Star Power (17 page)

Emily thought back to all the times she'd willed tears to get her way or even feigned happiness over bad gifts. As good an actress as she was—and she was, even if that sounded a little conceited to admit—she was never as convincing as when she
actually
cried or was
actually
grateful. Maybe
actually
being in love with Davey was the best thing that ever happened to her.

“You know what?” Emily said, feeling her mood lifting like steam in the shower. “I think you may be a genius.” And then she did a little fist-pump right back at her oldest—and
best
—friend.

mac

M
ac dipped her focaccia into the last of the pasta sauce on her plate. She and her family were at Il Pastaio, a place she normally loved, but right now all she wanted was for dinner to be over. She had a million things to do—including planning an A-list party—and her parents had an annoying habit of stretching dinners into three-hour ordeals so they could pretend to be chic and European. But tonight, a long dinner meant she might not make it back to set. Which meant that Davey and Emily could do who-knew-what without her. Which technically was for the best, but somehow still felt like the worst. A vision of the two costars kissing popped into her brain, and she let out a shuddering sigh. She felt more rattled than when she'd found out that Pinkberry contained no probiotics, and therefore could not be considered frozen yogurt at all.

Just then Mac's phone blared. Instantly the hope that it might be Davey shot through her. Maybe he'd tell her that he'd thought about what she'd said but wasn't going to take no for an answer. Mac yanked her phone out of her purse, but her heart sank when she saw that it was Elena Kiriades, who was coordinating the Star Power party. The party was in less than twenty-four hours, which meant this might be a fiesta emergency. She looked pleadingly at her mom, to see if she might—just this once—be allowed to take a call at dinner.

Adrienne shook her head. It wasn't up for discussion.

Mac sighed, and obediently ignored the call.

“Would you mind if I told you about what I learned reading my online encyclopedia?” Mac's sister, Maude, asked politely. She had tiny golden curls and big eyes like Shiloh Jolie-Pitt. If Maude hadn't been her sister, Mac would have hated her for being so perfect.

Lanyard and Adrienne looked at each other and beamed. Their six-year-old genius was adorable
and
thoughtful. “Sure, honey,” Adrienne said.

“Well, what a lot of people don't know about sharks”—Maude's eyes widened—“is that both their upper and lower jaws move.”

Her sister hogging the spotlight offered Mac the perfect opportunity to discreetly check her voice mail. Turning her ear away from the table, Mac listened to the message: Apparently it was impossible to shut down a residential street for a red-carpet party and so did they want to put the red carpet in the backyard? Mac rolled her eyes. She'd explained this when she'd responded to the e-mail asking the same thing. Mac couldn't stand answering the same question twice. She slid her hands and phone onto her lap and sent Elena a sneaky text reply: NO BACKYARDS THIS ISN'T A JULY 4TH BBQ PLS FIGURE IT OUT!!! She sighed in frustration. Did she really have to tell
everyone
how to do their job?

The waiter approached to clear their plates, and Lanyard smiled at the waiter. “Could we take a look at the dessert menu?”

“Um, we've had three courses already. And Italian food isn't exactly
light
,” Mac pointed out, hoping to play on her mother's caloric awareness. Adrienne wasn't as crazy as the Pilates-toned stay-at-home moms—but this was still L.A.

“Mac, don't talk to your father like that,” Adrienne shot sternly. “I'll just have an espresso,” she said politely to the waiter, handing him her empty dinner plate. “But please bring dessert menus for everyone else.” The waiter nodded and walked off.

Mac sighed and leaned back in her chair, hoping that by being quiet she would not prolong this dinner any further.

Just then, her phone rang again. Becks.

“No, Mac,” Adrienne said sternly.

Mac nodded at her mom to show that she knew the rule, but gave her parents a pleading look. “Becks has a shoot tomorrow—what if she needs me?”

Lanyard looked at Mac sternly. “Call Becks
after
,” he said, like it was some great solution Mac hadn't considered.

Mac moaned, staring at the phone in her lap that she was forbidden to use. “It's just that we've been here for hours.”

“Are we keeping you from more important things?” Lanyard said.

Before Mac could explain, Adrienne's BlackBerry blared its alarm-sound ring, which the entire Armstrong family knew meant that Davey Woodward was calling. All eyes zoomed in on Adrienne, wondering how she would play this in light of her recent phones-off-at-dinner discourse. Even Lanyard looked fascinated.

“Aren't you gonna get that?” Mac hissed. Maybe Davey was trying to reach
her
. Maybe if her mother picked up right now, Davey would be talking on the phone and therefore not be able to kiss Emily. No way could he call his agent and kiss someone at the same time. “It's
Davey
!” Mac practically yelled.

Adrienne stared at her daughter in shock. It was the kind of overly calm gaze Adrienne only gave before a storm.

“My darling daughter”—Adrienne spoke slowly in a voice that meant business—“I think what you need tonight is some sleep.” She hit
ignore
on her BlackBerry, and Mac sat back, shocked.

“Mom, I'm not tired, I'm busy—”

“No. You have been acting like a very stressed-out girl. And it's because you're tired. Which is why,” Adrienne calmly continued, “you're not allowed to use your cell phone or a computer or your iChat. Consider yourself in the Stone Age for the next twenty-four hours.”

“But—” But she couldn't even finish her sentence. She was too busy calculating all the calls she would miss. The party plans that needed finalizing. How would she get through to Becks, Coco, and Emily? There would be no way to convey that she was out of commission.

“You're grounded,” Adrienne finished, as if that wasn't already obvious.

“But Mom,” Mac cried, “This is so unfair! All I did was make a few phone calls. That's
nothing
. You've never grounded me for anything that small.” It was true: Just last month Mac had broken into her mom's office and called the
Deal With It
producers, pretending to be her mom, to get Emily an audition. Adrienne hadn't been pleased when she found out, but she also hadn't
grounded
Mac.

“Well,” Adrienne said with a smug look on her face, “consider yourself grounded for all the worse things you've done before this.” Before Mac could protest, her mom went on. “You can have the party tomorrow because your friends are counting on it. But from now on, agenting cannot interfere with your grades
or
your family.”

Mac clutched the napkin on her lap.
But apparently her family could interfere with her agenting.

Her brother, Jenner, snickered, and Maude just looked sad.

“‘In the long run, men hit only what they aim at,'” Maude announced. “‘Therefore, though they should fail immediately, they had better aim at something high.'”

Mac stared at her sister like she was an alien.

“Did you just quote Thoreau?” Lanyard asked, beaming at Maude in proud surprise.

Maude nodded.

“How did you know about him, honey?”

“Yesterday I was reading Gandhi and saw that he was inspired by Thoreau. . . .”

Mac stopped listening, her stomach aching with worry. She had a colossal party to plan, Becks was in need of fashion guidance, Coco
Rose
had been MIA all day, and Davey and Emily were probably off having way too much fun without her. She chewed her fingernail, wondering what Thoreau would have to say about
that
.

emily