How to be Famous

by Alison Bond

  She had just over five hours until she needed to start getting ready.

  It all came together. Even the hair. Serena looked as if she had just walked along a sea-swept beach on the shores of heaven. The sparkle in her eyes from sheer adrenaline was impossible to recreate. It was the very best that she could do.

  Standing in front of Mann’s Chinese Theater she had her first attack of nerves, Maybe she should have found a date for this part but she’d thought a solo blonde would make more impact than one half of a pair. The red carpet snaked up past the handprints in the concrete. The security presence was massive, holding back the camera-popping crowds, many of whom had seen a fuss and joined in without even knowing what stars to expect, so the crowd attracted more newcomers, each set expecting an even bigger star because there were so many people.

  You have the magic ticket Walk up there and they’ll let you through.

  She felt for the thick reassuring edges of the invitation and grabbed it like a talisman. Throwing back her shoulders she waited for the green man to tell her to walk and then crossed the street, swinging her hips, making the drivers who could see her grateful for the red light and forgetful about pulling away when it changed. Horns tooted and Serena smiled when she heard them. That was just the impression she was looking to make.

  She had her nerves under control now, a few deep breaths and a confident smile and she swayed up the red carpet, tipping her invitation discreetly at the first set of security. The security guard waved her through without really taking his eyes off her spectacular creamy bosom. He watched her ass move hypnotically from side to side as she passed him, her handkerchief of a dress revealing her back down as far as it could possibly go without showing off paradise.

  Serena was now on the other side of the barriers, away from the crush of the crowd. For a split second she felt acutely vulnerable. The eyes of the crowd ran over her intently, possessively; their scrutiny was almost unbearable. A few cameras flashed and they sparked off more, like a fuse, as tourists who didn’t recognize her suspected that someone else had. No one could be an expert on everyone these days. The crowd was deeper towards the ornate entrance of the theatre and the flashes rippled towards the doors. Serena’s smile was genuine as she reached the end of the walkway. The cameras amused her; the crowd intrigued her as much as she intrigued them – why would you stand all day to get a distant glimpse of a person you didn’t know?

  A second set of security guards passed her ticket under a fluorescent light and seemed satisfied by the whitish glow it made. Serena stepped through the doors into a crowded foyer.

  ‘Who’s that?’ said Riley.

  ‘Dunno,’ replied his assistant Kerry.

  ‘Luke?’ Riley turned to the lanky photographer next to him who lifted his camera to his eyes to get his version of a better look. He made a living from spotting faces, a very healthy living. He had an eye for fame, there was something about the way these twenty-first-century untouchables carried themselves in public that was almost as recognizable as their faces. This blonde didn’t have it yet, but she was ripe, oh yeah was she ripe. Looked just about ready to fall off the cherry tree. He squeezed off a few shots.

  ‘Nobody,’ said Luke.

  ‘If she’s nobody, how come you’re taking pictures? Going to put them in the personal collection?’ asked Kerry, making an obscene gesture with her hand.

  ‘I don’t need pictures to jack off, baby, I just picture the sun shining out of your sweet ass.’

  ‘Cut it out, you two,’ said Riley. The blonde was not looking for exposure and she wasn’t used to this scene. He could tell this instinctively by the slight hesitation in her step and the way that she didn’t look straight over at the press section when she entered the theatre. She was gorgeous, but she wasn’t his type. She did stand out in the sea of blondes though. Maybe it was something in the eyes.

  ‘She’s pretty, don’t you think?’ He directed the question at Kerry. Women were never blinded by a hot body and Riley found them a reliable second opinion.

  ‘Great figure,’ said Kerry.

  Serena was in. She felt as if she had just run twenty miles, the adrenaline and endorphins flooding her brain. She looked around the crowded lobby and tried to spot some of the movie executives she had clipped from her subscription copy of Variety and tried to memorize. It was impossible. She couldn’t stand here staring, it didn’t fit in with the sophisticated image she was trying to present. She entered the cinema, the curve of seats a little over half full. The crowd was in high spirits, the chaos of voices and laughter reminded Serena of a cinema full of children. A tuxedo-wearing usher showed her to her seat and to her horror Serena found that she was sandwiched in between two sets of spotty teenagers.

  ‘You must be number three!’ said a slightly horsey-looking girl, cramming the best part of a pot of Haagen Daz into her mouth. ‘I’m Tilly and this is my friend Clare.’ Clare peered at Serena from behind a curly fringe that covered half her face. ‘What did you write for your tiebreaker?’

  The other two winners of the competition. Tilly and a slightly overawed fat boy called Dennis. He took one look at this woman with her itty-bitty dress and wondered if he’d get a hard-on if she sat next to him.

  ‘Where’s your friend?’ said Tilly. ‘Taking a leak?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Serena. ‘I think there must be some mistake.’

  She went back to the usher and, with a few brief words of explanation, pointed out Tilly who waved and shouted and wasn’t hard to spot. Serena flirted and cajoled until the young usher would have done anything she asked. He said he’d see what he could do and disappeared, leaving Serena in the shadows at the back of the cinema. No way was she going to sit surrounded by a group resembling the dregs of her own freshman class. Not good for her allure. Within moments he was back and deftly swapped the invitation in her hand for another, then casually looked at it and directed Serena to her seat as if nothing had happened.

  The atmosphere washed over her. She watched people case the cinema and walk around as if they were working a room, there were crowds standing in the aisles. Eventually the lights dimmed and people shuffled into their seats, the raucous sounds muted to an undercurrent of chat. A spotlight fell on the far corner.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all very much for coming to tonight’s Exxo-sponsored premiere of Talking to Memphis,’ said the badly dressed man with a microphone. ‘I’d like to welcome onto the stage the director of the film, Malcolm Sandry,’ the crowd broke into a smattering of premature applause, ‘and of course its stars, Hunter Philip and Tom Ryan.’

  Big cheers for the big names.

  Malcolm Sandry took to the stage and rambled off a list of thanks in an almost incomprehensible whisper. Hunter Philip, the great character actor with a penchant for cigars and younger women, tipped his trademark shades in the direction of the audience and offered a word of praise for the script. Tom Ryan ambled up to the microphone and fixed his piercing green eyes on the projection box, making the people in the cheap seats think he was looking right into their eyes.

  ‘Enjoy the movie,’ he whispered and half the women in the audience melted.

  The movie was good fun, an old-fashioned romantic comedy with a witty script about a father and son inadvertently falling in love with the same kooky waitress. Somehow they even managed to make it original. As the credits rolled the audience broke into hearty applause and the exodus began.

  Serena followed the crowd, letting them buffet her towards the exits. A quick stop at a mirror to check that she still looked her best (she did) and then out towards the side door where lines of limousines waited to collect their human cargo and whisk them away to the afterparty at Nobu. Serena would wait outside, feigning impatience and she was certain that some guy would stop and ask her if she needed help. She would then accept the offer of a lift to the party and arrive in a limo, with a date. There was a strong chance that her knight in shining armour would be connected to the entertainment indu
stry in some way, however vague, but one contact was one more than she had right now so she would have the forty-minute ride to make friends. If nobody offered her a ride, well then maybe she wouldn’t be famous after all.

  In the crowded foyer she spotted Tilly waving madly as she always seemed to be doing. Serena noticed the camera crew next to her and Tilly gestured wildly for her to come over.

  ‘Hey!’ she shouted and pointed Serena out to the spiky red-haired woman beside her. ‘That’s her.’

  The woman started moving towards Serena, shouting her name.

  ‘Serena Mindell? I’m from Teen Miss. We need you to get your photograph taken with the other winners.’

  Serena turned to walk away but the woman had a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Serena.

  ‘You are Serena Mindell, aren’t you? I recognize you from your photograph.’

  With a sinking heart Serena realized that she had sent a photo with the competition entry, one of a load of passport photos she had taken for that purpose. She had tried to make herself look as young as possible so that she wasn’t disqualified from the under-sixteen category, yet this woman had still recognized her. The limos were beginning to drive off, every moment here was a missed opportunity. She certainly didn’t want to be posing in the foyer, drawing attention to herself as a teenage-competition winner from Wheeler, Maine. Shaking off the woman’s hand she threw herself back into the crowd.

  The woman was persistent. As Serena ducked and dived through the people like a rhinestone-studded salmon swimming upstream she could hear the high-pitched voice right behind her.

  ‘Hey, Serena, come on, get back here. It’s conditional.’

  *

  Riley washed his hands like his mother had always told him to and looked ruefully in the mirror at his red eyes. Romantic comedies got him every time. He splashed water on his face and was drying it with a paper towel when the door burst open and a blur of white ran past him into the cubicle, slamming the door. It had gone by so fast that Riley hadn’t seen a face, but you didn’t often get legs like that in a men’s room. He could hear her taking deep breaths. Through the crack of the door he saw the flash of her dress and recalled the blonde he’d seen earlier. He left the men’s room and looked around outside. The crowd had thinned, though a few people still walked towards the exits on autopilot. Two reporters, a red-haired woman and a shooter, were looking around, a tall man was checking his watch, a group of young girls waited beside the concession stand. He supposed the blonde in the cubicle could be with any of them. Maybe the ladies’ room was too busy. Discreedy, he peered as far round the partition leading to the ladies’ room as he could. No line. She had been running; she was hiding from someone. Maybe she was hiding from the man then, a lovers’ tiff (though he wasn’t sure how any lovers could argue after that film). His hack instinct told him it was the reporters. He walked back to where Kerry and Luke waited for him.

  ‘Guys, remember that blonde earlier?’ said Riley. They had seen a hundred blondes tonight but Luke and Kerry knew which one he meant, the interesting one. ‘What kind of shoes was she wearing?’

  ‘Silver,’ said Kerry. ‘I’m sure they were mass market. Narrow strap of material about so big, heel about this high.’ She held her fingers a couple of inches apart. Remembering what people wore was part of her job.

  Back in the men’s room the cubicle door was still locked. Riley ducked down to glance underneath and prayed that no one came in to see this scene. He looked straight at a pair of feet encased in strappy silver heels, toenails painted to look like pearls. He was sure it was her and he was sure she was hiding from the cameras. The question was why.

  A full twenty minutes went by before Serena dared to emerge. They were already collecting litter from the deserted corridors. The side entrance was no longer stacked up with limos and if she hung about outside now, the only men likely to approach her were the security guards moving her on. Damn. It had all been going so well.

  Disappointment crashed over her as she stood outside the side entrance, not holding out much hope. At least she had managed to shake the red-haired journalist. A white limo rolled silently by, the black windows hiding the occupants. This was a dumb idea, why had she thought it would work? Nobody would pick up a stranger in this town, no matter how attractive. Serena didn’t even know where Nobu was. It might take longer than she expected to be a star at this rate.

  ‘You okay there, miss?’

  Serena turned around.

  It was Hunter Philip.

  He fell for the story about her date running off with the car.

  ‘He said he’d be right back, the asshole. Can you tell me how to get to Nobu?’

  ‘Jump in,’ said Hunter. ‘We’ll give you a ride.’

  It was as simple as that.

  Serena couldn’t catch her breath. She managed to slide into the back of the white limousine without passing out. She fought to get her racing heart under control. Never in her wildest dreams of success could she imagine arriving at her first Hollywood party with Hunter Philip. The paparazzi would go crazy. She silently thanked the red-haired journalist for making her so late.

  The back of the limousine was the size of a small office and comfortably seated the three of them: herself, Hunter and a mean-looking brunette woman who so far hadn’t even looked Serena in the eye.

  ‘I loved the movie,’ said Serena. She thought it was only polite.

  Hunter didn’t reply. He was bent over some contact sheets with an eyepiece and a grease pencil. As he finished each sheet the woman passed him another. This was Barbara O’Loughlin, a tough no-nonsense publicist who had a loyal client base and a fearsome reputation. Hunter had to approve these stills tonight and the car ride was the perfect opportunity. Barbara hadn’t been happy when they picked up the groupie, and she was certain that was what Serena was, but Hunter was a sucker for damsels in distress especially when the packaging was so pretty. She didn’t intend to make small talk with an eager stranger, but she couldn’t talk shop in front of the twinkie either. As they drew closer to Cross Street and could smell the salt in the air Barbara slid back the partition and spoke in hushed tones to the driver. Serena couldn’t make out what was said but the car slowed.

  ‘Hunter, I think it’s best if we drop the little lady off here.’

  The car came to halt a block away from the cliff-top venue. Serena could hear the music over the purr of the engine and a searchlight traced the surrounding sky. It was an easy walk but one that Serena desperately didn’t want to take.

  ‘No offence, honey,’ said Barbara.

  ‘She’s right,’ said Hunter. ‘I can’t risk a photograph of me with a mystery blonde right now. My wife is sitting at home eight and a half months pregnant and she’s extremely emotional. She’d likely do some damage if she sees your pretty face next to mine.’

  ‘It’s not great for the family-man image,’ added Barbara.

  Serena tried to hide her disappointment as she said she understood, left the car and waved goodbye.

  Luke was restless. ‘Riley, do you have any idea how many good shots we’re missing by trailing after this nobody?’

  ‘Anybody who’s nobody doesn’t run from the press and no nobody ever had a top-of-the-range stretch and driver waiting to pick them up. Something’s going on okay, and when you get the shot of it you’ll be thanking me. Hang on, they’re pulling over.’

  Riley had been following the blonde since she crept from the men’s room, he wasn’t sure why but something about her was sending him story signals and he hoped it wasn’t just her body that got him all excited. The car stopped a block short of the party and Luke snapped a couple of pictures of Serena stepping out.

  ‘That’s that,’ said Luke as the limousine drove into the distance. ‘Next time you want to waste an hour or so can you do it by yourself?’

  Riley looked at Serena in the rear-view mirror as they drove past her. Perhaps Luke was right,
that was that, and his instinct was wrong. It didn’t make sense for the girl to leave her car and walk to the party, but it didn’t make headlines either. They parked the car illegally, ran past the waiting line of limos and took their place in the media line-up, snapping pictures of late arrivals. The only reason the press still lingered outside the party was Hunter Philip. The star had yet to put in an appearance. Finally a familiar-looking limousine drew up.

  ‘It’s the same car,’ said Luke.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive.’ Luke clicked away like crazy.

  ‘Be sure to get the plates. Did you get the plates before?’

  ‘Dunno. I hope so.’