“I don’t care if you tried, Lenny!” Conner was still furious. “The idea was to make Abby jealous, not to make her dump me for hanging out with… Forget your excuses. You’re fired!”
Something whacked against the inside wall of his trailer.
“It’s a bad day for cell phones.” Alicia sighed.
“It’s a bad day for everything.” Massie pulled her up. “We better get out of here.”
“Where are we going to go?”
“Canada.”
CURRENT (PATHETIC) STATE OF THE UNION
INOUT
Pity party Wrap party
Press leaks Booger leaks
Lawsuits Bathing suits
THE CHOCOLATE BAR
DIAL L FOR LOSER
WRAP PARTY
Friday, April 3rd
9:09 P.M.
Rupert was standing by the DJ booth in L.A.’s hottest new club. He had a glass of champagne in one hand and a microphone in the other. “And last but noht least, I’d like to thank my stahs, Connah Foley, Abby Boyd, and Cleh Lyons.” He paused for a round of roaring applause.
“That’s you, honey.” Judi’s eyes welled up. “I’m sorry.” She dabbed them with the sleeve of her ivory blouse. “I’m just so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Claire grinned.
The applause died and Rupert continued. “Cleh, the moment I saw you I said, ‘Emma, I just found the most dahh-ling little loser.’” Everyone laughed. “But seriously.” He chuckled. “You have a great deal of talent and the beauty to match. I expect big things from you.” He raised his glass. “Cheers.”
Claire thanked Rupert with a gracious nod. He blew her an air kiss and she blew one back.
“So you really had no experience?” asked Vic Whitestone, the ancient CEO of Gelding Studios.
“Do you count The Wizard of Oz at an Orlando junior high school?” she asked.
A group of suit-wearing executives erupted with laughter.
“Well, word is you were simply wonderful,” gushed Lauren DiVine, one of the film’s producers. “And that you have next-big-thing potential.”
“Thank you so much.” Claire beamed. “I had a great time.”
“Do you see acting as part of your future?” asked Ric Bolster from the Artist Farm, one of the biggest talent agencies in the country.
“Totally.” Claire lifted her hand to tug on her bangs but quickly lowered it, remembering that Ahnna had styled them to perfection. “I’ve always dreamed of acting.”
“Well, with your charm, you should have no problem.” Ric grinned as he swished the cubes of ice around in his lime-garnished glass.
“I love your outfit.” Hannah, the extras coordinator, lifted a mini egg roll off a passing waiter’s tray. “The black lace minidress combined with the striped Keds is so fashion-forward. What a cool touch.”
“Thanks. Ahnna borrowed the dress from Proenza Schouler and the shoes are mine.”
“Divine!”
Claire’s face hurt from fake-smiling. She was sure her cheeks would crack into a million pieces if one more person congratulated her on herself. Not that a night of endless compliments from Hollywood’s elite was a bad thing. But for some reason, she felt lonely. Like she was filled with holes and the compliments she had been getting were leaking out.
“To Claire, the new girl in town!” shouted Stella, her now-tipsy assistant.
“To Claire!” everyone toasted and cheered.
Their applause started to sound like sizzling bacon as Claire’s insides felt carbonated. Her brain no longer seemed attached to her body. Instead, it hovered above a stranger in a designer dress who had just been praised by a famous director.
“I wish your father was here to see all of this.” Her mother’s eyes glistened.
“I wish a lot of people were here to see all this,” Claire mumbled.
Judi threw her arms around her daughter and Claire inhaled the familiar powdery smell of her skin.
“I’m gonna go find Abby.” She pulled away before she could start crying. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” Judi wiped her eyes.
Abby was in the center of the dance floor tying a red chiffon scarf around the neck of Conner’s standin. Everyone formed a circle around them and cheered as she pulled him closer. Conner was the only one who seemed oblivious to her—which was hard to believe, since he was two feet away, grinding Gina’s backside.
Looks like dance wars are the new press wars, Claire said to herself, wishing Massie were there to appreciate her observation.
Everyone cleared the floor when the DJ played a Kevin Federline song.
“Abby!” Claire waved.
“Hey.” Abby wiped her forehead on some guy’s button-down without him noticing.
Claire burst out laughing. Everything was going to be okay. So what if the Pretty Committee hated her? She had new friends now. And they were just as funny.
“How long will you be in Australia?” Claire asked Abby. She missed her already.
“Two months.” She popped a finger off a chocolate statue. “It’s a first-time director and he isn’t as fast as Rupert.”
“Maybe I can visit you,” Claire offered. “I have some money now.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, you have to send me your address.”
“Why?”
“So I can send you stories about how pathetic everyone is in Westchester.”
“Claire, why would you send me stories?”
She stared at Abby blankly. “But wouldn’t you want—”
Abby scanned the room, like she was looking for someone. “We were MBFs, not RBFs. I thought you knew that.”
“Huh?”
Abby snapped once. “We were movie best friends, not real best friends.”
The carbonation was coming back. “But I thought—”
“I’m starting a new movie and that means new hair, a new crush, and a new BFF.” She gripped Claire’s shoulders.
“Don’t worry.” She kissed her on the cheek. “You can totally keep the ring.”
Abby raced back to the dance floor, waving her chiffon scarf in the air.
Once again, Claire Lyons stood alone, wondering what she could have possibly done wrong. Another hole formed in her heart. This time everything leaked out.
The DJ suddenly jacked up the music and the entire club became one massive, quaking dance floor. Claire pushed through hordes of sweating, jumping, grinding, whoo-whooing crew members in search of her mother. Luckily, everyone was having too much fun to notice her tears or hear her whimpering as she passed.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Judi moved in for another hug but Claire backed away. Contact with a family member would reduce her to a sobbing mess.
“I think I ate some bad shrimp. Can we please go?”
“Of course.”
They rushed outside without saying goodbye to anyone and rode back to the hotel in silence. Claire let the hot tears pour out of her while Judi rubbed her head. What did she have to look forward to? Seeing Cam with another girl? Getting kicked out of the Pretty Committee? Stumbling across pictures of Abby and her latest MBF in a magazine? She cried harder. If friends were houses, she’d have been homeless.
The hotel was filled with movie-star look-alikes begging for tables at the Glass Slipper or waiting for the valet to return with their cars. Bursts of laughter exploded like grenades as Claire raced to the elevators, doubting that she’d ever smile again.
“I left the key in the room,” Judi called after her. “We have to stop at the front desk and then we can go upstairs and talk about—”
Claire waved, letting her mother know to go without her. How could she possibly tell that sweet woman her daughter was a hopeless loser? It would break her heart.
The elevator was packed with people coming up from the restaurant, but they got out in the lobby. Claire quickly hit twenty-five. And when the doors closed, she burst into stomach-wrenching sobs. If felt good to finally let it
all out.
“What’s wrong?” Massie asked. “Are you mad we’re on your elevator?”
Claire whipped her head around. Massie and Alicia were behind her, holding Styrofoam boxes of leftovers, which would inevitably end up in Bean’s bowl.
“Maybe you could have your assistant kick us off,” Alicia sneered.
Claire quickly dried her eyes and lifted her chin.
“You’re home early.” Massie sounded delighted. “Something happen?”
Claire sobbed harder. They stared at her with no emotion whatsoever until she was calm enough to speak.
“At least New Yorkers let you know when they don’t like you. Here, everyone acts like a friend but they’re just using you.”
“I hear ya.” Massie actually sounded sympathetic. “Like when you had us kicked off the set? I knew you didn’t like us.”
“Point.” Alicia raised her finger.
“Exactly.” Claire felt her cheeks burn. “Like when you planted mustache bleach and athlete’s foot cream in my trash, then showed it on TV? I knew you didn’t like me.”
“And when you didn’t call me back about dinner?” Massie sneered. “I knew you didn’t like me.”
Claire had pushed that night out of her head. How could she ever have believed Conner and Abby would be her BFFs?
“And when you were too busy laughing with Abby to give us an interview? I knew you didn’t like me.” Alicia joined in.
The mention of Abby made Claire’s stomach lurch.
“And when you sent Cam a picture of me making out with Conner?”
Ding.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Massie and Alicia pushed past her and stormed down the hall. For some reason, the sight of Alicia in her strappy high heels, struggling to keep up with Massie, made Claire giggle. Then her giggle turned into a laugh and her laugh became full-blown hysteria. Her entire face was leaking snot and tears, but none of that mattered. In fact, nothing mattered. And with nothing left, there was nothing to lose. She was finally free.
Massie turned around. “What’s so funny?”
Claire, still laughing, grabbed a handful of blue foil-wrapped chocolates off the maid’s cart and whipped them at the girls.
“Ouch!” Alicia held her hand in front of her face. “Stop!”
“Kuh-laire, what are you doing?”
She grabbed another handful of chocolates and whipped them down the hall.
“Stop it!” Massie snapped.
“Seriously.” Alicia held her oversized Fendi in front of her face. “Or you’ll regret it.”
“What are you going to do?” Claire grabbed more chocolates. “Ignore me? Call me a loser? Make fun of my clothes? Embarrass me on TV? Turn my boyfriend against me?”
The girls were silent.
“Besides…” She unleashed another handful of chocolates. “When everyone sees those pictures, you’ll be begging for my friendship.”
“Point.” Alicia glanced at Massie.
“Point,” Massie said. Then she bent down, picked up a chocolate, and pelted it at Claire.
It was a direct hit to her eyebrow.
“Ouch!” Claire grabbed her forehead.
As the lump above her left eyebrow got bigger, the holes in Claire’s heart got smaller. And suddenly, everything stopped leaking.
LE BACCARAT HOTEL
SUITE 2544
Saturday, April 4th
12:11 A.M.
“Who wants these black Joie cargos?” Claire waved the cropped pants over her head like a lasso.
“I already have ’em in white.” Alicia shuffled into the bathroom wearing her Le Baccarat slippers and bathrobe. She turned on the sink and started brushing her teeth with an electric toothbrush.
“I have ’em in olive.” Massie did up the buttons on her father’s old Brooks Brothers shirt-turned-pajama-top. It was her secret way of staying close to him while she was away. “Put them in K’s pile.”
Claire whipped them on top of a pile marked KRISTEN: FEMININE-SPORTY.
The girls had gone through all seven comps boxes, dividing the clothes as they saw fit.
Claire’s “Casual-Comfy” Pile
Designers Include:
C&C Juicy Couture
Velvet Splendid
Massie’s “Trendy-Chic” Pile
Designers Include:
Ella Moss DKNY
BCBG Lauren Moffatt
Alicia’s “Flirty-Classic” Pile*
Designers Include:
Theory Ya-Ya
Marc Jacobs Charlotte Ronson
(*Ralph Lauren withdrew his comps because Claire refused to wear him exclusively while in Los Angeles. It hurt Alicia more than it hurt Ralph.)
Kristen’s “Feminine-Sporty” Pile
Designers Include:
Chip & Pepper Diesel
Joie Vince
Dylan’s “Loud and Proud” Pile
Designers Include:
L.A.M.B. Betsey Johnson
Miss Sixty Alice + Olivia
Layne’s “Reject” Pile
Includes:
A handbag shaped like a cell phone
Polka-dot espadrilles
A belt made of gum wrappers
A J.Lo by Jennifer Lopez T-shirt
“How are we going to pack all of this?” Massie collapsed on her pile.
“Stella said she’d have it shipped home for us,” Claire replied.
“I just stopped hating her,” Massie murmured into her turquoise-and-brown tank top.
Ding.
“Is that my computer?” Alicia called from the bathroom.
“Yup.” Claire jumped to her feet. “Want me to check it?”
“It’s not Cam.” Massie rolled her eyes.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Because it’s…” She checked her Coach watch. “Three fifteen in the morning back home. Besides, why would he be emailing you on Alicia’s computer?”
Claire tugged the navy blue string on her new Juicy sweats. “I emailed him while you guys were going through the fourth comp box.”
Massie was about to lecture Claire on the art of playing it cool but held her tongue. After all, it was her fault they were fighting. The least she could do was be supportive. “What did you write?”
“I’m not telling.” Claire blushed.
“I’ll just go look in her sent mail.” Massie pushed herself off the floor and raced into the living room.
“Noooo!” Claire giggle-screamed. “Don’t you dare!” She charged after her.
Massie stopped in front of the computer. “False alarm.”
“Who is it?” Alicia rubbed a cotton ball across her oil-free T-zone.
“It’s Dylan and Kristen.” Massie felt sick of saying their names. She had been leaving them messages all week and neither one of them had bothered returning her calls. She had overcome the humiliation of losing the movie to Claire but if one of them stole Derrington, she would—
Alicia clicked accept.
“Hey!” Dylan and Kristen waved. They were sitting on Massie’s bed, each wearing a pair of her satin Victoria’s Secret pj’s.
“I gave you permission to sleep at my house, not raid my closet,” Massie snapped. “And why aren’t you sleeping?”
“I told you she’d be mad,” Dylan said to Kristen.
Massie knew her greeting was harsh. But what did they expect?
“Well, you won’t be mad when you hear this.” Kristen beamed. “We were going to wait and tell you in person but we couldn’t sleep without telling you—”
“Lemme guess. You and Derrington lip-kissed in the middle of the soccer field?”
“What?” Kristen gasped.
“I know why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“You do?” Kristen crinkled her forehead.
“Yeah, it’s because you’ve been hanging out with Derrington.” Massie’s voice shook. She’d had no idea how upset she was until she heard herself say the words.
“And Josh,” Alicia added.
Dylan reached into a cereal box. “I guess that’s why they’re going to be at your welcome-home party tomorrow.”
“Dylan!” Kristen smacked her so hard she choked on her bran flakes.
“A surprise party?” Alicia squealed.
“Yeah.” Kristen shoved Dylan.
“Sorry.” Dylan chewed. “Don’t tell anyone I told you.”
“Is Derrington going?” Massie asked.
“Of course,” Kristen said.
“Yay!” Massie shouted, letting her excitement show. Why not? If he dumped her, she could handle it. If this trip had taught her one thing, it was that she could survive rejection and humiliation—maybe even triumph from them.
“What about Josh?”
“Yup,” Dylan said between chews.
“Is Cam going to be there?” Claire asked.
“Uh…” Dylan looked to Kristen for backup.
“Uh…” She cleared her throat. “He didn’t mention anything. But that doesn’t mean—”
“Massie!” Claire stomped her foot.
“Okay, okay. It will all be fixed in the morning. Pinky-swear.”
Claire locked pinkies with Massie and shook.
“Then why haven’t you called us back?” Alicia asked. “Is everyone laughing at us? Are you embarrassed to be friends with a butt-picker and a booger-leaker?”
Massie’s stomach lurched. It was the one thing she had been afraid to ask. “Are we so done?”
“Done?” Dylan slapped another handful of bran flakes in her mouth. “Done? Ehmagawd, no! You’re the opposite of done. You’re un-done!”
“Everyone wants you to sign their magazines.” Kristen shook her copy of US Weekly. She flipped to page seventeen. “You are swimming at Conner Foley’s house. Conner Foley!” She fell back on the bed and shook her legs in the air.
“But what about my booger?”
“And my wedgie?”
“You were at Conner Foley’s house!” Kristen shouted.
“Point.” Alicia lifted her finger.
A tingle shot up Massie’s spine. “Now that I think about it, this is the best thing that could have happened to us.”
Dial L for Loser Page 18
