Almost Famous, a Talent Novel

by Zoey Dean

  “Yes!” Mac said, her eyes lighting up as she sat down at the picnic table, tapping the corner of Chad’s Quiksilver business card on the wood. “The good news is, I know what we need to do.” Mac looked from girl to girl. They were each waiting for the plan. “Screw working our way up. We sabotage the Thinner Circle.”

  “How?” Emily, Becks, and Coco asked in unison.

  Mac smiled. “Well, we’re assistants. We’re so low on the totem pole that nobody even notices what we’re doing.”

  Becks shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

  “We use what we know to embarrass them at ExtravaBAMSa.” Mac made the Kimmie Tachman paw. “Think about it: Do you realize the kind of all-access pass we have to the Rubybots’ lives? They trust us with their most important stuff. I know where Ruby sleeps. Kimmie’s trusting Emily with her pride and joy, her play—Emily and a live audience. Ellie will believe anything Becks tells her about surfing. I mean, seriously, girls. Angelina didn’t ask Jen if she could have Brad. We just take what is ours. And fast.”

  The girls stared at Mac in stunned silence. Emily twirled a strand of her cinnamon brown hair. Becks sipped her smoothie. All this talk of manipulation and strategy was making her feel numb. That wasn’t her style. “I don’t get what you want us to do,” Becks said finally.

  “I don’t have a specific plan,” Mac said. “But I do know that Ruby leaves her phone in front of me all the time. Coco, you see the dance team every day. Becks and Emily, I’m sure you know sides of Ellie and Kimmie that no one else gets to see. So even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do, it’ll come to you. Trust me.”

  Becks stared at the picnic table, thinking about the sides of Ellie she did get to see. She thought about how Ellie was pretending to like surfing just so that Austin would like her. She thought about how Ellie had lied to the Roxy rep and said that she was a surfer.

  Before anyone could say anything, Clutch ambled back into the kitchen. “Hey, Miss Mac!” he said. “Just grabbin’ some dinner.” He opened the refrigerator and took out a pitcher filled with the cleanse. He pointed one of the drinks at Becks. “Kiddo, if you don’t want to do the surf thing, it’s no problemo.” He hip-closed the refrigerator.

  Becks’s eyes twinkled wickedly. “No, Pops, you were right. I wouldn’t miss next weekend for the world.” Becks smiled. “And if it’s okay with you, I’m going to bring my new friend Ellie. She’s really excited.”

  The other girls looked at her curiously, sly smiles appearing on everyone’s faces for the first time that night.

  Clutch looked up from his glass. “I can’t keep up with you girls, but that sounds good to me.”

  Becks smiled too, imagining Ellie embarrassing herself at ExtravaBAMSa, in front of everyone. Thanks to Mac, she knew exactly how to make that happen. For the first time in a while, Becks had hope. Poor little Ellie. She had no idea what she was in for.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  emily

  Sunday September 13

  11:55 AM Mission: WWMSD

  Emily had no idea why she was sitting in the back of the Prius on a Sunday morning, driving down Melrose to Pinkberry. They passed the bright blue Pacific Design Center, and Urth Café, where Emily had had her first power meeting with Mac just two weeks ago, and Elixir, the fancy tea store where she’d rehearsed for her first movie role.

  To Emily, Los Angeles still looked like a fantasy, with blue skies, palm trees, and shiny Mercedes-Benzes everywhere. It was hard to believe she lived here. Normally Emily loved looking out the window and seeing the Los Angeles she read about in Us Weekly. Today she was just frustrated, feeling like Mac was kidnapping her for some mystery mission.

  What she did know:1. Mac had woken her up in Becks’s screening room with a piping hot cappuccino, a vegan blueberry muffin from Zen Bakery (courtesy of Clutch Becks), and the command “We gotta go. Now.”

  2. Five minutes later, she, Mac, and Erin were in the car and driving to Pinkberry. Mac and Emily had left Becks’s house without even a goodbye, let alone a thank-you. Sure, Clutch probably wouldn’t care, but it was rude to leave that way. In Iowa, Emily always thanked friends’ parents for their hospitality after a sleepover.

  3. She now officially hated Erin’s flute rock, which was blaring over the Prius speakers. It no longer sounded relaxing. It sounded like pain.

  “This is going to be great,” Mac said without turning around from the front seat. She was swooshing her eyelashes with black Shu Uemura mascara.

  What was going to be great? Pinkberry? The ride? Mac’s face with mascara? Emily rubbed her temples.

  “Mac, I don’t understand what you’re doing,” Emily said calmly. She appreciated Mac’s zeal, but sometimes it was annoying to feel like she was just another one of Mac’s accessories.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Mac said dismissively.

  “I’m really not dressed to go anywhere in L.A. right now,” Emily said, remembering how paparazzi had popped up behind a parked car at Fred Segal and snapped her picture. Emily imagined getting photographed in her black and white Harajuku Lovers jammies and her camel-colored Uggs. Her friends from Iowa would pick up Us Weekly, wondering if she’d pulled a Britney.

  Mac ignored her and popped the tube of mascara into her black quilted Chanel makeup bag. “What you don’t realize is that Spazmo is the role of a lifetime.”

  Emily cringed, wondering how her dreams had downgraded from movie star to Spazmo. Hollywood was quicksand for her self-respect. Plus, there was no way that a school play was the role of a lifetime. She thought back to all the times she’d gone to see her best friend, Paige, perform in school plays back in Cedartown and there were maybe twenty-five people in the audience, six of them from Paige’s family.

  “Hank Myler is going to be at that show,” Mac said matter-of-factly, referring to the famous director who was known for his quirky independent movies. “His daughter is Minka. Seventh grade. Braces. Freckles. Cute girl. Wears a lot of Anthropologie.” Mac rattled off the facts like an FBI agent reciting someone’s profile. “She’s in the A Capella Club; they’re going up before Judgers & Haters, so he’ll definitely stay for the show.” She reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a Red Bull.

  “Anyway, Hank is currently attached to If You Say So. It’s a great script, a comedy about a girl who wakes up at Disneyland with no memory whatsoever. All she has is her cell phone, and she has to piece together her life through her text messages.” Mac smiled like that explained everything. “And the good news is that he’s really into casting kids from BAMS, ’cause he went here.”

  Emily’s lips twitched. It had never occurred to her that there was anything good about being in Judgers & Haters. She’d been too busy judging and hating it.

  “So what you’re saying is that this can be a good role for me?” Emily spoke very slowly, making sure she and Mac were on the same page.

  Mac nodded, just as slowly. “Yeah, Spazmo, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “But that doesn’t mean Hank is going to want to cast me,” Emily pointed out.

  “Babe. Everyone who’s seen you act has loved you. There are casting directors in this town who you’ve never even met who have you on their radar.”

  Emily looked out the window and realized they were passing Fred Segal, the most famous boutique in Los Angeles. She smiled, remembering the last time they’d gone on a shopping spree at that store. No such luck today.

  Emily leaned back in her seat, feeling flattered. Sometimes she forgot Mac had real reasons for investing so much time in her acting career. Hearing that real Hollywood casting directors were tracking her made Emily feel proud and nervous at the same time.

  “ ’Cause when Hank Myler sees you stealing the show—bravo!” Mac snapped her fingers and pointed at Emily. “You’ve just managed to give yourself what every actress in this town wants, and that’s a chance to audition for Hank Myler.”

  “It’s true,” Erin said, speaking up for the first time tha
t car ride. Erin angled the rearview mirror so that she could stare back at Emily. Emily had forgotten she was there. “I had a friend who switched agents just because the new one could get her an audition with Hank.”

  “Yeah, but Kimmie already took the adorable role for herself,” Emily complained.

  Mac turned around, leaning over the Prius seat. “That’s why I feel bad for Kimmie sometimes. She misses the obvious.” Mac snapped the mirror shut. “You’re going to upstage her.”

  Emily thought about this, but she still wasn’t convinced. “Who’s going to want to cast a Spazmo when she’s standing next to—”

  “Listen,” Mac interrupted, “you still have to knock it out of the park. But it’s a degree-of-difficulty thing. You’re doing a triple lutz and she’s just skating. You’re the Sasha Cohen here.” Emily looked out the car window as they passed a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. She was tired of Mac’s schemes and surprises. Then again, she couldn’t think of any better options. Besides moving home to Iowa.

  “Think about it, Ems,” Mac began in a persuasive voice, reminding Emily of Adrienne. “How do pretty actresses get noticed?” Without waiting for Emily’s response, Mac answered her own question. “They make themselves really ugly.”

  “Jessica Alba’s never ugly,” Erin pointed out. “Neither are Jessica Biel or Drew—”

  “Duh. I’m not talking about in real life,” Mac snapped. “I mean Oscar roles. Take Charlize Theron in Monster. Gaining twenty pounds—ew. Ugly makeup, double ew. But she got major Oscar buzz from the moment people saw her transformation. Nicole Kidman with the big fake nose and crazy behavior in The Hours? Until they went ugly, all those gals were just one bad review away from Dancing with the Stars.”

  Emily nodded. She had seen all those movies, and remembered how the actors had transformed their looks. “But I’m not trying to win an Oscar!” Emily protested, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m just trying to break into the business.”

  Mac looked at her seriously. “That’s exactly how you get into the business.”

  Emily froze and she felt an insta-calm come over her, because she knew Mac was right. For the first time since she’d been sentenced to star in Judgers & Haters, there was something about Spazmo that seemed not I want to cry awful. As Emily spotted the familiar “Melrose” street sign out the window, she remembered she was in a car being driven on a mystery mission. “Okay. So what does all this have to do with Pinkberry?”

  Mac smiled as though she’d been waiting for Emily to ask this very question the whole ride. “From now on, before you do anything, I want you to ask yourself, WWMSD? What would Meryl Streep do?”

  “I don’t know what Meryl Streep would do,” Emily said, confused. Sometimes she thought Mac—like the rest of Bel-Air—was just crazy.

  “She’d go to Pinkberry and study a real-life version of Spazmo!” Mac exclaimed. “Remember the Freakberry girl who showed up at Coco’s last weekend? Meryl Streep would take note of her mannerisms, her posture, her smile, everything. She’d study the original Spazmo like it was for a final exam,” Mac said triumphantly. “I want you to treat this play like it’s The Hours.” Mac smiled. “Now you go find that dorky delivery girl. It’s time to turn on your Spazmojo.”

  Emily smiled as she climbed out of the car and closed the Prius door. She took a deep breath and walked into the green and white store. There, behind the crisp white counter, was the Freakasaurus delivery girl with the stringy dyed purple hair, her shoulders hunched nervously as she took people’s frozen yogurt orders. Emily watched her work, awkwardly greeting each customer as though she were about to be yelled at. When Emily got to the front of the line, a slow smile spread across the girl’s face.

  “I’ve seen you before!” she squealed, waving her arms and knocking over all the cups in the process.

  “I came by to say hi!” Emily said sweetly. “We should hang out.”

  The Pinkberry girl bent down to pick up the cups, which she promptly dropped all over the floor again the second she put them on the counter. Emily smiled at the girl’s awkward mannerisms, realizing this was all material she could use as Spazmo.

  Emily leaned over to help, intentionally knocking over more cups. The Freaskasaurus laughed at Emily’s “clumsiness,” but her laugh sounded more like one high-pitched scream. Emily laugh-yelled back. “You’re outta control!” Freakasaurus howled. Her back was bent like a hunchback, and she shook her head with her mouth wide open when she laughed.

  “I know!” Emily gasped, matching her tone and posture. She bent forward over the counter, and she left her mouth a little open, as if it was easier than opening and closing it to talk and breathe.

  Emily could feel the people in line behind her boring holes into her back with their eyes, waiting to get their fro-yos. But to her surprise, as embarrassing as it was to unleash her inner Spazmo, it was actually a little fun. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Mac and Erin, watching her from the other side of the store and laughing. For once, Erin wasn’t the freakiest person in the room.

  And that was exactly the plan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  COCO

  Tuesday September 15

  11:45 AM Dance practice—figure out how to put Mission STTC (Sabotage The Thinner Circle) into effect

  Coco hunched in the corner of the dance studio, scrubbing the golden-colored wood floors, while the girls practiced their routine. They were now wearing their costumes: starchy A-line dresses that made them look like umbrellas. A fun idea in theory, but really, who wanted to look like an umbrella?

  As the girls barrel-turned, and Coco caught glimpses of their faces, she could tell that they were despondent. Coco knew that she could help save their performance if she could just get some alone time. It was painful, like watching someone walk around with toilet paper stuck to their pants. Just a quick tweak or two (or four) to the routine, and they’d be humiliation-free. She had tried to corner the Bam-Bams at school, but they traveled in a pack, and Haylie was always there, guarding them.

  Coco put her hands on the floor and stretched out her back in child’s pose. She hadn’t known her arms (or her back, or her head, for that matter) could hurt so much from scrubbing. Then again, until becoming the water boy, Coco had never scrubbed anything. Her tracksuit was splotched in soapy water and chlorine, and her skin was dry.

  Rihanna’s “Umbrella” blared, and Coco watched as the Bam-Bams moved through the motions like they were on cruise control. Each time Lucia and Maribel flew past Coco, she noticed how glum and not-smiley they were. When the music finally stopped, Coco looked at the Bam-Bams. They didn’t look like the adorable semi-professional team that prompted dance requests from the White House. They looked embarrassed.

  “I really think we should cut out that last pirouette,” Maribel said.

  “That’s a great idea,” Haylie snapped, “but unfortunately Ruby already approved the dance we have for ExtravaBAMSa. We can’t change it this late in the game.”

  “It’s just that—” Maribel stammered.

  “You do like performing, right?” Haylie cut her off.

  A hush fell over the room as the team realized Haylie was threatening Maribel. But what could anyone say? Haylie was right. The dance had been approved. Only she could petition to change it at this point. And even though it wasn’t working, she didn’t seem inclined to try to fix it, since that would be tantamount to admitting her own incompetence.

  “You’re right,” Maribel said, looking at her water bottle. She turned it upside down and stared glumly at the bottom.

  If only she could show them how to defeat Haylie, Coco thought desperately. If only she could find a way to get them alone. And then she had an idea.

  When the girls went back to rehearsing, Coco reached for her royal blue Sharpie pen and wrote on the label of each water bottle: Meet under willow tree AFTER BELL! SECRET DANCE MTG. SHH (Super Hush Hush) Don’t tell Haylie!!

  As she put the cap on her pen, she smile
d at her own clever plotting.

  This must be what it felt like to be Mac.

  Three hours later, Coco waited under the willow tree hoping someone would show up. It suddenly occurred to her that she’d made a huge mistake. Of course the girls were tired of Haylie and her dance, but that didn’t mean they would actually take a secret dance team meeting without her.

  Coco put her iPhone into her satchel, getting ready to leave. She looked up just as Maribel and Lucia arrived, with their navy hoodies pulled over their faces, bank robber style.

  Then Anais showed up.

  Then Taylor.

  Soon the entire dance team minus Haylie was there, huddled around the tree, staring at Coco, who felt—even if it was for a few seconds—like she was captain again.

  “Okay, listen.” Coco cleared her throat. “I’ve called you here because I see you guys dance every day. I know how great you can be.” She looked at the group nervously, hoping no one would take anything personally. “But you’re going to embarrass yourselves if you perform this dance.”

  “Word!” Maribel agreed. “And I voted to do your dance ’cause I loved it.”

  “Thanks,” Coco said calmly. “The problem is, I spent hours making it a good solo, not an ensemble.”

  Taylor and Eden smiled for her to continue, and the rest of the group nodded.

  “But it could be worthy of your talents,” Coco added. “It just needs a few tweaks so the audience knows where to look.”

  The girls smiled. Clearly this was the first sensical thing they’d heard in a while.

  “What you should be doing is just giving focus to one dancer during the first eight counts. Save the coordinated routines for the chorus,” Coco said. “And you . . .” Coco looked right into Eden’s icy blue eyes. “You’re underused. You should be leading the first solo. You’re doing spirals, but they don’t work so early in the song. It would be way cooler to throw in some fan kicks in the beginning so you’re connecting with the audience. Besides, you can do those in your sleep.” Coco snapped her fingers. Eden smiled, as though she had longed for someone to acknowledge that. “We should start with you for a quick energy shot.”