by Zoey Dean
Jojo was an insider. Plain and simple. How many other sixteen-year-old girls got exclusive
invites to wrap parties held at the famous Transnational lot?
Okay, so it wasn't exactly exclusive: Everyone at BHH had been invited, as a thank-you for
letting the film shoot at the school. Still, she was here and not hiding in a corner. The party was
outdoors, and the lot had been decorated to look like a metropolitan version of heaven. Even the
tawny golden Transnational gates bore a glittery sign that read, THANK HEAVEN FOR
BEVERLY HILLS HIGH SCHOOL. Each wrought-iron spike was topped with a halo
fashioned from twinkle lights. Down the lot's New York street, beneath their cover of a white,
glittery sheen, Jojo recognized the brownstone steps where Anne Hathaway and Chris Evans
had kissed over spilled groceries in the remake of Barefoot in the Park. Amelie Adams stood
on the steps now, talking to BHH's principal, Dr. Nachez, who had the unfortunate nickname
Dr. Nachos thanks to his slight paunch. He was oblivious to the fact all his students were
carrying flutes of champagne in open violations of BHH's no-tolerance policy--perhaps on
purpose.
Jojo debated snapping a photo of Amelie Adams wearing a chic taupe Zac Posen dress that she
recognized from Myla's spring runway collection flash cards. She could send it to Willa. But
Willa still wasn't speaking to her. Myla had suggested sending a basket of exotic apology
treats, but instead Jojo had gone the I fucked up big-time route, admitting her lie and
apologizing like crazy. All to no avail.
A waitress dressed as an angel, one who looked like she possibly stripped on the side,
approached her with a tray of sweets. "Heavenly dessert?" Jojo scanned the tray of white
chocolate ice cream scoops topped with white chocolate fudge in martini glasses, white
brownies shaped like halos, and white frosted angel-wing sugar cookies.
Just as she was about to decide, Tucker appeared and grabbed two cookies in his fist. "Sweet,"
he said, handing Jojo a bottle of Corona, even though she'd asked for champagne.
"Thanks," Jojo said, immediately setting the beer down on a cloud-topped cafe table that had
been set up outside the façade of a New York diner. Jojo was a little annoyed that Tucker didn't
notice or apologize, but decided not to say anything. She'd attempted to ask Myla for advice on
the Tucker front last night, but Myla had turned the conversation around, asking if Tucker had
mentioned Ash. Jojo was able to repeat Tucker's lament that his "bro" had been babysitting
Crazy Daisy a lot. Myla had been happy to hear that--happier than Jojo had seen her in days-and after that, Jojo hadn't wanted to ruin the mood by voicing her doubts about Tucker.
"No problem," Tucker said, guzzling his beer. "This party's kind of lame, huh?"
Jojo was thinking quite the opposite. Maybe it was touristy of her, but she loved being
surrounded by the familiar backdrops of her favorite movies. "It's okay, I think."
Tucker nodded, looking around, his attention consumed by the barely dressed angels who
passed with trays of food. His eyes landed on the long bar that stretched from the brownstone
down to the old-fashioned fire department. Silver buckets of ice holding Moët champagne lined
one side of the bar.
"Oh, hold on a sec," he said, touching Jojo's arm and jogging over to the bar. Jojo felt
moderately better. He'd remembered the champagne. She watched as he sidled down the bar,
peering into the buckets. He waggled his fingers at several of the waitresses, who flocked to
him. Jojo hoped he wasn't going to make some big gesture and bring her the whole bottle of
Moët. She just wanted a flute.
Tucker lifted one of the buckets from the table and carried it over to her, the waitresses
following him like a flock of glittery birds. His face formed the mischievous grin that Jojo
actually liked.
"I had an idea for how we can liven this place up," he said.
"Stealing an ice bucket?" Jojo chided. "Really?"
"No, Jo," he replied, and she winced at the dreaded nickname. "Wet T-shirt contest."
A horrified look crossed Jojo's face. She'd heard Tucker was a horndog, but this was a little too
Girls Gone Wild even for him.
He hefted the bucket, which contained water from melted ice, onto his shoulder. "You wanna
go first, since you're my girlfriend and everything?"
She stepped out of the way just as Tucker flung the cold water in her direction. The giant
splash hit the waitress behind her. The girl shrieked, but giddily, as her near-sheer white
negligee went from PG-13 to NC-17.
"What the hell, Tucker?" Jojo screamed, but Tucker was already running to the bar for more
water, a trail of squealing waitresses behind him, yelling, "Me next!"
"Jojo, come here, this is awesome," Tucker yelled, waving her over. He really thought she
would be his cohort in an impromptu wet T-shirt contest?
She was so dumping him. At least she still had her sister.
"To us," Kady said, raising her champagne flute high.
"To us," Jake clinked her glass with his own, conscious of cameras firing away.
When he'd made his way into the party, he'd collected high fives and congrats from BHH
classmates who'd only talked to him before to get homework help. Life as half of a superstar
couple was treating him well. The only thing better was the way Kady looked tonight. She
wore a short black sequined skirt with a red cotton racerback tank over it, a skinny blue scarf
tossed around her neck. Her chin-length jet-black hair was pulled back on one side, enhancing
her deep-set dark blue eyes and dewy olive skin. Sneaking out, even in the Corolla, had been
worth it.
They were standing in a roped-off area reserved for principal cast and crew, studio execs, and
BHH administrators. Jake was on full display--for the first time in his life, he was hanging out
somewhere other people actually wanted to be. Other students looked at him with envy and
admiration as they made their way past. Rod Stegerson and his buddies had even checked out
Kady, her legs dusted with shimmer atop a pair of candy-apple red DSquared2 high heels that
brought her closer to Jake's height. Rod had given Jake the "guy's nod" of acknowledgment.
If this was to be his life from here on out, he could definitely deal.
Kady took advantage of her added height and kissed Jake in the space behind his ear. Geoff
Schaffer and Tucker Swanson, each carrying a bucket of melted ice, gave him the thumbs-up.
Jake usually closed his eyes when Kady kissed him, but tonight he wanted to witness people
seeing him as something other than the geek who could speak Japanese and Vulcan.
He glanced at Amelie, who was talking to his principal and one of the deans. She didn't look
his way. Across the way, he saw Miles, Rush Baxter, an AV buddy who was a student PA on
the movie, and a few other AV squad guys making their way to the PS3 tent. Miles wore a
new jacket, a gray blazer that actually fit him. Rush half-smiled, but like he was afraid of Jake,
not like they were friends. Jake waved at the guys. Rush's hand went halfway up, until Miles
raised an eyebrow. Rush retracted his hand, and they all looked straight ahead and kept
walking. So Miles was mad at him? A prickle of irritation tugged at Jake. This whole manager
thing had been Miles's idea, not his.
Jake turned bac
k to Kady. He had a special evening planned tomorrow night: He was going to
take her to the Little Door. Last night at Citizen Smith, Brent Bolthouse, the club promoter, had
recommended it. It was supposed to be an ultra-romantic restaurant, and really exclusive.
"I was thinking..." he started, holding Kady a little tighter. Just then, as eager photogs closed
in, her BlackBerry beeped with an incoming e-mail.
"Hold on a sec," Kady said, squeezing his hand. She fished the device from inside the
waistband of her skirt.
"Wow," she breathed. "I don't believe it."
"What's up?" Jake asked, snaking his arm around Kady's waist and pulling her close.
"I got a part in Ridley Scott's new World War II movie," she said, taking a deep breath and
looking at Jake with a message behind her eyes. "Have you heard about it? The one about the
time travelers from the present who go back to meet the Greatest Generation?"
Jake had heard about it, all right. The script was a collaboration between Ridley Scott and
Christopher Nolan, and the cast so far included Christian Bale, Will Smith, and Eric Bana. And
now his girlfriend. Jake was impressed as he catalogued all the awesome movies Ridley Scott
had made: Alien, Blade Runner, Gladiator... . It was a habit from his geek days he couldn't quite
break, but at least he didn't say the names out loud. "Congratulations," he said instead.
Kady kissed him happily. "I'm so excited. I auditioned months ago and never heard anything
about it. It was such a long shot. But now I'm going to working with Ridley Scott." She
shivered with happiness. Jake brushed his hands up and down her bare arms to warm her.
"I'm so happy for you. And for us," Jake said. And he was. If Kady was landing major roles in
sci-fi historical epics, who knew what might be in store for him?
Kady gazed up at him, her long lashes half-shielding her dark blue eyes. "Well, that's the
thing," she said, squeezing his hand. "It's filming in Prague. I leave next week."
He imagined himself visiting Kady in Prague. They'd stroll down cobblestone streets, tour all
the castles and cathedrals, happen upon the shadowy nooks and crannies of the atmospheric
city and steal kisses beneath the romantically dreary gray sky. "I've always wanted to go. Franz
Kafka's from there. There's a museum for his work," he blurted. He winced at the involuntary
emission of a nerd fact, and quickly backpedaled. "We wouldn't have to go or anything."
Kady's eyes popped, as if Jake just told her he was pregnant. "But Jake," she protested like she
was talking to a child. "You have no idea how bad long-distance can be. I don't want to be a
bitch, but it would just be impossible."
Jake took a step back, trying to remember to breathe. "But I thought..." he began, not knowing
what words could bring her back to five minutes ago, when everything was still ahead of them.
"We're Kake." Their couple name wilted in the air for a second. Jake wondered if he could have
made a lamer argument.
Kady pushed a curl away from his forehead, looking at him pitifully, like he was in a full-body
cast. "We'll always be Kake," she said, smiling dolefully.
Jake faced facts: She was dumping him. The movie was over, she had to leave town, and she
was dumping him. Jake had never officially been dumped before, because he'd never had an
official girlfriend before. But instead of the news hitting him like a shot to the gut, he processed
it like a mathematical equation. There was only one possible outcome: Geek plus hot, famous
girl equals geek getting dumped. He wanted to tell Miles, who was like a geek anthropologist
when it came to this stuff. But he couldn't. He'd sent his buddy to do his dirty work, left him
standing alone, and now Miles wouldn't talk to him. His own mom had called him a douche
bag. And she was right. He'd sold his soul for fame. As if fame could make your life
everything you wanted it to be.
"Are you okay?" Kady said, squeezing his hands tightly, as if potentially breaking his
metacarpus would distract him from the pain of abandonment. "We had so much fun, and if I
was staying, there's no way this would happen. You're a great guy. You'll find a new girl in no
time."
"Don't worry about it," Jake said, squeezing her hands back. He couldn't be mad at her. His
status as dumpee was inevitable. He was lucky to even be in the position of getting dumped.
It had been fun. She was right on that. And maybe in some world, he was the kind of great guy
who'd find a girl in no time. But without a new role coming up--and probably with a lifelong
grounding and a pissed-off best friend--he somehow doubted his social life was going to be
awesome from here on out.
CHARMED, I'M SURE
Myla held still as one of the Class Angel makeup artists carefully applied a dusting of
highlighter to her cheekbones. She had to admit, the VIP tent for the party more than met her
standards.
Guys in dark jeans with Reavis High jackets open to expose their chiseled, glitter-coated chests
were giving neck and shoulder rubs, while the hair and makeup staff offered up their expertise.
As a woman who looked twelve but had the voice of Kathleen Turner worked on her face, a
flamboyant guy in a pink suit curled individual tendrils of Myla's hair, pinning them in a sexy,
messy arrangement along her head. A lot of the BHH guys were in the tent next door, which
was fully stocked with unreleased video games and girls in skimpy angel costumes offering
massages and reflexology.
Myla was trying her best to relax, after no word from Ash since the beach party. She'd heard
from Jojo via Tucker that Ash had been spending time with Daisy, which seemed to bode well.
Of course, she had no solid reason to believe Ash would kiss Daisy and come running back to
her. But she also had no reason to believe her plan wouldn't work. In one of her favorite
scenarios, Ash, about to kiss Daisy, stopped just before contact, and realized that Myla had
been telling the truth and that the kiss with Lewis had been less than meaningless.
Myla had taken extra care to look perfect when Ash arrived. She'd worn his favorite perfume,
Harajuku Lovers Music, and his favorite color, green, in the form of an Alice + Olivia draped
V-neck minidress. With her hair pulled up, her delicate neck and shoulder blades were
exposed. She even had her Green Lantern ring, strung on a new gold chain, tucked into her
violet Marc Jacobs clutch, for him to loop around her neck when they got back together. Her
mom had received the clutch, covered in dozens of cutout hearts, today, and Myla took the
hearts as a sign that tonight was her and Ash's night. It had to be.
"You have amazing bone structure," the makeup artist said in her husky voice. "So refined."
Myla half-smiled in thanks, flicking her eyes to the mirror on the table next to her. Talia, Billie,
and Fortune approached behind her. Even though they'd made no attempts to talk since she'd
ditched them in the cafeteria, now all three girls looked as frightened as kindergartners left
behind on a field trip. Clearly, Myla's closeness with Jojo had gotten to them, and they were
worried their absence hadn't been missed.
"You really do," Talia said, her apologetic frown contrasting with the cheery retro print of her
Juicy paisley silk dress. "I wish I had cheekbones like yours."
"I read that
one of the most popular plastic surgeries with teens is to get Myla's cheekbones,"
Fortune said, trying to one-up Talia. " Teen Vogue, I think."
Billie bounced on the balls of her feet, looking ready to throw herself in Myla's arms for a hug.
She nervously grabbed a handful of her short, gathered Thakoon skirt, printed with tiny pink
petals. "We're so sorry for the last few weeks," Billie said, looking on the verge of tears. "And
for not listening to you about Grant."
Myla shrugged. In a way, her friends' sudden ass-kissing for forgiveness was annoying. They
were acting like they'd left her stranded. Which they had, right when she'd needed them. But
she'd never have admitted that. Still, she felt warmed by their urgent need to apologize. "I could
have helped you if you'd asked. Amelie's soup kitchen didn't work?"
"He didn't show. And he's not here tonight." Talia sighed heavily, flopping into the seat next to
Myla's. "I can't believe Amelie lied to us and dragged us to that place," she said, wrinkling her
nose. She picked up a makeup brush and swirled it absently into a container of powder. "I've
never seen that many homeless people in one place, Myla. Even in Santa Monica. And then
tonight Amelie tried to act all, 'Who cares if Grant's not here? We have each other.' Yeah, right.
She was totally just using us."
Myla nodded triumphantly.
"Anyway, we really missed you," Fortune said. "Can I give you a hug?"
"Of course," Myla said, a sense of calm flowing through her body as Fortune smothered her in
a hug and the other girls followed suit, a tangle of spray-tanned limbs, perfume, and hair
products. But Myla drank it all in. She'd been feeling untethered in the weeks since her friends
started drifting. Coupled with Ash's distance, she felt like everyone was abandoning her. Jojo
didn't count. Because as much as Myla was starting to love her new sister, she knew Jojo
would always be there. Jojo depended on Myla for everything--style, confidence, even a
boyfriend. She wasn't going anywhere.
"Thanks guys," she said, drawing back from the hug. "Now, I was about to get a manicure. Do
you want to join me?" She was careful to play the part of Old Myla, girl in charge. Showing
too much emotion would be like displaying her weaknesses for the world to see.
