The A-List: Hollywood Royalty #2: Sunset Boulevard

by Zoey Dean

  a regular guy." She shrugged, maybe a little impatiently, half wanting to shake Hunter and ask,

  You dragged me out here for this ? Where was the confident, semi-cocky object of her lust?

  The guy who could make her heart thump like parade music just by saying her name?

  "Oh," Hunter said, perking up a bit at the words regular guy. He flashed his megawatt grin, his

  coffee-colored eyes finally meeting Amelie's full-on. "That's kind of gimmicky. I was kinda

  glad not to have to shoot at BHH. It's hard enough just going out at night without being

  recognized. I bet it's a nightmare."

  "It's not that bad, actually," she said, her mind cutting away to a vision of herself toting books

  down the hallway with her group of girlfriends. "It's nice to be around normal people. And

  most people there have parents or family in the business, so they're used to being around

  filming."

  Hunter shook his head affectionately. "You're too nice," he said, cocking his head as his gaze

  scrolled over her face and her bare shoulder. "Come on, you can tell me. It sucks, doesn't it?"

  he asked, reaching across the table to fold her hand beneath his.

  Hunter's hand was warm and dry, and hers was cold, as always. But when he touched her, she

  felt oddly detached. Maybe being away from him for a while had given her calm. Or maybe it

  was that since she'd started dreaming of going to high school, she'd sort of put her Hunter

  fantasies on the back burner. Whatever it was, it felt both satisfying and a little disappointing to

  not feel her heart flip at Hunter's touch.

  "I'm serious," she said insistently. "At first I was nervous. But I've been thinking about trying

  to enroll."

  Hunter squinted at her across the table before breaking into a wide smile. He laughed, letting go

  of her hand and running his fingers through his dark, shiny hair. "You're good. I forgot how

  funny you are, Amelie," he said. "We should hang out more often."

  Amelie bit the inside of her lip, clenching her fist around the white satin bow draped at her

  waist. Hunter didn't get it. Or, he didn't get her. A piece of her heart, the spot she'd reserved for

  him for years, cracked at the realization that her crush was based on nothing but a fantasy. All

  this time, she'd thought that if she could just have Hunter to herself for a while, instead of

  sharing him with costars and directors, they'd really understand each other. She'd built him up

  so much that she'd imagined him being like her, a guy with an extraordinary life who just

  wanted a taste of the ordinary. "Yeah, we should," Amelie said dismissively, wishing he'd

  leave so she could stew in the anger of years of disillusionment.

  Hunter swigged the last sip from his coffee cup. "I'm so glad you met up with me. I feel a

  hundred times better," he said, his eyes lingering on her exposed shoulder. "I'm about to hit a

  pre-party at Social, some Us Weekly/Ray-Ban thing. Want to come?"

  Amelie shook her head politely. "I have to get back to the set," she lied, without an iota of

  regret. "But thanks."

  "Okay, maybe next time," Hunter said, standing up and leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.

  He threw down some money for the check and was off.

  Amelie brushed the side of her face with her fingertips, realizing that the last time Hunter had

  kissed her cheek like that, she'd nearly fainted with joy. Last time, too, he'd invited her to meet

  him at Lewis Buford's party, and she'd felt like a rocket-guided missile, determined to get to the

  event no matter the consequences. This time, she didn't yearn to go with Hunter.

  Amelie felt all her nerves come to life as her mind drew the face of the guy she wanted.

  Jake?

  THE BIG PAYBACK

  U nreal. Fictional. Fake. Phony. Make-believe. Imagined. Pretend.

  Unreal.

  Jake cycled through every synonym he knew for this can't be happening and kept landing on

  unreal.

  Because that was what this was. Kady Parker, she of the glossy black hair, pixielike face, and

  mesmerizing blue eyes, was sitting so close to him, he could smell the delicate top notes of her

  raspberry-scented perfume.

  Kady bit lightly on the tip of her finger, the crumbs of their shared pretzel croissant dusted

  across the place mat between them. The bakery's crowd was changing. Instead of bored

  Hollywood wives picking at their salads, the place had filled with businessmen on late lunches.

  Some of them made no effort to hide the fact that they were checking Kady out. Jake himself

  felt pervy; he couldn't tear his gaze away from her lips. But it was almost like she was pointing

  at them.

  "So, um, what should we do while we wait?" Jake said, extracting his script from his new

  Kenneth Cole messenger bag. "Should we go over our scene?"

  "I wouldn't mind another croissant," Kady said, her voice a breathless whisper. She reached

  out a hand and pulled him up from his seat. The momentum of the movement forced their

  bodies to knock together, and Jake felt every one of his muscles clench as Kady's body collided

  with his. She stepped back, but only by an inch, and giggled. "We can share. Outside."

  Jake didn't need anyone to tell him Kady was beautiful. But he couldn't help but puff his chest,

  imagining BHH guys like Rod and Lewis Buford if they could see him with Kady right now.

  Her eyes twinkled up at him as they waited in front of the glass bakery case. She paid for her

  order, clasped Jake's hand, and dragged him out of the restaurant.

  They were sitting at a table at the center of the Brentwood Country Mart's courtyard, just

  outside the City Bakery. The crew was positioning mics for their outdoor shot as customers

  filed around them, used to seeing movie shoots as part of their daily routine. A group of cute

  UCLA girls in workout gear filed past, swinging bags from the Mart's James Perse store,

  gossiping. Their chatter trailed off as they saw Kady Parker sitting with Jake. They paused,

  their eyes flickering over him as if he'd become more interesting with Kady's seal of approval.

  "Have another bite," Kady said, offering up yet another piece of pastry. Jake really couldn't eat

  any more, but it was impossible to refuse Kady's pleading, fluttering eyelashes. Or that fact that

  she was feeding him, letting her fingers linger a little longer by his lips each time she did so.

  It was starting to sink in. Kady liked him. Not just liked him, but liked him liked him. The

  notion felt foreign to his body. He was used to unrequited crushes. Just an hour ago, when

  Amelie had departed to meet Hunter, he'd even felt the twinge of a reopened wound. He'd been

  successfully putting her out of his head for the whole shoot, even if it meant ignoring her a

  little. But her mentioning Hunter had brought Jake back to the humiliation of Lewis Buford's

  party. Amelie was more sweet and innocent than some of her Hollywood peers, and yet he'd

  still been taken advantage of. Right now, though, Kady was coming on to him. And Jake

  couldn't come up with a reason for her to play him. She was beautiful, cool, and in demand.

  And she certainly didn't need him to add excitement to her life.

  Kady sipped her Pellegrino with a straw, a smirk turning up the corners of her lips. "Look over

  there," she said, faintly gesturing with her chin. Jake turned.

  "Don't look right at them," she said. "Stay casual...."

  Jake pretended to be stretching and cran
ed his neck back. Several guys with cameras were

  attempting to hide behind the neatly shorn hedges that ran along the courtyard's edge.

  Paparazzi? Whoa. He thanked whatever deity had made this possible. He was about to have his

  first run-in with the paparazzi as he flirted with a gorgeous girl. Justin Klatch would be proud.

  "Let's give them a proper photo op," Kady said, pushing the croissant aside as she leaned

  forward. Her eyes looked a darker shade of blue in the sun. Then she closed them, and the

  cherry lips that he'd been staring at for what felt like centuries were on his.

  He kissed her back, twirling a strand of her dark hair in what he hoped was a Justin Klatchsanctioned way. Her lips were cool from the frosty water, but her breath was warm. He was

  kissing a girl who made movies. Kissing a girl who had no fewer than six hundred thousand

  hits on Google. Kissing a girl who hadn't been dared, and who wasn't one of his mom's

  friends' daughters willing to kiss anyone at her bat mitzvah just to get it out of the way.

  His eyes closed as he added a little extra pressure to the kiss. At the height of Jake's Amelie

  obsession, Miles had torn a tip from Details about the proper amount of kissing force: You

  should always give her a fraction more pressure than she's giving you. Thankfully, Jake was

  good at fractions. And he seemed to be doing something right, as Kady's fingers languidly

  feathered against the back of his neck. Jake could hear cameras whirring, and sense eyes on

  him as a hushed collective whisper flitted around the courtyard.

  Yeah, world, you're looking at Jake Porter-Goldsmith kissing Kady Parker, he thought to

  himself.

  Talk about getting the star treatment.

  WAX ON, WAX OFF

  "This looks like crap on me," Myla said. "I don't know if I should wear orange. Ever. I think it

  would work on you, though." She tossed a Tang-colored Alexander Wang tank dress over the

  dressing room wall as though it was nothing more than toilet paper she was handing Jojo in a

  public bathroom.

  They were at Barneys New York on Wilshire, and Jojo had amassed a pile of things to buy, all

  of them Myla-approved. Shopping with her sister was even better than shopping with her

  mom, or with Willa. Myla made funny comments about the other shoppers, like Willa did, but

  her taste was impeccable, so it was like being with a friend and an authority figure all in one.

  Jojo pulled the orange tank dress over her head. Flowy and looking like tropical fruit, it seemed

  like something Tucker would like, Jojo realized. Ever since Ash had suggested Tucker for her,

  Jojo had made a point to notice him at school. With his surfer tan, and a lean Michael Phelpsish body visible through his tight T-shirts, there was nothing to complain about. He had a good

  laugh, too, one that gave her a little tingle. A sense of humor was important to her in a potential

  boyfriend.

  "I'm going to go pay," Myla said, her voice wafting over the wall. "Meet you out there."

  "Okay," Jojo chirped happily. Being tormented for her BarfBarf incident was the best thing that

  had ever happened to her, because it had prompted Myla to spend time with her. Even if her

  stepsister did seem a little harsh at times, Jojo felt closer than she'd thought possible to Myla.

  Her phone trilled out the Ting Tings song from last week's Gossip Girl, and she dug beneath

  her to-buy pile to find it. Willa's sassy tongue-out face popped up on the screen. "Hey," Jojo

  answered. "What's up?" Willa was her best friend from Sacramento, and Jojo had more than

  ten years of homemade friendship bracelets, photographs, and passed notes to prove it.

  "Hey, Miss Thang," Willa said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the high-pitched

  voices on her little brother Damian's cartoon. Willa was the de facto babysitter for him any time

  her mom had to work late. "You didn't answer my e-mail about the invitational."

  Jojo had totally forgotten that Willa had e-mailed her about JFK's annual soccer invitational.

  "Oh God! I'm so sorry, it's been crazy around here." Though she'd spent her first few weeks in

  L.A. frequently trading IMs and texts with Willa, all Jojo's time with Myla had put her way

  behind on her correspondence. She flopped down on the changing bench.

  "But you're coming, right?" Willa sounded hopeful, like she half-expected Jojo to say no.

  "Justin even asked about you."

  Jojo was surprised--not so much that Justin had mentioned her, but that his name caused no

  tickle to run through her body. Instead, she thought, What Would Justin Klatch Do? and a

  vision of Jake's smiling face popped into her head.

  "Well, who cares about him?" Jojo said, realizing that she meant it, even if it was flattering that

  her new, tabloid-worthy adoption story had gotten her former dream guy's attention. Maybe

  absence did make the heart grow fonder after all. "I'd be coming to see you."

  Willa chuckled. "Yeah, right, like you won't be salivating when he takes his shirt off after the

  game." Maybe he'll be salivating when he sees me in this dress, Jojo thought, twirling one of

  the narrow straps around her index finger.

  "Maybe a little." Jojo wondered if her crush on Justin would return as soon as she saw him

  again. Even Myla would probably be impressed by Justin's toned physique. Jake's body was

  equally sculpted, though, and he was an NFW boy, so maybe not.

  "So you're coming?"

  "Yeah, definitely. It feels like so long since I've been there. Like Sacramento will be future

  Sacramento, all silvery with flying cars when I get there," Jojo said, not really meaning it.

  Beverly Hills was a shiny, glittery wonderland compared to her old hometown, and she knew

  that Sacramento would probably seem duller than ever now that she'd had a taste of the good

  life.

  "Nah, still the same old dump," Willa said cheerfully. "But it'll be so much fun. Coach said you

  can sit on the bench by the team, which is perfect, 'cause we are so dumping the water cooler

  on his head when we win. And if you come down early, we'll teach you the dance we made up

  for the boys' game. We're using that song you picked, 'Kick It' by Peaches. You'll have to slap

  my ass, though."

  Jojo wrinkled her nose involuntarily. A few months ago, Jojo had been the ringleader, planning

  all the goofy stuff they'd do during the invitational. She'd even run a fake summit about it at

  Sadie's Pizza. Now she was almost nostalgic, thinking about how simple her life had been. But

  as she held a sexy Robert Cavalli chiffon halter dress up to her creamy shoulders, she was also

  grateful for the new, more complicated version.

  "Of course I want to slap your ass. Who could resist it in those shorty soccer shorts?"

  Willa laughed, sounding relieved. "You better watch it, or I'll be dumping water over your

  head, not Coach's. Bet Justin will like it," she singsonged temptingly.

  Jojo heard the distinctive cadence of Myla's walk. She promised to e-mail Willa and hung up,

  just as Myla's brand-new Louboutin platform pumps became visible under the dressing room

  door.

  "Stop lollygagging," Myla said. "Oh my God, lollygag, how grandma of me. But really, stop.

  We have waxing appointments at BeeHive."

  She opened the door to her dressing room. "Waxing? Why?"

  Myla rolled her eyes. "I told you earlier, beach party this Saturday. You can't go looking like

  Sasquatch."

  Jojo winced
, not just at the idea of having her hairs yanked out. "But I'm supposed to go to

  Sacramento this weekend. There's a soccer invitational."

  Myla shook her head. "Sacramento will--sadly--still be there next weekend. Tucker is throwing

  the party. It's not up for discussion."

  Jojo saw her waxen face in the mirror beyond Myla's shoulder. Her sister could be a little like a

  drill sergeant sometimes. Not to mention snobby. Sacramento wasn't that bad. But Jojo

  reminded herself that Myla was just on edge about the whole Ash thing. After he'd left the

  other night, Myla had told her everything, about the kiss and how Ash had practically run off.

  She'd tried to sound breezy, saying Ash was being stupid, and that he'd come around. But Jojo

  could tell that Myla had been crying.

  "But can't Tucker wait?" Jojo protested. "I promised I'd be there. Shouldn't I go to show them

  how freshly fabulous I am?"

  Myla folded her arms. "You'll be even more fabulous if you don't go and they all wonder about

  you. I won't take no for an answer." Myla's voice was firm but playful, and Jojo felt a little

  flattered that her sister wanted her to come so badly.

  "Besides, I need you there," Myla cajoled. It was true: Talia, Billie, and Fortune were currently

  on her shit list. Without Jojo, she'd be going to the party totally alone. Right now, Jojo was her

  de facto right-hand man. Make that right-hand, newly fabulous Myla-in-training. And if that

  made her other friends jealous, well, sweet.

  It was the final push Jojo needed to make a decision. Between Ash and her inattentive

  girlfriends, Myla actually needed Jojo for a change. What kind of sister would she be to ditch

  her in her time of need? "Okay, gimme a sec to call and cancel. I'll meet you in shoes."

  Jojo dialed Willa's number. She knew her friend would be disappointed, but hopefully she'd

  understand.

  Willa answered on the first ring. "Nice of you to hang up on me," she said, more teasing than

  angry.

  Jojo sighed. "I just remembered something about this weekend. I have to go with my parents

  and my family to a fund-raiser. I can't come to Sacramento," she said, her stomach bubbling

  with the lie. She could have told Willa the truth, about Myla having boyfriend and friend