as I knew, we had never discussed death with her, but clearly she knew a dead dog when she saw one.

“Okay,” she said, and looked at him for a few more moments. “Okay, Deckard, come back inside now and play,” she said, and waited expectantly. Even in the midst of my sorrow, I was fascinated by how her mind worked. Her concept of death was a bit shaky; she didn't seem to realize it was a permanent condition.

“Not now, honey. Deckard needs to stay out here in the garage.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said and back we went inside the house.

I loaded Deckard into the back of the minivan the next morning on the way to work. My driver took his body to the vet and brought back his ashes. That weekend, Naomi put Dash in a baby Bjorn and we all headed out into the woods where we used to walk all the time with Deckard. We spread his ashes out there and explained the ceremony as well as we could to Ava. Our two-year-old was forcing us to deal with the big questions of life and death. It was amazing what my kids were teaching me every single day. They had become the center of my life. I could not even remember a time before them.

W
orking as a comedic actor on
Call Me Fitz
has been one of the great joys of my professional career. Fitz always seems fresh to me, because it's something different and outrageous every week. Playing the antihero—the anti-Brandon, if you will—is refreshing. There are no rules, no boundaries as to how far I can push things, which is a great exercise for me. Everything I didn't get to do as Brandon—I do it all and more this time around. Keeping the stories funny, yet still believable, is the dance we do on the show. We have to root the craziness in some kind of reality. I will keep playing Fitz until somebody forces me to quit doing it.

Not only has
Fitz
been a hit on HBO Canada, it's somewhat of a cult secret in the United States, as viewers can catch it on DirecTV or online. In another pleasant departure from
90210, Fitz
has been critically acclaimed, winning all kinds of awards in Canada and at the Monte Carlo Television Festival. The festival, where I'd gone many a time over the years to promote other shows, is always an incredible production. The awards were founded fifty-seven years ago by Prince Rainier to honor outstanding television programming from all over the world, and they've been handing out Golden Nymphs ever since to winners from every country.

I was nominated for my first Golden Nymph Award, for Outstanding Actor on a Comedy TV Series, for my work on
Fitz
in 2011. Most of the cast was there, as I was, because the show itself had also been nominated. I didn't win, though I did pick up a Canadian Comedy Award for my work that year. The next year I was nominated again . . . and I won! Of course, in classic Jason Priestley style, I wasn't there to collect my award in person. I was directing an episode of the supernatural drama
Haven
during the awards, but plenty of my
Fitz
costars were present, including my friend and costar who plays my conscience, Ernie Grunwald.

I was standing on a set in Nova Scotia at a slow time, in between setups, when I felt the phone in my pocket buzz. I looked at the text from Ernie. “And the winner is . . .” he sent.

Very funny,
I thought. A minute later the phone buzzed again and I pulled it back out of my pocket. “Jason Priestley!” said the text. He went up onstage to accept for me, which was absolutely perfect, of course.

Fitz
and
Haven
share a crew, and our script supervisor on both shows, Joanne Hagen, happened to be standing next to me. “Hey, Joanne!” I said. “I just won a Golden Nymph at the Monte Carlo Film Festival!”

“Well, Mr. Priestley, congratulations,” she said. Very dry.

L
ook, I'm not a “reunion” kind of a guy. I'm always looking ahead to the next thing. Still, Chuck Rosin, our original show runner, made note of the
90210
's class graduation date. An e-mail popped up in my in-box. “You do realize, it was twenty years ago this month that you all graduated from West Beverly High School . . .” it began.

To be perfectly honest, I hadn't remembered, but I did appreciate that he remembered and made the grand gesture of hosting a “high school reunion” of sorts. We were all invited to a Sunday barbecue at his home. In the middle of a record heat wave, a bunch of us gathered in his yard, twenty years later: me, Luke, Jennie, and Gabby. Mike Cudlitz, who acted on the show in the college years but was the full-time construction foreman the entire time, was also there—a great guy and definitely part of the family.

I caught up with Luke about a film he had recently directed. We all texted Brian nonstop in New York, where he was working. Ian was in Vegas doing a Chippendale's engagement, so we Skyped him in. Jennie was headed off to see his show with Shannen, immediately after the picnic—they had reconnected when they both appeared on the new version of the show and were friends again. I didn't see Tori. The triangle again, just like back in the day.

The reunion was casual and relaxed. As Naomi and I left, it dawned on me that I didn't need to “reunite” with anyone, because most of the cast and crew are still very much a part of my life. Luke and Ian have remained great friends throughout the years. The same goes for Brian, whose kid will be attending the same school as mine next year. We can attend PTA meetings together! I talk to Gabby frequently; Tiff and Brady are two of our closest friends; Jennie and I will always be friendly; and KC is my kids' godfather.

School's been out for a long, long time—
90210
ver—but the friendships and the memories will last my entire lifetime.

N
o sharks, tornadoes, or special effects, but our little road trip film
Cas & Dylan
was a pick at the Atlantic Film Festival in Halifax, Nova Scotia, in the fall of 2013. The screening, which was held in a theater with probably six hundred seats, played right in the middle of festival week to a packed house. I introduced the film to the audience and then took my seat. I enjoyed the reactions as they laughed at all the right places, didn't laugh at any of the wrong ones, and sniffled through the end.

When the lights came up, I got one of the biggest surprises of my career: a spontaneous standing ovation. This was an experience I had never had before—sitting in the audience while everyone stood, faced me, and clapped. It was a completely different feeling than being on stage; I was literally surrounded by people cheering my film! The clapping seemed to go on for five minutes, though it was probably barely one. I was stunned—and so surprised and moved.

Directing Tatiana and Richard in
Cas & Dylan
was definitely a highlight, but as I'm sure you've noticed if you've gotten this far, I am wired to reach the highest level I can, whether that's acting, racing cars, directing . . . you name it. So, what mountain can I climb next? I have a few ideas percolating in my mind for my next project . . . something bigger and better than I've ever tried before. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, the Priestley family is thriving in Pleasantville. Naomi has just wrapped up a cosmetics project with Brooke Burke, she has her own web show called
Shoot the Shit with Jack and Nimh
, and she recently became a certified spin instructor. Nearly fifteen years into our relationship, she is more captivating than ever before.

Dash is a happy little guy; he loves to swim, drum, and play outside, and he just started his first year of “school.” And five-year-old Ava? She's obsessed with iCarly. She came to me the other day and said, “Daddy, I want to be one of those people on the web!”

What do you think . . . should I introduce her to my agent?

G
rowing up isn't easy for anyone. And growing up in the public eye is especially difficult. We've all seen the examples. And I'm sure we'll all see many, many more. When I came to Los Angeles at seventeen, I really thought that I had it all figured out and that I was an adult. Boy, was I wrong. When I started
Sister Kate
at twenty I thought I was grown up—nope.
Beverly Hills 90210
at twenty-one, still a mere child. I didn't finally get around to growing up until I was thirty years old. But in a strange way, that's Hollywood. And Hollywood's not going to change.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have always had my work that I love—to inspire, to motivate, and to save me. This industry is difficult, and audiences can be fickle. I have been incredibly blessed with a long and vibrant career that is still going strong today. A lot of that is due to hard work, and some of it is just dumb luck. But you know what they say: I'd rather be lucky than good any day!

My sister's and my comp card from 1975. Everyone has to start somewhere.

{Courtesy of the author}

Holly Robinson getting ready to go out in 1987. Holly was beautiful, smart, and sophisticated, and I still wonder why she was with me for the short time she was.

{Courtesy of the author}

Holly and me on the inter-island flight in Tahiti. How fat is my face?

{Courtesy of the author}