Watch Out, Hollywood!: More Confessions of a So-called Middle Child

by Maria T. Lennon

  “What do the Russians want from you?”

  “I assume the information I relieved from his computer.” Jai rolls his eyes.

  I’m guessing it painted a less-than-flattering portrait of President Putin—not that anyone would accuse the dude of being an angel. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m very well protected. In fact,” he teases, “this computer will self-destruct unless you start telling me about your Hollywood career.”

  I’d way rather talk about Putin, sip my Cool Whip smoothie, and lie back against my pillows. “It’s over, Jai. Done.”

  “The Hollywood career?” He leans into the screen like he’s getting all up in my grille on a virtual level. “But, but you were going to be the next Hannah Montana. My sisters were already telling their friends—”

  “What?” I’m momentarily so horrified by the image of her butt that I forget about the whole torched-middle-school-image thing.

  “Fame can be very destructive.” He throws it out there like a hook I’m supposed to grab and run with.

  “I don’t care.” I stick out my lip and stare at the wall, ’cause you know what? I want to be famous. Is that so bad?

  “No, it’s not,” Jai says.

  Wait a sec. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “But you thought it.” He winks. “I can read your thoughts.”

  I laugh. But Jai’s not laughing. “Wait, can you?”

  Jai laughs. “No, Charlie, but I know you. I know what it is you want.” That’s when he gives me a look. “So what’s your plan?”

  “I’m out,” I announce.

  Jai narrows his eyes. “You’re giving up?”

  I lie down on my stomach so the screen’s right in front of me. Jai lies down on the beach so he’s on the sand and the laptop’s right in front of him. It feels like we’re two friends staying up past our bedtime. “My plan is to not care. To take a complete break from caring.” I wipe my nose. “Then maybe I’ll care again one day, but I’m not sure. My life is a wreck.” I remember what Mom said to me in the car. “And it’s all my fault.” There, I said it. I admitted it. It’s in me.

  Jai says nothing for a long time. Nothing’s worse than the old I-told-you-so.

  “You know what I do when everything feels like it’s crashing down on me?” The mask of calm on Jai’s face slips. “I swim. I swim until I have swum so far I can barely see the shore.” He turns the laptop out to the endless sea. “My lungs burn, my legs feel like weights, and my mouth is full of the taste of salt. I don’t know if I can make it back. I play games with myself about what would happen, where would I go, who would I become without the burden of my family to provide for? I realize, no one. And then I swim back, too tired to be mad, or sad or vengeful. My sister provides me with a cup of chai, and I am once again accepting of my world.”

  I stare at the screen, at the emptiness of the Arabian Sea. I can see it. I can see him, fighting against the waves, struggling to get out, away. And then turning around and struggling to get back in.

  “But I have nothing to come back to.” I’ve destroyed everything. “It’s too hard, Jai.”

  Jai nods like he’s already considered this. “Life must be measured in smaller moments, Charlie, to achieve satisfaction. It’s not being the Hollywood star. It’s becoming the Hollywood star. It’s what you do along the way. That is what your life is.”

  I think of what my life is, and besides Bobby, there’s nothing left. My whole raison d’être—fame and fortune—is gone.

  “There’s always something to swim back for.” He watches me. “Ah, I see a smile. Is there a someone in your life?”

  I’m starting to sweat. “No.”

  He grins from ear to ear. “Is there someone I should be jealous about?”

  Did he just read my mind again? “No way, Jai. No one.” No way was I gonna tell him. “I am totally, one hundred percent—”

  “Charlie?” Dad knocks. “May I come in?”

  Jai hears him and waves. “All right, I will leave you. Good-bye, Charlie.”

  “Stay safe, Jai,” I say, and feel a jolt at how quickly his face disappears from my life. “Hey, Dad.” I look up.

  He sits on my bed and gives me one of those deep-thoughts looks. “Heard you had another rough day.”

  I take out a Sharpie and start to draw on my leg through the tights. I feel his eyes on me waiting for me to talk. It makes me not want to talk at all.

  Felix starts calling. “Dad! Is Dad up there?” Felix screams from downstairs. “Dad, anywhere, Dad?”

  I stop drawing and look up, grateful. “I think you’re wanted.”

  “Down in a second,” Dad yells back. He sits on my bed, looks around. “Hey, where’d Mandela and Jobs go?”

  I shrug. Hoping he won’t push.

  “Okay.” He stands. “I get it—you need space. You’re close to being a teenager.”

  TRUE FACT: I know I was supposed to be pouty, but the words “close to being a teenager” made me want to jump up and sing.

  “Charlie, baby?” Mom comes running up the stairs, knocks on the door. “You have a call.”

  I glance at my watch. It’s after ten. “Who could that be?” And why are they letting me talk this late?

  “A friend?” Dad looks hopeful. “See, you do have a friend!”

  Help me.

  I’m getting a bad feeling. “Who is it?”

  Mom gets this weird half smile. She shakes her head. “It’s Chad.” She hands me the phone. “He says it’s urgent.”

  Oh, God, Chad. The last person I ever want to talk to again. This guy is like the silverback gorilla baby poacher of Hollywood. That’s the way I see him now. He poaches up all these little babies, uses them, and spits them out. I take a deep breath, arm myself for what I know is trouble.

  “Charlie Cooper, how the hell are you?”

  This is a man who didn’t even pick up the phone to apologize to me. This is the man who purposely humiliated me by sending that horrible car with that stinky driver. This is a man who cared about no one. And in spite of all that I still feel the same excitement.

  “First of all, no hard feelings, right, kid? It’s the nature of the beast.”

  Mom and Dad are watching my every move. I slip into the bathroom to be alone. I lean up against the wall and take a deep breath. “What do you want?”

  “Major problem, as in ‘Houston, we have a problem.’”

  “I don’t know what that means—”

  He cuts me off. “Come on, you never watched Apollo 13?”

  “Nope.” Sounds old. And boring.

  “True story.” He keeps on going, like I care. “When the entire spaceship is about to blow and the pilot calls control, which is in Houston, right? He’s about to die, right? But when he calls, he says supercalmly, ‘Houston, we have a problem.’”

  “Gotcha.” Whatever. I leave the bathroom and walk down the hallway. Halfway down the stairs I see Pen and Felix. Felix is drawing a comic, and Pen is editing the footage she had from the rally that day. Skip was there. Lola, Lillian, and Erica, of course, showed up in their Bentley to run over the protesters. They didn’t have a chance against a Bentley.

  “Well, Charlie, we got a problem.” He laughs. “And her name is Marta.”

  I stop and sit. I always knew this moment would come. Why? Because Marta is Marta. She’s tough. She’s inflexible. Stubborn as heck and hates using deodorant. I walk back up and head into the bathroom. “Sorry, Chad, Marta doesn’t talk to me anymore.” I pick up a pair of tweezers and start plucking my nostril hairs. The pain makes me want to kill him less.

  “Well, she’s a monster. And worse—she’s a terrible actress. And when I say terrible, I don’t mean good terrible. I mean horrible terrible. Why the heck didn’t you warn me?”

  “I tried to. At the very beginning, I told you.” I pull out a chunk of hair and a small piece of skin.

  “I made a mistake, all right? I’m only human.”

  My eyes water. “No, you�
�re not.”

  “All right, fine, I’m not.” He sounds like he’s going to burst into tears, but Chad doesn’t have tears, so I know it’s just an act and I am so not falling for it. “Oh, Charlie, please, please, help. I’m begging you.”

  I’m not going to lie—listening to him grovel is almost as much fun as shopping at the Salvation Army.

  “It wasn’t even my fault. See, when I told the producers you lied to keep her from getting the part, they immediately thought she was the victim. Marta!” he yells. “See, victims are majorly in right now. Especially dorky ones who can work the beam like she can. They thought you were the bully. Bullies are out. Especially bullies who aren’t so good on the beam.”

  “I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” I interject.

  “So here was this down-and-out kid who was picked on by everyone. Lillian told me the whole story about how you and all your mean girlfriends called her Marta the Farta and how you made her life unlivable.”

  She’s good. I gotta hand it to her. “So go find someone else.”

  “The producers thought she was this swan in the body of a really ugly duckling, and they wanted to show that change. But, and here’s the kicker—” He starts his fake whining again. “She never changed into the dang swan. She’s a monster, kid, a total monster. And we’ve got to get rid of her, pronto.”

  “Marta’s a gymnast, not an actress. I tried to tell you.” I’m tired of talking about this. I start plucking my eyebrows. “There’s nothing I can do for you.”

  “It’s not what you can do for me,” Chad announces. “Charlie, it’s what I can do for you.”

  I put down the tweezers and sit on the toilet. “The way I see it, we’re done, Chad.”

  “Oh, no, we’re not.” He pauses so long I think he’s hung up. “We want you, Charlie Cooper. We want you back. The first choice. The only choice.”

  “Me?” My legs go weak, like two noodles.

  “And to show you how sincerely sorry we are, this is what I’m prepared to do. First, I’ll send a limo. A Hummer. With a pool. You want a pool, right?”

  “A pool?” I roll it around a little. “Pools are good.”

  “To your door, first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll messenger scripts to you now. Skip school. You’ll have a tutor. Word of honor.”

  My heart throbbed in spite of my iron will. He just outlined my dream.

  “Charlie? I know you can do it. I’ve seen you. You are Josie.”

  Freeze. I want to savor this moment. Savor it, revel in it.

  “Charlie, really? You want me to beg—”

  I do, of course. I want him to beg. I want to be showered with chocolates. I want to be loved and adored. “Yes, Chad, beg. Beg me.”

  “I’ll send the contract over ASAP. We will sign you tonight. You will receive your first check tomorrow. You will be able to live in Beverly Hills. Your face will be all over town—on buses, on billboards. You will be famous.”

  In the distance, I see Houdini looking right at me. Some of us are chosen to do great things. It’s our destiny. No matter what knocks we take, nothing can derail us. Why? Because you just can’t mess with destiny. Houdini knew it, and I know it too.

  Chad’s voice cuts through my head. “You know you want this.”

  I do. I want it so bad I can taste it.

  Field Trip

  Lucky me—today’s our super depressing field trip to the Santa Barbara Mission, where we learn about how the Mexicans and the local Native Americans were all enslaved and killed by the Spaniards just to make these missions. A lot of the kids think the teachers are lying, because their parents told them that the church took such good care of all the locals.

  Lillian and Erica are applying yet another layer of lip gloss while we stand in line for the bus. Bobby’s suddenly at my side. He nudges me. “Hey, you want to ride together?” He checks me out. “You look sharp.”

  Even I have to admit my camo jacket looks majorly swag. Especially when paired with tight black jeans and Docs. We line up next to each other and file onto the bus. We take seats—me by the window and Bobby looking over my shoulder. We pull out of school, up Laurel Canyon, past our house. Bobby sees the mansion my dad’s restoring from the window. From the tall bus, you can make out the whole thing through the giant trees that block the property from view. “It’s three floors, just like the original Walker place. There’s gonna be a ballroom too. Majorly cool.”

  “Do I get a personal tour sometime?” He nudges me with his shoulder.

  “Absolutely.” The tingling hits my innards before I even finish the line.

  The bus chugs up the hill and drops into the valley that’s as hot as a stove. We get on the freeway, deal with some majorly bad mojo on the 101 North.

  Bobby’s just bouncing in the seat, enjoying the ride. His body is warm. I am mesmerized by the way our thighs jiggle. When we hit the water, it’s so bright and so beautiful, a smile takes hold. “My dad came back.” He wipes his hands on his jeans but never takes his eyes off the beautiful Santa Barbara coastline. “He says he’ll stop with the bad stuff.”

  “That’s awesome, Bobby.”

  “And he’s working again, painting and sculpting in the garage. It feels like the old days.” He looks a thousand pounds lighter. The hood’s off, and his eyes are bright and happy.

  His hand is right next to mine, waiting, just waiting for me to grab it. I so want to hold his hand. I glance down again. It’s just sitting there, doing nothing. The butterflies are back. Suddenly sweat covers my hand. I quickly put it between my legs to dry it. The moment’s gone.

  We sit and watch the ocean go by. In the back kids are talking trash, sharing headphones, yelling at the driver about which way he should be going while tossing Cheetos in people’s hair. But Bobby and I are rows up, quiet and happy, lost in our own worlds. Really happy. After a while he reaches over and touches my hand. Then he links his fingers through mine. I almost have a heart attack.

  Bobby nods slowly. “You’re okay, Cooper.”

  I have no idea what that means. Does it mean we’re going out? “Thanks, Bobby,” I say quietly. We both keep staring out the window like a couple of old people.

  Who’s supposed to pull their hand away first? Or are we just supposed to stay like this until the bus comes to a stop? And what if someone sees? Do we pull away before, or is this the way we announce we’re dating? If only I had a normal older sister who had actually dated before me so she could help me with all this. I’m in such a panic, I don’t even see Lillian until she’s hovering over us like a black shadow.

  “You two are looking mighty cozy.” Her long hair falls down like two sheets.

  I pull my hand away. “Go away, Lillian.”

  “Don’t stop holding hands on my account.” She smiles, then bends so low that Bobby’s head is almost inside her blouse. “So sad about Marta.”

  She’s gonna ruin everything. I get a pang in my stomach and turn away from her. But Bobby lifts his hand and pushes her away like she’s totally insignificant. “Go away.”

  “But great news for you, Charlie, right?” Lillian says.

  “Leave.” I know what she came here to do.

  Bobby’s suddenly interested. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come on, Charlie didn’t tell you the good news?” Her mouth drops. “Marta’s out, and . . . wait for it, wait for it . . .” She points right at me. “Charlie’s in.”

  Bobby moves away from me like I suddenly stink. “Is that true?”

  “Yeah, but—” I stop and look for a sign that he will listen to me. None comes.

  “Bravo!” Lillian starts to clap. “I mean really, bravo.” She cuts me off before I can finish. “I have to hand it to you. I am impressed. Talk about long-term scheming. You finally got it, didn’t you, Charlie? The role you’d do anything to get.”

  “If anyone gets the scheming award, it’s you.” But the minute I say it, I realize that it’s Marta who’s lost everything in thi
s battle between us. She’s the real victim here.

  Bobby looks at her, at me. He shakes his head in disgust.

  “Get to your seat, please.” The bus driver gets on his speaker. “No standing in the bus while it’s moving.”

  “Enjoy the rest of the ride.” Lillian walks to her seat at the very back of the bus, where all of her kind sit and plot their next mean move.

  Suddenly everything is still. It’s all changed. Bobby isn’t talking. And neither am I. We’re past Carpentaria when he says, “I want to tell you that I—”

  I cut him off before he has the chance to say something that’s going to hurt. “Chad called me last night. Told me Marta’s out. I had nothing to do with it. Ask my parents.”

  “Why?”

  “Apparently she’s out of control. And she sucks.”

  Bobby wipes his hands on his jeans. “And they offered it to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you say?”

  I look out the window. It’s so complicated. I barely slept the night before. “They’re going to give it to someone, Bobby.” I pause before I let it drop. “So why not me?”

  Bobby shakes his head like he knew it all along. Like I’m bad. “So you took it?”

  Our eyes meet. I’m trying to figure out how to put it when he gets up and says, “I should have known.”

  I watch him. He walks up the aisle and takes a seat next to the driver. About as far from me, Lillian, Erica, and Lola as he can get. I guess he thinks I’m no different than they are.

  Marta’s Fall

  The next morning, the day they leave for the JOs, everyone knows about Marta. It’s all over Instagram. It’s all over Facebook, Twitter, and the trades. Marta Urloff was let go. Terminated. Fired. There are pictures of her demise.

  • Marta walking out of the place wearing her old clothes, head down, like she just lost everything in a fire.

  • Studio security wrestling Greta for the keys to the Mercedes convertible she’s been driving around in.