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

by Jen Calonita

  I try to calm down by reminding myself that I don't want a movie role anyway. I want to stay at Clark Hall. Clark ... GEEZ! I just remembered that I have a math quiz tomorrow and I forgot my notebook in my locker!

  Okay, one problem at a time. First, I have to tackle this Hutch meeting. I'll just walk in there and smile and tell him that I'm flattered that he called me in to audition, but I'm busy right now. I'll thank him for his time and say that I'm sure there'll be other opportunities to work together in the future when both of our schedules are clear....

  AARGH, fine! I'm lying to myself. This is the role of a lifetime! This is my idol! My dream job!

  This is Hutch Adams we're talking about. Who am I kidding? I'm going to beg for the role if I have to.

  Ten: Lori's Turf

  "... So then he says that he's a fan of Family Affair! His nieces make him watch it all the time!" I recount to Nadine and Liz for the hundredth time. They're both camped out in my room, going through my closet to find something for Rachel to wear to Lori's party tonight.

  I twirl around the room and then land with a thud on my bed. "Can you believe Hutch Adams is considering me for a role in his next project? ME! He doesn't even need to see me audition. He just watches tapes of your other performances and then if he likes what he sees, he calls you in for a meeting to study your aura," I explain breathlessly. "He wants to make sure our auras match up."

  "How many other girls' auras is he studying?" Nadine asks wryly.

  "Several," I admit. "But I'm not going to worry yet. That bonsai tree I sent as a thank-you should remind him of my aura whenever he passes his desk."

  HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER ELEVEN: Actors don't always have to audition for a part. When you're a big, bankable movie star (like the Toms -- Cruise and Hanks), you can pretty much have your pick of projects without ever memorizing an audition scene. Casting agents, directors, and producers come to you with promises of lucrative paychecks, royalties, and chances at Oscar gold. But when you're like me, a young star trying to prove you've got the chops to handle something other than teen comedies and soapy melodrama, you have to work at it.

  "For someone not interested in working this hiatus, you're pretty jazzed up about this meeting." Nadine pushes her glasses up her nose and looks at me thoughtfully.

  I sit up and smooth my wrinkled comforter. "Yeah, well, it is Hutch Adams. I couldn't turn down the meeting." Nadine and Liz exchange glances. "Okay, I want this," I admit, bouncing on my mattress. "Satisfied?"

  "Yes," says Nadine smugly. "I just wanted you to admit it."

  "I just feel torn," I add. "I like going to school and having friends my own age and teachers who ask me questions that have nothing to do with lighting and makeup. It makes me feel real." I frown. "But I want this Hutch movie too. The character I'd be playing is running for her life for half the movie so I'd get to hang glide, do karate, and have a big fight scene." I bite my lip. "What's wrong with me?"

  "Nothing," Liz yells from my walk-in closet, where she's searching for a skirt for me to wear. "You just want it all. Doesn't everybody?" I shrug. "So what's the movie called?" she asks.

  "The Untitled Hutch Adams Project," Nadine pronounces. "Quintessential Hollywood. Greenlight a movie with no title."

  "The Untitled Hutch Adams Project sounds great," Liz cheers. "So when will you know if you have the part?"

  "A few weeks." I pull a strand of my hair out. "Hutch told me he has to wait for the decision to come to him."

  "Well, until then, let's concentrate on the now," Liz orders. "First things first -- what are you wearing tonight? We have to pick up Beth and Allison in a half hour."

  Nadine holds up an army green polyester sequin sweater with Discount World tags on it and a denim mini-skirt with a frayed hem. "What about this?" she asks.

  I groan and keep sorting through Rachel's clothes. Something here's got to be party-worthy. Maybe I could just borrow one piece from my own closet... . "No more polyester! Can't I wear my Blue Cults?" I beg. "Maybe Rachel babysat a lot and bought a pair."

  "Out of character." Liz shakes her head.

  "But they look good on me!" I protest. "I can't look my best without my own stuff!" I don't want to admit it, but I'm imagining how "Rachel" will look to Austin.

  "Save the Blue Cults for Sky's," Nadine instructs. "You can change in the car on the way over there."

  "Fine," I agree grudgingly.

  "And don't forget, Cinderella," Nadine teases. "You turn back into a pumpkin at ten when Rodney picks you up to go to the FA party."

  I tap the cheap black plastic Timex Nadine got me. "Got it," I say.

  An hour and a half later, with Beth and Allison in tow, Liz's dad pulls up in front of Lori's house. I have to admit, the place is pretty nice, even from the outside. The turn-of-the-century mock Tudor sits on an acre of perfectly green lawn. Behind the house, I can vaguely make out a maid's cottage and a pool.

  "Blimey, what do Lori's parents do for a living?" I pretend to be as impressed as I imagine Rachel would be, even though just about everyone I know lives in mansions at least this big.

  "They're both doctors," Beth explains as we walk up the limestone path. Beth pulls her curly black hair back into a low ponytail and smoothes the front of her pink V-neck sweater, which she's paired with jeans that were ruined by her marker-wielding babysitting charges earlier in the day. The red and green splotches across the knees actually give the denim a cool look. "Lori's dad is a plastic surgeon and her mom is a dermatologist," Beth adds. "They have these big Hollywood clients. Lori's mom is the one who removed Sly Stevens's mole."

  We make our way to the front door, Liz leading the charge. I'm glad I wore my black sequined Dr. Scholl's sandals. They make my feet look smaller, and look almost cute with the straight knee-length Levi's denim skirt and army green sequined top I settled on.

  The door to the house is unlocked and Liz pushes it open. The four of us walk inside as Maroon 5 blasts from the stereo. To my right, people in the den are dancing. Straight ahead I can see Lori holding court with a group of male and female admirers in the kitchen.

  "I told my mom that Easter break wouldn't be Easter break if we weren't spending it in Tahiti," I hear Lori tell the crowd as we walk by unnoticed. I see she's wearing a turquoise beaded sundress by Velma that is so last season. "She wanted to have this family dinner thing here at home, but who does that?"

  Liz pushes through the sea of people in the crowded main hallway, looking for a spot for us to stand. We lose Beth somewhere near the bathroom when Rob Murray steals her away to show her how he can balance sterling silver spoons on his nose.

  "She so has a thing for him," Allison declares when we finally find a space to squeeze in on the back veranda. She's wearing a khaki mini-skirt that shows off her long lean dancer legs. "I think he's just a bonehead. Rachel, stay away from American guys. They're such losers."

  "England has some fit blokes," I comment, but I'm not really paying attention. Secretly, I'm scanning the crowd for Austin.

  "You guys have such cuties over there," Allison is saying. "Orlando Bloom is gorgeous. Then there's Prince William, Jonathan Rhys Meyers ..."

  "Hot," Liz seconds. "So cute in Bend It Like Beckham."

  "Exactly," Allison says. "And Hugh Grant."

  "Old but cute," Liz affirms. "I love when he dances down the stairs in Love, Actually."

  "Don't forget Ewan McGregor," I add. "He's an awesome Obi-Wan Kenobi."

  "O-bee what?" Allison asks.

  "You're joking me, right?" I exclaim. "Haven't you seen the new Star Wars movies?"

  "I don't like sci-fi," Allison sniffs. Liz laughs. She knows I'm going to lose it.

  "But they're not just sci-fi!" I protest. "They're romance and drama and all about good versus evil...."

  "And they've got stormtroopers and Darth Maul," I hear someone say. I turn around. It's Austin. He's wearing a white polo shirt with his lacrosse number stitched on the pocket. He looks cute. I bite hard on my lip. I feel so st
upid after freaking out on him the two times we've spoken.

  "You seriously like Star Wars?" he asks me as Allison and Liz stare in silence.

  "Live for them. I have good taste," I say coolly. "Not all girls just like romantic comedies." I decide to leave out that I sometimes watch those too.

  "I'm going to get a drink," Liz says with a sly grin. "Ali, want to come?"

  "Yeah, sure," she agrees. "Let's leave these geeks alone."

  "Why do sci-fi fans always get called geeks?" Austin asks once they walk away.

  I laugh. "Why aren't we just called forward-thinking?"

  Austin and I talk about Star Wars for the length of the Maroon 5 album. He's brave enough to tell me he bawled the first time he watched Darth Vader die at age seven. And it's sweet that he takes the time to watch the movies with his kid sister, Hayley. I'm having fun talking to a guy who is actually interested in what I have to say, rather than what I do for a living. And I have to admit, Austin smells really good (Is that Eternity he's wearing?) and looks even better (Who knew guys cared about using hair care products? Austin made me promise never to reveal that he swears by Aveda's Control Stick.).

  "We should get together and have a Star Wars marathon one weekend," Austin suggests. "I've always wanted to watch all six in a row, from start to finish."

  I blush. The idea of a weekend alone with Austin sounds kind of appealing. But what about Lori? He looks at me searchingly. "Sounds like fun, but I won't have a weekend free for a while," I say, trying not to look him in the eye. "I turned in my history paper late and now Mr. Klein wants me to do bloody extra-credit."

  "I'll make you a deal," Austin tells me. "I've seen you rattle off equations in math. If you help me with my geometry, I'll help you with your paper." He flashes me that gorgeous smile. "I'm not surprised you're having trouble in history. The only thing you Brits know about American history is the story of the Boston Tea Party."

  "Very funny." I roll my eyes. What do I have to lose? "You've got a deal." I extend my hand.

  "Great, because I have to bring up that CI have in geometry or I'm going to be toast." Austin shakes my hand tightly. His fingers feel rough from hours of cradling a lacrosse stick. "I have to keep a B average to stay on the lacrosse team." He stops shaking my hand, but doesn't let go. "Want to meet on Monday after school?"

  "Works for me." I pull my hand away. I have to keep reminding myself he has a girlfriend.

  I'm about to ask Austin what he thinks of Jar Jar Binks, when I feel something cold and wet on my neck. Ew! I strain to look and see that the back of my shirt and part of my skirt are soaked. Behind me, Lori is standing there with an empty cup.

  "Oops, I must have slipped!" She doesn't even try to sound sincere. This girl is classic Sky Mackenzie. I can't believe I didn't see this coming.

  Austin looks annoyed. "Stay right here," he instructs me as I shake out my shirt. "I'll go grab some napkins."

  "I think that's going to stain," Lori coos when Austin is out of earshot. "I don't think Dr. Pepper comes out of Discount World material." She tosses her platinum blond hair.

  I'm tempted to throw my Coke at her. I don't think that will come out of the dated sundress she's wearing either. I take a step towards her, and she looks at me smugly.

  "Lori, come inside. We're watching last week's Family Affair," I hear her friend Jessie whine. "Sam's Prius just got car-jacked."

  "Don't bother waiting for Austin," Lori spits at me, ignoring Jessie. "I'm sure he's forgotten about you by now, just like everyone else at this party. With a face like that, there's nothing to remember."

  I glare at Lori, tempted to tell her exactly what I think of her.

  "I guess that means you can leave now," Lori adds.

  "LORI, did you hear me? Sam's being held at knifepoint by a carjacker!" Jessie calls. "Bring that British girl with you, okay?"

  "This Brit has better things to do than hang out here," I retort hotly. I glance at my watch. It's 9:30. I have to start wrapping up anyway, and there's no point waiting for Austin. He's probably not coming back. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to find my friends."

  "You don't want to lose those," I hear Lori yell out as I push through the people standing on the veranda. "You don't have that many!"

  Maybe I was wrong about this school thing. In Hollywood, people give me some respect. To my face at least.

  Friday 3/26

  NOTES TO SELF:

  Send Hutch a gushing thx note. (Keep him thinking about your aura!)

  Buy Rodney b-day gift!

  Think of fave U.S. history moment (The Boston Tea Party?).

  Eleven: The Sky's the Limit

  HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER TWELVE:A star's home is never as fabulous as it appears in the pages of a magazine. The truth is, magazines are so desperate for the intimate details of celebrity life that they'll do almost anything to get a star to unlock her front door. Haven't had a chance to finish decorating your Malibu weekend pad? No problem. The magazine will hire an interior designer to add the finishing touches -- everything from flesh flowers on the kitchen table to satin throw pillows on the couch. Sometimes they even bring in new furniture. One magazine was so desperate to profile my friend Gina's apartment that they offered to have Home Du Jour outfit the entire place for free if she'd agree to let them photograph it. (She let them, of course. Who wouldn't?)

  I have a pretty good idea that Sky's home got the same treatment. Sky's stodgy old maid takes the Burberry trench I changed into, revealing the cream-colored Chloe tank and jeans that I threw on in the car. When she walks me through the living room, I recognize at least a dozen items from that swanky furniture store, Destination Home. Cut crystal lamps, Persian rugs, leather couches, even monochrome art all scream the store's name. I know because Mom drags me through Destination Home every time she redecorates a room -- which is about once a month.

  Sky would never admit it because it would make her look phony, but I think the place hooked her up when she agreed to let Life and Style profile her parents' house for the cover a few months back.

  Oh wait. Maybe what you're really wondering is: Why would I ever set foot at Sky's? I'm doing my official FA cast-member duty, that's why. Tom wanted us all to watch a taping of the season finale together (something about boosting cast morale) and Sky offered -- or should I say insisted -- the viewing be at her place.

  "It's been such a trying season for all of us," Sky's hand-delivered shiny fuschia invitation read, "that I'd like us, at Tom's request, to bask in the glow of our successful efforts with an intimate dinner at my parents' estate."

  Intimate includes a five-person crew from Access Hollywood, whom she invited to tape the festivities.

  Sky's maid leads me down a long corridor lined with framed photos of Sky. As the Mackenzie's only child, Sky's parents devote their lives to her career (Sky's mom is her manager too). Sort of like mine, actually.

  I examine each photo on the hallway wall out of the corner of my eye. There's a picture of Sky with the FA cast at last year's Emmy's.... There's Sky's "Best Villain" MTV Movie Award.... There's a picture of Sky hugging Tom Cruise at the Carnival of Hope benefit.... There's Sky as a toddler on FA. ... Wait, that picture looks cut in half. I look at it closely and see pudgy little fingers and blond hair. Hey, that's me they cut out!

  "Kaitlin, there you are," cheers Melissa, who plays my "mom," Paige. She gives me a tight squeeze. Her long black hair puddles around the white fitted blazer she's wearing with tight Lucky jeans and coral heeled sandals.

  "Sorry I'm late." I kiss her cheek. Rodney hit traffic going to Sky's so it took twice the time to get here.

  "As long as you're okay. I got worried." She smiles. Even off-screen, Melli totally mothers me, and I have to admit, I love it.

  "We're all in the den waiting for the show to start," she says, linking her arm with mine. "Sky's mother has been entertaining us with stories about Sky's FA audition." Melli winks at me.

  I giggle. As we walk down the steps into the modern
great room, decorated with paint-splashed couches and abstract sculptures, I can see most of the cast and crew milling about. Everyone is laughing and having a good time, like they haven't seen each other in years. It feels good to be together, I realize. This group is like my second family. Suddenly, someone grabs my waist from behind and swings me into the air.

  "Kates, you're here!" Trevor exclaims. "Sky said she wasn't sure if you were coming. You didn't RSVP."

  "Funny, I know I left a message on her voicemail." I give Trevor a bear hug when he puts me down. "I guess she missed that one."

  "K, you made it," Sky announces dramatically. She's wearing a corseted floor-length red satin gown. Were we supposed to dress up for this thing? I look at Melli and Trevor. They're both in jeans, just like me. "It's 10:30. I told everyone you weren't coming," she adds. "You didn't RSVP."

  "I did RSVP, Sky." She ignores me.

  "Missing the season finale." Sky lowers her dark eyes sadly. "I told Tom that maybe you just didn't want to be in the same room as me." She sniffs, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. When she wants to, Sky can really act.

  "I think it's time we put the past season behind us," Melli suggests briskly, and pulls the two of us in tightly. "I'm going to need both of you girls' strength if I'm to survive that car crash!" At the end of the season finale, Paige's limo is hanging off the edge of a cliff.

  Sky and I smile faintly. Neither of us likes to fight in front of Melli. She feels too much like, well, our mom.

  "Kaitlin, there you are," Tom says, walking over with a plate of fried shrimp. "Want one? These are delicious!" He munches on a shrimp and hands the tray to Trevor. "Where did you order these from?" he asks Sky.

  "We use the same caterer that Demi uses for all her affairs," Sky answers coolly. "Demi and Ashton are old family friends. We've known them forever."

  "Old?" Trevor repeats, with a confused look on his face. "I thought Ashton was in his twenties."

  "It's a figure of speech, sweetie," Sky explains through gritted teeth. Trevor takes another shrimp and shoves it whole in his mouth. "Why don't we get you a seat on the couch next to me?" She leads Trevor away like a puppy, still carrying the shrimp plate.