FanGirl

by Lawson, Angel

  “You better be or we’re both screwed. It’s not that different from our current arrangement. Getting approval for posts and news. No personal stuff about the actors or writers or crew.”

  “But what if Andrew starts sleeping with the makeup woman? Or man?” Iris reads way too many gossip rags.

  “Maybe you can get an exclusive. Anyway, you have to sign the contract before you can come with me. It’s no big. We all had to sign nondisclosure agreements.” I grab the papers off my desk and toss them to her. “Dad said to show your mom, but the lawyer cleared them all.”

  Iris stares at the papers for a minute, flipping through them. “Wow. So this is real, huh?”

  “As real as when Alex told Wyatt she didn’t love him, and spent the night in Cole’s tent, pretending she wasn’t a liar.[2]”

  “Exactly.”

  g

  [1] Minus NAB who doesn’t seem to get to make decisions.

  [2] Really, really, real.

  Chapter 9

  The restaurant is small, but cute. Filled with funky paintings and mixed-up lights hanging from the ceiling. Comfortable couches and armchairs surrounding coffee tables take the place of traditional chairs. Iris and I wedge ourselves in a flaming red cushioned chair together, drinking Cokes and watching the parade of suspected cast and crew members file in the door.

  I have never felt so young, naïve or silly. My ruffled black dress seems childish compared to the strapless sundress of the girl by the bar. The sandals I’m wearing pinch my toes and scream last year, and my blue toenail polish that seemed like a good idea 20 minutes ago is wrong. All wrong.

  “Do you know any of these people?” Iris asks. She, of course, looks perfect in her mismatched skirt and lacy tank.

  “No. Well, NAB is over there running in circles.” I point to him. He is dressed nicer today (everyone is), in dark jeans and a button down. An attempt has been made to tame his hair, I think. The front has been patted down, but the sides threaten to revolt.

  “There’s Ashley.” She floats by in a yellow sundress carrying a box. Yes, floats. I have a deep-seeded internal battle over my thoughts about Ashley. She’s friendly and smart. She’s also gorgeous and 22 and oozes a level of confidence I could never possess. If we went to school together, I would hate her. But we don’t, and I don’t.

  I’m about to propose a bathroom escape when a guy, around Gabe’s age, holding a glass of something brown, steps in front of us. “You must be Ruby.”

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m David, I’ll be playing Cole[1].”

  “Oh! Wow. Cole, huh?” He fits. Blonde and a little rough looking. He’s good looking, but his nose has an awkward slant. Slight; much smaller than Andrew, but this is appropriate. I can buy that he has gone a round or two with a zombie. Or against a bully. I approve.

  Iris coughs beside me. “I’m Iris.”

  “Hi, Iris.” He smiles a perfect row of gleaming white teeth. I run my tongue over my not-perfect teeth.

  “You look familiar,” Iris says. Her eyes narrow, studying him. Or she’s hypnotized by those teeth. Either one.

  David shrugs his wide, wide shoulders and says, “I’ve been on some shows. Guest stuff mostly.” He doesn’t offer more.

  “Know anyone else here?” Iris asks. The room fills up and a crowd forms at the bar. “I’m trying to match people to their possible parts, but nothing clicks.”

  “Nah, not really. That chick over there? Her name is Vanessa. We auditioned together.” He tips his glass and swallows the remaining liquid in one gulp.

  “Chloe?[2]” I suggest to Iris.

  She nods. “I can see it.”

  “Come on,” David says, “I’ll introduce.” He walks off and leaves us little choice but to follow.

  “She looks a little small for Chloe,” Iris says, and I agree. Chloe is the opposite of Alex in many ways. Tall, strong and a natural born fighter, whereas Alexandra is the nerdy girl turned zombie hunter. Vanessa is tall, but stick-thin, and doesn’t look like she could fight off James Brown. Her coloring is right, though, pale and blonde. Plus, she’s beautiful. The fanboys will love her.

  “Vanessa,” David says, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She tilts her head for him to do so. Cheek kissers? Have we entered the world of cheek-kissing? Once again I question the validity of my place here. While I’m having my cheek-kissing panic attack, Vanessa eyeballs the two of us. David makes introductions. “Ruby and Iris — this is Vanessa.”

  “So, you’re Ruby. Fangirl turned heroine.” Something about her tone tells me this is not a compliment. I feel Iris bristle next to me.

  “I guess so.”

  “And who are you?” She directs her ice blue stare on Iris.

  “I’m Iris.”

  Vanessa glances at David. “I don’t remember a part for an Iris.”

  “No, I’m Iris. That’s who I am. I’m not part of the cast.” Oh crap. Iris has on her bitchface. It’s like they smelled each other from across the room.

  “I see.” Her eyes flick behind us and her expression changes. “Pleasure to meet you,” she says and abruptly leaves.

  “Rude,” Iris says. We both turn to watch her go, and David does the same. Vanessa makes a beeline to the front door. Gabe is just entering, accosted immediately by NAB and three other people.

  “Kiss-ass. Models always think they can sleep their way to the top,” David says.

  They do?

  “You can, of course,” he continues, “but it’s not a road you want to take.” With that gem of advice he leaves us for the bar. The door opens behind Gabe like a parted sky and in walks an angel[3] looking perfectly perfect.

  “Dear mother of all things beautiful,” Iris says, taking in her first sight of Andrew in person. “I knew, but I didn’t know.”

  “I know.” On TV or in magazines, Andrew is gorgeous. But here, in person? He’s freakishly beautiful. Unreal. “It hurts to look at him.”

  “Wow.”

  “Uh huh, wow.”

  “I think he may Hulk out of that shirt at any minute,” Iris says. His biceps are enormous and strain the fabric on his sleeves. The image of him in a tattered, ripped-to-shreds shirt isn’t exactly unappealing.

  “We can hope.”

  David appears holding three glasses between his hands. “Drink?” He hands us each one, and I eye the brownish liquid. Huh. Maybe we don’t look so young after all.

  “Thanks,” Iris says. She takes a quick sip and tries to hide her grimace after swallowing.

  “So, Ruby, from my research it seems like our characters are close,” David says.

  “I guess. I mean, Cole has a crush on Alexandra, but she’s focused on Wyatt for a relationship.”

  “Wyatt? Nah. I kind of got the vibe the Cole-Alex thing was going to be the bigger story.”

  Iris and I look at each other and burst out laughing. Iris shakes her head, “Nope. Not happening.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she says and looks at me to explain.

  “Because Wyatt and Alexandra are one of ‘those’ couples. You know, Romeo and Juliet, Buffy and Angel, Snow White and Prince Charming.”

  “Spiderman and Mary Jane,” Iris adds.

  “But what about Cole? Don’t tell me there isn’t chemistry.”

  Iris rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Gabe wrote that in as a deflection. It’s not going anywhere. There always has to be a love triangle.”

  “Always,” I nod.

  “Well,” he says, sipping his drink, “I’m going on the record as saying now, I think Cole and Alexandra end up together.”

  If I didn’t know better, I would think he’s trying to pick a fight with us. Everyone knows Wyatt and Alexandra belong together. He’s lucky I don’t pull out my notebook and show him the list entitled: 20 Ways Wyatt and Alexandra Have the Most Epic Love Story Ever. It’s slated to go on the website next week.

  “Oooo,” Iris says. Her attention drifts back to the door where Nick stands next to Gabe. “I’ll be
right back.”

  “Hey, Rube.” A massive arm flings over my shoulder and I turn to find the prettiest eyes and mouth and jaw and hair. Andrew.

  “Hi.”

  “Dave.”

  “Andrew.”

  I observe the two boys perform a strange handshake ritual of clasps and fist bumps. Here’s the weird thing: If a normal boy did this in front of me, I would immediately reject him for being a lame dorkwad. But it’s not a normal boy, it’s Andrew Xavier, and watching him act like a lame dorkwad is endearing. And hot. Really, really hot.

  “You know each other?” I ask in an attempt to speak and not just drool. Andrew turns away from us to go to the bar.

  David shrugs, “Sure, we’ve worked together.”

  With a green bottle of beer in hand, Andrew returns to the group. He takes a fast swallow and says, “Yep. Dave and I have auditioned for the same parts for the past 10 years. Some he got, some I did.”

  “Hollywood is a small town. Six degrees and all that. You’ll see,” Dave says. “So, Ruby, did you really pull a knife on Andrew?”

  Again, Andrew’s arm lands across my shoulders and he squeezes. I may have lost consciousness. Maybe. Just for a second. Because I think they’re talking about my audition, but all I smell is yummy boy and I can feel hard muscles and my mouth feels dry and cottony, so I take a sip of my drink.

  “Arg.” Sour-tasting liquid burns down my throat. I force it down and cough.

  “You okay?” Andrew asks.

  I nod-cough again, and search the bar for my soda from earlier. I find it and take a large gulp to wash down the taste of alcohol. “Went down the wrong way, that’s all.”

  “Double-fisting it tonight, Ruby?”

  Andrew and David laugh and I hold my two glasses up in mock cheer for Gabe who appears by my side. He takes the glass of alcohol out of my hand, sniffs it and takes a drink. “Can we talk?”

  His voice has an edge and his eyes are on Andrew’s arm, still draped over my shoulders. “Sure.” I untangle myself and follow Gabe to a set of unoccupied chairs not far away.

  “Having fun?” he asks, repositioning the cap on his head. This one is black with a single Z on the front.

  “Trying to, yeah.”

  “You’re not 21.”

  Thanks for the reminder, Gabe.

  “I know. I didn’t even have any.” Was he my dad or my boss or what? “Wait a minute, you’re not 21 either.”

  “Just a couple more weeks. I’m not trying to be a dick here, but you have to use some common sense. These guys play the Hollywood game hard. It’s not your world and I’d hate for you to get sucked into it. You told me yourself you know who Andrew is. You know the press follows him everywhere. See that guy over there?” he points to a tall man by the front door, standing near the hostess station.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s Dre, his bodyguard. The guy next to him is his manager, Derek. His fans and the paparazzi are relentless. One photo of you standing next to Andrew holding a drink and that will be all over the tabloids.”

  “What do you want me to do? Stay away from him?”

  “On the contrary. We want you seen with him as much as possible, but just make sure you aren’t doing anything illegal when it happens. You’re underage. Plus, I get the feeling your parents wouldn’t approve.”

  That’s the truth. “What makes you the expert? You’re not that much older than I am. You haven’t been in Hollywood.”

  “I got my first job at a comic when I was 16. Zocopalypse came out when I was 18. I had to grow up fast, Ruby. The first thing I learned was that I had to look out for myself. I’d like to spare you some of the mistakes I made.”

  “How do you know it would be a mistake for me? I’m not you.”

  “When I signed on to make this movie, I found out everything I could about the actors. This is a tough group. Everyone is rich, beautiful and entitled. They aren’t like you.” I wasn’t sure if this was a compliment or insult. I wouldn’t mind being a little like Vanessa. “Andrew, for example, carries a lot of baggage, but it’s outweighed by his skill and popularity.”

  I shake my head. “The fans aren’t pleased you picked him. I mean, a lot of them are pissed you picked me.”

  He leans back in his seat and laughs. “Of course they are. You know I respect the readers, but I can’t please everyone. I had to pick the best people for the job.”

  The impact of that statement isn’t lost on me. “And you think I’m the best person for Alex?”

  “I know you are.”

  A loud peal of laughter comes from across the room and we both turn. Andrew and David make wild gestures, keeping a group of guests entertained. Iris being one of them. From here, I can see her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. I can also see her hand on Nick’s shoulder. One drink and she is wasted — and bold.

  “So, the lecture you just gave to me goes for Iris as well, eh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, let me take care of that.” I stand and smooth out the ruffled layers of my dress. “You may want to remind Nick she’s only 18. She’s choosing to ignore the fact he’s what? 25?”

  “Eight. 28.”

  I sigh. “Exactly.”

  He places a hand on my arm. “This will be an amazing adventure – but if you ever need help, let me know. Things may get a little crazy.”

  Crazier than being cast in a TV show created by my favorite artist, co-starring the hottest man in America? What’s the worst that could happen?

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  Z.net

  Our sources from the set say the Zocopalypse cast is spending the week in zombie survival camp!

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  Z.net

  Check out our new pages devoted to the cast members!

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  AlexkicksZass

  @z.net spent the day in zombie survival camp. I may never walk again.

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  Z.net

  @alexkicksZass if they catch you, you def won’t walk again. Keep fighting girl.

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  alexkicksZass

  EMOTICON PAIN!

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  “Miller! Move your ass.” Oh my God. I hate her. So much. And that megaphone? I want to shove it up her…

  “Now!” she yells, and I scramble to my feet, having already learned the hard way what happens when you slack off at Zombie Fight School.

  “Lunges — to the third pole and back,” she orders. “She” was Cameron, our trainer. We spent the last week working with her and a team of torture experts four hours a day.

  Cameron: scary trainer; weighs approximately 110 pounds and 109 of that is muscle

  Jason: martial arts specialist

  Marcus: fight choreographer

  Janis: cardio

  “What do you think she’ll do if I cry? Because I may,” I say to Vanessa. She lunges next to me. Vanessa in her matching sport bra/tiny workout shorts ensemble. Her entire look is in perfect contrast to my own. The stretched out, holey T-shirt I have on complements my frayed shorts. Why dress up to sweat? It’s 85 degrees outside and only 9 a.m. We’ve been at the park since dawn and all I want to do is go back to bed. I never realized being an actress would be so not-glamorous.

  “She’d make you do it again,” Vanessa says, wiping a thin layer of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “And then mock you. And then make you do more.”

  “My legs hurt so bad last night I dreamed I was in a horrible accident and had them removed,” Rochelle adds[4]. Camer
on has all the women working together, about eight of us in all. The men work in a different group and we rotate trainers every 30 minutes for a fresh version of hell.

  “Do you see the guys?”

  “Yes.” Rochelle says, a step behind me.

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  “You know we will.” We all peek at the guys vaulting over picnic tables. The trainers do not limit our cardio to running or the elliptical or Jazzercise. This is Zombie Fight Camp. We train like zombie hunters because after the zombie apocalypse, there will be no such thing as treadmills or air-conditioned workout rooms. The entire concept is equal parts awesome and horrible. The awesome part is they’ve embraced the spirit of the show. The horrible? Yesterday, I spent the afternoon chucking tires at Vanessa and dodging them in return.

  “Miller! Over here!” Cameron’s voice booms through the megaphone.

  “Ooooooh, you’re in troooouble.” Apparently, besides being a hot model, Vanessa also has the maturity of a 12-year-old girl.

  “I didn’t do anything. Swear.”

  “Miller! Stop chit-chatting and get your butt over here!”

  “Coming!” I run across the field as fast as my exhausted legs will carry me. Cameron’s with Jason, who works with us on fight scenes and basic moves. There’s a black leather case at his feet.

  “Starting today, Jason will train you in a specialized area.”

  A mixture of hope and dread rush though me. “You’re not training me anymore?” I ask Cameron. Please say yes, please say yes!

  “You wish,” she sneers. SHE SNEERS! Proof she loves torturing us. “Your work with Jason will be in addition to your regular workouts. Every morning for the next week, you will work with Jason first and then join your team. Andrew will switch with you.”

  I look over at Andrew, who hangs with the other guys off of a chain link fence while Janis holds out a stop watch and counts down in 10-second increments.

  “Yeah, okay, can you show me what we’re going to do?” I ask after Cameron leaves to go harass the girls again. I like Jason. He’s about my dad’s age and Asian and has the moves of Jackie Chan, minus the cheesy jokes. I’m a little scared he can break my neck in one fast snap.