by Jen Calonita
I think it’s cute that Austin is embarrassed about the nomination. And even cuter that he wants to protect me from the paparazzi — who Liz says have been hitting up students to find out if I’m going to the dance with Austin just like we hoped they would — but he doesn’t have to worry. Just like the driver’s lessons, I’ve got this figured out. The only thing left to do is get used to the idea that Austin could have to dance with his ex, Lori, who was unfortunately nominated for the court too. BLECH.
Nadine barrels over again, with Rodney behind her. “And another thing — you know what else your assistant would have handled if she was in charge?” she asks. “Making sure Rodney did a thorough security check of the location and a background check on the driving school.”
Rodney takes another bite of his sandwich. “Nadine, the school is brand-new and the location is an abandoned parking lot. I think you’re spending too much time around Laney.” He chuckles, but he still looks intimidating with his bald head wrapped in the hood of his black sweatshirt.
I try to laugh, but I sneeze again instead.
“Burke, I think you’re getting sick.” Austin puts his hand on my forehead, like our housekeeper Anita sometimes does when she thinks I’m overexerting myself. “You feel warm.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. Actually I do feel hot, but I thought that was because I’m excited. Besides, I don’t have time to get sick. Actors rarely take sick days.
HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER SEVEN: Celebrities don’t get sick. At least, they don’t tell the world when they do — unless they’re in serious need of some R&R and want to check themselves into Cedars Sinai for “exhaustion.” (Sky’s pulled that twice now.) Usually stars stick to the motto “The show must go on” and fight through the colds (with the aid of Emergen-C) and bouts with the stomach flu (delay filming for a few hours rather than a whole day). Of course, if you’re a major cast member and you come down with the chicken pox, shooting usually is delayed, like it was when my friend Gina got sick and infected two other cast members on her TV show. I’ve never taken a sick day, but that could be because whenever I sneeze, my mom reminds me that Oprah has never called in sick in almost two decades on the air.
“You’ve been coughing and sneezing for two days, Kaitlin,” Nadine says. “You should take some more Cold-EEZE. I bought orange and cream flavors.”
“I told you, I’m not sick! Plus, I shouldn’t drive while taking medication,” I joke.
“FINE.” Nadine rubs her temples. “Get sick. Get caught by Hollywood Nation.”
I hug her stiff body. “That’s not going to happen.” Nadine grunts. “But thank you for always looking out for me,” I tell her as an old white four-door sedan pulls into the lot with a glowing Wheel Helpers advertisement fastened on the roof. “He’s here!” I say excitedly, sneezing and jumping up and down.
Rodney folds his arms across his chest and stares menacingly. “It looks like a legitimate Wheels Helper vehicle. And no one is trailing him.”
When the car comes to a stop, I can see Ralph fiddling with his clipboard and a pile of paperwork that keeps falling into his lap along with his glasses. He pulls down the visor and smoothes his bushy eyebrows in the mirror. He looks over his shoulder a few times like he’s forgetting something and then he finally opens the car door. The first thing I notice is the comb over with his few strands of gray hair. He’s wearing a wrinkled white button-down shirt, has a pocket protector filled with pens in his shirt pocket, and has on gray pants that are cuffed too wide at the bottom.
“Hi, I’m Ralph from Wheel Helpers,” he says in a high-pitched squeak. His eyes are as wide as the cup saucers at high tea at the Ritz. He’s staring at me so intently that I start to squirm. “And you must be Kaitlin,” he says, shaking my hand with his own clammy one. He laughs goofily.
“Hi,” I say, wiping my sweaty brow. “It’s nice to meet you, Ralph. Thanks for meeting me at the crack of dawn.”
“No problem. I’m good at keeping secrets, Kaitlin. Kaitlin Burke.” He keeps fiddling with his pocket protector as he continues to stare at me and laughs nervously. This time it sounds like a hiccup. “This is so cool. I’ve never met a celebrity before.”
Nadine clears her throat. “Do you have the confidentiality agreement Kaitlin discussed with you over the phone, Ralph?”
“Sure. Sure.” He riffles through his papers and frowns. “I had it right here.” He keeps looking. “I know I left the house with it. It must be in the car.” Nadine glowers at him.
“So Ralph, I have to be at work by ten so I have to leave here by nine-thirty,” I tell him. “How long do you think our first lesson will take?”
Ralph doesn’t seem to hear me. “Kaitlin Burke. THE Kaitlin Burke! I can’t believe she’s talking to me.” He nudges Austin, who looks at me with a withering glance.
“Kaitlin said you weren’t into celebrities,” Nadine quips.
Ralph looks hurt. “I’m not,” he says quickly. “But it’s still cool, isn’t it? I have a secret with Kaitlin Burke. I can’t believe you’re taking my class, Kaitlin Burke.”
Why does he keep saying my name like that? I avoid Nadine’s gaze. “Just call me Kaitlin, Ralph,” I say with a smile.
“Okay, Kaitlin,” he says, still fidgeting with the pens. “Let’s get started.” Ralph leads the way to the sedan and we follow. Ralph turns around. “Uh, the others aren’t coming, are they? Because I have a lot of papers in the back of the car.”
“No, not at all,” I say, looking at the three of them sternly. “They were just saying good luck.” Austin kisses my cheek and Rodney slurps his milk shake.
“Before you go,” Nadine says loudly, “we need that confidentiality agreement.”
Ralph looks flustered. He throws open the car door, grabs the paper sitting on top of his passenger seat, takes a pen from his pocket, and scrawls his signature. “Here.” He thrusts it at Nadine.
“Thank you.” Nadine snatches the paper and puts it in her front pocket. “And remember, Kaitlin, we’ll be RIGHT HERE if you need us.” She glares at Ralph. I nod and head for the car.
With the grilling over, I start to relax. I open the front door and breath in the strong lavender air freshener and slide onto the blue vinyl seat. I quickly buckle my seat belt and then trace my fingers along the dash, the steering wheel, and the radio. Wow. The driver’s seat. Cool! Just then the commander-in-chief ring tone blares from my cell phone. Laney. Ahhh! What do I do? If I don’t answer she’ll keep calling. I smile sheepishly at Ralph, grab the phone, and answer the call. “I can’t talk now,” I whisper.
“WHAT?” Laney yells. I didn’t even know she got up this early. “I’M ON MY WAY TO MY TRAINER’S. WHERE ARE YOU? ON SET?” She must have the top down on her BMW convertible because the highway sounds much louder than usual.
Ralph stares at me with a goofy grin. “Yep,” I lie. “I have to go.”
“WHAT ARE YOU UP TO? YOU’RE ACTING STRANGE.”
Oh God. Oh God. Ralph’s playing with his pocket protector again. The pens make a clicking sound when they bang together. He begins tapping his arm on the back of his seat impatiently. “Nothing! I swear. Just busy. I’ll call you later.”
Laney cackles. “I’M JUST MESSING WITH YOU. I CALLED TO TELL YOU HOLLYWOOD NATION IS PRINTING A RETRACTION ON THE EXHAUSTION GARBAGE. I SAID, ‘KAITLIN BURKE IS A HUGE STAR AND YOU CAN’T TREAT HER THIS WAY.’ YOU DON’T HAVE TO THANK ME,” she adds.
“Thanks anyway, Laney,” I reply gratefully. “But I’m about to walk on set and it’s really noisy here. I’ll try you later,” I yell, hanging up and quickly hitting the power button. I laugh nervously.
“On set?” Ralph repeats. “Does someone not know you’re here?”
“My publicist,” I admit. “And my parents. They were against the whole driving school thing. They wanted me to get a private instructor who teaches celebrities.”
Ralph nods. “Overprotective,” he says. “A lot of parents are that way.” His pens click together again. The sou
nd is kind of annoying. “But are yours more so than most? I’ve read your mom can be a bit of a barracuda, no offense.” He leans in closer and I lean back against my door to move away.
“My mom’s like any mom of a . . .” I wrinkle my nose. “Mom of a . . . AH-CHOO! Teenager. Always worrying,” I say with a tight smile.
“Are you tired of the spotlight, Kaitlin?” Ralph’s brow fur-rows as he stares deep into my eyes. “You can tell me if you want. I won’t tell anyone. The stress is getting to you, isn’t it?”
What? What is he talking about? I look through the rear view window and see Nadine, Rodney, and Austin deep in conversation. Nadine is pointing to a paper in her hand and looks like she’s yelling. She picks up her cell phone and starts dialing. I don’t need to call them over, do I? Ralph is just being a little forward, that’s all. I’ve had fans do that before. “Should I start the car?” I ask, ignoring his questions.
He looks disappointed. “Sure,” he mumbles.
I turn the key and the car roars to life. I wait for my first instruction.
“Now take your foot off the brake and ease on to the gas pedal. That’s the pedal on the right,” Ralph instructs me.
“Today we’re going to stay in the parking lot. For the next class, I’ll take you out on the streets.”
I pause. “Don’t you want to give me any safety precautions before I start?” I ask, feeling anxious.
Ralph looks flustered. “Oh yeah, uh, I forgot. Well, you seem like a smart girl. After all, you’re a movie star. I’m sure you know everything already. I’ll tell you if you’re doing something wrong, okay? You can start driving.” He smiles and I can see the yellow stains on his teeth.
What a weirdo. I guess he’s just nervous. I do as I’m told. My big foot lies heavily on the pedal and we lurch forward. Ralph almost smacks his head on the dashboard.
“BRAKE! BRAKE!” Ralph says. “Okay, let’s start with something simple. Put your foot lightly on the gas again and let’s do some simple turns around the parking lot.”
I steer slowly, putting my foot on the brake every time I see the speed dial go above twenty-five. I keep my eyes on the road, closing them only when I sneeze, which is a lot. After about ten minutes, I feel like I’m starting to get the hang of it. I’m driving! That’s when I realize Ralph is staring again. Not at the wheel or the road, but at me.
“I have to ask you this,” Ralph prods. “Is it true you and Sky Mackenzie don’t get along?” He leans into me, but since the car is in motion, I really can’t do anything about it. He’s starting to make me nervous.
“Gee, Ralph, I thought you knew nothing about celebrities,” I joke. “Why the sudden — AH-CHOO! — interest?” I desperately need a tissue.
He laughs nervously. “I started reading up on you last week after you called,” Ralph says. “I wanted to know more about you so we’d have something to talk about.”
Oh. I guess that makes sense. And he would have read about Sky. News about our feud is legendary. “AH-CHOO!” I feel myself sweating more profusely now that I’m out of the cold and I begin to feel dizzy.
“So do you like her or not?” Ralph tries again.
“Maybe we should try parallel parking,” I reply, jerking the wheel too hard. I recover and try to straighten out. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that I’m afraid to lift one off to wipe my sweaty brow. It’s definitely hot in here.
“In a minute,” Ralph says insistently. “Come on, we’re friends, right? I have to know the truth. Do you like Sky or not?” He leans over again. Why does he keep doing that? I take my eyes off the road and stare at Ralph’s chest pocket. The pens are bulging out of the protector. For the first time I notice his pocket looks fat. Very fat. Fat enough to hold a tiny tape recorder. OH GOD.
Before I say anything, I feel a bump. It feels like it’s coming from the backseat.
“What was that?” I ask, alarmed.
“Nothing,” Ralph says quickly. “Just a box. IT WON’T MOVE AGAIN.”
Why is he yelling? Wait. There isn’t someone in the car with us, is there? I would have noticed, right? Right? But what if there is? ABORT! I have to get out of here, just in case. I steer the car toward Rodney and Nadine again and realize they’re running toward me. Nadine is waving her arms wildly. Since Austin is in the best shape, he’s way ahead of them, and he’s yelling, “STOP!”
Something’s wrong. They know it. I know it. I’m starting to feel faint. Okay, don’t make it obvious, Kaitlin. Just get out of the car before Ralph sees your entourage freaking out. Walk away and you won’t cause a scene. “Ralph, I’m not feeling so — AH-CHOO! — hot. I’m going to end the lesson here.”
“What? No!” Ralph says sternly. “We’ve only been at this for ten minutes.” He changes his tone, his voice much softer now. “Come on! I’ve got so much else to ask you — I mean, teach you.”
“No, I’ve got to go,” I interrupt. I can’t just jump out of the car since I’m behind the wheel. Instead, I focus on driving toward the Lincoln and pulling in behind it.
“KAITLIN! STOP!” I hear Nadine yell.
“Just five more minutes, please,” Ralph begs. He sees Nadine and Rodney barreling toward us and he looks like he’s sweating. “I haven’t even asked you about the Tom Pullman story in Hollywood Nation.”
What? This is worse than I thought. WHY don’t I listen to Nadine? WHY? Haven’t I learned my lesson by now?
“Sorry.” I halt the car and put it in park. I unbuckle my seat belt. “I don’t want to talk about it. This session is over.” My face is burning. I don’t know if it’s because I’m upset or if I’m not feeling well, but it’s taking all my energy not to tell Ralph where to put his Hollywood Nations.
“NO. Wait!” Ralph begs, grabbing my arm a little too tightly. He locks the door with his free hand and I feel my throat constrict. This isn’t good. I push him off me and grasp for the door handle.
Austin’s fists hit the closed window with a thud and Ralph and I jump.
“GET OUT OF THE CAR, KAITLIN,” Austin yells in a scary voice I’ve never heard before. “NOW.”
I don’t argue. I grasp the door handle. Then I hear . . .
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
I whip around and see Macho Mark, from that Web site XLA.com, in the backseat taking pictures. “Hey, Kates,” he purrs.
We call him Macho Mark because he’s vain — with good reason. He has short brown hair and always wears tight tees that show off pecs worthy of a star turn on General Hospital. He’s so cute that sometimes you forget to run from his camera.
Now isn’t one of those times.
“I knew it!” I scream at Ralph and unlock the door. “You sold me out!”
“Do you know how much this lousy school pays?” Ralph says, his voice icy. “I had to call the tabs. Mark said he’d cut me a deal. A few pictures of you will cover my rent for a year!”
“You’re awful, Ralph! I can’t believe I trusted you. Give me that camera,” I say, reaching blindly for Mark’s equipment.
“No,” Ralph says, and before I can stop him, he has thrown the car in drive. In one quick move, his left leg is on the gas. I scream and thankfully Austin jumps out of the way before the car starts to move slowly.
“What are you doing?” Macho Mark bellows. “You’re going to hurt someone!”
“I’m getting you a few more minutes of pictures,” Ralph barks.
In a fit of rage, I wrestle the steering wheel away from Ralph and that’s when it happens.
BRAKE. GAS. BRAKE. SWERVE.
BOOM!
Steam rises over the dash and Ralph, Mark, and I look up in horror. Ralph’s sedan is pressed against our Lincoln, which has a huge dent in the rear bumper. OH NO! I look out the window and see Rodney’s hand instinctively cover his face. Rodney’s car! Our car! Oh God. I look around to make sure everyone — including Ralph and Mark — is okay. They look more shocked than anything. I burst into tears. I let out a loud sneeze and then have a huge coughin
g fit, which could be a panic attack. I’m not sure. My body is overheating. Is something burning?
“Kaitlin! Kaitlin!” I hear Austin and the sound of Rodney and Nadine running behind him. He throws open the door while Ralph and Macho Mark are still in shock. “Are you okay?”
“You idiot!” I hear Macho Mark say, smacking Ralph in the head. “That’s not how we do things. She could sue!”
Austin guides me out. Mark shakes off the shock and he jumps out of the backseat to keep taking pictures. Rodney barrels past him. He’d probably like to deck him, but he can’t without risk of being sued. These photographers know all the loopholes and right now, we’re in public.
UGH. Nadine was sooooooo right.
“Not only am I an awful driver, but I’ve made another huge mess,” I sob.
“Get out of here!” Nadine screams at the top of her lungs, making a scene as she starts with Ralph and Mark, whose camera keeps snapping. “You’ve crossed the line! We could sue for this!”
“You’re too late,” Ralph gloats, pointing to his chest. “I have everything I need right here, on tape, just like the tabloids asked!”
OH GOD. “I didn’t say anything! AH-CHOO!” I yell.
Rodney throws me in the back of the Lincoln and Nadine and Austin pile in as Macho Mark keeps shooting. I want to scream at him, but that would just make things worse. Rodney screeches away and I hear Ralph scream, “Who’s going to fix my car?”
“Kates, are you okay?” Nadine asks, her voice full of worry. “I knew it. I just KNEW it. Right after you pulled away, I felt compelled to look at Ralph’s confidentiality agreement. Look at what that jerk wrote.” Her hand is shaking as she holds out the paper for me to read. In sloppy handwriting, I see the words “Mickey Mouse.” “I tried calling you, but your phone was off,” she adds.
A single tear falls onto the paper and I look up at Nadine and start to cry again. “I’m such a fool,” I wail.
“Kates, don’t say that,” Nadine soothes. “You thought with your heart instead of your brain. It happens.” She smiles and wipes away a tear from my right eye. “Tell us what happened when you got in the car.”