Secrets of My Hollywood Life: There’s No Place Like Home (4 page)

Does that mean…can you really do that? No, no, that’s crazy. No one could do a job as good as my mom.

Actually, they probably could.

WAIT. WHERE DID
THAT
COME FROM?

My mom would be crushed! She loves managing me.

At least she used to. Now it seems like everything is another battle, another nuisance, and she’s listening to my say less
than ever. We have no time to talk, ever, and when we do talk, it’s about work.

“Kates, are you okay?” Liz is looking at me, the corners of her mouth twitching. She must be thinking the same thing I am.
“Did Sky’s mom news throw you?”

I look at my hand still resting on the dropped box of sweet potatoes. “I’m fine,” I insist, adding a spray of sunflowers to
my basket. There. That looks pretty. Making baskets really is mindless work, which means your mind can concentrate on other
things like…wow, Sky fired her mom!

“Makes you think about things, doesn’t it, Kates?” Liz pushes, looking sort of satisfied. “Maybe you should throw around the
words
job termination
in front of your mom.”

“My mom is nothing like Sky’s mom.” I look at Sky. That sounded harsh.

“You’re right,” Sky agrees. “Your mom is
worse
. At least my mom doesn’t cancel my dates with Trev or make me feel like an employee.”

Ouch. That was a little harsh too, but… Mom shouldn’t be canceling my dates with Austin or giving me no free time. I know
that. I’ve always known that. It’s been part of my argument for as long as I can remember—I need a say in things. We’ve talked
about this before, and she swore she’d change. Mom keeps saying how she wants us to be closer, but this latest snafu isn’t
helping.

I add a box of Turkey Tasters stuffing and voilà! My twentieth basket of the night is complete. I stare at the large table.
Except for a few miscellaneous cans, and Sky and Trevor’s stuff, I think our work here is done. “Why don’t we get out of here
and get something to eat,” I suggest, hoping for a topic changer. “I think we’ve done our fair share here.”

“Between the four of us we’ve put together fifty baskets,” Josh says, wiping his hands on his apron. “That better be enough
to spring us.”

“It’s six thirty,” Liz says, looking at her Gucci watch. “We’ll never make our seven o’clock reservation at Il Sole. Where
should we go?”

“A Slice of Heaven?” I suggest.

“Grease it is.” Liz pulls her apron off her head, and instantly a Turkey Tasters rep is there to grab it.

“Where are you guys going?” she asks nervously. “We haven’t played Turkey Tasters bingo yet. The money raised goes to charity,
you know. And you really must take time to go to our thank-you gifting suite. Brendan is back in there now picking out an
unreleased version of Guitar Hero.”

“Ooh, I want one of those!” Sky raises her hand wildly, and Liz slaps her.

“Tasters gifting suite?” Liz’s voice rises an octave. “At a charity event? You can take your Guitar Hero and your bingo and—”

I grab Liz’s arm and smile serenely at the rep. “What she’s trying to say is we don’t need any gifts. We were happy to help.”
I look at the others, who nod in agreement. Liz is still pouting. “But we really must be going. Sky and I have another commitment
this evening.”

The Tasters rep looks disappointed. “Could you take one last picture? We haven’t gotten one of you with Tom Turkey Taster
yet.” She motions to the guy in the oversized turkey costume. I glance at Sky. She looks like she’d rather eat Tom than pose
with him.

“Just one,” I tell her. The Tasters people rush him over, and I look at the others. “I’ll text Rodney to bring the car around.
Then we should call Antonio.” Liz starts to dial our favorite pizza place’s owner’s number.

Josh pokes Liz. “Make sure he puts some garlic knots on.”

“And mozzarella sticks,” Austin adds.

“Salad pizza,” Sky calls out, and Trevor groans. “Hold the cheese. I’ll bloat.”

I’m not that hungry, so I don’t add to the order. All I can think about is Sky firing her mom. I feel a vibration and pull
my iPhone out of my pants pocket. I look at the message in horror.

“What’s wrong?” Austin asks, touching my shoulder.

“Nothing,” I insist, typing quickly.

“I hate when she does this!” I complain, yelling in Tom Turkey Taster’s beak without realizing it. “Sorry. Pictures. Right.”

We snap a handful, and then I break the bad news.

“She can’t keep doing this to me,” I say, exasperated. “What if I couldn’t leave the event right now? Then what would I do?
I have to talk to her about her Darth Vader choke hold!”

“You go, Kates!” Liz cheers. “Do it for real this time. You can always meet us afterward. Antonio will keep the place open
so we can hang out late. You know that.”

“I’m sorry,” I feel the need to say again. “I’ll be as quick as I can, but remember, this is a dinner meeting so it could
take a few hours.”

Austin hands me my coat. “We’ll be waiting.”

I kiss him and rush outside to meet Rodney, practically knocking down one of the guys from
The Bachelor
, who is hauling a huge box of loot to his car.

I fight the urge to laugh. Only in Hollywood. Even if it is weird, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

We’re driving to dinner after watching Liz, Josh, Sky, Trevor, and Austin drive off toward A Slice of Heaven, and I don’t
even have to look up from applying my lip gloss to know why Rodney put this song on. It’s Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go
On,” the theme song from James Cameron’s
Titanic
. I look up anyway, and I can’t help but smirk. “Rod! It’s bad luck to play that right now!”

“Oh, shush,” Rod admonishes me. He’s sipping a vanilla shake from Carl’s Jr. and has his other hand on the wheel of the Lincoln
as he cruises down Sunset Boulevard toward the Beverly Hills Hotel where I’m meeting my family, Seth, and Laney for dinner
at the Polo Lounge. “That rumor is legit!” he says. “You are going to work with the king of the world!”

“You’re about to become a Na’vi expert,” Nadine adds giddily, referencing the alien species in Cameron’s
Avatar
. Rodney picked Nadine up on the way to get me so that we could go over some work stuff before my dinner. She’s sitting next
to me, scrolling through her BlackBerry. On the seat between us is her binder, aka the bible, which has my call sheets, measurements,
and everything else one might need to know about me on the fly. Nadine can’t stop herself from going on. “Everyone is dying
to know what his post-
Avatar
series movie is going to be!”

Ever since Laney got an early copy of the new
TV Tome
cover story that mentions the Cameron rumors, everyone I know can’t stop thinking about the possibility of me being in his
next film. I’m trying not to let those thoughts out too often, though, ’cause I’m worried I’ll press my luck. James Cameron
is on fire. He’s known for creating well-drawn female characters and could get press for reading a phone book. Could I really
be lucky enough to get called in to read for something he’s doing?

Nadine goes for overkill. “This could lead to an Oscar nomination!”

I cover my ears. “Stop! Stop! Don’t get me excited! That rumor might be nothing more than a rumor.”

HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER FOUR: Sometimes rumors really are just rumors. I know I usually say that where there is smoke there
is fire, and that’s true a lot. Sometimes the tabloids get a story right months before it breaks. Even celebrities with ironclad confidentiality agreements find that
their nannies or housekeepers or ex-​boyfriends can find loopholes allowing them to spill the details of their private lives. But sometimes a rumor is nothing more than
an overeager agent, publicist, spin doctor, or studio higher-up talking about what they want to happen rather than what is
really happening in Tinseltown. Maybe James Cameron never even called about me. Seth just wants him to and, by putting the
rumor out there, he’s hoping the phone will ring.

Nadine gives me a look. One I know well from years of working with her. It means “don’t pretend to be humble when you know
the real deal.” Her shoulder-length red hair was just trimmed, and it’s layered and trendy. She’s wearing something equally
hip: a black sweater dress and black knee-high boots. Nadine says she has a hot date tonight, but she’s keeping mum on the
details so she doesn’t jinx it. “You’re going to get offered that Cameron gig, and you know it!” Nadine says, and then her
face softens. “I hope you take it. Wherever it’s shooting. You’ve waited your whole life for an offer like this, Kates. You
deserve it.”

“Thanks.” I squeeze her hand. “But Seth hasn’t called to say there even
is
an offer.”

“I know it’s real,” Nadine says knowledgeably and turns sideways in her seat to talk to me, making the leather squeak. “And
it’s not the only offer you’re going to get tonight, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“How do you know?” I ask. I cross and uncross my legs again, praying I don’t crease my black Tahari trousers. Nadine brought
me a change of clothes to wear to the Polo Lounge. What I had on for the Turkey Tasters event was not business dinner–ready.
I’ve paired my new pants with an Aryn K plum sateen blouse and gray, snakeskin, peep-toe Prada heels. I spend way too much
time changing in the back of this car. “Did Laney tell you? You guys seem so tight lately.”

“You give us a lot to talk about,” Nadine reminds me. “I’ve finally learned Laney isn’t that tough to talk to if you know
how. Sometimes she has great advice.”

“On what?” I ask. My diamond chandelier earrings hit the light, and I can see the reflection dancing on Nadine’s face, practically
blinding her.

Nadine squints. “Nothing worth discussing now when we have bigger things going on.” She looks at me intently. “You’re going
to get offers that are equally big and just as enticing as the Cameron one tonight, but
do not
try to take on more than the one. Don’t overdo it this hiatus, Kates. One major movie is enough. Your hiatus may seem long,
but it’s shorter than you think, and I don’t want you getting burned out before your second season. That one will be even
tougher than the first. You’ve heard of the sophomore slump, right?” I nod. “We can’t let that happen with
Small Fries
. You need to be on your game, and I think one big film and some downtime is the way to go. Plus, if you choose to take any
college classes this fall…” She pushes a gold folder I haven’t noticed out of the binder and over to my side of the seat.
I look down and see the crest is embossed with the lettering UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA.

“The application isn’t due till January eleventh, so you have time to fill it out,” Nadine says before I can say anything.
“With your SAT scores and your life experiences, you’re a shoo-in if you write a good essay. I know you can nail this year’s
question: ‘Have you changed your life, or has your life changed you?’”

“Deep,” Rodney chimes in from the driver’s seat. “I’m going to have to think about that one.”

I finger the raised lettering on the folder. “We’ve talked about this, Nadine,” I say softly. “With a new show, my schedule
is haywire. I’ll never have time to take
one
class, let alone two. There’s no way I can pull it off. College will have to wait a year.”

“And then next year it will be another excuse,” Nadine argues. “I’ve always said I was going to go to Harvard Business School
after a few years, but my story is the same as yours. I have every excuse in the book. I’m no closer to moving to Boston than
I was four years ago when I moved out here. I don’t even
want
to move east anymore. I can’t do winters.” She looks out the window for a second and pats a strand of red hair in place.
“Business school is just not in the cards.”

“Don’t say that,” I fret, feeling bad. “Why can’t you go here? Does it have to be Boston?”

Nadine shakes her head. “I don’t want to go to business school anymore. I have other dreams I want to pursue but the point
is if you don’t do it now, you might never do it, Kaitlin. Even if it’s just one class at a time, you should try to get your
college degree. If you don’t, you might always regret it.” She taps the folder. “Start with the application. If you decide
not to go next fall, then fine, but you can’t go without getting accepted first.” She grins. “You’d love it at USC, by the
way. Rod and I went there the other day to pick up the application, and I could picture you reading at one of the outdoor
verandas.”

“They happened to be having SnowFest,” says Rodney, looking at me in the rearview. “They brought in actual snow! In L.A.!
Students were everywhere checking out ski and snowboard stuff. I would never believe it if I didn’t see it myself. How cool
is that?”

“That is cool.” I place the folder carefully in my new handbag. It’s November and it seemed only fitting I trade in my snakeskin
bag from New York for a new winter bag for not-so-wintery Los Angeles. This one is a warm, buttery yellow leather bag with
black stitching. I like it, but I can’t say I’m in love with it. I’m still looking for a bag that screams “me.” “I’ll think
about the application.”

“That’s all I ask,” says Nadine as the car rolls to a stop. I look out and see we’re in front of the valet stand at the Beverly
Hills Hotel. I gather up my things and look at Nadine. She’s staring at me as if she’s waiting for an answer. “Have a good
meeting and remember what we talked about. You’re having such a blast with
SF
. Don’t ruin it by overextending yourself. You still need time for
you
.”

“I know.” I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. I grab the door handle. “Have a great date—I want all the juicy details.”

“You’ve got it,” Nadine says. She turns to Rodney. “Cue the music!”

Celine begins to blare loudly through the speakers again, and I laugh. “I’ll call you after,” I promise as the valet opens
the car door. I accept his hand as I step into the warm night air, then I walk along the Beverly Hills Hotel’s red carpet
under the green-and-white-striped awning toward the entrance where doormen in black suits with striped cuffs are holding the
doors open.

I’ve just walked into the yellow hotel lobby with its huge chandelier hanging over the cozy seating area of low, fluted velvet
chairs and 1950s palm-print carpet when I bump into Dad. He’s wearing a white polo shirt and khaki chinos, which means he
either went golfing today or took a job at a chain restaurant.

“Hi, Kate-Kate!” He hugs me gruffly. “I saw an early cut of your Takamodo Cruise Lines commercial today. You had that engine
at full throttle, I could tell.” My dad uses car analogies for everything. Before he joined the family business (Hollywood),
he was a car salesman. “Mom will be thrilled. She’s already talking about your next Japanese commercial.”

“Thanks, Dad. Did you, uh, get to talk to Preston at all?” Dad’s been looking for his next producing project for a while,
and he was hoping
SF
would be it, but the studio had enough people attached. It’s not like Dad has a major track record yet. He’s worked on a
few of my projects that Seth negotiated into my contracts, but Dad’s own production business hasn’t, um, well, ever really
taken off.

Dad coughs. “Well, you know, Preston’s a busy man. Very busy.” He looks around and reaches for an antique end table to lean
casually. “I only saw him for a second when I stopped by his studio. He said he’d give me a call tomorrow or next week.” His
voice trails off. “He’s not sure if he has any producing needs right now.”

“Oh.” I lower my eyes and stare at my shoes. “I’m sure he’ll call, Dad. Or someone else you’ve pitched ideas to will.”

Dad runs his hands through his thick, dark hair. “It is too bad
Small Fries
didn’t need me, but business is business. I can’t work on all your projects.” I nod knowingly.

“And besides, I’m plenty busy between watching you and needing to be on set with Matty,” Dad reminds himself. “Then there
is the house to consider—your mom wants to remodel, the pool needs updating, and I’ve been looking at cars for you.” He smiles,
his teeth blinding me. “Your first ride is the one you’ll always remember, Kate-Kate.”

“We don’t need to decide just yet,” I say nervously. Just thinking about getting my license after all this time makes me freak
out.

“True,” Dad agrees. “It’s a good thing, I guess, because I am not liking what I’m seeing at these Beverly Hills dealerships.
These salesmen just don’t know how to sell a car! It’s appalling. I mean, in my day, we cared about the customer first and
the sale second. These guys heard the last name Burke and they tried to sell me every car in the place in the first fifteen
minutes. Before I even took a test drive!”

“Terrible,” I agree, looking around for the others. I guess we haven’t been seated in the restaurant yet. “What are you doing
out here anyway? Is there a wait for a table?”

Dad shakes his head. “We’re all inside already. I came out here to check on your mom. She had to take a phone call.” He motions
to my right and I see a tall woman with honey blond hair that closely resembles my own sitting on a velvet chair. She’s wearing
a black Elie Tahari pantsuit, and a large, turquoise, beaded necklace tangles over her low-cut, cream silk tank top. She taps
one cream Gucci heel nervously. Mom doesn’t seem to see me.

“Was that today?” I hear her say to someone on the phone while she consults one of two very thick notebooks. Papers are sticking
out of all ends. “I’m so sorry. I had it down for tomorrow at three.” She laughs. “I don’t know where my head is. I probably
left it someplace between studio A and B.”

“We should really get this dinner going.” Dad nudges me. “Seth has somewhere to be at nine thirty.”

That means dinner won’t be super long and I can make it to A Slice of Heaven to see the others. “Why don’t you tell everyone
I’m here, and I’ll get Mom.”

“Sounds good,” Dad tells me and heads toward the restaurant. He winks at me. “Try to keep her from talking on the phone too
long.”

“Tuesday?” I hear Mom say, and then she’s rustling through papers. “Well, I can try to move a few things around, I think…
um, I have a meeting at eleven, a lunch at twelve thirty, Matty’s fitting at two… wow, this day is packed! Kaitlin’s at four,
but maybe if I… no, no, no! It’s not a bother. I
want
to do this. The Daisies are very important to me.”

Mom is quiet as she listens to the caller on the other end. She looks stressed. That’s how she looks all the time lately.
I wait a few minutes more hoping she’ll wrap up.

“I can fit it in,” Mom insists. “Nancy, you’re being ridiculous! I missed one meeting. Okay, two. That doesn’t mean… ​if you’d
just… don’t worry
how
. I just will.” Long pause. “I can make this work, sweetie. If you’d just… but… just… think about it. Please? Don’t make this
decision yet.” Mom starts flipping through papers again frantically. “Tuesday at eleven forty-five AM Pacific time! Yes. I
can talk over my whole proposal then. Yes. Fifteen minutes is all I need, I swear.” Mom’s face breaks into a small smile.
“GOOD! Thank you, darling. Talk to you then.” Mom hangs up and I see her rub her temples in a circular motion. It’s something
I do myself when I’m worked up. Maybe I should book Mom a massage.