Taffy Sinclair 010 - Taffy Sinclair Goes to Hollywood

by Betsy Haynes

  TAFFY SINCLAIR GOES TO HOLLYWOOD

  Betsy Haynes

  A BANTAM SKYLARK BOOK®

  NEW YORK · TORONTO · LONDON · SYDNEY · AUCKLAND

  For Deborah Slaboda, movie star and friend

  RL 5, 009-012

  TAFFY SINCLAIR GOES TO HOLLYWOOD

  A Bantam Skylark Book / September 1990

  Skylark Books is a registered trademark of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and elsewhere.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1990 by Betsy Haynes.

  Cover art copyright © 1990 by Aleta Jenks.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Bantam Books.

  ISBN 0-553-15819-8

  Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10103.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  CWO 0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  CHAPTER ONE

  The jumbo jet prepared to land at Los Angeles International Airport at 2:05 Monday afternoon. As the giant aircraft dipped over the sparkling ocean, Taffy Sinclair looked out the airplane window and got her first glimpse of the long beaches that lined the coast. She pinched herself and sucked in her breath with excitement.

  "I'm really here!" she said to her mother, who was sitting in the seat next to her. "I can't believe it. I'm in Hollywood and I'm going to become a movie star!"

  Mrs. Sinclair beamed at her. "Of course, dear," she said patiently. "I told you this would happen. After all, I used to be one of the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes, and I know show business."

  But it had all happened so quickly, Taffy thought. One day she was just an ordinary seventh-grader at Wakeman Junior High. Well, not exactly ordinary, she thought, and smiled to herself. She had been modeling and acting in an occasional television commercial for almost a year. And there were some girls, The Fabulous Five especially, who were jealous of her long blond hair and big blue eyes and sometimes tried to make her life miserable. And of course there was gorgeous Cory Dillon. There was certainly nothing ordinary about him. He was the leader of Wakeman's own rock band, called The Dreadful Alternatives, and Taffy had been dating him every weekend for over a month. Every time they went out, Taffy had the feeling that he was just about to ask her to go steady. Even Shawnie Pendergast thought so, and she was Taffy's best friend.

  Then suddenly last week a casting director named Channing Crandall had shown up at The Merry Chase Acting Studio, where Taffy took acting lessons with a couple of dozen other kids her age. Mr. Crandall had watched Taffy in acting class and had invited her to New York City to audition for the starring role in an after-school TV movie called Nobody Likes Tiffany Stafford. The rest was history. She had gotten the part, and now she was on the way to Hollywood for six weeks of filming. Just wait, she thought as the plane taxied toward the terminal, when the kids at Wakeman Junior High see me on the screen, they'll turn green with envy.

  When Taffy and her mother left the plane and headed for the baggage claim area in the terminal, a man in a black chauffeur's uniform and cap stepped out of the crowd and came toward them. To Taffy's amazement he was carrying a small, hand-printed sign that said:

  Taffy Sinclair

  "Are you Taffy Sinclair, miss?" he asked her.

  "She is, and I'm her mother," Mrs. Sinclair said sharply.

  "Certainly, ma'am. And I'm Dollins. I've been employed by Bouquets and Rainbows Productions—the company who's making your movie—to drive you wherever you need to go while you're in town."

  Taffy wanted to squeal with joy. Her own chauffeur. It's just like in the . . . movies! she thought with a giggle.

  Mrs. Sinclair looked discombobulated for a moment. Then she motioned to Taffy, and the two followed Dollins along the moving sidewalk to the baggage area. Once they had claimed their luggage, Dollins put it onto a small cart and led them to the parking garage and the longest black limousine Taffy had ever seen.

  Opening the door for them, Dollins motioned them inside. "There are soft drinks in the refrigerator and snacks in the compartment beside them," he said. "Help yourself to anything you'd like, and of course, the television is for your enjoyment."

  Taffy and her mother exchanged wide-eyed glances. The car was equipped with a small refrigerator, just as Dollins had said. Taffy opened it and saw cans of soda lined up neatly inside. And beside the refrigerator was a glass-fronted compartment where she could see small packages of chips, cheese curls, and various other snacks. But best of all was the TV. It was attached to a small swivel arm on the back of the seat in front.

  Popping on the television set, Taffy settled back and asked her mother, "May I have a soda?"

  Mrs. Sinclair frowned, but then her expression changed as she looked around the luxurious limousine. "Oh, why not?" she said with a little laugh. "I'll have one, too."

  Dollins maneuvered the long black car through the Los Angeles traffic with expert ease. He pointed out famous landmarks as they passed them on their way up Sunset Boulevard toward Hollywood. Taffy forgot all about the television as she gazed out at the tall palm trees swaying in the breeze and the myriad tropical flowers blooming along the boulevards. First, she had seen the beaches from the airplane, and now, driving along, she could see the mountains forming a horseshoe around the other three sides of the city. What a magical place, she thought.

  Dollins made a few more turns and then said over the backseat speaker, "Just ahead we'll be passing the famous Hollywood sign on top of Mt. Lee."

  Taffy sucked in her breath as she looked up at the huge white letters spelling HOLLYWOOD set high into the hillside. She had seen the letters dozens of times in movies and on posters advertising Hollywood, and now she was seeing them in person. Not only that, it seemed as if the word Hollywood had been put there to give her a personal welcome.

  "Each letter is thirty feet wide and fifty feet high," Dollins was saying as they drove slowly past it with Taffy craning her neck for the best view. "And they can be seen from just about anywhere in Hollywood."

  When they had turned again and the limousine picked up speed, Taffy sank back with a sigh. She felt as if the airplane had brought her to another planet instead of another city. Everything was so different here that she felt a million miles from Wakeman Junior High. She had cried herself to sleep Saturday night after saying good-bye to Cory. He had promised to write, but what if he didn't write to her after all? And what if he changed his mind while she was gone and didn't want to see her anymore when she got back?

  On Sunday she had called Shawnie to tell her the news. Shawnie's voice had been full of excitement when she heard Taffy on the line, but after Taffy told her about the audition and how she had actually gotten the part and would be leaving for Hollywood the next day, Shawnie's voice changed. She was trying to be brave, but Taffy could hear sadness. She promised Shawnie that she would write, the same as she had promised Cory, but finally their conversation just faded away and they hung up.

  "We're here," her mother cried, jarring her back to the present.

  Taffy b
ounced out of the car, looking up in awe at the high-rise hotel. It was as tall as a skyscraper with an elegant portico making a canopy over the entrance area. Expensive cars lined the curb, and bellmen in gold-trimmed uniforms helped guests with their luggage.

  Taffy jabbed her mother. "We're going to stay here?" she whispered.

  "Yes, dear," said Mrs. Sinclair. "The movie company is paying for everything." Then she bustled into the hotel behind the luggage, going straight to the main desk to check in. Taffy followed, taking note of the grand bouquets on the lobby tables and the expensively dressed men and women milling about. She wanted to shout out to them that she had come to Hollywood to be a movie star!

  A few minutes later they were settled in their room on the ninth floor. It was a huge suite, with two king-size beds at one end and a sofa and two chairs at the other and a tiny kitchen tucked into one corner. Taffy went straight to the window and looked out at the smog-blurred mountains in the distance and the crisscross of freeways down below.

  She jumped when the phone rang. Mrs. Sinclair picked it up and said in a businesslike voice, "Good afternoon. This is room nine seventeen."

  Taffy saw her mother's expression change to a smile. "Oh, yes, Mr. Lowenthal. We had a wonderful trip. Thank you. . . . No, we're not too tired at all. . . . Of course. We'll be downstairs in fifteen minutes."

  Tossing down the phone, Mrs. Sinclair jumped to her feet. "Taffy! Dollins is taking us to see the director in fifteen minutes! This is it. The moment we've been waiting for."

  Taffy felt tingly all over. The director was the most important person connected with the movie. He was the one she would have to please with her acting. In fact, he could fire her on the spot if he decided he didn't like her. Her mother was right. This was it! Taffy jumped into the shower, dressed, and blew her hair dry in record time, and when she and her mother got downstairs fifteen minutes later on the dot, Dollins was there as promised.

  "Hello, Taffy," he said cordially. Then he added, "Hello, Mrs. Sinclair," with considerably less enthusiasm.

  A few minutes later they drove up to the studio gates. To Taffy's surprise, Dollins gave the guard her name instead of his own. The guard checked his list and smiled. "Oh, yes. Taffy Sinclair. Go right on in."

  Taffy looked speechlessly at the guard as they drove on past, and yet she felt a new surge of importance. If only the kids at school could see this, she thought. But before she could savor the idea, her attention was drawn to the sights outside the car. They were driving through the studio back lot where huge barnlike soundstages mingled with every kind of movie set imaginable. There were Western streets, the ruins of Greek temples, modern city skyscrapers, and wandering through all of them were workmen carrying props and actors in exotic costumes.

  "Wow!" exclaimed Taffy. "What an exciting place."

  Just then Dollins pulled up in front of a perfectly ordinary-looking office building. It was so ordinary looking, in fact, that Taffy knew immediately that it wasn't part of a set.

  "Mr. Lowenthal's office is on the second floor," Dollins instructed as he helped them out of the car. "I'll be waiting when you're ready to go back to the hotel."

  When the door to Mr. Lowenthal's private office was opened for them, Mrs. Sinclair urged Taffy forward. "Go on in, honey," she whispered into Taffy's ear. "He's just the director. He won't bite."

  Pasting a big smile on her face, Taffy walked on in. A stocky man with a bald head who was chewing a fat cigar rose from behind the desk when she approached. "Hello, Taffy," he said in a cordial voice. "I'm Jerome Lowenthal, but most people call me Jerry."

  "Hi, Mr. Lowenthal, er . . . I mean, Jerry," stammered Taffy.

  "Now you just relax, young lady," said Jerry, sitting down again. "You and I are going to get along fine. This meeting is mostly just to get acquainted. You have read the script, haven't you?"

  Taffy nodded. She had read the entire script of the movie on the plane coming to Hollywood. Nobody Likes Tiffany Stafford was the story of beautiful Tiffany, whose life is made miserable by three best friends who despise her and do everything they can to turn the rest of the school against her. Taffy had been shocked when she read it. Nobody Likes Tiffany Stafford sounded exactly like her own life at Mark Twain Elementary when Jana Morgan and her friends had formed a club against her called The Against Taffy Sinclair Club.

  In the story Tiffany feels persecuted, and to make matters even worse, she has a crush on the boyfriend of the ringleader, just as Taffy had once had a crush on Randy Kirwan, who was Jana Morgan's boyfriend. But in the script Tiffany was the heroine and won over everybody in the end. Taffy had shaken her head in disbelief when she read the ending. The story sounded terribly like her own life story, except that in her own story, the beautiful heroine had never quite been able to win.

  "Taffy, what I'd like for you to do right now is read a little bit of the script for me," said Jerry. "You've already auditioned and won the part, but I'd like to see how you work with the actor who will be playing the hero of the story. He's the young man who plays the boyfriend of your worst enemy and the one on whom you also have a crush." Jerry pushed a button on his speakerphone and said, "Raven, will you come in here and read with Taffy, please?"

  A door opened and a boy of about sixteen came into the room. As he came toward her, Taffy caught her breath. The director had called him Raven, and that was exactly who he was. Raven Blaine, the biggest teenage idol in the world and certainly the handsomest, and he was walking toward her with a big smile on his face. His hair was as black as a raven's wing, and his dark eyes sparkled at her. He was going to play Eric Peterson? It was too incredible to be true.

  "Hello," he said in a husky voice that made her heart skip a beat. "I'm Raven Blaine, Taffy. It's terrific to meet you."

  It took every bit of acting skill Taffy possessed to keep from turning into a lump of Silly Putty. Raven Blaine was talking to her, and when he said that it was terrific to meet her, she could tell he really meant it.

  Taffy tossed a lock of long blond hair over her shoulder and batted her spidery eyelashes at Raven. Then she let a slow smile spread over her face. "Hi, Raven. I'm glad to meet you, too."

  "I want to see how you two look together," Jerry Lowenthal was saying. "And if the chemistry's right between you to play the roles naturally with each other."

  Taffy's knees were so weak that she was afraid she would sag to the ground. How we look together? And if the chemistry's right? All she could think about was the dizzy feeling she had right now looking into Raven Blaine's eyes. If that was chemistry, it was right!

  The reading went so quickly that later Taffy could scarcely remember what had happened. All she knew was that Raven Blaine played his lines to her as if she were the most fabulous girl alive, and she managed to get through her own lines as though she were in a trance.

  When the scene ended, Jerry told them how pleased he was and that he couldn't have cast the roles better himself.

  Raven thanked him and headed for the door. Opening it, he turned, smiling at Taffy again, and said, "I'm really glad we're going to be making this movie together. Welcome to Hollywood."

  "Thank you," Taffy murmured. He was so handsome that he took her breath away.

  A limousine. A fabulous hotel room. And now Raven Blaine, welcoming her to Hollywood. Hello, Hollywood! she said to herself and smiled. I'm really glad I'm here!

  CHAPTER TWO

  The instant Raven was gone, Jerry jumped to his feet and said, "Now, that I've seen how terrific you and Raven are together, I want to show you the set where we're going to begin shooting in the morning."

  Jerry moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other and motioned for her to come with him. On the way through the outer office, he asked Mrs. Sinclair to join them, too. He led them down the stairs and out into the sunlight and then to a jazzy black Porsche sitting beside the building.

  Taffy and her mother squeezed into the passenger side of the car while Jerry got behind the wheel. They drove
through the maze of streets on the back lot until they came to an area that resembled a suburban street where a large stone building stood. Over the front door were the words JEFFERSON MIDDLE SCHOOL. That was the name of the school in Nobody Likes Tiffany Stafford.

  "Is this our set?" Taffy asked excitedly.

  "You bet," replied Jerry. "This is where you're going to spend most of the next six weeks."

  Taffy glanced around in amazement. It looked like a real street. She wondered if the school was a real building or just a front made to look real. She had read that such things were used sometimes in movies. She was just about to question Jerry about it when he spoke again.

  "Do you know what these are?" he asked. He was pointing toward two rows of metal trailers off to the side of the set.

  Taffy shook her head.

  Jerry put an arm around her shoulder and led her toward them. "This one is wardrobe," he said, waving toward the first trailer. "You'll be seeing a lot of it. And this one is makeup. They'll take care of your hair in there, too."

  Now he was approaching the second row of trailers, and Taffy noticed that these trailers were longer than either the wardrobe or makeup trailers.

  "Come here," said Jerry. "I want to show you this one."

  Taffy approached the trailer he was pointing to. As she got closer, she could see a star painted in the center of the door. But that wasn't all. Just above the star, in big black letters, was her name, TAFFY SINCLAIR.

  She let out a gasp and then broke into a smile. It was her dressing room! "Can I go in?"

  "Of course," said Jerry. "I certainly want you to feel at home."

  Taffy climbed the metal stairs and opened the door, stepping inside. It looked like the inside of a lot of camping trailers she had seen. There was a sofa and a table and chairs. It had a kitchen with a microwave and a bathroom and even a television set. "This is my own personal and private trailer," she murmured in disbelief. "And it even has a star on the door."

  Before Taffy and her mother left the set, Jerry Lowenthal pointed out which scenes they would be shooting the next morning, reminding Taffy that she would have to learn her lines by then. Then he made a surprising announcement.