Authors: Todd Strasser
Famous (16 page)
N,
Did you get my voice mail? I hope the silent treatment isn't your way of punishing me. It doesn't seem like something you'd do. It's really hard to be so far away and not know what you're thinking. Especially after what happened. Please call back or write.
Anyway, it's gone from crazy to bizarre here. Everything has changed. Willow's canceled all her appointments. Her personal assistant,
Doris, is stalking around with a huge frown on her face. A whole new group of people, mostly guys, have shown up, and the scene around here has gone from “Girls just want to have fun” to “Guys just want to jump girls.” The stink of cigarette smoke is in the air, and abandoned glasses and beer bottles are everywhere.
There's a morose silence, almost a sense of doom, among the staff. This morning Willow's publicist, Heather Taylor, came to the front gate but wasn't allowed in. Sam's here, but no matter how vigilant he tries to be, people seem to disappear into the pool house or some bathroom and come back giggling, smirking, or just plain hyper.
I was in the kitchen having a salad with Doris before when Willow and Rex came in and announced that they wanted to have a party. Willow dictated a list of things she wanted Doris to order--party platters, beverages, etc.
“Better toss in some beer,” Rex
added. “Maybe a case of Red Stripe and a case of Dos Equis. Half a dozen bottles of Patrón Silver and Ketel One.”
When Doris hesitated, Willow snapped, “Do what he says.”
When she's with Rex, there's something about Willow's voice and body language that's different. Is it adoration? The need to please? At the same time, she's become bratty and demanding to everyone else.
It's very weird, N. Maybe you'll write back and tell me what you think? Isn't that what you said you'd do?
ONLY THE SLEAZE, PLEASE!
LA SHOCKER! TEEN SENSATION
WILLOW TWINE ENTERS REHAB!
Less than forty-eight hours after crashing her Mercedes into the side of a garbage truck, teen superstar Willow Twine has voluntarily entered an exclusive LA rehab facility for what a spokesperson said was an “accidental” dependence to prescription painkillers.
This is the latest surprise in a series of bizarre developments that began early Sunday morning when Twine, accompanied by rocker boyfriend Rex Dobroâboth apparently under the influence of drugsâsideswiped three cars and ran a red light
before crashing into the side of the truck.
Police responding to the scene reported finding marijuana, pills, and a bag containing an unidentified white powder. The young actress was taken into custody and charged with possession of illegal substances and driving while impaired. Within hours, mug shots of Twine with stringy hair, a swollen split lip, and black eye from the crash were circulating on the Internet.
At the arraignment later that morning, Twine's manager, Aaron Ives, posted bail and handed out a typewritten statement allegedly from Dobro stating that he was responsible for the drugs. Surrounded by a phalanx of friends and supporters, Twine was whisked from the courtroom into a waiting car.
Many assumed that Ives would keep his star under wraps until the situation died down and was forgotten, but the next afternoon Rexlow was surrounded by an army of paparazzi after they were spotted shopping on Rodeo Drive. Dobro further aggravated the situation by getting into a fight with one of the photogs, and then Willow made a garbled and rambling statement about the evils of the paparazzi. Within the hour the clip was all over TV and the Internet and was followed by an even more incomprehensible and befuddled statement on Willow's website that was apparently intended to explain what she'd meant but instead left her fans scratching their heads and her enemies making snide comparisons to Britney and Lindsay.
A few hours later her publicist issued the announcement that Willow was going into rehab
after “accidentally” becoming addicted to the prescription painkillers she'd been taking for a mysterious back injury that had never been mentioned before.
WHEN I SAW THE NEWS ON MY BLACKBERRY, I ACTUALLY CUT CLASS to call Avy from the washroom. Weeks had passed since we'd last connected. I'd spoken to him after he returned from Tijuana, but when I asked him to send me some shots of his new look, he said he wanted to wait until the swelling went down. The phone rang for a long time, and just when I expected to get his outgoing message, he answered with a yawn. “Hello?”
“Did you hear about Willow?” I gasped.
“Huh? Jamie? What time is it?” He sounded groggy.
“Two o'clock here, so it must be eleven there.”
“Oh, man. Iâ” He coughed for a few seconds, then
cleared his throat. “I feel like I just went to bed.”
“Well, wake up and smell the gossip! Willow's going into rehab!”
“Hmm.” Avy sounded less than interested. I was shocked. This was the kind of thing we'd once spent hours dishing about. I wanted him to be interested. I needed him to still care about the things we used to care about. “Uh, know what, Jamie? Let me get some coffee and call you right back, okay?”
School ended, and Avy still hadn't called back. I went to a stakeout outside the federal court building downtown and stood on the cold marble steps for three hours with a dozen other photogs waiting for Blake Bloxon to come out, only to learn from a limo driver that the court appearance of the world's richest deadbeat dad had been postponed to another day.
Avy called around 8:00 p.m., six hours after he said he'd get coffee and call me right back. But at least he sounded more like himself. “Hey, Wonder Girl! Willow's in rehab! Can you believe it?”
“Oh, it's classic!” I gasped, delighted that I had the old Avy back. “Just what everyone predicted would happen if she took up with Rex!”
“From superstar to fallen woman,” Avy said, and coughed.
“Well, not quite. More like a bump in the road, don't you think?”
“I don't know, Jamie. Have you checked out Facebook and some of the gossip sites? There's suddenly a lot of anti-Willow stuff out there. Think about it. If you're the mother of an eleven-year-old tweenybopper, do you want your daughter cheering for a rehabber with a rap sheet?”
“Even if Rex takes the blame for the drugs?” I asked.
“He wasn't driving. She was.”
“You really think fans are that fickle?”
Avy's answer came after a spasm of deep, gurgling coughs. “Whoa, Wonder Girl, what alternative universe are
you
living in? Of course they're that fickle. Especially when they know Alicia Howard's waiting in the wings.”
“Are you sick?” I asked while I Googled Alicia Howard on my MacBook.
“Nah, just a little phlegmy.”
I found Alicia's website. “Listen to this. She's issued a special statement: âI can only express my greatest admiration and concern for Willow. She was my number one idol as a girl. I wish her the best and hope she has a speedy recovery.'”
“Alicia's probably salivating so hard her handlers are looking for mops,” Avy quipped.
I had to laugh. “Good one, Avy. Personally, I like the line, âShe was my number one idol as a girl.' Such a sweet backhanded dig at Willow's age.”
“Come on, who's kidding who?” Avy asked. “If the
two of them were standing at the edge of a cliff and Willow began to lose her balance, Alicia would be more than happy to reach out . . . and give her a push.”
“Except it looks like Rex has done it for her,” I said.
Avy coughed, then cleared his throat. “True, that.”
The velocity of gossip started to wane. “So, what's up?” I asked. “What have you been doing?”
“Same old, same old. I'm doing the academy thing, and Janice takes Sean and Brian and me to auditionsâ”
“Wait. Who are Janice, Sean, and Brian?”
“Sean and Brian are my roommates. Janice is Brian's mom. She's like our house mother and chaperone.”
“So you moved?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah, didn't I tell you? My parents arranged for me to live in Starwood. It's where all the showbiz kids live. We're all at the Professional Children's Academy.”
“But wait, if you're at the academy, how come you were sleeping when I called this morning?”
“Oh, yeah. Uh, um, I stayed home today because I've been kind of run-down. Between school and auditions and everything.” He coughed again. It sounded deep and guttural.
“Seriously, Avy, are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah. I've just had this bug for a couple of days. It'll go away. So, what's going on with you, Wonder Girl? How's New York's youngest paparazzo? Oops, I meant celebrity photographer.”
I told him it had been really slow, and that things with Nasim seemed okay but I could never really tell what he was thinking. Once again, the conversation seemed to wane in a way it never had before. Avy coughed and cleared his throat. “So, uh, that's really crazy about Willow. Thanks for the update. Uh, I gotta go, Jamie. Let's talk again soon, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. The line went dead. Maybe it was my imagination, but for the first time ever I felt like there was something more than just physical distance separating me from my best friend.
“NO,” MOM SAID. SHE, DAD, AND I WERE SITTING AT THE KITCHEN
table. Alex was in the den watching TV.
“But this would be a huge step in my career,” I said.
Mom's face tightened as if she still hated that word but had finally come to accept that she could do nothing about it. I turned to Dad and gave him a pleading look. Knowing I'd need his support, I'd asked him to stop by.
“I don't think you're being fair, Carol,” he said.
“It's going to be over spring vacation, so I won't miss any school,” I added. “You know you hate the idea of me being a paparazzo. Here's a chance for me to really establish myself as a celebrity photographer.”
Mom looked at Dad. “She's not even sixteen years old. You can't be serious about letting her go all the way to the other side of the country to spend a week with a clearly unstable person who has a well-documented drug and alcohol problem.”
“Willow's cleaned herself up,” I said.
That drew another long, dramatic, “give me break” sigh from my mother.
“Seriously, Mom, she had to,” I said. “Her whole career is in danger of going down the tubes. This assignment is part of the effort to save it.”
“Am I allowed to ask why, out of all the photographers in the world, she chose you?” Mom asked.
I explained the whole youth-by-association thing. Mom actually looked surprised that there was a reason. Dad pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded as if he hadn't thought of that either. Still, Mom wasn't ready to give in. She reached across the table and took my hand in hers. “Listen to me. There are some things you're still too young to understand. Ever since Hollywood began, movie stars have worked very hard to make people believe that they're all healthy, happy, and sober. But, as has been proven time and time again, that is very often not the case. Now, if you really believe that just because Aaron Ives
wants
you to report that Willow Twine is sober and stable means that she
really is
sober and stable, than this is worse than I thought, because they're trying to use you.”
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Gee, thanks, Mom. You really think I'm that stupid?”
“Of course I don't. But Willow Twine is an actress. And if it means saving her career, then I would imagine that it would be in her interest to put on her greatest performance ever.”
“I have to agree with Jamie that doing that for an entire week would be pretty difficult,” Dad said.
“And what if halfway through the week Jamie discovers that Willow Twine is sneaking into the closet every two hours to snort coke?” Mom asked. “Then what?”
