Dear George Clooney

by Susin Nielsen

  Violet Gustafson = Butthead. Can you ever forgive me?

  I waited. Just when I was convinced she was going to ignore me, a response popped up on the screen.

  Violet Gustafson = Phoebe’s best friend. One fight isn’t going to change that.

  Ever since our fight, it felt like a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around my heart. Now, the pressure lifted, and it felt like I could breathe again.

  I love you.

  Please. Don’t go all mooshy on me. I can’t believe I missed you hitting Ashley. I was home with a cold. It’s all anyone’s talking about.

  I am not proud.

  Nor should you be. So I take it you apologized to your dad?

  Yes. But I had a motive.

  What?

  Dudley asked my mom to marry him.

  NO WAY!!! What did she say?

  She hasn’t answered him yet.

  Wow. But – this doesn’t explain why you apologized to your dad.

  I found out George Clooney is shooting a movie at Tantamount Studios.

  The same place your dad is shooting his pilot?

  Exactly.

  You’re going to try to meet George!!

  Smart girl. But Dad hasn’t agreed to let me visit the set yet. I’m trying to come up with a backup plan.

  There was a long pause again. I knew Phoebe was thinking. After a minute, her response popped up.

  Star maps.

  Star maps?

  Those maps they sell of stars’ homes. Maybe G.C.’s house is on one.

  You’re brilliant.

  As always. Keep me posted, okay?

  But, of course.

  Hey. Don’t you want to hear about the dance?

  I don’t know. Do I?

  Yes. You do. Ashley and Jean-Paul didn’t show.

  Really?

  Really.

  Maybe she didn’t want to go with a broken nose.

  Maybe. Gotta run, Violet. Cathy’s taking me to her chanting class. Bye!! xo

  My heart felt so much lighter as I shut down Jennica’s computer. Phoebe and I were okay. And buying a star map was a great idea. But how could I get my hands on one, and, more important, if George Clooney’s house was listed, how would I get there?

  Jennica appeared in the doorway. “Violet, Anna Maria just arrived. I should be back by lunch.”

  A lightbulb went on in my head. “Could I come with you?”

  Jennica looked at me like she didn’t understand the question.

  “To your audition. I mean, not into your audition, but … I could come, and then afterward we could spend some time together. You know. A girls’ afternoon.”

  As I spoke, Jennica’s expression moved from shock to suspicion to what I could only describe as … I don’t know … joy. “You want to spend the day … with me?” Honestly, she looked like she was about to cry.

  “Sure.”

  “I’d love that. We’ll have so much fun. We could go for sushi. And I could book us mani-pedis.”

  “Whats?”

  “A manicure and a pedicure.”

  “Actually,” I said, “I have something else in mind.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A driving tour of the stars’ homes.”

  Jennica didn’t look thrilled, but all she said was “Sure. We’ll do whatever you want. I’ll go let Anna Maria know I won’t be home till later.”

  She practically skipped out of the room. I smiled just a little bit. Honestly, it was almost too easy.

  Jennica’s audition was in Burbank. The traffic was terrible, and it took us over an hour to get there, but we’d left in plenty of time so she wouldn’t be late.

  I won’t lie, it was kind of cool driving down the traffic-congested highways of L.A. in Jennica’s VW Golf Convertible. She’d loaned me her sunglasses again, the ones that said LOUIS VUITTON in small letters on their black frames. And while we drove, I pretended I was a movie star being chauffeured to work.

  Halfway through the drive, Jennica fumbled around in her purse and handed me some sheets of paper. “Do you mind running my lines with me?” she asked. “You read the lines I haven’t highlighted.”

  It was a couple of pages from a script for a sitcom called Couch Potatoes. I’d seen it once or twice in Vancouver. I didn’t think it was very funny, but I didn’t tell Jennica that.

  I read the Joey and Ramone parts while Jennica read Ally, the part she was auditioning for.

  AUDITION SCENE: ALLY

  INT. GRIND COFFEE SHOP – DAY

  JOEY and RAMONE sit at their favorite table.

  Joey can’t stop ogling a HOT FEMALE PATRON (ALLY).

  RAMONE

  Dude, close your mouth. Your drool’s about to hit your coffee.

  JOEY

  I can’t help it. I’m besotted.

  RAMONE

  Please, she’s old. She must be pushing thirty.

  JOEY

  So? That’s twenty-five in Cougar years.

  Joey stands up.

  JOEY

  I’m gonna talk to her.

  RAMONE

  Just don’t use any of your lame pickup lines on her, Dude.

  Joey crosses the room, stands in front of Ally’s table. She glances up at him.

  ALLY

  Can I help you?

  JOEY

  Yes. I think you stole something that belongs to me.

  Ally looks confused and a little pissed off.

  ALLY

  Excuse me? What on earth do you think I stole from you?

  JOEY

  My heart.

  He smiles winningly. To his delight, Ally actually smiles back.

  ALLY

  Wow, that was lame. But sweet, too.

  JOEY

  Do you mind if I join you?

  ALLY

  I guess that would be okay.

  JOEY

  What are you drinking?

  ALLY

  A tall nonfat chai soy latte with a dash of cinnamon.

  JOEY

  (lying)

  No way, that’s my favorite too.

  (shouting)

  Waiter! Two more tall nonfat chai soy lattes with cinnamon, please.

  Joey glances across the room at Ramone. Ramone can’t believe his pickup lines actually worked this time.

  END SCENE

  “Wow,” I said, after we’d read it through. “Your character sure doesn’t have a lot of lines.”

  “It’s just the audition scene,” she replied. “It’s actually not a bad guest-star role. She winds up being a kleptomaniac who steals Joey’s wallet and his computer.”

  “Still,” I said. “It’s kind of a step down, isn’t it? I mean, you were the star of Paranormal Pam.”

  “For a nanosecond. They pulled it after three episodes, remember?”

  “It was pretty bad,” I said.

  She looked startled for a moment, then she burst out laughing. “You’re right. I wish my agent had been that honest. Anyway, Violet, this is how the business works. Hot one day, not the next. But I’m an optimist. I know the tides will turn back in my favor at some point.”

  Jennica found street parking. She spent a few minutes touching up her makeup and combing her hair, then we walked into the building.

  The lobby was cool and spacious and full of potted palms and black leather couches. Jennica spoke to the receptionist, who told us to continue on to a room at the far end of the hall.

  I admired Jennica’s walk as she headed down the hall in her strappy high-heeled sandals. She had such a confident stride. It was like Ashley’s walk, except all grown-up. And she had the expression to match. It said look out world, here I come.

  But when she entered the room, her expression changed. Crammed into the tiny space, on plastic folding chairs, were about fifteen Jennica look-alikes. They all had blonde hair. They all had fake boobs. They all had perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth. And they were all auditioning for the part of Ally.

  “I’ll wait in the lobby,�
�� I said.

  “Okay, Violet. This shouldn’t take too long.”

  I was about to pass out from boredom when Jennica finally emerged two hours later.

  “Violet, I am so sorry. They took forever with some of the girls.”

  “I’m so hungry, I’m about to gnaw off my own arm.”

  “C’mon then, screw sushi. I know a great burger joint close to here.”

  Being L.A., we got in the car to drive a few blocks. A parking ticket fluttered under Jennica’s windshield wiper. She cursed under her breath and shoved it into her purse. “Don’t tell your dad, okay?”

  I nodded. “How’d your audition go?”

  “Not great. I was in and out in no time. I think by the time I got in there, they’d already decided on someone else. One of the producers was actually talking on her cell phone during my audition.”

  “What a jerk.”

  She smiled at me. “Yes. She was. But you know what? It’s nothing some retail therapy won’t cure. Let’s go shopping after lunch.”

  “What about our tour of the stars’ homes?” I asked, a bubble of panic rising up in my stomach.

  “We’ll have time for both. Promise. C’mon, let me buy you some new clothes. Starting with a better-fitting swimsuit.”

  I thought about the fight she’d had with my dad that morning about money. Then I thought about the piles of stuff Lola and Lucy had – the clothes, the toys, the princess room, the pool.

  And I said, “Sure!”

  I cannot tell a lie. Retail therapy was fun. After we’d wolfed down bacon cheeseburgers and fries, Jennica drove us to one of L.A.’s coolest clothing stores in West Hollywood, Fred Segal. I couldn’t believe the prices in there, but Jennica didn’t bat an eye, so I let her buy me some new tops and a great pair of jeans. Then she took me to her favorite swimsuit store, and we actually found a one-piece that didn’t look half-bad on me.

  “It’s all about the cut,” she said. “It accentuates your gorgeous legs.”

  “Please. I have man-knees. My legs are hideous.”

  “Are you kidding me? Women would kill for your legs, Violet. They go on forever.”

  I had never thought of my legs that way before.

  After we left the swimsuit store, Jennica drove us to Hollywood Boulevard, where we bought a map of the stars’ homes in a souvenir shop. “Is George Clooney’s house on here?” I asked the guy at the counter.

  “Yup,” he said in a bored voice.

  “You like George Clooney?” Jennica asked as we headed back to her car.

  “He’s alright,” I lied. “My mom’s a huge fan. I promised her I’d take a photo of his house.”

  I didn’t want her to get suspicious, so I asked her to drive us past other celebrity homes, too. We drove through some incredible neighborhoods, with names I’d heard in songs and on TV: Beverly Hills, Bel Air, Laurel Canyon, Mulholland Drive, Sunset Boulevard. You could barely see a lot of the houses from the road because they had either tall shrubs or security fences to protect them from prying eyes.

  After half an hour of this, I asked if we could drive to George Clooney’s place. “I don’t want to disappoint my mom.”

  Jennica studied the map for a moment, then she put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. “I wanted to say thank you, Violet,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For suggesting we spend the day together. For making an effort. I know how you must feel about me.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “And I think that’s why you did what you did to Lola and Lucy, right? Because I don’t believe for a moment that you’d really want to hurt them.” I could hear the doubt in her voice.

  I couldn’t look at her. I just shook my head as we turned onto George’s street.

  “I never thought I’d be ‘the other woman,’ you know. That wasn’t part of my life plan, let me tell you.” Jennica was saying this as much to herself as she was to me. “I guess I’m hoping that we can turn over a new leaf here, you and me –”

  “This is it,” I said, cutting her off. “Stop the car.”

  Jennica pulled over. I opened the door and hopped out. “Back in a flash.”

  I ran across the street to George’s house. Like a lot of the others, it had high shrubs surrounding it. I slipped around the side of the house and tried to squeeze through one of the shrubs, just to see what things looked like on the other side. But beyond the shrubs was a high fence.

  I made my way back to the front of the house. A wrought-iron gate blocked the driveway. I needed to get to George’s front door, so I tried to push it open. It was locked.

  Suddenly someone spoke to me. “Can I help you?” It was a male voice.

  I glanced around, startled, but no one was there.

  “I said, can I help you?”

  That’s when I saw the intercom on the fence.

  “Um, hi,” I said, speaking into the intercom. “Is this George?”

  “George who?”

  “George Clooney.”

  “Kid, if I was George Clooney, do you think I’d be answering my own intercom?”

  “Why not? And how do you know I’m a kid?”

  “Look up. Look way, way up.”

  I did. A camera was perched on top of the wrought-iron fence. I smiled sheepishly and waved.

  “Oh. Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “So, is George home?”

  “I hate to break it to you, kid. Not only is George Clooney not home, George Clooney does not even live at this address.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  The guy laughed. “I can assure you, he doesn’t.”

  “But my star map says –”

  “Kid, those star maps are a waste of money. Most of that information is years out of date.”

  My heart sank. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  From across the street, Jennica started to beep her horn.

  “That stinks,” I said.

  “For you, maybe. For the stars, not so much. Imagine having people drive by your house all day and night, trying to catch a glimpse of you.”

  “I guess. But I’m not trying to catch a glimpse. I have something important to ask him.”

  “That’s what they all say.” He sounded tired. “Now scram, okay? You seem like an okay kid, so don’t make me have to call the police.”

  I nodded. Then I waved at the video camera and walked across the road, sliding back into the passenger seat of Jennica’s car.

  “What were you doing over there? You could have had us arrested!”

  “I told you. I was taking a picture for my mom.”

  Jennica picked up my camera from the backseat. “Some picture,” she said.

  “Can we go home?” I asked. “I’m really tired all of a sudden.”

  Jennica looked at me. I leaned my head against the window, completely discouraged.

  “Sure thing,” she said eventually. “Let’s go home.”

  When we got back, Rosie and the twins were in the family room, engaged in an elaborate game of “school.” Rosie was the teacher and therefore the boss, and she was having a great time telling Lola and Lucy what to do.

  After we’d eaten dinner (prepared by Anna Maria before she left for home), Jennica put the twins to bed, and I put Rosie to bed. Rosie insisted she didn’t need a pull-up. “I haven’t peed my pants for a week!”

  When I was done reading to her, I went to the family room and turned on their enormous flat-screen TV. I couldn’t help it – I felt depressed.

  Jennica came in a few minutes later. “Violet, your dad just called. He says you and I can visit him on set tomorrow. We’ll drive over there in the morning.”

  My mood lifted. This was it. My best and final chance to meet George Clooney.

  I couldn’t mess up.

  — 23 —

  “Jennica Valentine and Violet Popischil. We’re visiting Ian Popischil on Lot 18,” Jennica said the next morning. We were sitting in her car outs
ide the guard booth at Tantamount Studios.

  Pulling into the studio had been pretty cool. First we’d driven under a beautiful art deco archway, with the words Tantamount Studios engraved right into the stone. A big fountain, carved out of the same stone, shot up plumes of water just beyond the archway. The surrounding grounds were planted with an incredible array of multicolored tropical plants and flowers. About fifty meters past the fountain, the road was blocked by a guardrail, like the kind they have in parking lots. A security booth sat next to it, and a guard had stepped out to ask who we were visiting.

  He stepped back into the booth with Jennica’s identification and checked a list. Then he came out a minute later and handed her a security pass.

  “And here’s a map to guide you,” he said, but Jennica waved the map away.

  “It’s okay. I know my way around.”

  “I’ll take the map,” I said quickly. “For a souvenir.”

  We drove through the studio grounds for what felt like an eternity. The place was huge. We passed low-rise building after low-rise building, and I realized, with a bit of awe, that there was probably a TV show or a movie shooting in every single one of them. We passed an outdoor set that looked exactly like the main street of a small U.S. town and another outdoor set that looked a lot like the Wild West.

  And then I saw it: Lot 9. The studio where George Clooney was shooting his movie. I tried to memorize the drive from his lot to ours, but my sense of direction wasn’t the greatest. Still, I had the map in my pocket, which would help me find my way back.

  A few minutes later, Jennica pulled into a parking spot outside Lot 18. We both got out of the car. “Here we are,” she said.

  A guy in his twenties was waiting for us at the studio door. He was cute in a scruffy kind of way. “I’m Ben, Ian’s assistant. Come on through. We’re between setups right now.”

  He took us down a long corridor. We passed offices and dressing rooms and the hair-and-makeup room, then we stopped at a door that had a large red light over it. I knew from the few times I’d visited Mom and Dad on set when I was younger that when the light is on, it means they’re shooting and you aren’t supposed to enter. But now the light was off, and we stepped inside.