Family Affairs

by Jen Calonita

  “You’re going to ruin the surprise,” Austin scolds. “Just relax and talk about something else. How’s work? You’ve been so busy these past few days I’ve barely spoken to you.”

  “Work is good,” I admit. “Quiet but good. We’re all a little melancholy, I guess. Every time we shot a scene this week someone would be, like, ‘This could be the last time we film at the Summerville Diner.’ But at least no one’s crying yet, or fighting over who’s going to get the brass candlesticks on the Buchanans’ dining room table.”

  “Huh?” Austin and Rodney say in unison.

  I explain HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER EIGHTEEN. When a TV show goes off the air, most objects from the set get locked in storage until they’re recycled by another show or, if the show was big (like FA), get donated to a Planet Hol-lywood or a museum. But before any of that happens, the cast and crew get to pick a few souvenirs. If the memento is more sentimental than valuable — like the portrait of my TV family that was painted in 1996 and hangs in the Buchanans’ living room — then the network will probably let you have it for free. But if it’s something expensive, like the Beamer Sara drives that Sky has been eyeing forever, then you have to cough up dough. Sky won’t mind. When you think about it, a tile from the Summerville Diner, a vase from Paige’s bed-room, or a portrait of Sara and Sam from season ten is just the TV show version of a graduating class’s high school year-book. Okay, I’m going to cry now.

  “Do you think they’ll let me take a souvenir too?” Rodney asks. He sounds choked up. I can tell with my new super-sensitive hearing ability.

  “I’m sure Tom will let you take something.” I can’t believe how many people are as sentimental about this as I am! Now I’m really going to cry.

  “Both of you stop,” Austin warns. “It’s Kaitlin’s birthday! Your only job tonight is to be happy.”

  “I know,” I reply. “But my emotions are all out of whack. I’m happy, then I start thinking about the show and I get sad.” My lip quivers and I blindly reach for Austin’s hand. Instead, I smash my wrist on the seat console. Ouch!

  Austin massages my aching fingers. “Everything’s just changing,” I say. “It’s terrifying.”

  “Change is always scary,” Austin agrees. “But exciting.”

  “Speaking of change, did you get your SAT results yet?” I ask.

  “No.” Austin sounds disappointed. He’s been racing to his mailbox all week. “I’m sure I’ll have them by next week though. Then I can really start thinking about colleges.”

  “Yeah,” I say. I can’t even begin to think about Austin leaving for college or where I’ll be when he goes. Maybe we’ll be in the same city and maybe we won’t. I can’t expect him to make his decision based on my plans, even if I secretly, selfishly wish he would. It’s too overwhelming and upsetting to even begin to guess. Austin’s right — I can’t think about the future tonight. I’ll start crying again and then my makeup will be ruined. We can do the big life changes conversation another time. Tonight is my birthday and even though I didn’t initially want to celebrate, I’m getting really excited.

  The car stops and Rodney shuts off the engine.

  “We’re here, kids,” Rodney exclaims.

  A lump forms in my throat, my palms begin to sweat, and my pulse speeds up. I wonder where Austin’s taking me. It’s like I’m stepping out at the Oscars and all eyes are on me, but I can’t see them. The feeling is a bit overwhelming even with my new superpowers.

  I feel Austin unbuckle my seat belt and I drink in the smell of his aftershave as he leans over me again. I giggle nervously, knowing he’s close by, and feel my pulse quicken as he takes my hand and begins to lead me to points unknown. I’d trust Austin to take me anywhere, but I can’t help being turned on by his take-charge approach.

  Now the question is: Where are we? Okay, the air doesn’t smell salty so we’re not in Malibu having a candlelit dinner on the beach. (That’s a fantasy date of mine.) It would have taken longer to get there too, not that I know how long we’ve been driving since I can’t see my watch. I hear traffic so we must be somewhere in central Los Angeles. Hmm . . . Austin’s house? No, there wouldn’t be so much street noise. Liz’s? I would be able to hear music pumping from the curb. Carl’s Jr.? I sniff the air. No fried meat aroma.

  “Are you ready, Burke?” Austin asks and my pulse races again. I stop short.

  “Why are you doing all this for me?” I ask.

  “When you love someone, you want to do things for them,” Austin says.

  OH. MY. GOD.

  He DID mean it! He said the L-word again and he actually said “When you love someone,” which must mean me because I’m the only one here!

  I think.

  My mouth is dry. My hands are clammy. I want to say “I love you” back.

  I think.

  But I can’t say it blindfolded, can I? That would be cheesy. Besides, I can’t see Austin’s face. Whenever anyone says “I love you” on FA, or in a Reese Witherspoon movie, they can always see each other’s faces so that they can immediately have a passionate kiss. I won’t even be able to find Austin’s lips if I’m blindfolded!

  I reach up to pull off my blindfold. “Austin, I . . .”

  “Don’t touch the blindfold, Burke,” he says. “Give me one more second.”

  “But Austin, I have something to tell you.” But Austin obviously doesn’t hear me because I feel myself pushed from behind. I hear a heavy door open and then my blindfold is pulled off my face.

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” A chorus of familiar voices shouts as confetti is thrown at me like I’m a bride. I’m still in shock from Austin’s very clear “love you” admission, but my eyes focus in time for me to see Liz throw herself at me. Squished behind her are Mom, Dad, Laney, Matty, Nadine, Rod ney, Paul, Shelly, and Josh. While Nadine hugs me, I glance over her shoulder and spot Tom, Melli, Trevor, Hallie, and some of the other FA folks. Beth and Allison are next in line along with Austin’s sister, Hayley. Everyone I care about, and just the people I care about, are here. It’s overwhelming.

  “Happy birthday, Kaitlin!” Antonio, A Slice of Heaven’s owner, muscles his way through the crowd toward me. He’s a large man with a thick Italian accent, and he smells like meatballs.

  I should have known! I did tell Austin to take me for a slice of pizza. I look around and recognize the old booths with vinyl seats and checkerboard tablecloths, smell the mozzarella cheese in the air, and see the flashing “Your Slice of Italian Heaven Is Ready!” neon sign in the window. The tables in the middle of the small restaurant have been cleared to make a dance floor. In the corner, I notice my pal Samantha Ronson has set up a DJ booth and is spinning dance tunes. She blows me a kiss.

  “You did all this?” I ask Austin.

  “You said you didn’t want a big party with tons of people you barely knew,” Austin explains. “But you didn’t say anything about celebrating with the people you love. Liz, Nadine, and I came up with this instead.”

  I don’t care who’s looking. I grab my boyfriend and kiss him firmly on the lips. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

  “It was nothing.” Austin blushes.

  “Well, it means a lot to me,” I say and then I know what I have to say next. I feel my brain willing me to say it. I feel flush with happy thoughts. I feel super emotional. This must be what it’s like when you want to say what I’m about to say. I don’t even feel nervous anymore. I take a deep breath and the three little words I’ve never said to a boy before come flying out. “I love you, Austin,” I say.

  “I . . .” Austin starts to say something back.

  “Hey, so no one else is coming?” Matty interrupts.

  NOOOOOOOOOOO!

  “I’ll let you two talk.” Austin winks at me. “I’ll be back.”

  NOOOOOOOOOOO!

  “Where’s Vanessa Hudgens, Miley Cyrus, and Ashley Tis-dale?” Matty asks. “Where’s Zac Efron? No one’s here.”

  “Sorry,�
� I say, trying not to sound irritated as Austin disappears into the crowd. “I don’t think they were invited.” I like the people Matty mentioned a ton, but I’m glad my birthday isn’t a media circus this year.

  “I was going to say, I’m glad they’re not here.” Matt takes a bite of gooey pizza and I notice he’s eating my favorite kind — Sicilian with extra cheese, peppers, and broccoli. “Tonight should be all about you. You deserve it, even if Mom is freaking out that Nadine lied to her about where she was taking us.” Matty chuckles. “We told her A Slice of Heaven was this hot new club run by Justin Timberlake.”

  We both laugh. Mom, Dad, Nadine, and Laney surround us.

  “Happy birthday, sweetie,” Mom says. I notice she’s wiping her soda glass with a napkin. “This is an interesting place Nadine, Liz, and Austin picked.”

  “It’s Kaitlin’s favorite hangout,” Nadine says with a sly smile.

  Mom looks around. “It’s so . . . so . . . what’s the word I’m looking for, Laney?” Mom asks.

  “Pedestrian?” Laney says with a frown.

  “We were just thinking, Kate-Kate,” Mom says. “Maybe next week Laney and I can throw you a party too, since you’ve had your little fun with this one. Nothing major. Just seventy-five of your closest friends.”

  “Maybe at that real club that just opened in West Hollywood,” Laney says with an annoyed glance at Matt. She pulls out her BlackBerry.

  “And no paparazzi. Just an exclusive with one or two key magazines,” Mom suggests.

  “Ladies.” Dad’s voice has a warning tone I recognize from my days of playing basketball in the living room with Matty. “This is Katie-Kate’s party and this is what she wanted. Let her be. You don’t get every sale, you know.” He winks at me. I throw my arms around him and give him a bear hug.

  Nadine moves next to me. “Austin is amazing,” Nadine whispers. “You should have seen him hold his own with your mom. He wasn’t intimidated by her or her Rolodex! He wanted to have your party here and he stuck to it. With Liz’s and my help, of course.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her as Mom and Dad start to bicker over Dad siding with me instead of her. Laney is shaking her head and Matty has already walked off. “This is the best thing you guys could have ever done for me, and wait till I tell you what just happened.”

  “I bet I know,” Nadine says with a smile. “But we won’t talk about it here. Tonight is about celebrating. There’s only one thing I would have done differently,” she says. “I don’t know why Austin insisted on inviting her.” Nadine points to the FA table where I see the gang is chomping down on Antonio’s specialty, fried capellini. He takes capel-lini and ricotta and fries it like a mozzarella stick. It’s so yummy.

  “Who?” I ask, not seeing anyone I don’t like.

  “She means me,” someone says. Nadine and I turn around and practically knock over Sky, who is standing behind us holding a beautifully wrapped small silver present.

  “I can’t stay,” she says stiffly. She looks ready for a rave in a short blue mini I recognize from J’Aime’s spring line, and black fishnet stockings. Her usually long raven hair is styled in a bob, which I assume means she’s wearing a wig. Sky would never cut her hair or shave her head like some people we know. “But I didn’t want to be rude and not at least make an appearance.”

  “I think I’ll go get a drink,” Nadine says, leaving me alone with Sky.

  “Thanks for coming.” I feel awkward.

  After a few weeks of being joined at the hip to save Family Affair from Alexis’s evil clutches, Sky and I are back to being, well, ourselves. A new and improved version of ourselves, I should say. Now instead of fighting or shooting daggers, we just quietly do our work, exchange small pleasantries on set, and when cameras aren’t rolling we basically ignore each other. I guess we’ll never have enough in common to be close friends, but now that we know so much about each other, we can’t really be enemies either. We’re frenemies, as Nadine calls it, and that’s okay.

  “This is for you,” Sky says. “You don’t have to open it. It’s just a spa certificate to Sonya Dakar. You look like you could use a facial.”

  “Thanks,” I say, ignoring the dig.

  “I have another party to get to,” Sky says, “and I have to be up early tomorrow for a meeting with Paramount.”

  “Good luck,” I tell her. “They asked me to come in next week.” I know I said I wouldn’t make any decisions about work yet, but how could I say no to Paramount?

  I see a flash of annoyance flicker on Sky’s face and I realize I just put my foot in my mouth. “I’m sure they have a project for you to consider,” Sky says, “but they’ve already chosen several for me. No one’s talked to you about that remake of Blue Lagoon, have they?” Sky asks suspiciously.

  “No, but I’ll make sure no one does,” I say with a smile.

  Sky actually smiles too and without another word, disappears into the sea of dancers squashed onto Antonio’s tiny dance floor.

  Sky’s going to be okay in Hollywood.

  And so am I.

  I’m a year older, and hopefully a year wiser, and I can’t wait to see what happens to my life next.

  “This next request goes out to our birthday girl from her number one guy,” I hear our DJ, Samantha, say. Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely” begins to play and I grin. My dad grabs my mom and spins her out onto the floor while Matty takes Laney’s arm. Even Nadine pulls Rodney out there. I laugh, watching them all.

  “Birthday girl, can I have this dance?” Austin appears at my side and holds out his hand.

  “With pleasure,” I say.

  Then I take his hand and join the party with my favorite people in the world.

  HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER NINETEEN: Never ever take anything for granted in this town. Just when you think you have your career figured out, your entourage well in place and a handle on the fame game, that’s when it all gets ripped out from under you. Guess that means my life is in for a major shake-up. Stay tuned . . .

  SECRETS OF MY HOLLYWOOD LIFE:

  PAPARAZZI PRINCESS

  coming in March 2009

  Acknowledgments:

  And the Oscars go to . . .

  Cindy Eagan and Kate Sullivan, my ubertalented editors. Thank you for loving Kaitlin’s zany world as much as I do. Laura Dail, for being the best agent a writer could have. Elizabeth Eulberg, I will miss you, but remember you promised to still hit Tortilla Flats with us! Ames O’Neil, the best travel partner there is. Tracy Shaw for her brilliant covers. Andrew Smith, Lisa Laginestra, Melanie Sanders, and the rest of the Little, Brown Books for Young Readers gang for pushing Secrets to even brighter heights.

  Mara Reinstein, you’re still my go-to girl for all matters Hollywood.

  Lisa, AnnMarie, Joanie, Christi, Elena, Joyce, Miana, Erin, and the rest of my wonderful friends — thanks for supporting me and lending a hand with Ty when I need it.

  Grandpa Nick Calonita, for giving me a strong last name.

  My parents, Nick and Lynn Calonita, my mother-in-law, Gail Smith, my sister and brothers-in-law, Nicole and John Neary, and Brian Smith — thanks for being my cheering section.

  And last, but certainly first on my acceptance speech list: my family. Tyler, for being an awesome little guy, Jack, for his continued lap warming, and my husband, Mike, for being my leading man and number-one fan.

  Want achance to getthe real Hollywoodstar treatment?

  Go to

  www.pickapoppy.com

  for details.

  Secrets of My Hollywood Life

  FAMILY AFFAIRS

  “EIGHT more lines than me! EIGHT!” My costar, Sky Mackenzie, charges into my dressing room, screaming like a banshee.

  I look down at my script for “The Truth Is Always the Hardest to Hear,” which is the fourth episode of Family Affair’s fifteenth season. Then I look over at my assistant, Nadine, who is ironing my Stitch jeans for my date with Austin. She rolls her eyes.

  “What are you tal
king about?” I ask calmly. You see, as much as I loathe my troublemaking costar, I finally found time to read Nadine’s favorite best-selling self-help book (Unlock the True You) and I now know it’s not a good idea to let Sky’s negative behavior get to me. So far the attitude change is working. We’ve been back on the set of our series Family Affair for almost a month and life has been blissfully incident and tabloid-fodder–free.

  “I don’t usually count my lines, Sky, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have eight more than you do,” I say. “I just finished reading through the script and it looks like we’re both at Paige’s bedside after Colby’s blood is used for the transfusion.”

  Sky stomps over to my well-worn Pottery Barn brown leather chair and begins flipping through the script on my lap, her long hair hitting me in the face. I’m not used to seeing Sky with black hair again. She went blond for the Hutch Adams movie, Pretty Young Assassins (PYA), which we shot together this summer, but the creators of our show made her dye it back to Sara’s black. Sky’s hair follicles must have gone into shock from all the chemicals because my FA hair stylist, Paul, told me Sky’s hair is falling out in chunks. Now she has to wear extensions to cover the damage. I think of Sky going bald and can’t help smirking.

  “What are you smiling about? This isn’t funny, K,” Sky snaps, her bony chest rising and falling rapidly. I can see her rib cage through her tight black V-neck tee and sheer cream tunic top. Sky spots Nadine bent over the iron and her eyes narrow.

  “I’m not talking about your line count,” Sky adds. “Alexis has more lines than me and she’s only been in four episodes. Colby is a throwaway character! Her story arc is only supposed to last a few months. How could she already have more airtime?” Sky pouts. “She’s trying to take over the show, K! I can feel it.”