Secrets of My Hollywood Life #1: Secrets of My Hollywood Life

by Jen Calonita

"I don't remember an interview with that twit being cleared with my publicist, Tom," Sky warns flippantly.

  "Sky, you did the pre-interview yesterday, remember?" he responds wearily. Sky doesn't answer. "Let's all try to get along today, okay, ladies? No talk of set discord or any of that nonsense." Tom's walkie talkie starts yelling again. "I'll see you in a few," he calls as he dashes out.

  Today's interview with Brian Bennett is an easy one. He'll come to the set and talk to us about the finale, our characters', and what we like to do when we're in-between scenes. It's basically the same interview Sky and I have had to give to about a dozen entertainment shows, morning programs, and newspapers the past few weeks to promote the season finale. There are always the same questions ( "So Kaitlin, can you give us any clue as to who the father of your Aunt Krystal's baby is?") so it's easy to memorize the answers ( "I can't tell you that," I reply cheerfully. "It's a surprise the viewers will want to see for themselves.")

  When you appear on a talk show though, the rules are different. Since the interview is longer, you usually talk about things other than the project you're promoting. That's HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER FIVE: When stars go on a talk show, they usually know the questions ahead of time. Why do you think Jay Leno and Ellen Degeneres know a star's just swum with sharks or returned from a trip to the Baltic Sea? Or how they have their baby picture ready to show the audience? It's because the star, or her publicist, will have a pre-interview with the show's producers to discuss possible show topics. I like to do my own pre-interviews, but Sky gets her publicist to do hers.

  After Sky and I finish in wardrobe, we emerge onto the set wearing our custom Violet Wade bridesmaids' dresses (Violet is a big fan of Family Affair). They're strapless tea-length dresses in a pretty shade of periwinkle with a coordinating brown sash. I'd totally wear this to my prom. Well, if I actually got to go to a prom.

  Sky and I take our marks next to Maggie, who plays Aunt Krystal, on the hot, brightly lit soundstage. We're on the portion made to resemble the lush gardens and atrium on Blake and Paige Stevens' estate. This setting is a permanent fixture on the FA soundstage (along with the family's state-of-the-art kitchen, Sam's and Sara's cluttered bedrooms, and the Stevens' tricked-out living room) since so much goes down at the atrium -- torrid love affairs, breakups, and secret rendezvous. Outside the shot's perimeter, the large camera crew is stationed at various angles to catch the action. Paul, Shelly, and Raphael, along with Maggie's makeup artist, wait patiently behind them to see if any of us need a touchup. I see Brian Bennett and his crew standing nearby too, taking "behind the scenes" footage of the shot. After a quick line run-through, Tom calls action.

  "Aunt Krystal, are you okay? You look kind of pale," I declare aloud as my too-innocent, always-sweet alter ego.

  "Sam, give her a break. She's probably just nervous about the wedding," Sky recites on cue, twirling the piece of green gum she's pulled out of her mouth. "Right, Aunt Krystal?"

  Maggie turns away from us and faces the camera behind her. She's wearing a lace-covered ivory Violet Wade wedding dress that is so tight she looks like a mummy. Maggie's bleached blond hair is swept back into a low bun, and a long cathedral-length veil covers her head. Maggie looks at Sky and me tearfully and covers her face with her white-gloved hands. She starts to sob uncontrollably. Sky and I look at each other, then walk to our marks on either side of Maggie and put our arms around her shoulders. We hold for thirty seconds, pretending to be unsure of what to do. Then I say ...

  "I saw you in the bathroom, Aunt Krystal. You were throwing up."

  "Girls, I can't lie to you," she announces after a long dramatic pause. She dabs her eyes with a pink handkerchief I've handed her. "I'm pregnant."

  Sky and I squeal with delight and hug her tightly.

  Maggie pulls away and sits down on the nearby white wicker bench with tacky turquoise cushions. She places her veiled head in her lap and whispers, "You can't tell Andrew."

  "Why not?" I ask, concerned. I join her on the bench and place my hand gingerly on my aunt's shoulder. Maggie tears up again and sobs loudly. She looks up at us with shiny wet eyes and proclaims, "Because I don't know if the baby is his."

  God, is this stuff fun to act out or what?

  "AND, CUT!" Tom calls out. He sprints onto the stage. "Okay, girls, that was very good, but I feel like you can do it with more emotion. Kaitlin, Sky, I want more concern coming from both of you. Your Aunt Krystal is getting married and she seems miserable. Why? Reflect on that." Tom pulls his glasses off his face and wipes his sweat-lined brow. "Maggie, the tears are great, but don't overdo it, okay? Use body language to convey your distress. We've got to save the hystericalness for things like Mark's funeral. Okay? Let's try this again!"

  When we finally nail the scene an hour later -- after Sky complains that the camera guy on the right isn't taping her best angle, and Maggie suggests tweaking the dialogue a bit so that she has more "emotional drama" moments, we get an hour break to chat with Brian Bennett and eat lunch. Sky and I put on our best poker faces and plop down in the director's chairs to take his questions.

  "Okay, even I know that you two are wearing bridesmaids' dresses," Brian points out in that overly friendly newscaster voice of his. "The rumors must be true, then: Krystal's getting married."

  Sky and I glance at each other, giving our best impersonation of co-conspirators. "Should we tell him, K?" Sky asks sweetly.

  "Oh alright," I giggle. "You caught us. It's actually Sam and Sara who are getting married. It's a double wedding!"

  "We can't lie, Brian," Sky explains with a smile. "It is Krystal, but if we tell you any more than that, we might not live to see next season ourselves!"

  Hmm ... how great would it be if they shipped Sara off to some exotic island for reform school?

  "You two really seem to get along," Brian's voice booms in awe. "I guess rumors of you fighting aren't true then."

  "Definitely not." Sky pretends to be shocked. "I could never believe that K was jealous of my relationship with Trevor. I mean, you're not jealous, are you, K?" she says, and flips her black hair over her tiny shoulders. "I know it's been a while since you dated anybody so it must be a little hard to see us together." Brian quickly motions to his camera guy to move in closer.

  I blink rapidly. "Definitely not, Skylar," I respond calmly. "You two make a great couple. Trev needs someone cunning who can show him how to survive the sharks in this town." I look innocently at Billy. "It's a shame the rumors have gotten so out of control, though. I just wonder who would plant such terrible lies about me and my family in the press."

  Sky pounces, cutting me off. "I hate what the press is doing to my K. I just can't believe the awful, awful things they're saying about her. They couldn't possibly be true! K and I are like sisters. It's going to be tough not seeing her every day this summer, but we'll talk on the phone all the time." Sky bats her brown saucer eyes at me lovingly.

  Brian seems moved. I think I may throw up.

  "Ladies, as always, it's been a pleasure," he wraps up, and kisses Sky's hand.

  "The pleasure is all mine, Brian," she calls out as I stride ahead of her towards my dressing room. Even that's a competition as we race each other down the hall. I reach my room first and slam the door. HA! I pull my Sidekick out of my new Gucci clutch and type a "to do" list.

  2/24

  NOTES TO SELF:

  Ask Nadine 2 pick up chai tea. Calming effect should help soothe premiere jitters.

  Book Air Brush Tanning appointment 4 premiere morning! (Make them swear not 2 turn U orange, like Sky)

  Spill school plan 2 Mom, Dad, Matt and Laney -- in that order.

  Five: Off-Key Premiere

  Off-Key is my first grown-up movie role and I'm really proud of it, especially since it's the first film I've done where I get above the title billing. (My name is above the title of the film on the poster, which is a spot reserved for the star. Totally exciting, right?) I play Mac Murdock's daughter and I get chills just think
ing about my A-list costar. Even though he's much older, slightly weather-beaten and has, like, eight kids, Liz and I find him completely sexy -- as does the rest of the world! Anyway, in the movie, my character, Katherine, is kidnapped by Russian mobsters who are after Mac's (or should I say his character, Bo's) fat inheritance. Of course, Bo gets me back. The mob guys don't know that he's more than a famed piano prodigy; he's also highly trained in the art of Jitsu.

  So with the Off-Key premiere being such a big deal, you'd think I'd have a really cute date to walk the red carpet with, right?

  Not! When would I find the time to get one? I'm taking my usual escort tonight -- Lizzie. She's always on time, makes me laugh, and isn't obsessed with being interviewed by the media. That makes her more appealing than any boy I know (as of today, of course). And besides, I need Liz's support one-hundred percent when I spill my hiatus plans to my parents and Laney at the after-party.

  Telling them is all I can think about as I sit across from Mom and Dad in the black Escalade limo that's driving us to the premiere at Grauman's Chinese Theatre in West Hollywood.

  "Let's go over tonight's itinerary," Nadine happily suggests to our group, which includes Matt, Liz, and Rodney. "Rodney and Kaitlin will step out of the limo first. Laney will be waiting at the edge of the red carpet to take Kaitlin through the press line. We've already cleared Access Hollywood and Celeb Insider for interviews."

  I nod and play with the pleats on the bottom of my '50s-style silver halter dress. The gown is beautiful, but a tad itchy. As I squirm, the sound echoes through the quiet, tinted-glass cabin.

  "Don't crease your dress, Kate-Kate!" Mom warns, sitting perfectly still in her low-cut fuchsia Monique slip dress. "Wrinkles look bad in pictures."

  "Nadine?" Matt interrupts, his long, lean body practically scraping the roof of the cabin. "What about the rest of us? Aren't we walking the line too?" Matt was really anxious about the red carpet. He went through three outfits before settling on a three-button navy blue Dolce and Gabbana suit with a silver-collared shirt he swears Orlando Bloom just wore to the Golden Globes.

  Nadine sighs. "Can I finish?" We all nod. She opens her bible and efficiently begins rattling off important details for the evening:

  1. We're seated in Row E, seats 1,3,7, 9,11,13, and 15. Laneyhas our tickets.

  2. Fellow attendees: Brad Pitt, Ali Kensington, AdamBrody (yum!), and Mac Murdock are all expected to bethere.

  3. The rockin' after-party is being held in an empty airplane hangar at Los Angeles Airport that they've deckedout to look like a scene in the movie -- the one where Mac finds me in the cargo hold of a plane ready to takeoff for the Greek Isles.

  As we pull up to Grauman's famed entrance with its Asian architecture and colorful dragon statues, the overflowing crowd lined up behind the velvet ropes starts cheering. When a limo cruises up, they know there is a 95 percent chance a celebrity is inside.

  Rodney jumps out first and comes around to my side to open the door. I grab his extended hand and teeter out on my silver three-inch spiked heels. Flashbulbs start popping immediately, practically blinding me. God, if you're listening, please don't let me trip over my big feet.

  As I strain to see in front of me, Laney approaches and grabs my free hand. She's wearing a black pinstripe pantsuit accessorized with a headset. "SHE'S HERE. Tell everyone," I hear her bark. Laney leads me onto the red carpet. The first stop is the photographer corral, lined up several feet deep with paparazzi. I take a deep breath, open my green eyes wide (they tell me they're my best feature), and then start to pose.

  "Kaitlin, look over here," one cameraman yells.

  "Give us a big smile, Kaitlin," another calls out.

  "Hey, Kaitlin, where's Trevor?" someone hollers, trying to drown out the dozen other paparazzo screaming for me to turn one way, then the other.

  HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER SIX:How to Pose for Photographers. You want a flattering pose to wind up in US Weekly, right? So you swivel your torso sideways so that you're standing at an angle. This will make you look svelte. Then, place one foot in front of the other. Tilt your head back slightly and plaster a semi-toothy grin on your face. It's hard to hold a smile for more than ten seconds, but if you practice enough, it will definitely get easier.

  "Okay, guys, thanks!" Laney waves finally, tossing her hair and pulling me away happily. Laney loves premiere nights. She gets a rush from gossip columnists and photographers begging her for a minute with her clients.

  "Kaitlin, this is Mark from Access." Laney stops at the first of several reporters waiting on the next leg of the red carpet.

  "You look beautiful tonight, Kaitlin," the guy in the tux with a graying soul patch says as he holds out his microphone. His cameraman trains a light on me. "Who are you wearing?"

  "Thanks, Mark. This is So Chic. They designed it especially for me, so I feel pretty special," I reply cheerily, turning on the 100-watt smile I've perfected over the years.

  "What was it like working with Mac?" he asks, geniunely interested.

  "Mac is amazing," I answer automatically (Laney's been going over these types of questions and answers with me all week). "I learned so much from watching him. It was a great experience."

  "Family Affair's ratings are hotter than ever, with your help, of course," Mark segues. "People can't seem to get enough of Samantha."

  "Why, thank you. It's a team effort, though. We all work really well together, but that comes from years of being a family."

  "Thirty seconds," Laney whispers gruffly to Mark's cameraman.

  "Speaking of family, how are you and Sky getting along these days?"

  Laney grimaces. She grabs my arm to lead me away, but as she does, I tilt my head and say with a toothy grin, "As fabulous as ever, Mark."

  Next stop is a short freckle-faced twenty-something girl who is sweating down the sides of her green silk slip dress. She looks pretty nervous and drops her note cards when I walk over. Laney whispers her name in my ear.

  "Hi, Frances." I extend my hand graciously. Frances is a new gossip writer at Hollywood Online.

  "You're ... you're ... um, welcome, Kaitlin," Frances stutters. She's staring at me as she fumbles for her tape recorder in her pocket. "I'm a huge fan of Family Affair."

  "That's nice to hear. Thanks for watching." Poor Frances. I want to tell her not to be nervous. I'm just a person doing a job, like she is. But I don't want to embarrass her. Besides, plenty of people react this way. It happens so often, I barely notice anymore.

  "Um, I was wondering if things on set have been as fun as last year." I see Frances awkwardly glance at Laney out of the corner of her eye. "There's been a lot of press about you and Sky feuding on set. Care to comment?"

  "Tonight is about Off-Key, remember?" Laney replies hotly. Frances looks like she might pass out. "I told you on the phone today that if you were going to ask about Sky, we weren't going to do an interview."

  Laney can be scary when she wants to, even if she does look like a teenager. (I couldn't tell you how old Laney is; she won't even tell me that.) With her girlish figure, Laney wears the same brands I do, accessorized with the hottest handbag draped on her tiny arm. ( "Kaitlin, you don't want that Birkin bag they just sent over, do you? Because the color would look unbelievably great against my Audi.")

  "I, um, told my editors I'd ask her that question," Frances stutters mechanically. The color drains from her face as Laney continues to glare menacingly.

  "Sky and I play sisters so like all sisters we disagree sometimes, but it's nothing as dramatic as you've read," I reply, hoping it doesn't sound too rehearsed. Laney starts pulling me away. "Enjoy the movie, Frances!"

  Why fight it? This is what people want to know -- not what I think of Mac Murdock. It's just a shame that Sky's and my personal relationship is so different from our onscreen one. On FA, our characters always stick up for each other. We shot an episode a few weeks ago where Sara charged a pair of $1,000 Manolo Blahnik butter-suede boots on Dad's credit card and he wigged
out. Sam claimed the boots were hers, sacrificing her weekend plans so that her sister could go out on a date with this James Dean-like hottie she was crushing.

  In real life, Sky would have charged the shoes to my account, called the tabloids, and told them I stole from her (even though I never could squeeze my hoofs into her size five boots).

  After a few more pictures, Rodney, Laney, and I head inside the theater to take our seats. Star Wars premiered here. Maybe I'll be sitting in the same seat that Harrison Ford once sat in. Just the thought gives me goose bumps.

  As Laney, Rodney, and I make our way past the Asian wall murals decorating the red- and gold-columned lobby, I spot my FA costar Trevor Wainright. He's shoveling butter popcorn in his mouth.

  "Hey, beautiful," he beckons when he sees me, then gives me a big hug.

  Right about now you're thinking the tabloids are right, I do like Trevor. Well, the answer is yes, but seriously, just as a friend. Trevor is a little too quiet for my taste. I prefer someone funnier and more dynamic, like ... um ... Han Solo.

  FA is Trevor's first role. When he arrived in Hollywood a year ago, fresh off a bus from Idaho, having left his whole family back on the potato farm, he was immediately snatched up by an agent. Trevor still needs help in the wardrobe department (tonight he's wearing a seersucker shirt and beat-up jeans), but looks-wise he's totally a California boy -- tall, blond, and blue-eyed with mega muscles. Must be all that hay he hauled.

  "I'm glad you could make it, Trev." I smile genuinely, squeezing him back.

  "Gosh, are you kidding, Kaitlin?" He takes another handful of popcorn. "Did you know they're giving away free food?"

  "You don't say." I deadpan. Laney rolls her eyes and walks away. She's not too fond of Trevor, having tried to sign him as a client once, but he told her he didn't see the point of a publicist. I don't think he knows yet what a publicist does. Seeing Trevor's popcorn prompts Rodney to head over to the snack line to grab something himself.

  "Seriously," Trevor continues his routine when Rodney walks away, "they're even giving out bonbons and gummy bears. Gummy bears are, like, four dollars a pack." I'm still laughing when I notice a blood red-manicured hand slip itself around Trevor's waist.