Iron Princess (Iron Palace Book 2)

by Lisa Ferrari

  “Where in San Francisco?”

  “Golden Gate Park. In the Shakespeare Rose Garden, as a matter of fact.”

  “For a magazine?”

  “For a website.”

  “What kind of website? Like, a fitness thing?”

  “A gay website. It’s an article for gay married couples on how they can balance fitness and exercise in with their lives that are busy with careers and raising children.”

  “There’s going to be gay dudes jerking off to your online photos.”

  “There’s already guys doing that. Besides, who cares? Women, men, it’s all the same. As long as they buy my supplements and my tee shirts and hire me for online training and go see my movie that I want you to be in with me…. So get your sweet ass in the shower and let’s go. Otherwise I’m going to tie you to my bicycle and make you pull me to L.A. so you can burn off all those calories you consumed here tonight.”

  He picks up the empty package of Oreos. “Did you eat the whole bag?”

  I nod. “And a whole carton of milk, too.”

  “Skim milk?”

  “No, you know I hate that blue water stuff. It was chocolate soy milk.”

  “Was it good? Did you enjoy it?”

  “Yes. No.”

  “Why?”

  And once again light dawns on yonder head: mine. I realize how foolish I’ve been acting. “Because I was eating for the wrong reason. I wasn’t eating to fuel my body. I was eating to make myself feel better. To medicate.”

  “Well, at least you’ll be full by the time we get to the meeting.”

  “I’m full now. I’ve been on the verge of puking for the past four hours.”

  “No, I mean your muscles will be full. Full of glycogen. They’ll get bigger. It’ll make you look more muscular. Maybe they’ll like that. Shower.”

  Kellan waits while I take a two-minute shower, scrubbing my arm pits and butt crack and face.

  When I’m dried and standing there in my bra and panties, he asks, “Where’s your Iron Born shirt?”

  I dig it out of my gym bag and hand it to him. He smells it.

  “Nope, can’t wear that.”

  Kellan rifles through my clothes and hangers. He pulls out a black tee shirt. I see it’s the Jane’s Addiction shirt, the one with my toys inside.

  “Wait.”

  But he’s already unfolding it. The dildo and harness fall to the floor at his feet. He picks it up.

  “Is this the same one from Monterey on my birthday? Is this where you keep it?”

  I nod, feeling a bit embarrassed.

  Kellan senses this and kisses me to make me feel better. He studies the toy in his hands. “Man, maybe I should reschedule the photoshoot.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can go to San Diego like you said and spend a few days alone in the hotel room and you can show me what else you want to do with this.”

  “How much are they paying you?”

  “Eight grand.”

  “Eight grand?! That’s a lot for one photo shoot.”

  “Yeah, I gave them a discount. Anyway, try this on.”

  “The harness?”

  “As much as I wish we could right now, no, the tee shirt.”

  I put on the black Jane’s Addiction tee shirt. I can’t remember the last time I wore it. “How does it look?”

  “A little big. Can you do that thing where you tie the front in a knot?”

  I do as he suggests. “Like this?”

  “Wow, that looks really good. It really accentuates your breasts. And it shows off your midriff. Shania Twain would be proud.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Where are those low-cut hip-hugger skinny jeans you told me about?”

  I pull them off the shelf and put them on.

  “Wow. Okay, what do you have in the way of heels?”

  I pull out my only two pair of heels, black and red. I put on one of each.

  “Man, those make your feet look sexy.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Both of them.”

  “Should I wear one of each?”

  “I say go with the red. It matches the red on the album cover. Do you have some bright red lipstick?”

  I go to the bathroom and put some on, a shade I bought at the MAC counter with Denise a year ago but have never worn.

  “Nice. Now tease your hair up. Make it kind of… poofy.”

  I grab a brush and rat my hair out a bit and use my fingers to fluff it, then spray some Aquanet on it to hold it in place. “How’s that?”

  Kellan grabs the big gold hoop earrings off the counter that I haven’t worn in ages. “Put these on.”

  I hook them into my ears.

  “Sunglasses?” he asks.

  I root around in my purse for my Ray Bans and put them on.

  “Wow. Hold still.”

  Kellan pulls out his phone and snaps a pic of me and turns the phone so I can see.

  I actually look good. Really good. “Wow.”

  “Right? You look awesome. Kinda retro, sorta eighties with the big hair but sorta nineties with the Jane’s shirt but sorta seventies with the big hoop earrings. And totally hot and sexy now with the jeans and heels. You’re dressed to kill. Angie Dickinson eat your heart out.”

  “What about Shania Twain?”

  “Her too. Let’s boogie, sister.”

  Kellan gives me a big hug, kisses me on my forehead, and whispers, “We can do this.”

  My heart warms.

  I grab my purse and phone and we’re out the door.

  Chapter 17

  WE LAND AT LAX and Ray is there to pick us up again. He thanks me vociferously because he spoke with Heather and she promised him some kind of part in the movie, hopefully a speaking role. He’s super excited and his kids are stoked because daddy is finally going to be in a BIG movie.

  We get to Paramount and I’m awed once again as I see the Hollywood sign, and the big letters over the studio entrance as we drive through the gate.

  Everyone is happy to see us and they thank us repeatedly for flying down on such short notice.

  They go bonkers over my outfit.

  Kellan’s too.

  But especially mine. They can’t shut up about it. I begin to feel self-conscious. “Kellan was my stylist.”

  “Well done, Kearns,” says Sheila. “Calista Roth doesn’t stand a chance. After the meeting today, you guys go have a quick lunch somewhere and let some paparazzi see you. And Claire, no matter what happens, keep your sunglasses on.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s cool and aloof and very Hollywood. Plus flashbulbs are very bright. We don’t want you walking in front of a Hollywood sightseeing bus.” Sheila steps back and looks me up and down again. “God, you look amazing. And you’re huge. Huge muscular, not huge fat.” She hugs me. She squeezes my arm and has me flex it. “God, it’s hard as a rock. Well done, Claire. You look bigger and leaner than the last time you were here.”

  “Kicking the crap out of Navy SEALs on the beach at midnight will do that to you,” I quip. (I hope I sound more confident than I am. Fake it til you make it, right?)

  Everyone laughs.

  “Remember that line,” says Rami. “If a photographer asks about your training or anything, just say that. We need that on TMZ tonight.”

  “You guys have been training hard,” says Aaron. “I think we actually have a chance of convincing the powers that be of giving you a chance.”

  While we’re all standing around talking, Calista Roth arrives.

  CALISTA LOOKS NOTHING like I expected. She’s wearing baggy, nondescript jeans and black Converse and a pink Care Bears tee shirt featuring Cheer Bear, and big black horn-rimmed glasses that are so big and bookish they look good on her. I had no idea she wore eyeglasses. She looks like a girl who should be in her dorm studying for finals. She looks nothing like the long-legged Amazon muscle goddess who kicked ass in that sci-fi video game movie that made a bunch of money.

&n
bsp; “Hi, guys!” Calista says. She smiles at all of us standing there staring back at her. “Is this where the party is?” She has very pretty teeth.

  Calista steps right up to me and puts out her hand. “Hi. You must be Claire. I’m Calista. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  We shake hands. She’s not as tall as I expected her to be; I think I’m actually a bit taller. This is my first lesson in the magic of filmmaking.

  “So I guess you’re my competition.” She smiles and I can tell she’s simply screwing around. I think I like her.

  “On that note, why don’t we all have a seat and get something to drink,” says Sheila.

  We all move to the four big black leather sofas arranged around the big wooden coffee table. Sheila and Heather go to the kitchen and start preparing drinks.

  “So, Claire,” Sheila calls from the kitchen, “the reason we asked you and Kellan to come in on such short notice is because our timeline got moved up. Way up. Garth Stone wants to be in our movie. We all know what that means. But for anyone who doesn’t, it means more money in the budget and more money at the box office and more money in sell-throughs and everything else.”

  She and Sheila return with trays bearing glasses of iced tea. Everyone takes one. It’s the same delicious tea I drank last time, garnished with fresh raspberries and a mint leaf.

  “But,” Sheila continues as she takes a seat across from Kellan and me, “Garth has a very small window. He’s booked for the next five years if you can believe it.”

  I can. He’s one of the hottest actors alive today.

  “So,” Sheila says, “we are therefore formally offering you the part but we are also formally offering it to Calista. We want you both in the movie. The only fair thing to do is to let you two compete for it.”

  Holy shit on a Triscuit.

  I’M GOING UP against Calista?

  I remember when Calista was an overweight supporting player in that trio of indie stoner comedies. But then she got super fit and lost a hundred pounds and starred in that movie adaptation of the video game. She spent half the movie running around in a g-string hologram bikini that many said was a passing of the torch from Carrie Fisher to her. Every teenaged boy on the planet was jerking off to pictures and video of Calista now. They call her “Legs”. Calista explained that her signature legs were built up by all the years of running around being so overweight. ZZ Top even enjoyed a resurgence when they remixed and modernized their song “She’s Got Legs”. They featured a bunch of hip-hop stars on the track and even had Calista in the video, strutting her stuff.

  Many times I’ve been at home watching TV and have seen Calista in a panty hose commercial or a commercial for razors or lipstick. They always have her hold the product in her hand and sweep it slowly up her leg to her face. I’ve seen her in guest starring roles in sitcoms and she was on America’s Ninja Warriors and she spent twenty-four hours in the wilderness killing snakes and drinking her own urine with Bear Grylls. In a moment of self-indulgent spite, I wonder if she and Bear did it.

  She also had a funny appearance on Ellen. I wonder if they did it, too.

  Calista sits on the sofa to my left. She looks like a fitness model. Slender and fit and leggy with big boobs and nice lips and good hair and big beautiful eyes and perfect teeth. Everybody loves her.

  I’m starting to feel it’s hopeless to even try to compete against her.

  Sheila talks for about thirty more minutes about the production and the studios involved and our schedule, detailing all the stuff Kellan told me about this likely being the world’s first billion-dollar movie. They’re already planning on setting aside a big portion of profits for charity in anticipation of the social backlash expected at the notion of spending so much money on a movie. It’s a good idea.

  We eventually take a break. I find myself alone in the ladies room with Calista. After I tinkle and wash my hands, I re-tie the knot on my Jane’s Addiction tee shirt. It’s stretched out and has sagged a bit.

  Calista stands beside me, adjusting her hair and watching me. “I like your shirt.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I love their music.”

  “Me too.”

  “Maybe I should try that.” She wads up the front of her shirt, trying it out. “It looks better on you.” Calista lets her shirt fall. “So, um, I feel like we should talk. Um, I don’t believe in playing games so I’ll be completely honest. I sorta feel like I’m pretty much totally fucked.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve heard SO much about the chemistry between you and Kellan. I’ve been on the phone with Sheila and Aaron and Rami and they’re all like, ‘Kellan and Claire are amazing together’ and ‘Kellan and Claire are perfect together’. I heard how you guys stood on the coffee table. Sheila said Heather was moved to tears. And that’s just you guys standing on a table in an office. Wait til it’s on set with the full shebang.”

  This is news to me. I thought our reading was good, but worthy of tears?

  “But,” Calista continues, “somebody floated my name for the part. And I would love to have it. So, give it your best shot because I sure as hell am going to. I want this role. Whoever gets it is going to be the next Demi Moore, the next Julia Roberts, the next Angelina Jolie, the next fill in the blank. This little competition they’ve concocted is going to be interesting. Would you agree?”

  “Um… yeah, I guess.” I feel like an idiot, standing here in the ladies’ room with Calista, stammering.

  “It’s pretty overwhelming for me, too. Three years ago, I was the fat-girl sidekick in Bong Rip. Now I’m up for the biggest movie ever made. Whichever one of us looks the best and fits the best with Kellan is going to get it. Assuming they don’t fire both of us and give it to an Alister. But let’s not think about that. We can’t control that. All we can do is whatever we can do. Right?”

  I have no idea what she means, but the empowerment and sense of camaraderie is nice. “Right.”

  “Look, I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, so I just want to say a few things. Um, no hard feelings, okay? I don’t know what you’ve heard or seen online but I don’t hate you. I don’t hold grudges and I certainly am not holding one against you. Part of me wants you to get the part because that way you and Kellan could be in the movie together, which would be really, really cool. But the greater part of me wants the role for myself. It’s nothing personal against you. It’s just business. If you get it, I’ll be super happy for you. I’ll be the first one to hug you on the red carpet at the premiere, assuming I get invited of course. But if I get it, please don’t hate me. I’ll probably see you around if Kellan gets the part and you visit the set and stuff, and I would prefer that we be on good terms, you know? We don’t have to be best buds or anything. I mean, who knows, you seem like a nice person so maybe we could be really super good friends. But I would hate to spend the entire shoot knowing you don’t like me. That would take a lot of the fun out of the whole thing. It would affect my performance and would wind up hindering the whole movie and Rami and Aaron would probably get pissed and next thing you know they’d be asking you not to visit the set anymore and it would be really shitty.”

  “Just promise me that, whatever happens, you won’t try to get into Kellan’s pants.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, he’s with you.”

  “Being with me hasn’t stopped every other woman we see from trying to have sex with him right in front of me.”

  “Really?”

  I nod.

  “Hmm…” Calista clutches her chin like a sleuth. She looks cute, yet hot as can be, in her big black glasses. “Maybe it’s because of what you’re projecting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, like, it’s not Kellan’s energy that’s attracting them. It’s your energy that isn’t repelling them. Like, maybe in your mind and your heart and your spirit, you haven’t fully embraced the fact that you and Kellan are together. And the other
girls are sensing this. Like, you’re not alpha enough, you know? Clearly Kellan is an alpha male. You need to be an alpha female. Right now, you’re more of a beta. Does that make sense?”

  “What are you?”

  “Me? I’m alpha as fuck. I used to be all wishy-washy beta and a total loser. That’s why I was fat. But then, after Bong Rip and How High and Higher Power actually made money and I finally got some attention, I decided I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life as a Blister. So I got pissed. I got angry. And I channeled that into my career. I lost a hundred pounds, and somehow by the pure grace of Lord God Almighty I got cast in Chasing Lazer, they put that holographic bikini on me, all the teenaged boys came out in droves to see the movie, and the rest is history.”

  “What about the bacon bikini?” I saw that commercial a gazillion times. It was Calista sitting on a beach boardwalk bench, wearing a bikini made entirely from bacon, and surrounded by slobbering dogs, with a whole bunch of close-ups going back and forth between her mouth and the dogs’ mouths. Every time she took a bite or licked her lips or sucked her ketchup-stained fingers in slow-motion, they showed a close-up of a pink dog tongue licking its lips. It was so over the top that everyone talked about it. I even had people emailing it to me.

  Calista rolls her eyes and shakes her head, grinning. “Yeah, that was an interesting day.”

  “How did they make that thing, anyway? Every time I saw the commercial, I wondered that.”

  “They had a team of costume people who took strips of uncooked bacon and sewed them together with fishing line. Then they cooked them with a little torch, like you do with crème brulee, and stuck them onto a nude-colored bikini I was wearing. It was all real, too, no C-G.”

  “How many hamburgers did you eat?”

  “Like, a million. Carl’s Junior does have some really good burgers. I never eat them because of my strict meal plan and training and everything, but for that one day I totally pigged out. They gave me a bucket to spit the hamburger in after each take but it was so yummy I just kept swallowing it. I totally swallowed!”

  She pats my hand and laughs at the innuendo. I laugh too. Calista seems pretty cool.

  “They had to send some poor P.A. to Carl’s Junior to buy more hamburgers. Plus it was kind of embarrassing sitting there in a bacon bikini, surrounded by slobbering pit bulls and Rottweilers, having to bite into a hamburger and suck my fingers in front of about a hundred crew. And I’m sorry but I think ninety-eight out of a hundred of them were hot, sweaty, horny guys. To this day, my mom goes on and on about that bacon bikini. To this day, she’s still pissed at me for showing my body on camera. But she wasn’t that pissed when I used the two-hundred thousand dollars to buy her and my dad a new house in the suburbs that got them out of that mobile home park next to the interstate where traffic never stops. Ever.”