Star Power (24 page)

Message: Hey Emily. Good news! Shane had a meeting with his spiritual advisor today and wanted you to know that we'll be shooting the final scene (tomorrow). We're re-setting it at a concert, and Miley Cyrus will be our guest, performing on stage. Script revisions attached. See you tomorrow! Best, G.L.

 

 

Emily looked at her phone, not sure what to make of the Miley memo, so she decided to do what she'd always done with important matters up until she moved to Bel-Air: run it by Paige.

Emily studied her friend in the computer screen window. Paige was wearing a denim jumper dotted with red blobs (or were they hearts? Emily had no idea), a yellow T-shirt, and a green scarf tied around her head. Normally the getup might have made Emily giggle, but she was too worried to laugh at that second. After they'd exchanged hellos, Emily poured out the whole story of the party and the kiss and the blowup. Just thinking about it made her head hurt, and talking only made her feel worse. Now her stomach hurt, too.

“That was quite a party,” Paige observed calmly.

Emily slapped her forehead. “I didn't even tell you about the e-mail from Shane,” she said, breathlessly. “I'm forwarding it to you now.”

Paige's eyes darted across her screen. She didn't have an iPhone, so she had to read e-mails off her computer. “That's innnnnteresting,” Paige said slowly.

“What if Miley is going to take my part?” Emily wailed. Nervously she tied the string on her Harajuku Lovers pajamas into a double knot just to do something with her shaky fingers. “Maybe they'll reshoot the whole movie with a new lead actress.”

“You'll be fine,” Paige soothed. She crunched on what appeared to be a Nutter Butter. “It sounds like he wants a cameo from a star. Directors do this all the time.” Emily nodded, but even hearing it from Paige didn't make her feel much better.

“Ems? You okay?” Paige asked after a silence.

“No,” Emily said sadly. “I wish I were in Iowa.” She wished that her life was that simple again: that she could be sitting at Paige's house, eating Nutter Butters, and gossiping about stars' faux pas instead of making them. Why did she have to live in a world where she could only see her loved ones on iChat? Why had she chosen to live in a place where she couldn't trust anyone?

“But you know what? I will be!” Emily said suddenly.

“I'm booking my ticket right now. I'm coming home where I belong.” She opened a new browser window on her laptop, determined.

Paige shook her head. “Um, sorry, Em. I can't let you do that.”

“What are you talking about? I'm coming home. I can't handle Hollywood.” Emily found the first flight she could on Orbitz and took out her mom's in-case-of-emergency credit card. She typed in the numbers and held her hand over the keypad, ready to hit send.

“You
can
handle Hollywood,” Paige's voice cut in, and Emily reluctantly switched back to the chat window. She watched as Paige retied her scarf-headband, her face dead serious. “You are forgetting who you are. These Hollywood peeps may have known you for a month, but I've known you for twelve and a half years. You are Emily Mungler, the girl who doesn't care what people think, which is why everyone thinks you're so cool. Screw Mac and her backstabbing. I miss you and I'd
kill
to have you in Iowa, but you need to stay there and see this out, for you. . . .” Paige's face was huge and bubble-like in the computer screen. She paused to breathe. “This is about you finishing what you started. This movie. It's about your dream.”

Paige and Emily were quiet while Emily absorbed the monologue. For the first time in way too long, Emily's heart and mind were calm. It was amazing that no matter how far apart you were, a true friend could always make you feel better. Distance didn't mean a friend understood you less.

Emily closed the Orbitz window. “You're right,” she said, a slow grin spreading across her face. “I
can
do this.”

“Just don't go near tuna.” Paige winked.

mac

M
ac and her mother lay poolside at their house, basking in the hot Los Angeles sun. Adrienne wore an enormous wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, an indication that she intended to stay outside for more than twenty minutes. Mac was grateful that her mom was willing to risk some UVAs today, because she really needed some time alone with her—not to mention a huge dose of A.L.A. wisdom. Mac felt terrible that Emily had seen her with Davey at her party. And that the micro kiss had happened at all. To make matters worse, Coco was seriously rattled from the whole Cardammon trauma, and Becks wouldn't return her phone calls.

“So I want to give you the heads-up that we may have a problem,” Mac began in a confessional tone. She rubbed some Bain de Soleil on her legs so as to avoid eye contact.

“Go on,” Adrienne said calmly, not looking up. She was making notes on a phone sheet.

“Emily's been in her room the whole day with the door locked.” Mac sighed, staring out at the turquoise water. “I think she might want a new agent.”

Adrienne put down her pen and looked up from her work. “I thought she was tired from the movie shoot.”

Mac shook her head. She took a deep breath and began to explain the whole Davey/Emily disaster as quickly and as accurately as she could. While Mac spoke, her mother made tiny notes on her call sheet. Every so often she nodded her head so Mac knew she was listening.

“—and so now Emily thinks I've been trying to steal her FB—”

“What's an
FB
?” Adrienne squinted, trying to decipher Mac's slang.

“Future boyfriend,” Mac explained.

Adrienne shook her head. “Honey, don't talk like that. It makes you sound not-so-smart.”

“Fine.” Mac took a deep breath. “And so now Emily thinks I've been trying to steal Davey, which of course is not true, but I'd think that in her shoes,” Mac finished. Staring out at Maude's SpongeBob SquarePants raft, Mac couldn't help wishing there were life rafts for, well,
life
. Because right now she felt like she was drowning.

Adrienne lifted up her prescription Prada sunglasses and stared squarely at Mac. “Okay, so maybe Emily won't want to work with us anymore. It's not the end of the world.”

Mac blinked in shock. “Is that all you're going to say? I might have just cost you a huge star. Aren't you mad?”

Adrienne shrugged. “Yes, Emily is going to be a big star, but it's always a risk that you'll lose clients. This is not an easy world, my darling daughter, and I see how you're giving this your all.” Adrienne took her glasses off and smiled knowingly at her daughter. “And by the way, I think it's cute that you and Davey finally realized you liked each other.”

Mac jerked back, like she'd been spritzed with Hil lary Duff's With Love. “What do you mean, we ‘liked each other'?
He
liked
me
!”

Adrienne crossed her legs and replaced her call sheet with that day's
Variety
. “Sometimes mothers know things, and I've known this one for a while. . . .” Adrienne sighed. “Then again, I'm exceptionally smart about human behavior.”

Mac rolled her eyes affectionately. It was amazing how her mother seemed to know everything. As they said, information was power. No wonder her mother was one of the most powerful people in Hollywood.

“But sweetie, we'll have to talk about dating curfews,” Adrienne continued. “I'm not even sure I want you dating until high school. Let alone an actor. . . .” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Actors! Eek! They're the worst!”

“Mom!” Mac squealed. “We are
not
dating.”

“Well, not yet, of course—you're too young,” Adrienne mused. “But as your mother, my best defense is a good offense.”

Mac smiled with relief as she eased back into her lounge chair. Of all the people she'd let down that week, at least her mother hadn't been one of them. But something was still bugging her. She sat back up. “What I want to know is, what could I have done? How could I have controlled this?”

Adrienne dropped her
Variety
and lay on her side, facing Mac. “You can't
control
people.” Adrienne said
control
like it was a dirty word. “You can
steer
them, in what you think is the right direction. But at the end of the day, the only person you can control is yourself.”

Mac nodded, thinking. Through her mind cycled all the times she'd tried to control her friend's destinies: yelling at Emily and Davey-blocking her, pretending it was about Em's career, when really she could have listened patiently, like a good friend, and tried
talking her
away from Davey rather than
forcing her
away from Davey. Managing Becks in a sport she knew nothing about, choosing outfits for her without listening to her concerns or taking the time to actually
check in
with her. Giving Coco an entirely new image, against her will. (Well, she stood by that decision.) But maybe she had taken it too far?

“You, my darling daughter, have a special situation here,” Adrienne went on, shading her eyes to look at Mac, “since these people aren't just your clients. They're your
friends
. It's not easy.”

Mac felt like a load of guilt was lifted from her shoulders. If her own mother—whose life motto was
Make it happen
—was telling her the situation had been challenging, then it truly was. But she had an idea to make sure she never got so far off base again.

She took out her iPhone and erased the daily REMINDER: TAKECHARGE. In its place she wrote, REMINDER: FRIEND FIRST, AGENTSECOND. Already she felt better.

Adrienne glanced down at her gold Baume & Mercier wristwatch, as if deciding how much more time she wanted to spend chatting. The answer apparently was no time at all. Adrienne abruptly stood up and wrapped her towel around her waist. “We need to move on,” she said sternly, moving toward the house.

Yes,
Mac thought.
We do need to move on
. And she already had a plan.