Truly Madly Famously

by Rebecca Serle

  Rainer takes a bite. “I know. I just want to keep you out of this.”

  I shake my head. “But I’m not out of this. I’m in this.”

  “No, you’re not. I don’t want your name alongside mine in those headlines. It’s bad enough I’ve been dragged into all the stuff with my dad. I’m not dragging you, too.” He looks tired, resigned. I notice for the first time that there are circles under his eyes.

  “Rainer…”

  He holds up his hand. “There isn’t anything more to say.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Go see the girls. Let me handle this.”

  Two hours later I’m at Georgina’s Malibu Colony beach house. I’m stretched out on a lounge chair, trying to take a nap, but Georgina is chattering to Alexis and me about Blake. Apparently she’s pissed he’s not here with us this weekend.

  “He never leaves Atlanta,” she tells us wearily. “He’s obsessed with being in character. You’re so lucky Rainer is here, Paige.”

  I make a noncommittal noise.

  “Why is my glass empty?” Alexis asks. She’s standing above us, clad in a white bikini and giant-brimmed hat. She’s blocking my sun.

  “Aren’t you on a juice cleanse?” Georgina gets up and tops off Alexis’s glass, spilling some champagne on the ground.

  “I think all liquids count,” Alexis says, settling herself on the lounge next to me.

  Georgina’s house is impressive. Alexis told me her money comes from endorsement deals. “Plus, her mom created Charlie’s Angels or something,” she said when Georgina went inside to get reinforcements.

  Speaking of endorsements, I have a lot of offers on the table besides 7, who I’ve already partnered with. Burberry, Lancôme, even Chanel. Tawny and Sandy are pushing me for Lancôme—it’s the most approachable, they say. And the brand is trying to reach a younger audience.

  I close my eyes, letting the sounds of the ocean lull me. Cassandra isn’t here, and I need friends in L.A. This is what Sandy tells me. This is what Rainer tells me. Alexis seems like as good a place as any to start. Besides the small issue that she’s probably spending her sleeping hours curled up in some kind of lace negligee with Jordan. I squeeze my eyes tighter, trying to get rid of the image.

  “I did not!” Alexis shrieks.

  My eyes fly open, and I see her, mouth agape, looking at Georgina. “You didn’t what?” I ask.

  “You reek of it,” Georgina says, ignoring me.

  Alexis shakes her head.

  “What?” I ask again, still trying to catch up.

  “Hot, all-night-long sex with Jordan Wilder,” Georgina says, finishing off her glass.

  My stomach plummets.

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” Alexis says. “But if I did, you couldn’t handle it.” She turns away from us, and I have to mentally force myself to unclench my fists at my sides.

  Georgina fluffs her bangs. “Well, I’m glad to see he’s not hung up on Britney anymore.”

  “He was never hung up on Britney,” I say.

  Georgina sends Alexis a glance, like what’s with her? “Okay, then.”

  “Have you spoken to Britney?” Alexis asks Georgina.

  “Since this Greg stuff? No way. The press is having a field day. Laura would lose her shit if I got within range.”

  Laura is Georgina’s publicist. And from the way she talks about her, her conscience. Georgina only does things Laura approves.

  “You’re such a classy friend,” Alexis says.

  “You know I’d stand next to you through anything. But Britney never had our backs. I just don’t see why we have to have hers.”

  Alexis doesn’t respond, and Georgina hops into the pool and hangs on to the side, kicking her feet out behind her. I want to ask more about Britney, but I don’t want to seem overeager for info or jealous of Rainer’s ex, so I keep quiet.

  I shrug off my cover-up. I’m wearing a bikini I bought in Hawaii—orange with red and gold flowers. It reminds me of early beach swims there, before shooting. When the sun was just coming up and the water was cool and I could start the day all alone, the horizon expanding out in front of me.

  I see Jordan on that beach. I blink him away.

  “Paige’ll be at the MTV Movie Awards,” Alexis says, changing the subject.

  “Your first awards show. Exciting,” Georgina says, flicking some water at me. “It’s such a scene.”

  “It’s a scene when I go to Starbucks,” I say.

  Georgina laughs. “Some people have to pay for that kind of press,” she says.

  “Pay?”

  Alexis cuts in. “Some people in Hollywood—no one in this pool, obviously.” The girls laugh at this. “But some people will tell photographers when they’re going to be somewhere to make sure they get their picture snapped.”

  “Why?”

  “Keeps you relevant,” Georgina says, ducking under the water. She comes back up. “No offense, Paige, but you gotta work on your pap shots. You look like you want to murder someone every time I see you in a tabloid.”

  “I know,” I say. “I’m trying.” The press has taken to occasionally calling me “PG for Pained Grimace.” It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. It just feels like if I smile for them, if I play along, it means I’m saying that my life is theirs for the taking. How much do I owe people? How much access do they deserve?

  “Are you coming back for the Awards?” Alexis asks Georgina.

  Georgina hoists herself out of the pool and flops down next to me, closing her eyes with her face up to the sun. “Oh yeah. Although I’m really sick of winning TV Couple without Blake. I look like an idiot up there.”

  “How does he consistently get out of everything?” Alexis asks.

  “Because he never did it to begin with,” Georgina answers. She pops her head up and looks at me. “Just remember this: What you do in the beginning is what they make you do in the middle. And the middle is long. The middle is the whole thing.”

  Alexis tops off my glass. “Paige doesn’t have a choice. Plus,” she says, waving me off, “you have Rainer on your arm—you’re Young Hollywood’s reigning queen. You might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

  While it lasts. That’s one thing they don’t tell you: that built into every anxiety-riddled moment of fame is the very clear reminder that one day this blinding light will fade. It should make me feel relieved, but it doesn’t.

  I imagine stepping out of a car with Rainer, onto a carpet, like we did so many times on tour. People screaming. The world going nuts for every single move that we make, every smile we send each other’s way. I don’t think there is any way to get used to it. I think you would be crazy if you did.

  “Yeah, we’re talking about new projects,” I venture.

  “Wonderful!” Alexis says. “Tell me.”

  Georgina sighs. “You lucky bitch.”

  I blink at her. Alexis jumps in: “Forgive her jealousy.”

  “Television is brutal,” Georgina continues. “I have, like, three weeks off a year.”

  Alexis leans over to pat her head. “We know, lovey.” Then back to me: “Paige, you were saying?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, there’s a lot of stuff.” My heart beats fast. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. “I’m in a really lucky position. But the one thing I want—”

  “They don’t think you should do,” Georgina says.

  “Yes!” I say, sitting up.

  “It’s pretty normal,” Georgina says. “They’ll want you to follow a really specific trajectory now. What does Rainer say?”

  Alexis waves a dismissive hand. “Rainer only listens to his reps.” She looks at me. “Right?”

  I nod. “Yeah. And he wants me to, too.” Rainer and I have had many conversations about how I should follow Sandy and my agent’s lead. “It’s their job,” Rainer always tells me. “Let them do it.”

  “Well, it’s worked for him,” Alexis says. “But if you ask me, he should have hit this level a l
ong time ago.”

  “Yeah, but his dad didn’t produce The Hunger Games.” Georgina glances at me. “Sorry,” she says. “He’s talented. Everyone knows that.”

  “I guess I’m just trying to figure out what’s worth fighting for,” I say.

  Alexis puts her arm around me. “That’s why you have us. It’s important to have people in this business you can run stuff by and trust.”

  Trust. I’m not sure I do.

  “Cassandra and Jake seemed nice,” Alexis says to me.

  I sit up a little straighter. There is something in her tone I don’t like. “They’re my best friends.”

  Alexis looks sideways at Georgina. Georgina bites her lip. “Things change when you become famous,” Georgina says.

  I don’t respond, but I feel protective. I tuck my arms to my chest.

  “We’re just saying to be careful,” Alexis says. “You’d be surprised who the press can get to. People who don’t understand what it’s like sometimes will see an opportunity—”

  “The only thing Jake wants is for me to donate more money to charities,” I say, cutting her off. “Maybe your friends didn’t get it, but you don’t know mine.”

  Georgina shrugs. “Airport in an hour,” she says. “I need to shower. You guys are welcome to stay.”

  Alexis gives her a sympathetic look. “Two more years,” she says.

  Georgina exhales. “I know. I can’t wait. I told Blake if he even looks over those extended contracts, we’re breaking up. I can’t play a teenage alien anymore. Even two more years is ridiculous. I’m starting to get wrinkles.”

  I look at her perfectly tanned, perfectly made-up face. Wasn’t she in the pool? How does she still look impeccable? “I don’t see any wrinkles,” I say. “Anyway, I should head back.” I have a bad taste in my mouth from this conversation, and I’m eager to see Rainer.

  “No chance,” Alexis says. “We’re hitting up Robertson.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Know how to take a proper photograph? I know, and I’m going to teach you.” Alexis and Georgina look at me. I feel their eyes travel from my chipped toenails up to my hair—held up with a ponytail holder. I pull it over my shoulder protectively.

  “They’re going to come after you any way you cut it,” Georgina says. “You might as well stack the deck in your favor.”

  Georgina leaves, and Alexis and I go to lunch at the Ivy, this fancy restaurant on Robertson where, I gather, celebrities go to get photographed. Charles Rider is sitting two tables over with the girl he left his wife for. He’s been a major Hollywood player for twenty years, and yet the paparazzi are barely even pretending to acknowledge him. All they care about is us.

  Alexis never breaks a smile.

  “Arch your back,” she says. “It makes your waist look smaller and your top look bigger. And don’t smile with your teeth. It never turns out well.”

  I do as I’m told. I pick up my water glass. “Stop,” Alexis says. “Hold the glass to your lips. Now put it down and wet your lips.” I hear the flashes go off. “Good. Hand through your hair.” Alexis shakes her mane out. I do the same with significantly less success.

  “Now just talk,” Alexis encourages. “Be normal.”

  Normal. I look down at my chopped salad, something not on the menu that Alexis ordered for me. I’m beginning to understand that there is an L.A. behind the L.A.—one comprising unlisted menu items, back rooms, and secret doors. Things only accessible, seen, by a select few—us.

  “Trying,” I say through my teeth.

  “Relax your jaw,” Alexis says. “That’s where that nickname is coming from. You look like you’re ready to clock me.”

  “Maybe I am,” I say.

  She smiles at me. “Don’t be so neurotic. They can’t hear us.”

  She’s right. They’re not too far away for photos, but they are too far for sound.

  “We haven’t really had any time to get to know each other,” she says. “I thought we could both use some girl talk.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not?” She winks at me. “It’s good practice for you. You need to start to learn how to hold your own when you’re not tucked under Rainer’s wing. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a great accessory, but you’re not a package deal.”

  I bristle at this. It’s not her right to judge how and in what way I’m dealing. Plus, the last thing I feel like doing is sharing girl talk with her in front of the paparazzi. Sit here, be photographed with lettuce in my teeth, and talk to her about 101-degree, scorching-hot sex with Jordan Wilder? Pass.

  “You know, I’m friends with Britney,” she says before I have a chance to share any of this.

  I cough on my water. She flicks her eyes upward. “I’ve known her forever. Since I was twelve, maybe.”

  Despite playing my younger sister in Locked, Alexis is actually a full four years older than me. But I’m beginning to see in Hollywood that doesn’t mean much. Friendships are determined more by what age you play, than what age you are.

  “Were you on Backsplash?” I ask. Backsplash was the TV show Rainer and Jordan and Britney were on as kids. It’s how they all met and became friends.

  Alexis shakes her head. “No, but I knew her then. I knew them together.” She looks at me, but I can’t quite read her expression.

  I think about what Georgina said at her house. About Britney not being there for them.

  “She’s not a bad person,” Alexis continues. “I mean, sometimes she’s just not a very good one, either.”

  “It must be hard,” I say, picking up my knife and absentmindedly spreading some butter on a piece of bread. “I can’t imagine going through something like this in such a public way.”

  “How is Rain doing?”

  “You mean with his dad?”

  Alexis nods.

  “I’m not sure,” I start. I’ve been so cautious of this, him, of what I say. But I know he’s not totally himself. Rainer has always wanted to protect me, but now it’s like he wants to protect me from him. Which is crazy. The whole point of uniting ourselves in front of the world was so that we could support each other, help each other. “He hasn’t been sharing much with me,” I say cautiously.

  Alexis perches her sunglasses on top of her head. Her eyes are golden, highlighted by the faintest hint of liner. “That must be hard,” she says.

  “I don’t know why he thinks he has to do it on his own,” I say. “He has it in his head he’s protecting my image or something.” I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “I get that,” Alexis says. She tilts her head, thoughtful. “That’s Rain. He’s always going to put you first.”

  “I don’t want to be first,” I say. “I just want to be with him.”

  Alexis smiles. “You should tell him that.”

  “I have.” Haven’t I? I move my hands back and forth in front of us, clearing the air. “Ugh, enough.” And then I take a deep breath. Just ask, Paige. You can do it. “How is it going with Jordan?”

  Alexis seems happy to turn the conversation toward herself. She throws her head back. “Amazing!”

  Her enthusiasm stings.

  “He’s a good guy,” I say, wondering if my expression will give me away. I don’t want a PAIGE GIVES GOOD BITCHFACE headline on Fansugar tomorrow. Especially because the whole point of this adventure is to work on my public image.

  She laughs. “Good guy? He’s unbelievable. After everything he’s been through with his family, you know? He’s so strong. And of course—the chemistry between us is… well, you know… the same as it is with you and Rainer, I bet!”

  I know. I know what it feels like to be seen by Jordan, to be at the center of his universe, if only for a moment. Raw. Consuming. Maybe that wasn’t me and Jordan. Maybe that’s just Jordan, with everyone.

  I take an extra bite of salad.

  “Anyway.” Alexis spears a chopped piece of asparagus. “I need an espresso.” She makes a move to flag down the waiter and slides out a platinum credit c
ard before I can argue.

  “I’d like us to be friends,” she says quite abruptly.

  “I thought we were.”

  She clears her throat. When she looks at me, I see her expression is thoughtful. “I’m not sure you like me.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but she holds up her hand. “I’m totally okay with that. For now. I don’t mean to call you out. I know it’s weird, being thrust into this universe as suddenly as you have been. I just want you to know I like you. I think you’re genuine, which is hard to find in this town.”

  I put my elbows on the table. I want to ask her if she is, but instead I just say, “Thanks, I think.”

  “Can I just say something, then, as your soon-to-be friend?”

  I look at her. Hair perfectly windblown. White jeans and crop top expertly draped over her tiny, toned frame. I want to hate her, but I can’t. “No good sentence ever started with ‘can I just say something.’”

  She smiles. “I think you need to start having a little more fun. Come out of Rainer’s shadow. You’re living a dream, and you act sometimes like it’s a nightmare.”

  I think about getting defensive, but what would be the point? “It’s that obvious?”

  “You’ve seen the headlines.”

  I nod. “I have a photo shoot for the cover of Vanity Fair,” I tell her. “And an interview with Elle. Plus all the awards-show prep…” I never in a million years thought these sentences would come out of my mouth.

  Her spirits seem to lift right along with her forehead. She downs the espresso the waiter gives her and signs the credit card receipt in the same swoop. “And?”

  “Will you help me pick out some stuff to wear?”

  A smile so big I think it might break lights up her face. “Oh, PG,” she says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

  CHAPTER 5

  I come home with more than ten shopping bags. Kitson, Reiss, Nanette Lapore. Dresses, sky-high heels, and one leather bomber jacket Alexis insisted was “absolutely edible.”

  I’m already envisioning trying the stuff on for Rainer. He likes fashion. I’m not sure he’d cop to it, but I know he has a personal shopper. Clothes show up at the house; he tries them on, keeps some, and sends the rest back.