by Jen Calonita
"We'll also have to spend some time working out how Kaitlin will answer questions about her next project," Seth adds.
"Before we tackle this, does anyone want a coffee?" Dad interrupts. Everyone does. Laney, Rodney, Matty, Mom, and Seth are still talking about next week's junket as they file out.
Austin sits back down next to me. "I'm so glad you're okay," he says. "And I'm glad you finally told them what you were feeling."
"Thanks for staying with me," I tell him. He leans over and kisses me.
"So are you hungry?" Austin asks. "I can go down to the cafeteria and get you something."
"Anything," I beg. "I didn't each much at lunch before I passed out."
After Austin leaves, it's just me and Nadine. Her silver bridesmaid dress makes a swishing noise when she walks over to my bed.
"I can't believe you left your cousin's wedding to see me after the way I treated you the other night," I say guiltily.
"I just left a little early," she tells me with a small smile. "You should have seen the looks I got on the plane." She laughs, then her face turns serious. "I came as soon as I heard. I was so worried about you."
"Nadine, I'm so sorry about the way I've acted," I tell her.
"Stop. It's me who should be apologizing," she says. "I pushed you too hard about the SATs and your meetings. Your plate has been so full. You needed an ally and I only made things more hectic."
"I know you were only trying to help me, but it felt like you switched to Team Laney/Mom just when I needed you the most," I admit.
Nadine looks away. "I feel like I've let you down." Her voice quivers. "I have a confession to make. When I went home to Chicago for Christmas and saw my parents, they gave me this big speech about my life and how I was wasting it."
"You're kidding!" I'm flabbergasted. The way Nadine has always talked about her folks, they sounded like the coolest people in the world.
"They said I had done this silly assistant thing long enough and probably saved up enough money to go to graduate school twice and that I needed to stop fooling around and concentrate on my future." She looks at me and her eyes are watery. "They said I had to stop slacking off."
Now I feel really awful. I said almost the exact same thing to Nadine, but I was just being mean. "You never slack off," I point out. "You work harder than anyone I know."
"They don't see it that way." Nadine shakes her head. "I tried explaining how important I am to you. How I'm trying to make sure you have a future that includes more than just acting. I guess when I came back to L.A., I wanted to make sure I really did that and I didn't realize how much pressure I was adding to your life. I'm so sorry, Kates."
"I'm sorry I said those awful things to you," I begin to blubber.
The two of us cry it out for a while. After we're done, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I'm finally making amends for my actions, and Nadine is only the start.
Saturday, February 21
NOTE TO SELF:
Send flowers 2 Sure editors.
Call Liz. (Send her flowers 2)
**Ask Seth 4 a new batch of scripts 2 read. READ EVERYTHING!
Check on Meeting of the Minds.
PRESS JUNKET 4 PYA - next Saturday
Monday call time: 6:30 AM
Fourteen: Meet the Press. Again.
"Kates?" Nadine says softly. "Kaitlin," she sings.
I don't respond. I'm buried beneath my very comfortable 600-thread count comforter and I don't plan on coming out anytime soon.
"KAITLIN." Nadine's tone is sharper now. "I know you can hear me. It's 8:15. We have to leave at 9:30. Don't you think you should start getting ready?"
"Do I really have to go?" I want to know.
"Paul and Shelly are downstairs waiting. And Tina left a few smart outfits in your closet for you to try on." Nadine ignores me. "I think it would be best if you got up."
Argh. I know Nadine's right. I really do. But I'm not convinced I can face the press at today's junket. I'm embarrassed about telling all these journalists that I wound up in the hospital for dehydration. There's already been some press speculation that my fainting spell was code for "mental exhaustion" (aka party addiction).
"Kaitlin?" Nadine has her hand on my comforter and is rocking me back and forth. "What do you say?"
KAITLIN BURKE: FALLEN FROM GRACE. The recent Celebrity Nation special pops in my head. Oh God. This is almost Britney territory we're dealing with. Okay, maybe not Britney, but definitely Lindsay.
Well, maybe it's not that bad either. Mischa Barton? UGH. That's still bad.
I can't breathe. I throw my covers back and start freaking out. "Nadine, I can't do this! I can't defend myself to fifty-plus newspaper and magazine journalists! I feel silly saying I forgot to eat or drink anything that day! If I have to talk about Ava and Lauren and my recent shopping addiction, then I'll wind up spilling the beans about how scared I've been about losing FA and then it's all downhill from there. I'll look like a total flake!" I start coughing and wheezing and Nadine quickly hands me a glass of water.
I take a huge gulp. Ah. That's better so I take another.
"Feeling better?" Nadine asks sweetly.
"A little," I manage.
"Good." Nadine smiles. "Now get up." Her face is sterner. "You are not going to be late for this press junket."
I shake my head and stare at Nadine. She has on a gray wrap-sweater, boot-cut dark denim Gap jeans and ankle boots. "I can't face all those people. And Sky and Drew. And Hutch! Can you imagine what Hutch is going to say to me?" Sky I can deal with. I've seen her all week and she's been nice enough to not make a single rude comment about my hospital trek. But Drew, who is my boyfriend in Pretty Young Assassins on top of being my real-life ex, and Hutch Adams, my director who is certifiably insane, are going to send me over the edge. "Let's face it. I'm doomed. I can't do this." I shrink back under my covers and close my heavy eyes. Sleep. I just need to sleep.
"You faced your costars at FA, didn't you?" Nadine reminds me. "They were proud of you for trying to fix things. Tom is even letting you wait till this week to film the retrospective. You can do this too."
I shake my head. "It's not the same thing," I tell my pillow. "I can't face all those reporters. My quotes are going to be all over the papers and Web by nightfall. I feel like a big, fat liar using the dehydration excuse."
"I thought you'd react this way after a restless night's sleep," Nadine reconsiders. "That's why I sent for help. Come in." I hear Nadine say.
My door creaks open. Who could it be? Austin? Tina? Paul and Shelly? Laney?
"I'll leave you two alone," Nadine tells us and then I hear her walk out.
Curiosity gets the best of me and I peek out of my covers to see who my guest is.
"Liz?" I'm shocked and my voice reflects that. What's she doing here?
I tried calling her several times this week. I left a bunch of messages saying what an awful friend I was and how sorry I was for everything. But she didn't call me back. Austin said to give her time and now she's here.
"I am not letting you be late for this junket. We're saving your butt today," Liz says sternly, but I can see she's smiling. She looks great. It's been almost a month -- a whole month -- since I've seen her and I could swear her dark, kinky curly hair, which never grows, looks longer. She's got her signature look working for her -- a Pucci head scarf -- and has a black knit top over a cream tank with black leggings and Chanel flats. Liz goes straight for my closet. "Now let's see. Tina told me she picked out three outfits. Ah. Here they are!"
"Liz," I squeak, trying not to cry. "I've been such a jerk. I should have told you what was going on with me. I should have made more of an effort to see you."
"I think you should wear the green Rebecca Taylor top with Minx jeans," Liz ignores me. "Green really brings out your eyes and the cotton will feel soft on your skin so you'll be comfortable."
"Liz?" I try again. Liz doesn't say anything. "Stop picking out clothes for
me. I don't deserve it." I pull off my comforter and pad over to the large walk-in closet in my polka-dotted Gap yoga pants and blue tank top.
Liz gasps. "When did you get this great Nicole Miller?" She holds up a black studded dress with a pocket on the chest.
I knock it out of her hand and the hanger clangs to the floor. "Forget about the Nicole Miller! I'm trying to apologize," I insist. "I'm sorry for everything -- for not being there for you when you needed me, for the way I behaved with Mikayla, and how I treated you when you called me."
"I'm the one who should apologize for being a lousy best friend," Liz says. "When I saw the news about you being in the hospital I got so upset. I was in Chicago with Dad this week on business; otherwise I would have come right away. I was going to call you, but I didn't know what to say." She sounds choked up. "I had to see you in person. We got back last night." She starts to cry. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. How could I have missed how stressful Family Affair ending has been on you? I was so wrapped up in my own drama with this NYU application and college visits that I couldn't see you were in the same boat I was." She starts to hiccup. "I didn't mean what I said about us growing apart and not being able to relate. I was just mad that that you weren't around. I know I said some awful things. I got so wrapped up in Mikayla's stories about New York and NYU that getting into that college was all I could think about," Liz continues.
"Mikayla made me feel like I was so far behind everyone else," Liz adds. "She made me feel like all the Hollywood stuff I did was frivolous." Liz grabs a tissue from my counter and blows her nose loudly. "My whole life has been this town!" She sounds angry now. "My dad's in the business! If he wasn't, and I hadn't met you, I wouldn't even know that I wanted to be a producer. This town works for me. Anyway, I got tired of her lecturing me all the time. I haven't spoken to her since she went back to NYU."
You mean I have Lizzie back to myself again? That's so wrong. I started rereading Nadine's and my favorite self-help book -- Embrace the True You -- and chapter twelve is called There's No I in Friendship. The title doesn't really make sense, but the point is, you're supposed to raise your friends up, not be happy when they fail.
"I did the same thing with Lauren and Ava," I tell Liz. "I didn't see who they really were till it was too late. They didn't act the way real friends would. You're my best friend and I should have been there for you when you needed me. I shouldn't have let one stupid fight get in the way of that. I should have apologized to you weeks ago, but I was being stubborn."
"I was wrong to say that stuff about college, Kates," Liz stresses. "Our friendship doesn't ride on whether we're both going to college. We'll be friends no matter where we wind up. What we have is so much deeper than a four-year school."
"I know," I wail. We both start bawling and hug again and that's when I hear Nadine come back in the room. She sees us and smiles.
"That's what I was hoping for," Nadine tells me. "So now that your real life is fixed, can we fix your Hollywood one?"
"I don't know." I wipe my eyes. "Liz knows and loves me like no one does. The press isn't going to be as easy."
Liz puts her hand on my shoulder. "What are you planning on saying?"
I look at Nadine. "I can't help thinking Laney's lie is not the answer, but I'm not sure how to get around it."
"Whatever you decide, we'll be right there rooting you on." Nadine looks at Liz.
That will help a lot. I take a deep breath. "Okay then. Let's do this."
A press junket is a huge day in the life of a movie. Fifty to a hundred journalists from all over the country, and sometimes the world, show up for a chance to spend twenty minutes interviewing a star who normally wouldn't be caught dead answering questions from a paper in Smalltown USA. Even if the movie in question is less than extraordinary, a good round of interviews with your cast and director can erase even the worst review.
With junkets being so important, it's no wonder a studio spares no expense to put on a good one. After the reporters have seen the movie, the studio reserves space at a swanky high-end hotel (today we're doing the junket at the Four Seasons Hotel Los Angeles at Beverly Hills). They ply the reporters with good food and give them a great gift (anything from a T-shirt with the film's logo for a low-budget flick to a weekend tote for a big movie) and schmooze them like mad. But the most important part of the day, of course, is the cast interviews. Journalists are split into small groups and the film's stars move from room to room every twenty minutes or so to answer everyone's questions. No one gets a one-on-one unless they're Access Hollywood or Celebrity Nation and there's TV coverage involved.
After four-plus hours of this, you can imagine how tedious it can get answering a question like, "What did you like about playing Carly?" (That's why you read similar quotes in different magazines a hundred times. There's only so many ways you can describe your film character, no matter how cool she is.) Even so, some stars hate the monotony of it all, which is why there is . . .
HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER FOURTEEN: If you're a huge A-lister who can barely handle more than an hour talking about the film you were paid fifteen million to make, a regular press junket is not going to cut it. Why spend half a day answering the same questions when you can do it once for a huge audience? That's why the Toms of the world don't do junkets -- they do press conferences. A hundred journalists are packed in a room and they get one chance to ask their questions. They'll all also wind up with the exact same quotes since Tom only has to answer the same question once.
No one is doing a press conference for Pretty Young Assassins, that's for sure. Our movie may be starting to pop up on early "must see" movie lists, but no one on our cast commands that status yet. Even if a few already have the egos to match it.
CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. "Ladies and gentleman, the girl of the moment has arrived -- Kaitlin Burke!"
My PYA costar Drew applauds me as I enter the suite we're using as a waiting room. Drew looks good, of course -- great upper body, gorgeous tan jacket and jeans, perfectly styled dark hair hanging in his eyes, tan skin -- but that obnoxious grin ruins the whole picture. "And wow, you look, dare I say, normal? No under-eye bags, no dehydration. Wait a minute," Drew eyes me closely. "Are you Kaitlin's stand-in?"
How could I have ever dated this guy? "Hi, Drew," I mumble and take a seat on a couch at the opposite end of the living room. I'll just ignore him.
I look around the opulent room. Gorgeous striped fabrics on the wingback chairs, gold mirrors, huge flower arrangements, exposed beam ceiling, perfect lighting. The only thing that isn't beautiful is the fact I'm stuck in a room with Drew. Laney, Mom, Nadine, and Liz are waiting for me across the hall. Apparently Hutch wants to give us a cast pep talk before we start so our people have to wait outside.
Drew plops down next to me.
"I don't want to hear it, Drew," I say. I straighten my shoulders and I push up the sleeves on my Donna Karan flowy black shirt. I'm glad I wore the wide-leg dark denim dressy jeans and my favorite Gucci boots with this outfit. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to talk about things you know nothing about?"
"Oh, I know a lot," Drew says. "So does the rest of the world. This story is everywhere! Seriously, Katie Bear, I couldn't have written your fainting spell better if I faked it for the press myself." He hovers over me, smelling like coffee. "Give me a break. You fainted because you partied too much. Admit it." Drew asks. "Ava and Lauren would knock anyone out."
I will not let Drew get to me. I have to save all my strength for these interviews. I will not start a fight. But . . . "You should know," I snarl. "You dated them both."
"Snap!" Drew laughs. "Nice one, Katie Bear, but it doesn't change anything, does it? The press thinks you're a total screwup. Your fainting excuse is thin and that stupid song you did pissed people off. You're so damaged, you make me look good."
Drew's laughter is driving me crazy. My blood is beginning to reach its boiling point, but I try to remain calm. I do not need another headline-making fight on
my hands. Especially when every reporter in the civilized world is right outside this door. Still I have to say something. "Maybe I did handle the situation poorly," I tell him, "but we all know the only reason anyone is paying attention to what happened to me is because I'm a celebrity. If I was an ordinary girl who partied too hard, the world wouldn't know about it."
"But you're not a regular girl, you're a star," Drew says. "Or at least you were one till now. Without Family Affair, you have nothing."
It takes all my energy to not punch him.
"Leave her alone, Drew."
Drew and I turn around. I don't know if Sky was here the whole time or if she just slipped in unnoticed. She struts toward us wearing a white silk tank, matching white pants, and white heels that give her the appearance of an angel. I know better.
Drew snorts. "Don't worry, Sky," he says. "I've left you enough time to make some jabs at her as well."
"The only one I'm going to be making jabs at is you," Sky says icily.
What? Sky is sticking up for me? Maybe I never got up this morning and I'm still dreaming.
"K may act stupid sometimes, but there is nothing stupid about fainting," Sky tells him angrily. "I happen to do it all the time because I, um, forget to eat." She looks at me. "I've just never passed out in public because of it, but being discreet has never been your strong suit."
"Thanks," I say dryly.
"I'm proud of K for not wimping out about this press junket," Sky says. "A lesser star -- like you, Drew -- would have been so mortified they would have canceled the whole thing. But that's not K. She is tough when she needs to be."
I'm so surprised by Sky's compliment; I don't know what to say.
Drew rolls his eyes. "Is there a hidden camera in here that I don't know about, Sky? Since when do you stick up for her?"
"K has been my costar for more than a decade, while you're a C-list star who is better known for your conquests than your work," Sky snaps. "Of course I'm going to stick up for her."
"I'm bored," Drew says. He walks over to the food table and pops a grape in his mouth. He actually looks too nervous to come back over.
