NOTE TO SELF:
Call Nadine. Warn Laney. Have her calm down Mom.
Reach Austin and Lizzie.
Make Nadine unplug all TiVos in the house 2 avoid them seeing Access or Celeb Insider. We’re going 2 be on it.
Thirteen: Crossroads
“Where are we going?” I ask as Sky drags me from the building and into the street in front of our soundstage. “I thought we were barricading ourselves in our dressing rooms and waiting for Tom.” The back lot is buzzing with activity as usual and golf carts and Range Rovers whiz by. A loud honk tells us to move our debate onto the sidewalk.
Sky shakes her head. “Melli and Spencer will find us and push us to shoot the scene. We’re better off getting as far away from FA as we can.”
I think for a moment and realize I actually agree with her. “We’ll leave Tom a message and tell him we urgently need to talk to him,” I suggest. “That way no one can accuse us of completely bailing.” I quickly dial his number and it goes right to voice mail. I leave a message from the two of us and hang up, my stomach doing cartwheels. “Maybe we should call our managers and publicists and tell them what’s going on too,” I add.
“Are you crazy?” Sky snaps. “My mom-ager will force me to go back without even listening to why I left in the first place. Maybe your mom is different, but I’m certainly not calling mine.”
On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t call Mom or Laney yet.
Sky’s eyes begin to brim with tears and I awkwardly put my arm around her. As I pat her back, Sky stops crying and starts to laugh.
“This is weird,” she says as she uses her right index finger to fix her smudged mascara. “You’re the last person I thought I would ever cry in front of.”
“I always thought if I walked off set, it would be because of you, not with you.” I feel myself getting teary too. “But here we are.”
“Here we are,” Sky repeats. She takes a deep breath. “Okay, enough moping. Let’s get out of here before someone spots us. Do you have a car? My driver dropped me off this morning and my security is off today so he can take his Prius to the shop.”
I frown. “We’ll have to call Rodney. I don’t have my license yet.”
Sky wags a long red manicured finger at me. “That’s right, I forgot about your little driving snafu. Dumb move going with a Joe Shmo school. What were you thinking, K?”
GRR . . . Sky’s sudden mood swing reminds me why we’re nowhere close to being friends. If I’m going to do something as crazy as side with her on this FA thing, then there’ve got to be some rules.
“Let’s forget about my driving record and focus on the nightmare at hand, shall we?” I say coolly. “Until we figure out what to do about FA, can we at least pretend we’re costars who get along? There’s no bad blood between us, no tabloid feuds, no past mistakes, and no rude comments . Deal or no deal?”
“You’re so cheesy.” Sky rolls her eyes.
I start to walk away.
“FINE!” Sky blurts out. I turn and see she’s got her hands folded in prayer like she’s a sweet little girl making her first communion. “I’ll play nice, but first we have to figure out how we’re getting off this lot.”
“KATES! KATES!” Rodney barrels toward us, moving like a freight train. His round face is contorted in panic and sweat is dripping down his bald head. He throws me over his shoulder and begins to sprint away like he’s carrying a football. “What are you doing with her? Did she hurt you?” Rodney growls as he runs.
“Rod, put me down! Sky didn’t do anything.” He places me back on the pavement and looks at me with confusion. “Sky and I, um, walked off set together in a show of solidarity,” I explain, knowing the idea of me working with Sky is as crazy as Darth Vader helping Luke Skywalker. Oh wait. He sort of did that in Return of the Jedi.
“I heard you left, but I didn’t know it was with her.” Rodney stares at Sky.
Sky doesn’t seem fazed. She’s whipped out a nail file and is buffing away. “Take it easy, big guy. Your precious paycheck is safe for now. I’m just here for a ride.”
Rodney looks at me. “Let me handle her. Please?” I beg. “I need you to drive us off the lot.”
“Us?” Rodney asks. “I have to take both of you? Kates, what’s going on?”
“Just trust me, Rod,” I tell him. “Can you get the car and meet us back here asap? We’ve got to move before someone realizes we left the building.”
“Then you two better walk with me to the car,” Rodney suggests. “The set is in an uproar. Melli and Spencer told Phil he can call the network about them too. They’re not filming anything till they talk to Tom. Phil is having a meltdown over having nothing to shoot and is frantically trying to reach Tom himself. And Alexis is telling anyone who will listen that she thinks both of you should be immediately dismissed from the show.”
“Wench,” Sky mutters under her breath.
“They’re sending out a search party to look for you guys,” Rodney adds.
“You’re right, we can’t wait here for you,” I agree as my cell phone starts to ring. Shoot, Nadine must already know. “We better run.” The last thing I want is for Phil to see me and try to fire me on the spot.
“Come on, princess,” Rodney says to Sky, who looks horrified at the idea of not having a curbside pickup. “You’re going to have to hoof it in heels.”
It takes us fifteen minutes to get to the Lincoln. It should have taken eight, but Sky whined the whole way there about her uncomfortable Miu Miu stilettos. Our cells drowned out most of her complaining though. If it wasn’t Rodney’s Rocky ring tone or Sky’s phone blaring a new Justin Timberlake song, then it was my Motorola playing the commander-in-chief theme (Laney) or Nadine’s personalized voice recording of the word “URGENT!”
“The only call I’m taking is from Tom,” I say stubbornly as we climb into the backseat of the Lincoln and I hurl my cell phone across the seat. It’s too late to call Nadine back now. She’s already heard what happened and if I call her she will lawyer me into returning to the set.
Sky slides in next to me and looks around. I forgot she’s never been inside my car before. “Is this a 2005 model? My driver has an ’08.”
“Did we decide where we’re going?” I ask as Sky peeks in the backseat pockets. My phone beeps again and against my better judgment I fish for it. It’s another voice mail. That brings the total to six.
“Don’t check it,” warns Sky, reading my thoughts. “The only thing you’re going to hear is bad news.”
But I can’t help myself. I dial in my secret code, 1026 (Austin’s birthday), and I hear Nadine’s voice. “KAITLIN, YOU’VE GOT TO CALL ME BACK. PHIL IS FLIPPING OUT AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT . . .”
I skip to the next message. It’s Laney. “KAITLIN BURKE, YOU PICK UP THE PHONE THIS INSTANT OR I’LL . . . YOU SIGNAL BUDDY! I’M ON A CALL! KAITLIN? DO YOU HEAR ME? I’M WARNING . . .”
Skip. “KAITLIN, THIS IS NOT A JOKE.” It’s Nadine again. “THEY’RE GOING TO FIRE YOU TWO FOR REAL. IS THAT CLEAR ENOUGH FOR YOU? I’VE LEFT AN URGENT MESSAGE FOR TOM ABOUT THE SCRIPT. IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE, KAITLIN. SOMETHING STRANGE IS GOING ON, I KNOW IT, BUT YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE THE SET IN THE MIDDLE OF A WORKDAY! AFTER ALL THAT’S HAPPENED, DO YOU THINK THEY’RE GOING TO TOLERATE THAT? DON’T LET ALEXIS GET THE BETTER OF YOU. COME OUT OF HIDING AND WAIT TO HEAR WHAT TOM HAS TO SAY ABOUT . . .”
I hang up, feeling numb. Fired for real? I thought Alexis was bluffing and it would come out that the pages weren’t approved and all would be forgiven. But I was wrong.
“What did they say?” Sky asks as Rodney pulls off the lot. “Are we to report to the principal’s office at once? Being held a day’s pay? What?”
“Guys, where are we going?” Rodney asks.
I stare at Sky. “Nadine said they’re going to fire us.”
Sky rolls her eyes and begins to laugh. “I’ve done far worse plenty of times and never been fired. Don’t sweat it.”
I
shake my head. “No, Nadine sounded serious. She said the network wouldn’t tolerate more bad press. Sky, forget whether the script is real. They’re going to can us for this whether we were being written out of the show or not.”
Sky stops laughing and the car grows quiet. Fired for bad behavior? Me?
“Guys?” Rodney asks softly. “Should I keep driving around in circles or am I going someplace?”
“Sky?” I ask, trying not to cry. “Do you think they’re serious? Should we go back?”
“I need time to think,” Sky says to herself. “Really think.”
I look at her expectantly. “Sky?”
“Rodney, take us to Guy Anthony’s bar on Beverly Drive in West Hollywood,” Sky says abruptly.
“Sky, a bar?” Is she crazy? The press will really love that one. “I don’t think a margarita will fix things,” I reprimand.
“That’s not why we’re going to Guy Anthony’s.”
I don’t like the sound of this. Suddenly I feel the urge to grab the wheel from Rodney and steer us back to the studio. Maybe there’s still time to save our jobs.
“K, trust me,” Sky says after seeing my skeptical expression. “We need an hour to clear our heads, and Guy Anthony’s is just the place. Give me an hour.”
“I don’t know.” I feel like I might hyperventilate. Is Sky playing me? What if she found a way to cover her own butt and is leaving mine out to hang? It wouldn’t be the first time. “How do I know I can trust you?” I ask. “How do I know this is not just you trying to ruin my life again?”
“You don’t,” Sky admits. She pulls a black Bobbi Brown compact out of her candy apple red Marc Jacobs Totally Turnlock Bowler bag (I have the exact same one in green) and looks at her face in the mirror. “But what other choice do you have right now?” I bite my lower lip. “We’ve been on FA a long time,” Sky reminds me. “If they’re going to fire us for leaving over a script that basically said RIP, then what are we running back to? Give me an hour.”
“Kates, Nadine and Laney keep calling me and I’m sure your mom will hear what’s happened any minute. What do you want me to do?” Rodney yells.
Sky’s right, even though I hate the idea of her having all the answers today. “Ignore their calls. Take us to Guy Anthony’s,” I tell him, looking straight at Sky. After that, we drive along in silence, listening to a symphony of cell phone rings until we reach our destination.
I’ve never been at an event inside the popular celeb hangout, so I take my time looking around the small, intimate space. It reminds me of a New York City–style lounge Nadine and I once went to. The walls are swathed in black drapes from floor to ceiling and leather banquettes surround the silver dance floor. At the center of the back wall is a long glass bar you can see through.
HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER THIRTEEN: Ever wonder how celebrities know about the hottest hangouts or have invites to the coolest restaurant openings? They could have an amazing publicist (like mine, who tells me about all the best bashes), or they could have well-connected celeb friends. But chances are, some of those stars turned up because they’ve been paid. Sometimes when a club wants their opening splashed across all the papers they pay a big star to “host” the event or make an appearance. And when I say pay, I mean dough to appear plus an all-expenses paid trip to get there if the club is out of town. Stars can be paid for other outings too — like singing at a girl’s bat mitzvah. Stars don’t do those things out of the kindness of their hearts. They do it to fatten their already bulging wallets.
“Okay, we’re here,” I say to Sky. “How’s this place supposed to help us?”
“You’ll see,” Sky says as she sashays up to the bar to talk to the lone person in the place. He’s a cute bartender with ringlets of brown curls. “Hey, Cody,” she coos.
“Sky, my love,” he says in a thick British accent. He’s busy drying martini glasses, but he smiles at her and you can see the dimples in his cheeks. “You know we don’t open till much later.”
“I know,” Sky whines in a baby voice I’ve never heard, “but my, uh, friend and I are having one of those days. Can you help me out again? Please?”
Again? What is she talking about? Rodney and I look on at the odd exchange in silence. I watch Cody. His curls are bouncing all around as he shakes his head. He’s definitely going to say no.
“You look hot in that shirt,” Sky adds.
Cody laughs and puts down the glass in his hand. “Okay. But this is the last time.” Sky crosses her heart. “Don’t tell anyone I did this.”
Sky pulls herself up on the bar and leans over to give him a kiss on the check. “Love you, Codykins,” she coos.
“You’re lucky I love you too,” Cody says as he walks inside a door behind the bar and disappears.
“Are you two . . . ?” I start to ask, but Sky shakes her head.
“He thinks I’m too young for him.” Sky shrugs. “And that’s the end of the story.”
I can take a hint. “Where’s he going?” I ask instead. Within seconds I have my answer. Cody appears out of a door behind the DJ booth. He turns on the speakers and the sound system comes to life. I watch as he plugs in two microphones and places them on top of the turntable. Then he reaches underneath the booth and pulls out a tattered black binder overflowing with white pages and vinyl CD covers. Wait a minute. That’s not a . . .
Sky runs over and grabs the karaoke book. “Come look,” Sky encourages me. I walk slowly over. “Pick a song,” she suggests.
I look at her like she’s nuts. “This is your idea of fixing things?” I ask, getting angry. “This is why we had to leave the studio? To do karaoke? I was stupid enough to believe you had a master plan to keep us from getting fired!” I’m frantic and it’s not just because I can’t sing. I’ve never sung in public and I’m not about to start now in front of Sky, Rodney, and Cody. I need oxygen fast. Why did I leave that paper bag in my dressing room? “Cody, do you have any paper bags behind the bar?” I ask. He shakes his head.
“K, what are you getting so wound up about?” Sky asks in a baby voice, which only makes me madder.
“Is this some sort of game to you, Skylar?” I say. “I walked off set with you because I thought you had a valid point back there. I thought we really needed each other to get through this. But here we are, in a bar, in the middle of the afternoon, and you want me to sing! How is that supposed to help us?”
Sky rolls her eyes. “You really don’t know anything about me, do you?”
I don’t answer. I listen to the nonstop ringing of our cell phones.
“Well, since we’ve called a temporary truce, I’m going to let you in on a little Skylar Mackenzie secret.” Her dark eyes light up. “When I’m upset, I sing. I thought if we could get our mind off what happened till we hear from Tom, maybe you’d chill enough for us to come up with a game plan. From what I can tell, K, you’re more tightly wound than the thread from my old pashminas.”
“I know how to relax,” I reply defensively.
“Oh yeah?” Sky replies. “That’s one of your biggest problems, K. In all the years I’ve known you, you’re always worried about something, and I sure as hell haven’t caused all of your problems.”
“You’ve caused plenty,” Rodney pipes up from the bar area.
“What are you getting at?” I ask, waiting for Sky to strike again. She’s like a python, and they never leave a prey when they’re vulnerable.
“You’ve got to chill and just let life happen sometimes.” Sky shrugs. “You can’t control everything. Do you think I love being paparazzi bait all the time? Or seeing my latest boy failure trampled through the mags? My mom can be just as demanding as yours, maybe more, but you don’t see me sobbing about it at crafty.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I spit, angry because she’s partially right. “Nor do you care. Don’t pretend to start now.”
“Calm down,” Sky says with another eye roll. “I’m just suggesting you take up some sort of hobby that’s you
rs alone. It’s made it easier for me to handle some of Hollywood’s less flattering moments.” Sky picks up the nearest microphone and tosses it gently from hand to hand. “I sing. I sing in the shower, in my car, and I come here on Tuesday nights for karaoke. A lot of stars show up. Just last week Ashley, Vanessa, and I did ‘Lady Marmalade’ and brought down the house. Kiki Dunst couldn’t stop clapping. Neither could Cody.”
“She’s really good,” Cody yells. He’s behind the bar, cleaning the highballs.
“I’ve never read about star karaoke night before,” I admit, feeling my shoulders begin to ease up as Sky stops analyzing me.
“That’s because it’s pretty low-key.” Sky flips through the binder and finds the CD she’s looking for. “No one talks about it and we’ve only been written up in TV Tome once. Cody told them it was a one-night charity thing so the press hasn’t come back.”
Sky puts the disc in the system and offers me a microphone. “Want to give it a whirl?” she asks.
“No way,” I reply nervously.
Sky rolls her eyes again. “K, don’t be a baby.”
“You didn’t even let me pick a song,” I point out. “How do I know you picked one that I know?”
Sky sighs. “We’ll do the first one together, okay? The lyrics are up on the screen so you can’t mess up.” She adds with a sly smile, “That is, if you can actually belt out a tune.”
I know a challenge when I hear one. I take the microphone and step up on the platform next to the DJ booth. I can feel my body shaking, but I try to breathe deeply and focus on the flat screen TV where the lyrics will scroll. God, I really can’t sing. Rodney sips a soda as he watches me. I think I may hurl.
“What are we singing?” I ask with a squeak.
Sky smiles. “‘I Will Survive,’” she says.
The hokey instrumental version kicks in and I recognize the classic Gloria Gaynor song immediately. Sky nudges me in the ribs to join her, but I’m frozen.
I. Can’t. Sing. In. Front. Of. People.