But no matter how repulsive her nails were, she couldn’t stop picking. She’d think about Cam meeting another girl and pick. Or imagine auditioning for Rupert. And pick. Or remember she was competing against Massie for the role. Pick. Or fear going to ADD. Pick. Where she’d be forced to buy back her stolen lunch for a hundred dollars. Pick. Or—
Click.
Finally! The sound she’d been waiting for. Her parents had shut their bedroom door. The coast was clear.
Claire pulled her comforter over her head and switched on the PowerBook G4 laptop Massie had loaned her. The illuminated computer screen filled her cotton fortress with a blue glow and her heart with what felt like helium.
“Yes!” There was a green dot beside FISHER2, Cam’s IM screen name. He was waiting for her.
Claire hit the keys as softly and quietly as she could, hoping the comforter would muffle the tapping that could betray her to her parents at any time. If they caught her online after taking away her computer, L.A. would be out of the question.
CLAIREBEAR: Sorry. Parents just went 2sleep.
FISHER2: s’okay.
CLAIREBEAR: They said ok to LA. Can Ubelieve?
FISHER2: !! U X-ited?
CLAIREBEAR: Nervous.
Claire stared at the blinking cursor until it blurred. Cam wasn’t responding. Was he mad she was leaving? Did he want to break up with her? Was he IM-ing someone else at the same time? Someone with nice nails?
CLAIREBEAR: Still there?
FISHER2: Yeah. Just bummed.
CLAIREBEAR: ??
FISHER2: miss u.
Claire wanted to dive into the screen and grab him. She wanted to inhale his grape-bubble-gum breath and draw in the ocean smell of his beat-up leather jacket. If only she could gaze into his blue eye and then his green eye, touch his warm cheek, and lip-kiss him for a full minute. Then, when the minute was up, she’d crawl back into the computer and write up every detail so she could relive it ten times a day while she was gone.
CLAIREBEAR: Miss U 2. I’ll take tons of pictures and call you every day. Promise.
FISHER2: Don’t fall in love with any movie stars.
CLAIREBEAR: Don’t fall in love with anyone.
FISHER2: Too late.
Claire opened her mouth and silent-screamed—or as silently as someone whose boyfriend just said, “I love you” possibly could.
TETERBORO AIRPORT
GELDING STUDIOS’ PRIVATE JET
Monday, March 16th
7:37 A.M.
The kitten heels on Massie’s metallic slides echoed against the metal steps as she climbed toward the belly of the Gelding 7 jet.
“Girls, hurry up!” Judi Lyons poked her head out the plane’s doorway and lifted a bottle of Perrier to her thin lips. “Claire, it’s nicer than the hotel we stayed in when our roof was leaking.”
“Really?” Claire squeezed past Massie and hurried up the narrow steps. She was wearing what looked like a pair of green doctor’s scrubs, a faded yellow long-sleeved tee, and her black-and-white Keds, even though they didn’t match.
“No way!” she shouted when she climbed aboard. “You guys have to see this!”
“Lame,” Massie muttered to Alicia, who was a few steps behind her. “Why do the Lyonses always act so impressed with everything? It makes them sound so un-rich.”
“Point,” Alicia panted.
She was dressed in the exact same wide-leg James Perse lounge pants as Massie, only hers were navy and Massie’s were olive. On top they wore striped C&C shirts over long white beaters. These were their plane outfits. Comfortable, yet cute enough to wear to the nearest department store should they lose their luggage.
“Mmmmm.” Alicia inhaled deeply once they boarded. “Warm cinnamon buns.”
Massie’s mouth watered. The Gelding 7 didn’t have that dusty-carpet smell other airplanes had. And the air didn’t feel thick with the flu virus and coffee breath. If Glossip Girl made a Gelding 7 flavor, it would smell like the inside of a baker’s oven: warm, fresh, and sweet.
“Welcome.” A sunny blond flight attendant smiled as she handed each of the girls a champagne flute filled with sparkling lemon water and a plate of bite-size sandwich wraps that had been rolled up to look like sushi. PB&J, tuna, and cheese were among the assortment.
“Kristen would have loved this.” Alicia ran her fingers along the textured gold wallpaper. Every time she came to a window, she pinched the velvet curtains, then rubbed them between her fingers, as if she suspected they might be polyester in disguise. But they weren’t. “I can’t believe she wasn’t allowed to come.”
“Mrs. Gregory can be such a female dog,” Massie said to what looked like an original Matisse, one of the many colorful paintings in the cabin.
“I bet she’s upset no one asked her to be in a movie,” Alicia said.
“If they did, it would be called Dial J for Jealous.”
“Nice.” Alicia high-fived her.
“Massie, that’s not fair.” Kendra pulled the plastic off her complimentary beige cashmere slippers and slid them onto her manicured feet. “She has every reason to punish Kristen.”
And we have every reason to think she’s a female dog, Massie thought. But all she said was, “You’re right. Sorry.” She had to keep up the good-girl act, at least until the auditions were over, just in case her mother decided to get all Gregory on her.
A light flashed in the back of the cabin.
“What was that?” Judi asked from the leather couch.
“Me!” shouted Claire. “I was taking a picture for Cam.”
As far as Massie could see, the only thing back there was the bathroom. “Of what?”
“Come see.”
Alicia and Massie hurried past ten reclining seats, each with its own TV, DVD player, and PSP system.
“It’s a magic glass wall.” Claire knocked it with her knuckle. “Go in the bathroom, I’ll show you.”
Massie stepped inside and looked out at Claire and Alicia. “So what’s the big deal?”
“Can you see us?” Claire was waving.
“Yeah. Can you see me?” Massie pressed her face against the glass. But no one cracked a smile.
“No!” Claire and Alicia said together.
“Apple-C!” they shouted and punched each other’s arms.
“Can you see me now?” Massie pressed her butt against the glass.
“No.” Claire giggled. “That’s the whole point—you can see out, but no one can see in. How cool is that?”
“It’s called a tinted window, Kuh-laire.” Massie opened the door. “Every limo in the world has them.”
“But bathrooms don’t.” Claire’s smile waned. “And look.” She raced over to the control panel next to the shiny red toilet. “It has a seat warmer, a back massager, an overhead light for reading, and two different fountains that shoot water into your—”
“Ew.” Massie jumped back. “Why?”
“So you don’t get their fancy t.p. dirty.” Alicia waved a roll of black toilet paper. The gold Gelding Studios pony was embossed on every sheet.
“Gimme that.” Massie stuffed the roll in her Louis Vuitton Batignolles bag. “Kristen and Dylan won’t believe it.”
“How many limos have all this?”
Massie ignored Claire to answer her ringing phone.
Yap-yap-yap…
Yap-yap-yap…
A close-up of Dylan’s green eye flashed on her screen. She pressed speaker.
“Hello?”
“I can’t believe I’m not with you guys.” Dylan sniffled.
“I know. We miss you.”
“We already got you a present!” Alicia beamed.
“And we’ll iSight you with the gossip every night,” Massie added.
“Pinky-swear?” Dylan sniffled again.
“Pinky-swear.” Massie held up her pinky, forgetting that Dylan couldn’t see it. “Remember, keep an eye on Derrington.”
“And Cam!” Claire added.
; “And Josh,” Alicia said.
“Make sure Kristen doesn’t use the whole soccer thing as an excuse to flirt with them,” Massie reminded her.
“’Kay.” Dylan blew her nose.
“Ladies, please take your seats and prepare for takeoff,” a friendly female voice said over the intercom.
“Ehmagawd! We’re leaving!” Massie shrieked.
“Wait,” Dylan pleaded.
“Call you later.” Massie hung up.
The girls grabbed three seats in the back, as far away from their mothers as possible. While the plane taxied, they unzipped their complimentary Coach makeup bags and sampled the different moisturizers and lip balms inside. Claire wore the pink satin eye mask as a bracelet and Alicia spritzed her cheeks with peppermint-scented face mist.
“Hollywood rules!” Massie sighed dreamily as she wrapped a navy cashmere blanket around her shoulders and fluffed her down-filled pillow.
The Gelding 7 began rolling down the runway, slow at first, then faster. The nose lifted, and within seconds they were flying over New York City, heading straight for the stars.
BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA
LE BACCARAT HOTEL, SUITE 2544
Monday, March 16th
11:00 A.M.
WELCOME TO LOS ANGELES! was the first thing Claire saw when Avery R., the eager bellboy, clicked open the door to their hotel suite. It was written with Reese’s Pieces on a gigantic chocolate chip cookie and displayed in the vestibule on a round mirrored table next to a tall vase of sunflowers.
“It was delivered an hour ago,” explained Avery R. as he wheeled a gold cart—loaded with six Louis Vuitton suitcases and one red canvas hockey bag that had “Todd is God” scribbled across the top—into the bedroom.
“Who’s it from?” Alicia asked as she spritzed her cheeks with Evian spray mist.
“Lemme check.” Claire kicked off her Keds, anxious to sink her bare feet into the freshly vacuumed cream-colored rug. Then she opened the card and read, “To my future starlet. Hollywood awaits you! Best, Rupert. P.S. Enjoy this cookie now. It will be your last.”
Claire reached inside the side pocket of her scrubs and wrapped her hand around a sweaty cellophane bulge. It contained five gummy worms, the last of her stash from Cam. Her plan was to save them for moments of extreme loneliness, the times she missed him most. She’d already eaten one during takeoff.
Massie snatched the card out of Claire’s hand and dropped it in her bag. “I’m going to scan it for our newsletter.” She pinched a Reese’s Piece off the cookie and popped it in her mouth. “We better freshen up. Rupert’s assistant, Emma, is picking us up in the lobby in half an hour.”
Claire photographed every inch of the suite, which looked more like the inside of a Tiffany box than a hotel room. The walls were painted robin’s-egg blue, and the circular couch in the middle of the grand living area was covered in white satin. The coffee table was made of mirrors and matched the two diamond-shaped end tables, reminding Claire of Kendra’s “Sunday” earrings.
A massive floor-to-ceiling window, to the right of the couch, gave them a clear view of the famous Hollywood sign.
“I trust everything is to your liking?” Avery R. emerged from the bedroom with an empty cart. He blotted his forehead with a hanky, then stuffed it in the lapel pocket of his red blazer.
“It’s awesome.” Claire ran her fingers along the sleek computer that sat on the mirrored desk by the balcony. She slid open one of the drawers, expecting to find a Bible. Instead, she came across a special-edition Montblanc pen made of Baccarat crystal, and several notebooks with mirrored covers.
“It’s fine.” Massie yawned, as if describing a pullout bed that would simply have to do.
“Yeah, it’s cute.” Alicia parroted Massie’s blasé tone.
“Very good.” Avery R. smiled, his teeth looking twenty years younger and brighter than the rest of him. He turned to Claire. “Let me show you how to work the controls.”
“Cool.” Claire followed Avery to the entertainment center while Massie and Alicia took off in search of their bags.
“We pride ourselves on being completely wireless.” He tapped the mirrored console below the fifty-inch flat-screen TV. Stacks of current fashion magazines and newspapers were fanned across the top. Below them were a DVD player, a CD player, and an iPod dock. To the right, by the window, was a cabinet with a keyhole, which Claire assumed was the minibar, plus a popcorn maker and a Starbucks espresso machine. And not a single wire anywhere.
“You can control the entire suite with this.” Avery R. held up an egg-shaped remote, dotted with flat, backlit buttons that said things like TV, AIR-CONDITIONING, WINDOW SHADES, COFFEEMAKER, POPCORN POPPER, and BUBBLE BATH. “If you want something done, press the button.” He handed it to Claire.
“No way!” She pressed bubble bath and instantly heard the thundering sound of rushing water.
“Whoa!” Alicia called from the bathroom. “This tub just read my mind.”
“Thanks, Avery R.” Massie appeared, her dark brown extensions twisted and pinned to the top of her head. “We have to get ready now.” She slapped a twenty-dollar bill in his chalky palm.
“Thanks.” His tired eyes sprang to life. “Your mothers are right next door, but if you need anything, please call me.”
“Will do.” Massie padded off to the bedroom.
Claire broke into a full sprint and ran past her. “This place is huge!” She pushed open the French doors, took four huge strides, then dove onto the satin-cloaked California king bed, still holding the egg. “This mattress is the size of my entire room back home.”
“You better change out of those scrubs.” Massie sat on the clear Lucite stool in front of the vanity and unzipped her Prada makeup bag. “Or you may end up with a part on Grey’s Anatomy by accident.”
Claire skipped into the walk-in closet. She stepped over the minefield of clothes, shoes, boots, hair dryers, and jewelry boxes that were hemorrhaging from the Louis Vuitton suitcases. Finally she found her hockey bag stuffed in the corner between an ironing board and a laundry hamper.
“Ew!” Claire squealed. While she was fishing around for her audition outfit, her hand landed on a pair of Todd’s Harry Potter briefs. Either they’d gotten mixed up in her laundry, or her brother hadn’t bothered to clean his bag since hockey camp. She quickly pulled out her pink Gap tee and cutoff Levi’s and zipped it back up.
“I think I grew on the flight,” she told her reflection as she lodged Cam’s bag of gummies in her back pocket.
“The only thing that grew is the hair on your legs.” Massie slammed her Secret deodorant down on the makeup vanity. “I can see it from here.” She marched across the bedroom toward the closet.
Alicia giggled. “Me too!” she called from the tub.
Claire brushed her hand along her calf. There was definitely hair there, but her mother always said it was blond and that no one could see it. “How bad is it? Out of ten. Ten being ‘early man.’”
“Six.” Massie hooked the back seam on her pants, liberating them from her butt crack.
Claire snickered. It didn’t surprise her that Massie had bought the same superstraight velvet pants Abby had worn on The Daily Grind. But she was shocked she’d chosen to debut them in seventy-six-degree weather.
“Step aside.” Massie waved Claire off like a stinky fart, then tilted the floor-length mirror. “Now look. Still think you grew?”
“Oh,” Claire said to her five-foot-three frame. “That’s more like it.”
“Clothes stores and five-star hotels use fun-house mirrors to trick stupid people into thinking they’re suddenly tall and thin. You know, so they’ll spend more money.” She twisted her charm bracelet.
Claire’s cheeks burned. “So you think I’m stupid?”
Massie triple-tapped her on the head and walked away.
“Did anyone happen to notice the ah-mazing products in the bathroom? It’s better than Bendel’s in there.” Alicia emerged, towel-
drying her thick dark hair, her boobs jiggling inside the waffled cotton Le Baccarat robe.
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Massie snapped. “Emma is picking us up at eleven thirty.”
“I have fifteen minutes.” Alicia tossed her wet towel on the bed.
“This goes in the hamper.” Massie slid a pink-satin-covered hanger under the wet towel and flipped it onto the floor.
Alicia picked the egg off the duvet and pressed radio. An old Kanye West song blasted through the speakers.
Claire danced her way into the bathroom, finally able to pee now that Alicia was gone. Red petals that had once dusted the floor were now wet and stuck to the marble thanks to Alicia’s watery footprints. The deep tub gurgled as the bubbles drained out, and the doors of the shower were covered in steam. Above the two clear sinks was a long, mirrored cabinet. Claire slid it open and was overwhelmed by the heady aroma of plant extracts. The top shelf was filled with Bumble & Bumble hair products; the second with lotions and creams from Clarins, Kiehl’s, and Philosophy; the third with miniature perfume samples and tiny bottles of Essie nail polish; and the fourth with Aveda soaps and oils.
“Ready!” Alicia shouted.
Claire grabbed a small green bar of soap, shoved it in her back pocket, and clicked off the light.
Alicia was twisting her hair into a chignon when Claire stepped out of the bathroom. Her I HEART NY tank top was cinched with a silver braided belt and covered with a shrunken white blazer. A black peasant skirt and metallic ballet slippers gave her a city-meets-country look that Rupert would probably love.
Then there was Massie. Usually she’d be classified as “actress beautiful,” but her new long hair elevated her status to “model beautiful.” She was wearing an ivory silk halter, a tangle of charm necklaces, and Abby’s black velvet pants.
Next to Massie and Alicia, Claire felt like a sloppy first grader, more Sesame Street than sexy. Cam was the only one who liked her super short bangs, and it had been days since she’d seen him.
“Let’s go!” Massie dabbed her wrists with Chanel No. 5, grabbed the key card, and marched out of the room. Alicia hooked a red hobo bag over her shoulder and followed. Claire slipped on her Hadley-approved Keds, snapped off a chunk of cookie, shoved it in her mouth, and closed the door behind her.
Dial L for Loser Page 8