“Kuh-laire, are you coming?” Massie shouted from halfway down the block.
Claire’s insides warmed immediately. They were the kind of friends who waited for one another.
“Hurry!” Massie shouted.
“Coming!” Claire waved goodbye to Isaac and darted down the street.
“It’s about time!” She smiled when Claire arrived.
“Sorry,” Claire panted as she opened her jacket and draped its puffiness around Massie’s shoulder. “Thanks for waiting.”
“Of course I’m going to wait.” Massie rolled her eyes. “I need you to photograph our entrance. And stay on my left side. It’s more photogenic than my right.”
“Oh.” Claire slid the jacket off Massie’s shoulder and wrapped it around herself, zipping it all the way to the top. She had gone from cool to cold in a matter of seconds.
NEW YORK CITY
VILLAGE STUDIOS
Monday, March 9th
8:38 A.M.
The coffee-and-toast smell of Village Studios’ stark lobby made Massie regret skipping breakfast—not that she could have gotten anything down even if she tried. Her stomach was locked and her nerves held the keys.
“Which way to the set?” she asked the frazzled, headset-wearing receptionist with the lipstick-stained can of chocolate Slim Fast on her desk.
“Village Studios, this is Joyce, please hold.” She hit a button on the switchboard. “Village Studios, this is Joyce, please hold.”
Massie twirled her gold charm bracelet and sighed.
“Village Studios, this is Joyce, please hold.”
Massie tapped the top of Joyce’s desk. “Um, excuse me, Janet.…”
Kristen and Alicia muffled their giggles.
“Which way is the studio? Merri-Lee Marvil is expecting us.”
“Have a seat.” Joyce pointed to the black leather couch in the waiting area. “Someone will be with you shortly.” She poked her switchboard. “Village Studios, this is Joyce, please hold.”
“Um, Janet, you may not realize this, but the show is live in, like, fifteen minutes, and we’re supposed to meet Abby and Hadley be-fore they go on. Not after.”
Joyce shooed Massie away as though she were a flea-infested cat.
“But our friend Dylan is waiting for us in there,” Alicia pleaded. “Maybe you know her? She’s Merri-Lee’s daughter.”
Joyce responded by swiveling her Herman Miller chair so that her back faced them.
“You are so dead to me.” Massie made an X with her fingers, indicating that Joyce had severe split ends.
“She is so getting sued.” Alicia fell back on the overstuffed couch.
“Let’s tell Merri-Lee to fire her.” Massie sat.
“Do you think I could get her job?” Kristen asked.
Claire was about to sit too, when Massie lifted her right palm. “Hold!”
“What?”
“Can you get a shot of us in the waiting room?”
“Of course, your highness. I would be honored.” Claire cocked her digital camera. “Anything for you.”
Alicia and Kristen immediately turned to Massie.
“What? I thought you liked photography.” She stroked her ponytail. “I thought this was the ultimate assignment for you. I thought you’d be excited.”
“I am.” Claire’s expression softened. “Sorry.” She raised the camera.
“Wait!” Massie lifted her palm again. “Kristen, let me switch places with you.” She rolled directly across her friend’s lap. “I have to be on the left.”
“Ready?” Claire asked.
“Dial C for Cheese.” Massie flashed a fabulous, toothy smile.
Then a stocky woman pushed through the glass doors with the grace of a linebacker in three-inch heels. A walkie-talkie was clipped to an empty belt loop on her black Levi’s and a clipboard was nestled under her armpit. “Mayse Black plus three?”
“I think you mean Massie Block.” Alicia giggled.
She shrugged.
The girls jumped to their feet.
“Follow me.”
She led them down a gray-carpeted hallway, the walls filled with autographed head shots of former Daily Grind guests. “I’m Kay.”
“O-Kay,” Massie responded, deadpan.
“Yes?” Kay tucked her dry brown bangs behind her ear. “Did you have a question?”
“No, we’re O-Kay.” Alicia bit her lower lip, fighting a smile.
“Good.” Kay sounded somewhat confused but satisfied. “Then let’s make tracks.”
Thanks to a pair of white Reeboks and zero interest in the celebrity photos, Kay was first to make it to the end of the corridor. She stood in front of the only door with a gleaming gold star in the center. Hadley’s and Abby’s names were engraved inside the star.
“Everyone decent?” Kay knocked.
The thumping bass of some unidentifiable rap song was all they heard.
Massie pinched Alicia’s arm, Alicia pinched Kristen’s, and Kristen pinched Claire’s.
“This is the green room.” Kay lowered her ear to the door. “Our guests hang out here before the show.”
Claire lifted her Elph.
“Absolutely not.” Kay smacked her hand. “Take one and we’ll take your camera. Take two and we’ll take your arm.”
Massie rolled her eyes, letting Claire know Kay’s threats were not to be taken seriously.
A muffled, static-filled voice broke the tension. “Kay, what’s your twenty? Over.”
She unclipped the walkie-talkie from her jeans and lifted it to her mouth. “I’m outside the green room. Over.”
“Yeah, uh, we need some napkins in the control room ay-sap. Over.”
“Copy that. Over.” She started bolting down the hall, then turned back to the girls. “Go on in. I’ll be back in a jiff.”
“Can she just leave us like that?” Alicia checked her reflection in the gold star.
“That is so not O-Kay.” Kristen adjusted her Pucci head scarf.
Claire turned off the flash on her camera and took a picture of her friends laughing.
“Dare me?” Massie put her hand on the brass doorknob.
“Do it,” Alicia whispered.
But Massie quickly pulled away. “I can’t!”
“Come awn,” Alicia urged.
“Open it,” Kristen begged.
“You!”
“I’ll do it.” Claire pushed past the girls and grabbed the knob. “Maybe this time one of you could take my picture?”
“Take a picture of this!” Massie shoved her out of the way and pushed open the door. The smell of roses and vanilla-scented candles flooded the hall.
“It’s not green,” Alicia whispered in Massie’s ear. “It’s beige-ish.”
I can see that, Massie wanted to say. But she was paralyzed from the forehead down and couldn’t speak. Not that anyone would have heard her if she had tried.
An electronic remix of Pink’s “Stupid Girls” raged at top volume from a pair of Visa-thin speakers, rousing a skinny, fur-vest-wearing bleached-blond guy to leap onto the L-shaped couch and gyrate to the beat. Two brunettes in identical True Religion jeans cast their coffee cups aside and danced at his feet. An assortment of pillar and votive candles were on every available surface, casting long shadows on the walls as several agents, managers, and assistants paced back and forth, shouting into their cell phones. An elaborate assortment of baked goods, fresh fruit, and watermelon-flavored Jolly Ranchers dominated the round glass table near the uniformed bartender, who was doling out fresh smoothies and cappuccino. What was supposed to be a holding area for guests of the show looked more like a trendy New York City nightclub.
Massie scanned the frenetic scene, her heart beating to the pounding rhythm of the remix.
“I don’t see them,” Alicia said with a trace of panic.
“Be cool, okay? These people can’t think we’re pathetic fans.”
“But we are.” Kristen dropped her stuffed book bag on t
he floor, and Massie quickly kicked it under the red table-cloth draped over the food table. She followed up with a don’t-even-think-about-picking-that-ridiculous-thing-up-until-we-leave look.
“No way!” Claire gasped, her mouth hanging open like Cam was about to feed her a fistful of gummy worms. Without another word she marched across the room, pushing her way through the well-dressed crowd.
“Kuh-laire, get back here!” Massie whisper-shouted. “We should all go together.”
But Claire refused to stop.
“Let’s go.” Massie grabbed Alicia and Kristen. “She’s heading for the couch.”
“Ehmagawd.” Alicia stopped. Massie dragged her forward the same way she dragged Bean when the puppy didn’t want to go for a walk in the cold.
“Stop.” Alicia pointed to the actresses, who were sitting on the floor by the white leather couch. “Look!”
“It’s a massage train.” Kristen fixed her narrow aqua eyes on the spectacle.
“And look who’s riding it!” Massie didn’t know whether to laugh or call the authorities.
Hadley Durk was the caboose, kneading a younger boy’s shoulders. And the boy, who was in the middle, was karate-chopping Abby Boyd’s neck.
“You are so dead!” Claire shouted.
“Funny, I don’t feel dead.” The boy turned his head and winked at Hadley. It was Todd Lyons.
“How much do you love this guy?” Hadley twirled one of her signature Pocahontas braids and chuckled. Her brown, almond-shaped eyes narrowed and her flawless skin glowed. She looked airbrushed.
“Ehmagawd, you’re even prettier in real life,” Kristen blurted.
Massie immediately elbowed her in the rib cage.
“Thanks.” Hadley smiled, flashing her Dentyne Ice–shaped teeth.
“Todd, how did you get here?” Claire demanded, completely oblivious to the actresses.
“I was hiding in the back of the Range Rover. When Isaac went to the bathroom, I hopped out and snuck in the side door with the Poland Spring delivery dude.”
“How funny is that?” Abby slapped her knee; the gold bangles on her left arm backed her up with a clang. She was wearing a yellow chiffon dress over straight-legged black velvet pants. A fedora shaded her hazel eyes.
“It’s pretty funny.” Claire turned bright red, as if she finally realized who she was talking to. Then she hovered above the actress and stared, her face frozen in a wide smile, as if some cosmic pause button had been hit while she was posing for a picture.
“That’s my poor sister, Claire.” Todd lowered his voice to a sympathetic whisper. “She was born with this weird disease that makes her freeze up whenever she pees in her pants.”
“What?” Claire stomped her foot. “Don’t listen to him.” She turned red again.
“It’s okay,” Todd said kindly. “No one is making fun of you.”
Abby and Hadley lowered their heads, obviously trying to conceal their grins.
“I’m calling Dad.” Claire waved her scratched Nokia in Todd’s face, then turned on the heels of her Keds and stormed into the hallway.
Massie rolled her eyes, silently distancing herself from Claire’s uptight behavior and cheap cell phone. She cleared her throat. “Hey, I’m Massie.”
“I know who you are.” Todd grimaced. “We used to have a thing, remember?”
“Ew.” Massie smacked the top of his head. “We did nawt!”
“Nice to meet you.” Abby waved. Her nails were painted navy blue, and each of her fingers was adorned with a different hard-to-miss cocktail ring. “Massie, right?”
She nodded. Hearing her name come out of Abby’s mouth was borderline creepy. It was like the actress’s red-carpet shot had come to life and started talking to her from the pages of Us Weekly. It made Massie shudder with a kind of eerie excitement.
“Hi, I’m Alicia and this is Kristen.”
“Hhh-eyyyy.” Abby’s voice vibrated as Todd’s karate chops began working their way down her spine.
“Hi.” Hadley tugged on one of her eyelashes, then wiped her finger on the white couch, leaving behind a mascara skid mark.
“So, are you guys contest winners or something?” Abby inspected their outfits. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Ew, no.” Massie winced. “We’re tight with Merri-Lee. We come to all the shows.”
“Don’t you have school?” Hadley wondered.
“We dropped out.” Massie immediately glared at Todd, warning him to keep his mouth shut.
“Cool!” Abby snapped her fingers two times.
“Why?” Hadley seemed genuinely curious. “I kind of miss going to school.”
“Uh, modeling.”
“Really?” Abby was suddenly interested. “Fashion or editorial?”
“Yup.”
Massie quickly stepped aside, making room for Claire, who had just squeezed through the cluster of managers and agents to rejoin the conversation.
“Todd, Isaac is in the lobby, waiting to take you home. If you don’t leave now, the security guard in the hall will be happy to escort you.”
“Fine.” Todd slowly pushed himself up and blew a kiss to each of the girls. “Let’s stay in touch.” He grabbed an umbrella-adorned smoothie off the glass coffee table and bit down on the straw.
“Definitely.” Hadley stood and hugged him goodbye. She was wearing a denim micromini, gray knee-highs, and a tight red T-shirt that spelled out J’ADORE GABOR in silver studs.
“Good luck with your TV series.” Abby crawled onto the couch and brought her knees to her chest. “I’ll totally watch for it.” She snapped her fingers twice.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Go!” She pushed Todd toward the door and watched, hands on her hips, until he was gone.
Massie exchanged a quick glance with Alicia. Did Claire not see the two movie stars? Did she not care that Abby Boyd and Hadley Durk would think she was an uptight goody-goody? Why did she have to act like such a mom?
“Cute Sue,” Hadley noted.
Everyone followed her eyes. She was pointing at Claire’s black-and-white striped Keds.
“I said, cute shoes!” she shouted over the music. “Look.” She wiggled her left ankle. “I have the same ones.”
Massie’s forehead began breaking out in a sweat.
“No way!” Claire shot Massie a how-do-you-like-me-now? look.
She shot a look back that said, You’re still not cool.
“Does this make us sole mates?” Claire beamed.
“Ehmagawd!” Massie covered her face with her hands. “You did nawt just say that!”
“Effing genius!” Hadley bounced up and down on her toes. “Did you make that up?”
Claire nodded slowly, probably wondering if it was a trap.
“Can I use it sometime?” Hadley put her hands together in prayer.
“Sure,” Claire said directly to Massie. “Anytime.”
“So, Hadley.” Massie stepped in front of Claire. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Hadley lifted a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries off the glass coffee table by the couch.
“You and Gabor?” Massie pointed to her T-shirt.
Abby giggle-snorted.
“What?” Hadley asked, obviously confused.
“Nothing,” Abby said as she pulled a large red stone off one of her cocktail rings. She dipped her pinky inside and lifted out a glob of sparkle-infused gloss, which she dabbed on her full lips.
“Gabor and I have been in love since Christmas.” Hadley popped a strawberry into her mouth.
While Massie was nodding, pretending to follow the story, she pinched Claire’s wrist and murmured, “Picture” from the side of her mouth. Claire snapped a quick shot.
Kristen and Alicia rushed to either side of Hadley, hoping to be in the next one, but Massie growled and they backed away.
“Next weekend we’re going to the Swiss Alps so he can show me the resort that put his picture on the lift tickets.”
“You’re
so lucky,” Kristen chimed in. “I would love to date a pro snowboarder. They have the most ah-mazing clothes.”
“And they’re faithful.” Hadley sighed, “I’m over dating actors. All they do is cheat.” She glared at Abby.
“Ew! What is that?” Abby pointed at the floor. “It’s revolsive!”
Everyone knew about Abby Boyd’s vocabulary, otherwise known as the “a-bby-c’s.” She had been making up her own ah-mazing words in magazine interviews and on talk shows for as long as Massie could remember.
“It looks like a ferret.” Hadley sounded amused.
Abby snapped her fingers in agreement.
Alicia, Claire, and Kristen burst out laughing. They knew exactly what that “revolsive” thing on the floor was.
“Um, I think you dropped your weave.” Abby pinched the long brown extension and laid it on Massie’s shoulder.
“Thanks.” Massie rolled her eyes, trying to quell the tornado of humiliation that was swirling inside of her. Why this? Why now? This was supposed to be an “OMG” moment, the moment when Abby Boyd found her future BFF, Massie Block… not her hair.
“My stylist is so fired!” She dropped the extension in her Gucci and turned away to hide her burning cheeks.
“I hear ya.” Abby’s smile was sympathetic. “I had those stupid extensions for a while. Then it hit me.” She snapped once. “Long brown hair is so commonstream. So I axed it.”
She took off her fedora and tousled a new short blond Sienna Miller 2006 cut. It was the exact opposite of the dark, rib-dusting ’do she’d sported in Us Weekly.
“Ehmagawd,” Massie heard herself say. “When?”
“Tuesday.”
“Hey.” Alicia smacked Massie’s arm. “Isn’t that the same day you put yours in?”
Massie nodded, wondering if Alicia’s lawyer dad could sue the trashy tabloid for printing old photos.
“I did the same thing.” Kristen pulled off her Pucci head scarf and flaunted her boy cut.
“Ehmagawd!” Massie wanted to scream. Kristen hated her hair!
“Don’t you feel so much more sophisticated?” Abby lifted her wrist to her mouth and bit into her pastel-colored candy bracelet.
“Totally.” Kristen fluffed her uneven layers. “Ever since I got this cut, people think I’m fifteen.”
Dial L for Loser Page 4
