“This is history in the making.” Massie watched in awe. “Take a picture.”
“Don’t even think about it!” Kay hissed as she hurried by.
“We’re back in twenty seconds,” announced the deep voice over the PA system. Massie and Claire ran back to their seats.
“Throw that at me and I am so off this movie.” Hadley put her hands on her hips and stood still.
“Promise?” Abby lifted the bowl.
“We’re back in ten.”
“Oh, I promise.” Hadley squinted, legs planted firmly.
“Hey, everyone!” Abby shouted. “Meet Chef Boyar-Hadlee.” She lifted the bowl of tomato sauce and dumped it on Hadley’s head.
“Awww, bloody ’ell!” Rupert whipped his phone onto the studio floor. It split wide open. “Bloody, bloody ’ell!” He kicked it across the floor. A pregnant audience member waddled out and scooped the phone off the ground. She lifted it above her head and her section broke into applause.
“In three… two…” The stage manager pointed at Merri-Lee as the audience cheered. They were back on the air.
“I’m done!” Hadley stormed off the set. “Good luck finding someone who will work with her.”
Like a true professional, Merri-Lee made no mention of Hadley and focused all of her attention on Abby as if she had been the only guest all along.
Massie lifted her Motorola and snapped a picture of the sauce-covered actress as she ran by.
“May I?” Rupert plucked the phone from her hand.
“Sure.” Massie nudged Claire, who immediately took three shots of her grinning next to the red-faced director while he screamed, “What the bloody ’ell do I do now?” into her crystal-covered Motorola.
“Who is responsible for this?” He shouted with such force that a gob of spit landed on the mouthpiece. “Find me that person! I want that person!”
Dylan slowly backed away, then took off toward the rear exit.
Seconds later, Rupert stormed out of the studio, taking Massie’s beloved phone with him.
THE BLOCK ESTATE
MASSIE’S BEDROOM
Friday, March 13th
7:25 P.M.
“Look at all these flowers.” Alicia tightened her black satin robe as she bent over a Jonathan Adler vase and sniffed an enormous bouquet of pink roses. “Are you sick or something?”
Massie rolled down the waistband on her white satin pajama bottoms. “My public misses me. Can you blame them?”
“You’re like a celebrity.” Claire plugged her Elph into Massie’s computer. One by one, pictures from their morning at The Daily Grind appeared on-screen.
“Today Westchester, tomorrow the world!” Massie stroked Bean as she mentally marked the pictures she was going to include in her first-ever Pretty Committee newsletter. The mass e-mail would be the most effective way to stay in the hearts and minds of the wannabes at OCD, now that daily face time was no longer an option.
“I like the one of us outside Village Studios, the shot of me and Hadley, the shot of me and Rupert. That’s probably it. The rest are too dark.” Massie shook her new bottle of Naughty Navy nail polish, wishing Abby and Hadley could see her now.
Flower arrangements and gift baskets with cards begging for her speedy return to OCD filled the nook by her bay window. Balloons were tied to the bedposts, and a menagerie of “Missing You” stuffed animals added a warm splash of color to elegant white furniture. Even without the gifts, the walk-in closet, forty-two-inch flat-screen TV, marble bathroom, and life-size mannequins of her and Bean would have rivaled the amenities available in the finest hotel suites in the world. And maybe, just maybe, if Abby and Hadley could have seen all this they would have been a little less interested in Claire and a lot more interested in her.
“Is that it?” Claire asked as she dragged the three shots onto the newsletter Massie had drafted earlier that afternoon.
“I guess.” Massie pouted. “I wish there were better shots of you guys.”
“I know,” Alicia whined.
“At least you’re in the picture in front of the studio,” Claire said. “I’m not in any of them.”
“I gave you photo credit.” Massie pointed at the screen. “See?”
Claire nodded as she examined her microscopic shout-out at the bottom of the page.
THE PRETTY COMMITTEE NEWSLETTER
Hey! Thanks times ten for the ahdorable gifts. We heart them all, especially the you-know-what from you-know-who.
Everyone has been calling and emailing asking what we’ve been up to. So here’s a summary of our week.
Monday: Hung out with Abby Boyd, Hadley Durk, and Rupert Mann (who borrowed my phone and never gave it back) on the set of The Daily Grind. Best time! (See pictures below.) The fight was in-sane. You ahb-viously read about it by now. OMG!
Tuesday: Spent most of the day with Hadley. She was so upset about Gabor. Sorry, I pinky-swore I wouldn’t say more than that.
Wednesday: Shopped in NYC with Abby, Alicia, Kristen, Dylan, and Claire. Mostly Fifth Ave. Did you know that Abby brings her iPod to stores so they can play her favorite songs while she shops? I’ll ask her if I can forward the playlist. It was awesome. We were dancing all day.
Thursday: Spa day at home with the girls.
Friday: Lunch with the girls at Dad’s golf club, then snack shopping for Friday night sleepover.
The girls are here now and everyone says hi. How is school? Any tests?
Have fun! We know we will.
Love, Your Pretty Committee
MASSIE DYLAN
Claire KRISTEN Alicia
*Photos by Claire Lyons.
“What’s with the whole ‘you-know-what from you-know-who’?” Claire asked. “What did you get?”
“Nothing,” Massie smirked. “I made that up.”
“You made it all up, didn’t you?” Alicia asked.
“Well, do you remember shopping with Abby?”
“No.”
“We’re fighting a war here.” Massie selected her newsletter-distribution list, and sixty-seven names appeared in her address bar. “Imagine going back to OCD and finding Da Crew at our lunch table. Or the Country Club under our tree.” She hit send.
“That is, if we get back to school.” Kristen threw down her Philosophy for Dummies book.
“Can I try these prunes?” Dylan poked the cellophane on a fruit-and-nut basket.
“Puuurp,” Alicia teased, making a farting noise with her mouth.
Dylan slapped the back of her pink sweats. “Quiet down there.”
“Ew!” Massie giggled. “Go for it.” She flipped onto her stomach and began applying a fresh coat of Naughty Navy. Bean curled up beside her leg.
“I can’t believe you’re using Abby’s nail polish color after what she did to Hadley.” Kristen snapped the elastic band on her gray boy shorts.
“Oh, did Abby have this polish?” Massie widened her amber eyes.
“You didn’t notice?”
“Nope.” She dipped the brush and swished it around.
“Then why are you suddenly wearing navy?”
“I, um, got it in a gift basket.”
“Whatevs.” Kristen rolled her eyes.
“When did you start caring about Hadley anyway?” Alicia unrolled her puffy gold sleeping bag beside Massie’s.
“I just feel bad for her. It’s gotta suck having your boyfriend stolen.”
“Funny.” Dylan chewed a prune. “I thought you’d be on Abby’s side because you both have such ‘sophisticated’ short hairdos.” She lifted her mass of red curls and stumbled around the room like a runway model with a broken heel.
“Ow-chhh!” Her performance was cut short when she accidentally stepped in a bowl of Baked Lays. A prune chunk flew out of her mouth and landed on Massie’s white duvet cover. “These chips are like razor blades!”
Kristen let out a cackle.
“Ew, Dylan.” Massie didn’t know whether to laugh or barf. “Clean that up.”
Bing.
“Massie, your computer.” Claire jumped to her feet and pushed back the sleeves on her Powerpuff Girls pj’s.
“Coming.” Massie blew on her wet nails.
“It’s Derrington!” Claire yelled. “SHORTZ4LIFE has invited you to an iChat. Should I respond?”
“Not if you like your arms in their sockets,” Massie snapped.
“Hurry!” Claire bounced.
Massie pushed her aside and grabbed the wireless mouse.
“Is Josh with them?” Alicia padded over to the desk.
“Gawd, are you a couple of bulls?” Massie asked, shaking the mouse into place.
“No,” Claire and Alicia said at the same time.
“Then why are you acting so horny?”
Massie finger-combed her extensions and searched her desk for a tube of Glossip Girl. She knocked Fettuccine Alfredo to the floor, grabbed Brown Sugar, and gave her lips a quick swipe.
“Kristen, grab a bunch of those vases and put them behind me.”
“I can’t right now.” Kristen was struggling with her tangled jeans. “I don’t want them to see me in my underwear.”
“Alicia!”
“In a sec,” she called from Massie’s vanity, where she was braiding her hair like Hadley’s.
“I got it.” Claire’s arms were full of bouquets and gift baskets.
Once the area behind Massie was suitably packed with baskets, balloons, and flowers, Massie adjusted the webcam on top of her monitor, then clicked accept. Derrington, Cam, and Josh were leaning against a red couch in Derrington’s basement. The TV was on mute behind them.
“Nice newsletter, Block.” Derrington twisted the cuffs on his navy skate shorts. Josh and Cam were on either side of him, staring at their feet.
“Thanks.” Massie scanned his outfit. Yes! He was wearing the rhinestone M brooch she’d given him last month. It was pinned to the sleeve of his light blue T-shirt, right above the chocolate stain.
“Is all that stuff true?” A dirty-blond curl fell into his eyes. He jerked his head, but it didn’t move.
“What stuff?” Massie’s heart quickened.
“Those rumors we’ve been hearing.”
“Like what?” She took a deep breath and held it. Had word gotten out that they were responsible for Abby and Hadley’s latest feud? Would everyone turn against them for causing Hadley to walk off Dial L for Loser? Had Claire told them she was more popular with the actresses than Massie? Her ears started ringing and her palms went clammy.
“Kirk Morrison told me your dad is building you a school.”
“Oh, that.” She exhaled and wiped her hands on her satin pj’s. “Yeah, and it’s going to be coed.”
“Can I go?”
“Yup. But no shorts allowed,” Massie teased.
“Who’s gonna stop me?” He turned around and wiggled his butt for the girls.
Massie felt a tingle in the tiny space behind her belly button while everyone laughed with her boyfriend.
Feelings like these made her grateful there was a computer between them. She was terrified of another awkward is-he-about-to-make-a-move moment—like the one they had in Lake Placid before they kissed. The unpredictability of it all made Massie’s internal organs pretzel. It was kind of like puking in that way; having the feeling, knowing it was about to happen, but not knowing exactly when. And Massie hated puking.
“Claire.” Cam looked into the camera with his one blue eye and one green eye. “Is it true your brother felt up Abby Boyd?”
“Ew, no!” Claire turned red.
“So he wasn’t lying.” Josh pulled off his New York Yankees cap and whipped it onto the gray carpet. “That kid is incredible.”
“She’s not that hot in person, you know,” Alicia chimed in, obviously jealous that Josh was jealous of Todd. “Her hair is super short now. She looks like—”
“Like what?” Kristen cocked her head.
“Forget it.”
“Hey, Kristen.” Derrington pushed the hair away from his eyes. “Did you hear we got a new soccer coach?”
“It’s about time. Do you like him?”
“He’s awesome. Yesterday during drills he made us—”
“Zzzzzzzz.” Massie fake-snored.
“Hey!” Claire shouted. “Look.” She pressed her finger against the monitor and Massie smacked it away.
“Don’t touch the screen.”
“But look.” Kristen leaned into the computer and squinted. “It’s Rupert Mann.”
“’Ello, oym Rooopert Mannn.” Josh attempted to impersonate the British director.
He got an I’m-so-embarrassed-for-you shove from Cam and a giggle from Alicia.
“Rupert? Where? Hide me!” Dylan shouted from the bathroom.
“He’s on TV. Behind you!” Claire pointed. “What are you watching?”
“I dunno, one of those stupid Hollywood gossip shows,” Derrington mumbled. “My sister was watching it.”
“Yeah, right!” Josh punched Derrington on the arm.
“She was!” He returned the punch with his back to the camera, obviously trying to hide his guilty smile.
“Then why is your face purple?” Cam chuckled.
“It’s not!” Derrington elbowed him. “Maybe if your eyes were the same color you’d know that.”
Massie pressed her nose against the screen, ignoring their little brawl. “Channel seven! Quick!”
Everyone raced around the room looking for the remote except Claire. She sat patiently, obviously hoping to continue her conversation with Cam.
“We’ll call you after the show,” Massie announced.
“’Kay,” the boys replied in a chorus of cracked voices.
“Cam, wait!” Claire shouted.
“E-mail him later.” Massie clicked off the computer.
“Ehmagawd.” Alicia threw herself onto Massie’s fluffy white duvet. “There he is.”
The other girls squeezed beside her. And Bean jumped straight onto Massie’s lap.
“He still has my phone.”
“Who cares?” Alicia kicked off her Steve Madden leopard slippers. “Your new Motorola Razr is cooler.”
“I know, but I miss the purple rhinestones.”
“Shhhh.” Kristen lifted a finger to her lips. “We’re missing the whole interview.”
The girls focused on the TV.
“I love Ama-ri-cn cinema, Joanie, dawn’t get me wrung.” Rupert crossed his legs and rested a hand on his denim-clad kneecap. His blue Lacoste pique polo matched his eyes a little too well for the pairing to have been an accident, yet the cameraman seemed more interested in the pack of Big Red gum he was flipping between his fingers. “It’s just that the actors in yoh country ah such divas. I find them very unpleasant to work with.”
“Have you cast anyone to replace Hadley Durk?” Joanie pulled off her cat’s-eye glasses and leaned forward on her stool. “I heard rumors about Tara LeWine.” She quickly put the glasses back on, as if they doubled as a hearing aid.
“Right, well.” He tapped his thigh with the Big Red. “Tah-ra would be fabulous if I had anotha twenty mil in my budget. But I’m afraid I dawn’t.”
The camera cut to a close-up shot of Joanie shaking her head sympathetically.
“So I’m gaaw-ing to try something utta-ly revolutionary.”
“Don’t tell me—a computer-generated actress?”
“Hah-dly.” Rupert chuckled politely, then turned to the camera. He held Massie’s cell phone in front of the lens.
“Ehmagawd!” the girls screamed.
“Apple-C,” they screamed again.
“I want to meet the girl who owns this celly,” he announced. “I want you and those little friends of yoz to audition f’ Hadley’s role. No mo’ divas. I wohnt a real, down-t-uth girl this time.”
“Ehmagawd!” the girls screamed even louder.
“Apple-C,” they screamed again.
Massie automatically hit mute when a commercial for toe-fungus cream appeared on her screen.
“Call the show!” Claire urged.
“Wait.” Dylan ran out of the bathroom. “Call my mom. She’ll have his number.”
“I’m with Claire,” Kristen said. “Call the show.”
“Can everyone please calm down?” Massie got off the bed and paced. She needed to think about this. The last thing she wanted was for a famous director to think she was a desperate wannabe. At the same time she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t interest—
Hola… hola.
Hola… hola.
Alicia reached for her ringing phone.
“Hello?” When she heard the voice on the other end, she rolled her eyes and hit speaker.
“… and since you ah the first name in the address book I fig’ad I’d staht with you.”
“Oh, really?” Alicia shook her head in a what-an-idiot sort of way, then whispered, “Josh.”
The girls covered their mouths and lowered their ears closer to the phone.
“Yes, so, uh, do you know where I can find ha?” he continued.
“Too late.” Alicia tugged on one of her braids. “She just left with Orlando Bloom, Josh!” She hit end and the line went dead.
“His accent was pretty good.” Kristen giggled.
“Puh-lease.” Alicia rolled her eyes. “My mother is Spanish, remember? I think I can tell a European accent when I hear one.”
Pick up the phone.… Pick up the phone.…
“That’s me.” Claire lifted the ringing Nokia to her ear. “Hello?”
“I bet that’s him again.” Alicia tried to look annoyed, but her toothy smile betrayed her. She was loving Josh’s little flirtation.
“Hit speaker!” Massie ordered.
Claire covered the mouthpiece. “Don’t have it.”
Massie rolled her eyes.
The more Claire listened, the wider her mouth opened.
“Okay, uh, would you mind giving me your number and I’ll call you back from a better phone? My battery is dying. I can’t hear you.” Claire paused. “Oh, that’s right. Good point. Okay. ’Bye, Rupert.”
Dial L for Loser Page 6
