First Stop, New York (5 page)

“I’m moving into a luxury condo!? Awesome! And no worries at all about the brutally early call time, Max! Seven
A.M.
is
great.
I’ll pack tonight and set my alarm for four thirty
A.M.
to factor in the traffic,” she said, forcing a smile. “No problem at all—I
love
the mornings. All that sun just pouring down like a jolt of energy that’s come to jolt you to—”

Max raised a hand to silence her. Legend was still struggling at the end of her arm.

“Legend,” said Max, “why don’t I meet you in the office where the Xbox is? I’ll be done here soon and I can take you home.”

Legend started off.

“And thank Corliss for babysitting, right?”

Legend shook his pudgy behind in Corliss’s direction.

“Don’t make that rude gesture, Legend. Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Corlith,” he pouted as he padded off.

“The main thing,” said Max as he moved closer to Corliss, “is that you survived a day with Legend. He’s not easy, I know. And I’m grateful.”

“Seriously, he was no trouble at all, Max.”

“Great. And now that you’ve proven yourself with Legend, I need you to go on a real mission.”

Corliss looked uneasy, exhausted. Max knew he had to speak elliptically. “Tanya. Trent. No good.”

“Huh?”

Max sighed. “Let me speak plainly. Tanya and Trent
were making goo-goo eyes at each other. Nothing good can come of this. I need you to monitor them and report back.”

“Oh,” said Corliss, confused. “What do you mean, exactly?”

“I need you to keep them from becoming close.”

“Why?”

“Please don’t ask any questions.”

“But isn’t that nobody’s business but theirs?”

“What did I just say about questions?”

“Sorry.”

Max took Corliss by the shoulders. “Do you know what quality I like most in assistants?”

“Um, clear skin and fresh breath? That’s a joke—sorry! I’m trying to ease the interpersonal dynamic with a little humor.”

“I find myself less than interested, Corliss. What I
am
interested in is an assistant who says, ‘Yes, Max’ to everything I ask.”

“Yes, Max.”

“All day long.”

“All day long,” Corliss repeated.

“Exactly. So please keep an eye on Tanya and Trent. We’re going to want to harness their flirtation until
The ’Bu
is on the air. At that point I will permit their relationship to flower.”

Corliss seemed to comprehend.

“This is your most important function. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Max,” said Corliss.

“Good. You are dismissed for the day.”

As Corliss walked off, Petey, who had witnessed the entire scene in silence, said, “Who’s that, Max?”

“Nobody,” said Max. “My new assistant. Why?”

“Because,” Petey said, his raccoon eyes suddenly twinkling with life, “I think she just gave me a brilliant idea for the rewrite.”

Somewhere in the Bowels of the UBC Network—3:40
P.M.

: The
’Bu-Hoo

Malibu Barbie here. Or maybe it’s Malibu Ken? Call me MBK [get it? M(alibu)B(arbie or) K(en)!] ’cause I’m not saying…

But I will be saying other stuff. And ALL OF IT’s about
The ’Bu.
That’s the UBC network’s new teen jiggle fest. The show that promises boatloads of bodacious bikinis and busloads of booty-rific board shorts.

SEE KEYWORDS: frisky hot, seminude, sandy cracks

So welcome to
The ‘Bu-Hoo
, kiddies. That’s what I’m calling this here blog you’re reading, ’cause it’s
gonna deliver so much inside scoop it’ll make you weep for more! And who can blame ya? Who doesn’t want to hear about filthy rich teen stars behaving badly? I tell ya, this stuff is bananas! Those crazy ’Bu-sters are already racking up awards no one wants to win…

AWARDS Already Won

Best Talent-Impaired Latina Model

Greatest Female Train Wreck in a Leading Role

Video Director Most Willing to Sell His Soul to Make Friends with Cool People

And we’re off to the races! Hidden sources involved in THE HIGHEST LEVELS OF PRODUCTION are already reporting to MBK how full of attitude Anushka “Champagne Breath” Peters is, and how truly dumb as a garage full of surfboards Trent Owen Michaels is…

And don’t get me started on Max Marx—hereinafter referred to as M2. This big fakity-fake spent the first read-through pretending to know how to direct. The only problem is—he di’int! And network executives are already grumbling…

SEE LINK FOR
“
car crash about to happen!
”

And Rocco DiTullio? He might look like one of those divine naked dudes at the top of the Sistine Chapel, but he’s on a secret mission that violates at least two of the commandments.

THIS JUST IN…

M2’s assistants plot to murder innocent Indiana transplant Calamity Corliss. Jeepers, and we is just getting started! So lock your doors and hold on to your keyboards, Blogosphere. MBK is here to deliver the dope, straight up. Sure, I could get caught, but, I gots to tell you, I am in way too deep, and my cover is Ziploc-tight. So fear not! I will
bring
it.

HOLD FOR MORE INCOMING DIRT…

Recently fired
’Bu
writers sue M2 for beaucoup
dinero
: They seek his house in the hills and Spike Jonze’s private number…

Stay tuned,
’Bu
-sters!

Yours
’Bu
-ly,

MBK

Uncle Ross’s House—5:15
P.M.

Corliss was sniffling, engulfed in one of Uncle Ross’s enormous outdoor canvas chairs. “I feel like a complete loser!”

“It’s okay,” said her uncle, deep into his second martini. “Tell Uncle Ross your troubles. Does it have anything to do with your hair?”

“Um…not exactly,” Corliss said, patting down her frizzy locks. “I didn’t have a chance to condition it today. But that’s the least of it.”

“I’m all ears.”

Corliss wiped the fog from her glasses so she could see her handsome uncle. His silver hair was cut just so, and his mint-colored silk lounge pants were the picture of sophistication. He was like something out of an old movie—and as gay as Disney On Ice.

“You know what? I’d rather talk about
your
life, Uncle Ross—it’s so much more interesting.”

“Well, that’s true,” he said, crossing his legs. “Jurgen—that Swede I’ve been dating?”

“The guy with the big ears we met when you took me to Will Rogers beach?”

“Corliss, please. The gays call it
Ginger
Rogers beach, and yes, he’s the one. A wildly successful lawyer, but he’s given it all up—and for what? A dog-walking business.” Uncle Ross shuddered.

Corliss laughed, momentarily forgetting her troubles.

“He likes walking and he likes dogs, so his big brain-storm was putting the two together. He calls this business ‘Get Your Bark On.’”

Corliss was rocking back and forth now, laughing and steaming up her glasses again.

“You’re hilarious, Uncle Ross.”

“Of course I am. Do you want a martini?”

“Uncle Ross, you know I’m not old enough.”

“There you go, announcing your limitations again. With an attitude like that, Corliss, you won’t go far in this town.”

Corliss knew he was trying to make her laugh, but she was too upset. “I just don’t think I can go back. I had to babysit Max Marx’s stepbrother! That was today’s assignment, can you believe it? Taking care of that snotty little brat. And I mean that both booger-wise and attitude-wise.”

“Oh dear,” said Uncle Ross, shuddering. “
Child care!
Corliss, that
is
awful.”

“It is! And I think the kid is secretly evil. Like the bad seed with a lisp.”

“Speech impediments?” Uncle Ross said, clutching the
piping of his loungewear. “Is there no end to what you must endure! Corliss, had I known what this internship would entail, I never—”

“But that’s not the worst of it,” she said, cutting him off.

“There’s more? Wait, I’ll have to make myself another martini…”

“Uncle Ross, Max wanted me to…” Corliss felt a bad taste rise in her mouth. “Spy on people.”

“Really?” he asked as he stirred his gin. “Tell, tell.”

“I can’t. It’s top secret.”

“Corliss,” he said, clearly disappointed, “I have
so much
to teach you.”

Corliss sighed. She knew there was nothing she could keep from Uncle Ross. “It’s a couple of actors in the cast. Max says if they start dating while we’re in production, then disaster lies ahead! Or something.”

“Aha,” said Uncle Ross, digging deep into his new martini. “So you’re his little secret agent. Are you getting combat pay?”

“I don’t think I’m getting any pay.”

“That was a joke, dear.”

“God, I’m such a dolt sometimes. What should I do, Uncle Ross?”

“Quit, of course.”

Corliss sat bolt upright in her lounge chair. The idea filled her with terror.

“If you’re so miserable, why not? I can find you another job faster than Lindsay Lohan can leave rehab.”

“But—but—”

“No buts, Corliss. Be a big girl, gather your courage, call Max, and quit.”

“But I don’t
have
any courage!”

Uncle Ross ignored this. “You have his number, right?”

“Private line and everything, yeah.”

“So then it’s simple.
Call the man
.”

The idea paralyzed Corliss with fear. She couldn’t just quit on Max the first day—she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
No, I finished up my credits early because I persevere. I’ll just take the internship one day at a time and do a thorough evaluation of my feelings and goals every evening. If at the end of every day I’m a basket case—according to the American Psychiatric Association’s criteria—then eventually I’ll have to quit.
She sighed and smiled, proud of herself for sorting through her fear in a flash.

Just then her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and her fear returned.

“Oh, God…”

“What is it, Corliss?”

“It’s
him
.”

“Jurgen? But why would he be calling
you
?”

“Not Jurgen, Uncle Ross…Max Marx!”

“Sorry—I’ve got Jurgen on the brain. Well, this is excellent timing. Answer the call and tender your resignation. Tomorrow I can get you an internship on
Grey’s Anatomy
.”

Corliss froze. Uncle Ross snatched the phone from her and connected the call.

“Don’t—!”

“Corliss Meyers’s line. Whom may I say is calling? Thank you, Mr. Marx. Please hold.” Uncle Ross winked at Corliss and made a
boop
sound before extending the phone to her. Corliss felt her forehead break out in red polka dots. She took the
phone and put it to her ear, praying for the bravery she’d need.

“Hello, Max.” She listened, nodded, and then listened some more.

“What’s he saying?” whispered Uncle Ross.

She shook her head at her uncle and then said, “Okay, Max. Bye.” She disconnected and hung her head.

“Couldn’t bring yourself to do it? Poor dear. You’re too sensitive. How on earth can we be related?”

“It gets worse. Those two actors I’m supposed to spy on? Max says they’re at a restaurant on the beach.”