Lip Gloss Jungle (Ashleys)

by Melissa de la Cruz

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  "We'd feel better if our driver dropped you off," Ashley's dad told him, and Cooper shrugged, staring down at the floor. What was going on with him tonight?

  Ashley was hurt. Her house might not compare to the Gettys' fifty-room mansion, but it was large and open and elegant. It was bigger than Lili's place, and the Li family had, like, five children! Okay, so Lauren's place might be a teensy bit larger, but it was so nouveau riche and tacky.

  She was rightfully proud of her house, plus her parents were friendly, welcoming people who loved her and were hospitable to her friends. They were even acting nice to Cooper, even though he was so cold and aloof. Her mother was beaming up at him as though he was some long-lost son, and her father clapped a hand on Cooper's shoulder as they walked back toward the front door.

  Suddenly Ashley felt a rush of nerves and self-doubt. Maybe Cooper not loving the house wasn't the problem. Maybe Cooper just didn't love Ashley. This whole "not in relationship mode" thing was getting her down. She wasn't even sure if she was his girlfriend. Could he be dating other girls? Could A.A. possibly have been right? Was Cooper scared, intimidated, or merely not that interested?

  But as they were approaching her father's tan Range Rover, parked outside the front steps, Cooper did something sweet. It had rained a lot that afternoon, and there were

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  dozens of puddles all over the gravel driveway. Ashley was just about to splash her way through a puddle when, all of a sudden, Cooper grabbed her around the waist and lifted her over it. Talk about gallant!

  He flashed her the sweetest smile. "I don't want you to get your feet all wet," he muttered, dark hair falling into his eyes.

  Ashley couldn't help herself: She fell in love with him all over again. So he wasn't tripping over himself to compliment her on her house. So what? It was just a house. Cooper's family probably had ten of them.

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  21 NOT QUITE READY FOR HER CLOSE-UP

  And ACTION!"

  A.A. walked along the sidewalk to the spot marked with an X of blue tape, trying not to (a) stare at the ground; (b) tug at the hem of her too-short skirt; (c) sweat under the glare of the bright lights angled over her; or (d) get distracted by the crowd of people watching.

  This was a busy street, especially on a Saturday morning, and loads of onlookers were standing behind the barricades, trying to see what was going on. Add to that the fifty-plus people actually working on the movie, including four producers who all sat in a row staring at monitors, and it was hard not to get a serious case of stage fright.

  She had no idea so many people or trucks or strange,

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  huge pieces of equipment were needed to make a little romantic comedy. It wasn't like this was Transformers or anything. She hadn't even heard of most of the actors--with one key exception. The leading man was the totally yummy Rake Parkins! Her crush! Even better, the main thing she had to do in this film was kiss him. Kiss Rake! Omigod! Since when did she get so lucky?

  "And CUT! Good job, A.A. One more time, okay?"

  A.A. wasn't sure what was so good about walking along the street looking like an idiot, but that was apparently another thing about making a movie--you had to do inane stuff over and over.

  Marty liked to get a lot of angles, according to his bossy, clipboard-toting ADs Chelsea and Spike, so that meant A.A. had to walk up and down the street by herself over and over again for half an hour. She kept an eye out for the other Ashleys, all of whom had promised to be there--mainly to get a good look at Rake--but the public was far away, behind crowd-control barricades.

  Meanwhile, she was getting more and more nervous. When they'd finished shooting her walk, Rake Parkins was going to emerge from his trailer all tanned, rested, and powdered, and they were going to film the next scene, where they had to stand outside a store and he was going to lean down and kiss her. Just like in Beautiful Girls where

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  thirteen-year-old Natalie Portman charmed twenty-seven-year-old Timothy Hutton.

  A.A. was playing the role of Veronica, the lead actress's little sister. In the upcoming scene, Veronica was supposed to be looking in a store window when her sister's boyfriend, Charlie--aka Rake--bumps into her.

  He kisses her hello, but all his girlfriend sees is that he's kissing another girl. She gets outraged and dumps him, and the rest of the movie is about him trying to win her back.

  Apparently they'd already filmed most of the rest of the movie, including three of the four scenes with the little sister. But the young actress playing the little sister had disappeared off to Eric Clapton's rehab facility in the Caribbean, where she and her entire family were being treated for their addiction to celebrity.

  Because the girl couldn't shoot the rest of her scenes, Marty had to do some rapid-fire recasting. Which meant A.A. got to kiss Rake Parkins. There is a God.

  One of the trailer doors swung open, and Rake emerged, a battered leather jacket slung around his broad shoulders. He looked even more gorgeous than the last time she'd seen him, during lunch in L.A. with Lauren. Except he was shorter. Much shorter than A.A. remembered. He was tiny.

  She had to wear flats for this scene, and he was wearing what her mother rudely referred to as "pimp heels." A.A.

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  couldn't help but notice that he was plastered in a ton of makeup. She knew that movie actors had to wear makeup, but she had no idea it was this much.

  Rake looked like he'd been lying in a toaster oven all day, then gotten slathered with butter, and finally dusted with cornmeal. It wasn't quite as exciting kissing someone who looked like walking breakfast cereal.

  "Rake's on the set!" shrieked Chelsea into her megaphone, and A.A. froze, letting several other people in headsets bustle her into position outside the store. She wished Marty would give her some direction, or at least some words of encouragement, but he was busy talking to the line of producers. And she really wished all the gawkers would go away. Didn't they have anything better to do?

  "Rake, we love you!" a girl's voice called from behind the crowd-control barrier.

  Hang on--didn't that sound like Lili? A.A. scanned the crowd and spotted Lili's happy face. Lili had been on cloud nine ever since she and Max had gotten back together. And there was Ashley, standing right behind her, grinning like crazy. And Lauren! Lauren was giving the thumbs-up to A.A.--they all wanted her to do well.

  A.A. waved happily, thrilled to see her friends, but Rake just gave a grimace-grin, as though he hated the fact that he was a sex symbol. When he followed the other AD onto the

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  street, he pulled off his jacket and let it fall to the ground. A girl wearing a headset scampered to snatch it up and carry it back into his trailer.

  A.A.'s mouth dropped open. Even though it was obviously that girl's job to pick up after Rake, the gesture seemed incredibly rude.

  "This city," Rake was complaining as he and the AD approached. "It's freezing out here. We may as well be in Vancouver."

  A.A. gulped. What should she say to Rake? Hi, I'm A.A.-- really pleased to meet you. I'm a big fan. Seen all your movies. Looking forward to working with you. God! How lame.

  Her stomach was churning, twisting itself into elaborate knots. At least she didn't have any lines to remember. All they had to do was mime saying hello to each other, and then Rake would bend in for a kiss. The idea was that the sister/ girlfriend was across the street, too far away to hear anything.

  "Here's your mark, Rake--whenever you're ready."

  What? A.A. was kind of flustered. He wasn't even going to talk to her before the shot? He was standing about eight feet away, eyes closed, rocking back and forth on his high heels.

  "He's getting in the zone," Chelsea whispered to her. "He's a real pro."

  A.A. sighed. She guessed she was just an amateur, wanting

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  to have a conversation with someone before she had to kiss him in front of a huge crowd of people.

  "
Remember, A.A."--that was Marty, back in his chair, picking at something in his silver beard--"all you have to do is act surprised, look up at him, and let Rake do the rest. Good girl. Let's do it!"

  A.A. stood as still as she could, willing her legs not to shake, pretending to look in the shop window, and waiting for the magic word--ACTION. And then suddenly Rake was by her side, twisting her around, flashing her a superwhite smile, and pressing his lips onto hers. Yuck! He tasted of bitter coffee and something sweet--maybe cherry lip gloss? Did guys wear that?

  "And CUT!"

  Rake pulled away, not making eye contact with A.A., clicking his fingers at one of the many crouched headset wearers. Two of the makeup artists descended on him, combing his eyebrows and powdering his chin.

  A.A. wasn't sure what to do. It was very weird kissing someone who ignored you when the camera wasn't rolling. And it was even weirder to kiss someone with hundreds of people watching you. The Ashleys would want all the details later, and A.A. wasn't sure what to tell them. He tasted sweet and yucky? He smelled of cigarette smoke and too much Calvin Klein?

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  A.A. gazed into the crowd of fans and onlookers again, trying to remember where her friends were standing. Maybe the crowd had jostled and pushed them into another spot: Everyone wanted to get a glimpse of Rake. Oh, there they were. Ashley was taking photos with her cell phone, and Lili and Lauren were chatting with some guy....A dark-haired guy in a Gregory Hall letterman's jacket...It was Tri. A.A. felt her skin get hot, and it wasn't due to the klieg lights. What was he doing here?

  "Let's do that again," Marty called.

  Suddenly A.A. felt ten times as nervous.

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  22 WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE

  Finally Lauren had found a way to spend time with Sadie that didn't involve buying Sadie clothes, listening to her brag about the S. Society's style influence at Miss Gamble's, or sitting around while she flicked through Marie Claire, whining that she should really have Nina Garcia's job as fashion director.

  Instead, in a brief moment of clarity, Lauren had remembered how just a few weeks before, Sadie had tried to get her to do something they used to do all the time on Saturday afternoons in the old days, when Lauren still had frizzy hair, Sadie still wore thick glasses, and nobody named Ashley had even noticed them.

  When Sadie had brought her doll to Lauren's house last semester, Lauren had turned up her nose at their old pastime. But perhaps she shouldn't have been so snotty. So on Saturday afternoon, after watching A.A. in action at the film

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  shoot--kissing Rake Parkins not just once but eight times, because they had to do tons of takes--Lauren dragged herself over to Sadie's house with her arsenal.

  "Look what I brought!" Lauren said as she unpacked shoeboxes of clothes and produced her dolls, Monterey Mandy and Sacramento Susie, from her duffel bag.

  "Omigod! You still have yours, too!" Sadie immediately reached under her bed and dragged out Ventura Vicki, redheaded Pasadena Polly, and a scuffed-up baby doll, Big Sur Sally.

  "You always had way more dolls clothes than I did," Lauren lamented. Her mother used to sew some of Monterey Mandy's outfits because they couldn't afford to buy them from the California Dolls catalog. Lauren always kept those at home, or hid them if Sadie came over to play.

  "And I've been to the flagship store in San Diego," boasted Sadie, brushing Big Sur Sally's tangled mop of hair. "They have a theater and everything. And you can dress up as one of the dolls and get your picture taken."

  "I would have loved that." Lauren sighed. She was telling the truth; she really would have loved to go. But back then her parents didn't have enough money to go to San Diego. Her father was a struggling grad student, and her mother took jobs here and there to help make ends meet. Neither of Lauren's dolls were new when she got them: Her mother had

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  bought them both on eBay for a bargain price. At the time, Lauren pretended not to mind.

  "You should try that poncho on Mandy." Sadie was the soul of generosity all of a sudden. "It'd look good with her dark hair."

  Even though Sadie was often hard to take these days, she was almost her old self again this afternoon. Lauren couldn't help enjoying sitting around on Sadie's bedroom floor, rifling through the boxes of clothes and shoes. It was kind of fun being a kid again, dressing up dolls rather than worrying about their own outfits.

  "Remember when you wrote the California Dolls company a letter asking them to make a doll with glasses?" Lauren reminded her.

  "I was so sure they would do it!" Sadie gave a rueful smile. "All they did was send me a form letter and a coupon for five dollars off my next catalog order."

  "And you used it to buy Ventura Vicki a boogie board!"

  "Which I lost when I tried to get her to ride it at the beach. Her hair's never been the same since that day." Sadie was right: Vicki's hair looked like it had been plunged into a toilet bowl.

  "And that one day, remember, we took one doll each to Great America, so they could ride the roller coaster?" Lauren started to laugh. It was her one and only trip to a

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  theme park, ever. Sadie's mother had offered to take them for Sadie's birthday--maybe her tenth? Lauren had been so excited she'd thrown up her entire dinner the night before.

  "Yeah! And one of Polly's shoes dropped off! That was so funny." Sadie was laughing as well. "Hey, you know--we could do that again. Take our dolls to Great America, I mean."

  "Sure." Lauren shrugged. "Or maybe Disneyland. My father could fly us down sometime, maybe over the spring break."

  "No, silly--I mean next week, for Congé. Oops!" Sadie clapped one hand over her mouth. "I wasn't supposed to tell you."

  "That's your idea for Congé?" Lauren tried to sound casual, but her heart was already on the roller coaster, soaring up and down. Sadie had finally blabbed!

  "You won't say anything to the Ashleys, right?" Sadie put down the doll hairbrush, and Lauren solemnly shook her head. "We're presenting to Miss Charm next week. So don't say a word! I mean it, Sheridan would kill me!"

  "You know you can trust me," Lauren said.

  Sadie looked around, even though they were the only two people in the room. "Okay, so here's our plan. Our dads are going to rent Great America for the whole day, so Miss Gamble's has the run of the place. How cool is that?"

  "Way cool," said Lauren, her fingers fumbling with the Velcro fastener on the back of Susie's tennis dress. Her mind

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  was whirling. "How did you know which day to book?"

  "We know Congé is the week before Spring Break, so it's one of only five days. So they've put a deposit down for each day. As soon as the plan's accepted, and we find out the exact day, they'll pay the full fee. You won't believe how much it's going to cost!"

  "Tons, I'm sure." Lauren wanted to start packing up her dolls that second, but it would have looked too suspicious. She needed to get out of here and think. A private day at Great America? Man, that was going to be hard to beat. And they only had a day left--the committee leaders had to meet with Miss Charm on Monday morning.

  But whatever the Ashleys came up with, one thing was certain. They had to give Lauren kudos for cracking the S. Society and uncovering their plans--even if she'd done it by accident!

  The main thing was, she'd been given a mission, and she'd aced it. The Ashleys were going to be thrilled and relieved and--most of all-- grateful. For once, things were finally going Lauren's way.

  Of course, telling the Ashleys meant betraying Sadie's trust. Lauren felt a stab of remorse at that. She'd totally lied to Sadie without a backward glance. But hadn't Sadie betrayed Sheridan by blabbing?

  And all was fair in war and Congé, right?

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  23 INTO THIN AIR?

  Lili was making a lot of sacrifices.

  First of all, she had cleared four hours in her usual Saturday afternoon schedule. She had begged her mother for permission to go on a short hike in the hill
s around Golden Gate Park, telling her she was going with a friend (only a small white lie, since Max was a boyfriend), and promised to register with the park ranger and text her precise coordinates (latitude and longitude) every thirty minutes.

  She had dressed in all the unflattering, nonfashionable outdoor gear she'd bought to go on the fateful camping-trip-from-hell back in December. She was pretending not to mind that the wind was blowing a gale, or that the track was still muddy from last night's rain. And she was not pointing out that her idea of a "short hike" did not involve scaling what appeared to be a Himalayan-size slope.

  But Max didn't seem to appreciate any of that.

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  After French class the other day, they had kissed and made up. Apparently the Amy Winehouse look-alike was his cousin--Lili had been jealous for no reason. Max had suggested they spend the day together hiking, and Lili had agreed in order to show him that she could have fun in the outdoors after all, if it was only the two of them and she didn't have to deal with the doomsday chorus of Cassandra and Jezebel.

  But things weren't working out that way.

  "I can tell you're not enjoying yourself," Max said as they trudged up the hill, wind gusting Lili's hair into her face. "We can just go back if you like."

  "No!" she protested. "Everything's fine."

  "Then why haven't you said anything for the last ten minutes?" He hurried on ahead.

  "Maybe because I'm out of breath climbing Mount Everest!" Lili couldn't help herself.

  "This isn't steep at all." Max spun around to face her and stopped dead. "This isn't as steep as the hill you walk up from Starbucks every day to get to school!"