"I'll be fine, Rod," I promise.
When I open the car door, Christy Connor is waiting. She's Sure's senior writer, and she's in charge of my story. "Hi, Christy. How are you?" I say, extending my hand.
"Great! Everyone inside is really pumped for today's shoot," she tells me.
Christy reminds me of those overly exuberant tour guides you usually have at a museum. Her voice is high and every word is perfectly enunciated. She's shorter than I pictured her, but very tiny, like a little wind-up doll, and she has short brown hair and really amazing gray eyes that have wandered over to meet Austin's.
"This must be Austin Meyers," she says. "We know all about you. Or, should I say, we wish we knew more. Any chance you'd like to sit down for a secondary interview to add to Kaitlin's story?"
"Today is all about Kaitlin." Austin winks at me. "But maybe next time."
Wow, Laney has really taught him well. One fifteen minute tutorial with her, and he's a media pro!
"I understand," Christy says, even though she looks disappointed. "Should we head inside?" She turns and walks up the stone stairway and opens the double doors.
The house they've rented is gorgeous. Every stitch of the floors, ceiling and furniture are a shade of white. I'm afraid to touch anything! The living room we've walked into is expansive. It only looks smaller because rows and rows of designer clothes are hanging on rolling clothing racks, waiting for me to look at them. There is a large team of people standing by to dress and primp me for the shoot, which will probably take place outside. On either side of the living room fireplace are sets of French doors leading onto what looks like a large patio and infinity pool. They have a killer view of the city, which you can see really well now that the smog has lifted. I notice the photographer is already setting up on the patio. I breathe deeply. To my left must be the kitchen and from the smell of things, I'm thinking some sort of quiche, or possibly chicken and veggies, are on the catering menu for today.
"Wow," Austin whispers.
Wow is right. It looks like the Sure crew went all out.
"Has Laney Peters or my dad gotten here yet?" I ask. It's not like Laney to be late for anything.
Christy shakes her head. "I'm sure they'll be here soon. In the meantime, we were thinking we'd get you styled and made up, take some test shots, and then maybe break for lunch. If you don't mind, I can interview you then," Christy tells me.
As I head off to makeup and to get my hair done, Austin settles into one of the comfy-looking white couches and picks up the latest issue of Sure. A magazine assistant quickly hurries over with smoothies for each of us. Someone hooks up their iPod to the sound system and blasts the latest John Mayer CD. I begin to relax when my phone rings.
"KAITLIN?" It's Laney. "THIS FREAKIN' TRAFFIC ON THE 101 IS A MONSTER. I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON. MY CAR HASN'T INCHED IN AN HOUR. IF SOMETHING ISN'T ENGULFED IN FLAMES WHEN I FINALLY GET PAST THIS JAM, I'M CALLING SCHWARZENEGGER TO COMPLAIN!"
"It's okay," I tell her. "I'm just doing hair and makeup right now."
"THAT'S FINE, BUT DON'T DO YOUR INTERVIEW TILL I GET THERE," Laney barks. "I'LL CHECK IN WITH YOU -- beep -- TER." Someone else is calling me. I look at the ID. It's Dad and Matty.
"Okay, Laney," I tell her. "Call me soon." I click over to Dad and Matty. "Where are you guys?"
Dad moans. "A tractor trailer fire on the 101 has blocked off all but one lane of traffic," he laments. "We haven't moved in almost an hour."
"Laney is stuck too," I tell him.
"We'll be there -- beep -- as we can," Dad says.
I look at my caller ID again. It's Mom now. "Dad, Mom is calling. I have to go." I click over again. "Mom? I thought you had a procedure."
"I'm going in, sweetie, but I just heard fantastic news," Mom says. "E! wants to carry our reality show!"
"I thought we nixed the show idea," I say discreetly. I can feel my anxiety level rising by the second.
"Not completely," Mom says lightly. "I've been exploring it and I think it could be a great way to redeem our character after that horrid Fashionistas article. The exposure from that show could get you a TV show ten times better than that silly Alaska one."
My skin starts to prickle. I'm tired of Mom ignoring what I want. This is my career and she has to let me have a say. When I fix things with Nadine and Liz, maybe it's time for me to sit down and talk frankly with Mom too. "Mom, I like that show."
"Kaitlin, don't pretend to care about it that much," Mom snaps. "Seth told me you've been too busy this week to even take a meeting with them."
I've put off everything lately, but after what happened Thursday night with Lauren and Ava, I realized that had to change. I'm taking control of my future. That Alaska show, the play, Manolos -- I'm going to make it a priority to try to get one of those projects even if I am terrified of moving on. Seth was out of town on Friday, but he's back today. As soon as I hang up, I'm calling him. "Mom, I have to go," I tell her.
"They're calling me in too," Mom says. "Give Daddy and Matty my love!"
I scroll through my numbers for Seth's and dial, but I hear someone clear their throat and I look up. The stylist is standing in front of me, waiting. Oops. I guess my new assertiveness will have to wait till after I'm primped and I pick out my wardrobe.
Choosing something glamorous to wear isn't tough. I adore a navy Stella McCartney dress, salivate over a Jay Godfrey one that is similar to the one I wore to Vanity Fair's party, and can't get enough of a pair of Rock and Republic's wide-leg jeans and an Alice and Olivia wrap sweater. Since there will probably be three outfit changes (you need at least one look for the cover and sometimes two for the inside photos), the stylist tells me I can use them all.
I'm so glad I listened to Laney and took this cover offer. I was a little hesitant about doing Sure because a lot of people whisper that it's not true journalism.
HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER TWELVE: Sure, like many British tabloids, actually -- shhh! -- sometimes pay for editorial interviews, and many stars like to do them. Not only are you paid, you get to control the content of the interview. You can state up front what you won't talk about -- whether it's your crazy religion, your nasty recent breakup, or your hush-hush rumored lipo.
Laney's only ground rule for mine was that we not discuss Austin at length (my request, not hers).
My prep time flies by, but Dad, Matty, and Laney still aren't here so we move to taking the test shots. They come out really nice. The photographer even lets Austin keep one of the Polaroids (photographers always use Polaroids for test pictures). As we break for lunch, I'm in a really good mood. I change back into the Gap jeans and navy-and-white striped tee I came in (I'd die if I got food on one of those thousand-dollar dresses I had on!) and Austin and I sit down to eat. Christy quickly joins us after we've taken a few bites. She lays her tiny tape recorder ominously in front of us and then pulls out a second one. That's funny. I've never seen a reporter carry two recorders before.
"Do you mind if I ask you some questions while you eat?" Christy asks. Her own plate is practically empty except for a few small pieces of melon.
"Laney wanted me to wait till she got here to do the interview," I apologize.
Christy looks at her watch. "I'm sure she'll be here soon. We'll start off with a few easy questions until she gets here."
"Okay." I quickly swallow my last bite and wipe my mouth. "Austin is going to sit in, if you don't mind."
"I don't if you don't," Christy says.
The first ten minutes of questions are easy -- my favorite things to do on a day off, what I wear when I'm home, what my last vacation was like -- and then they get progressively more difficult -- Austin and me (I answer briefly without too many details so that some part of our relationship is kept private), what my hopes for my career are, and what possessed me to do such things as fight with Alexis Holden in public or hide out in high school disguised as someone else. (Let's be honest, I saw those questions coming. Interviewers ask them every time.) Laney's
still not here, but I feel comfortable enough to keep going. I get a little nervous when she asks about my mom's bad interview in Fashionistas, and why I don't have another project lined up yet, but then the FA questions begin. Talking about working with Matty is easy, but I still can't seem to swallow the topic of FA ending.
"Can we do those last?" I ask.
"Sure." Christy smiles. "Let's go back to career then. Where do you see yourself a year from now?"
I take a breath. "I hope I'll be working. I want to continue making movies and I wouldn't rule out another TV show."
"Do you think you'll make an album?" Christy asks me.
An album? "I don't think so." I laugh. "I don't have a great voice."
"Your voice is adorable!" Christy insists. "And the 'Paparazzi Princess' song is just a riot. Whatever made you come up with something so tongue-in-cheek?"
"The 'Paparazzi Princess' song?" I say slowly. My hands go numb. How does she know about that?
"I don't think I've heard the 'Paparazzi Princess' song." Austin looks amused. "Kaitlin's been hiding her singing talent from me." I grip Austin's hand tightly. I never told him about my music meeting because I thought it would all go away. Seth was supposed to get the tape from TJ ages ago!
"It's been on KROQ twice already this morning," Christy tells us.
"WHAT?" I practically shriek. I try to calm down, but I feel like I can't breathe. I try taking deep breaths, but I feel like I'm gasping for air. I wipe my hands on my jeans. They feel cold and clammy. "I mean, that was never meant to be released." I steady myself. "I only recorded it for a meeting. That was not for the public. When my lawyer finds out about this, I'm sure he's going to come down on whoever leaked it." I know I said some stars leak their tunes early on purpose, but this isn't one of those times. I never wanted anyone to hear that demo. How could this have happened? TJ may be a player, but he wouldn't do this to me. It's bad business.
"Burke, what is this song she's talking about?" Austin looks confused.
"I have a copy right here if you want to hear it," Christy says and she pushes play on the recorder before I can stop her.
My heartbeat speeds up the minute I hear my warbled voice. I place my hands over my ears. Oh God, this is awful . . .
You think you know me,but can't you see?
I'm tired of being the princess. I don't want to win your heart,that was fine to start, but the truth is:
(Chorus)
This Daddy's girl is ready to fly,watch me, world, with a close eye.
I've got a new way of doing things.
This time, I'm the one pulling the strings.
Lights! Camera! Action!
You've never seen anything like the new me before.
And you probably never will again, you bores.
I'm a bad girl stuck in a good-girl role,but now that the show is over, I've got a new goal.
I want to be your paparazzi princess. I want to have your attention.
Keep you eye on my ascension.
When you're not looking, I'm a different girl.
I'm not Sam. I'm ready to take the new bad me out for a whirl.
DJ, hit it!
(Chorus)
This Daddy's girl is ready to fly,watch me, world, with a close eye.
I've got a new way of doing things.
This time, I'm the one pulling the strings.
Lights! Camera! Action!
You've never seen anything like the new me before.
And you probably never will again, you bores.
"It's so cute," Christy coos when the song is over. I glance at Austin. He's trying his hardest not to laugh. I don't blame him.
"Listen, Christy," I start to say, but there is a loud bang and the front doors clang open.
"KATIE!" Lauren and Ava shriek. They're both disheveled, their hair is a bit messed up, and they're wearing dark sunglasses, jeans, and rumpled tees.
"What are you guys doing here?" I try to sound calm, but I start to wheeze. I can't breathe.
"We've been looking for you everywhere," Ava says, walking right in, grabbing a carrot stick from an assistant's plate and plopping down on the couch across from ours. She has her Pomeranian, Calou, with her and she puts the dog down and lets her run around the room. She's so wound up she starts doing laps around the coffee table. "You never told us where your photo shoot was today, but we called Gary -- he's outside with Larry -- and they said they followed you here. So here we are! Oh, by the way, Rod-o is in hot water."
That's what they've started calling Rodney. It drives him nuts.
"Why?" I ask. And how the heck were we followed? I didn't see anyone tailing us.
"Rod-o saw Gary and Larry trying to sneak up the private road and he tried to block them from coming up the street. Gary's car accidentally hit yours and now Rod is waiting for a tow truck." Ava giggles.
"Oh my God," I blurt out. This is not good. Ava and Lauren are crashing my shoot, the paparazzi are outside and my bodyguard is tied up. Laney isn't here to save me either. Is it hot in here? I grab a napkin off the table and begin fanning myself. Christy looks on in confusion.
"He's fine," Lauren enthuses. "He said to tell you not to let Gary and Larry in and that he'd be here in a jif. Gary wanted to know if you'd come outside and take pictures when you were done," she adds and then she spots Austin. "Hey, A! What's up? I'm Lauren."
"Hi." Austin's voice sounds like steel.
An ear-piercing shriek disrupts the awkward moment. "Lau, Lau, come here and look at these clothes!" Ava is standing at a rack; with sticky fingers from the donut she just grabbed off one of the trays, and is flipping through dresses. I see Christy cringe.
"Excuse me," an assistant says. "Could you be careful with those clothes? They're borrowed and we can't get any stains on them."
Ava ignores her. Instead she gasps. "KATIE, you've got to wear this!" She holds up a one-shoulder Grecian gown that would make me look like a potato sack.
"I have my wardrobe choices all picked out," I say cheerfully, but inside I'm starting to feel sick. I'm sweating. Maybe I've just developed a fever? My breathing is heavy, as if I've just run a marathon. Austin looks at me strangely and I smile weakly. I have to get Ava and Lauren out of here. They'll ruin the shoot. "Could I talk to you for a second?" Ava ignores me.
"OH MY GOD, look at this!" Lauren coos. She's holding up a sheer Rebecca Taylor top and leather skirt. "Ava, I have to try this on! Where is the bathroom?"
"Those clothes are for Kaitlin," a harried assistant insists.
"This will just take a second," Lauren says dismissively. She grabs the outfit, and a donut, the glaze oozing onto the top.
"Lauren, watch that donut!" I yell. My heart is doing double-time. My breathing is even worse. I'm starting to feel dizzy.
She laughs. "This is why they invented dry cleaning. Don't worry about it."
"I'll pay for that," I croak quickly to the stylist.
I get up from the couch and walk over to Ava. I feel dizzy, but I still manage to grab her arm. "You guys are embarrassing me," I tell Ava, embracing the power she always thought I needed. "I think you should leave." I'm proud of myself, but I feel like I'm having a heart attack or like I'm going to faint. Is a person's heartbeat supposed to sound this loud?
Ava rolls her eyes. "Is this any way to treat your friends? Geez, we're there for you time and again when you go loco and now you want to push us out because you have a cover shoot to do? That's rude."
I try to speak, but my throat feels like it's closing. Something is seriously wrong with me. I'm so dizzy, I'm sure I'm going to fall. I reach out and grab the couch for support before my knees buckle under me. This can't be happening. Where is Rodney? Where is Laney or Dad? I do not want Sure to think this is the way I roll. I try taking deep breaths to calm myself, but it's not working. I can't get enough air.
"By the way, Katie," Ava says. "We heard your song this morning on KROQ. How come you didn't tell us about it?"
My song. Everyone mu
st have heard it. I'm going to be the laughingstock of the whole town. Suddenly the spacious living room begins to shrink. I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I have to get out of here.
"That dog!" the stylist screeches. "He's peeing on the Jay Godfrey!"
Calou has his little leg lifted and he's relieving himself all over my cover shoot dress. Then he squats and does number two.
Oh. My. God.
Ava scoops him up. "Bad doggy." She giggles. "His pee is tiny. You won't even know it's there when it dries."
"Pick that up," the stylist yells and points to the poop. "Pick that up now."
Lauren comes out of the bathroom wearing the Rebecca Taylor outfit and glares at the stylist. "Geez. Chill. Don't yell at the dog like that."
"Guys, you have to leave," I say more sternly, but quietly, so that I don't make an even bigger scene than there already is. It takes all my energy to get the sentence out. I feel like everyone is far away and I'm in some sort of bubble. Their voices are muffled and I can hear a whooshing sound in my ears. Even if I did assert myself, the girls are still ignoring me.
I hear something shatter and one of the assistants scream. The whizzing in my ears grows louder and I stumble. Austin grabs my arm. I feel so feverish I don't think I can stand on my own.
"Kaitlin, you've got to get Lauren and Ava out of here," he says to me, but he sounds so far away I can barely hear him. I hear him say my name though. Austin never calls me Kaitlin. Ever. That means things must be really bad.
Christy turns to me. "I want your friends out of here now," she says angrily.
"I'm trying," I wheeze. Air. I need air. Someone open a window! I need help. I need Rodney.
"Oooh, are you the reporter?" Ava asks a freaked-out Christy. "Let me tell you everything I know about Katie. We're so tight. We're inseparable. It's like we share the same soul, you know?"
Oh no. "I need ice," I tell Austin, as my body continues to heat up.
"You don't look so good." Austin says.
I feel so sweaty. "They're here," I think I hear him say, but I'm not even sure what that means. The room is starting to fade to black and I can barely make out Austin's face. All I can think about is the disaster in front of me. About that stupid song being on the radio. Christy's questions about Family Affair and my future replay in my head. My chest suddenly feels tighter than ever. I try to take a deep breath, but I'm having trouble. I can't breathe. I really can't breathe.