Piper Day’s
Ultimate Guide to Avoiding
George Clooney
A Novel
Vanessa Fewings & Christina Cannarella
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Piper Day’s Ultimate Guide to Avoiding George Clooney
Copyright © 2013 Vanessa Fewings & Christina Cannarella
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from the author.
This story is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Cover design by VMK
Cover photo is from Shutterstock - Photographer NinaMalyna
Back cover photo is from Shutterstock - Photographer Africa Studio
Book formatted and edited by Louise Bohmer:
http://www.louisebohmer.com/site/freelance/
DEDICATION
For
My parents,
John and Christine
for your guiding hands and loving hearts.
-Vanessa
Dedicated with love to my mom and dad, John and Rosalie, who instilled in me kindness, gratitude and perseverance.
And to Zach and Johnny, the reason I continuously find peace, joy and laughter in life.
I TRULY am the LUCKIEST MOM IN THE WORLD.
-Christina
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CHAPTER 1
Rome’s Grocery Store
Midnight
I was still alive.
Which was a miracle after the mind-blowing feat of eating what felt like the entire planet’s carb supply. By the way my bunny slippers stared at me, all wide-eyed and crazy, they knew it too. Although their threatening expression was probably a trick of Rome’s store lighting. At midnight, it was so dim, and the staff so drowsy, it looked like a zombie apocalypse.
Which was perfect for another covert strike on the candy aisle.
Covert because I’d heard the footsteps of another shopper one aisle over and the last thing I needed was to be seen buying a lifetime supply of chocolate, not to mention being seen wearing my Green Bay Packers PJs.
It was a miracle, all right.
My best friend Ellie and I had just tucked into a delicious feast, setting a new foodie record by consuming chicken fajitas with extra guacamole, a family-size packet of Hershey bars, two Entenmann’s donuts, each, and enough mint chocolate chip ice-cream to place us in a post-sugar coma.
Ellie had spent the entire evening weeping into her glass of Chardonnay, recapping all the hellish moments of her breakup with Gabe. I’d listened intently, trying to offer words of comfort, the stress making me shovel Cheetos into my mouth at such a rate I looked like I was performing some cheap disappearing act on the Vegas Strip. The kind you receive two complimentary tickets for upon hotel check-in. Not a classy act involving barely-clad European acrobats.
I’d left her back at my place, still munching on a packet of Twizzlers while watching her favorite nature show, Monsters of the Deep. I’d returned to Rome’s on an emergency run for more ice cream, hot fudge topping, and another box of tissues, hoping to complete my mission and get back to consoling Ellie.
Teddy, my Boston Terrier, had been tasked to watch over her. During the evening he’d licked away Ellie’s tears, sensing she’d needed comforting. Though after his aim missed several times, I grew convinced he was really going for her wine.
What had begun as a celebration of me starting my dream job as a nurse at Gemstone Studios had turned into an all night consoling session for Ellie, whose boyfriend had told her it wasn’t her it was him and he needed some space to find himself. This made Ellie another Hollywood failed relationship statistic, which pretty much included everyone I could think of.
I let out a gasp, excited to see a special on paperbacks, and viewed the romantic covers, each portraying a woman being swept up into the arms of her hero, the pages within promising hours of escape. Though remembering why I was here highlighted the fact that reality rarely mirrored fantasy.
Soon after Gabe had delivered the dire news that he wanted to end their relationship, I’d extracted Ellie from her Brentwood apartment and invited her back to crash at my two bedroom apartment in Burbank, and as any best friend would I offered an arsenal of salty and sugary, highly processed snacks to take her mind off her heartache.
Silence had ensued as we dove into our stash.
Ironically, in-between mouthfuls, we’d convince each other how first thing tomorrow we’d both be back on track with our ‘eat right’ plan and resume our daily Runyon Canyon hikes. Despite the grueling steep hills, I always enjoyed them, though I was unnerved by the sign at the entrance of the pathway that warned of rattlesnakes, especially before we disappeared into L.A.’s wilderness.
However we faced our fears of a painful and prolonged death from lethal venom, not to mention the risk of coming across a pack of coyotes or menacing mountain lions. The treks had kept the pounds off and our fitness up.
Not that Ellie needed to worry. Her tall, slim frame was perfect for an actress, her current passion. I was an inch or two shorter, with merely a few pounds to lose that I’d gained over Christmas, after enjoying a little too much of my mother’s Italian home cooking.
This town was full of both supermodel and homecoming queen types and the competition for luring a boyfriend was particularly fierce, as I’d soon discovered after arriving in the city and finding myself invisible to the average man.
Back in Madison, Wisconsin, my hometown, I’d been considered pretty. A little quirky looking maybe, but even though the boys had told me I was as attractive as Ellie I’d never quite believed them. After all, it had been Ellie who’d been crowned prom queen. Though she’d only held that title after it had been stripped from Tara Edelsworth, when it came out she’d been injected with lip plumper by her plastic surgeon dad.
Thus elevating Ellie to high school royalty from the lesser position of runner-up.
Upon Ellie’s official crowning, she’d failed to hide her feelings of guilt mixed in with a heavy dose of sympathy for Tara. As Ellie stood there, all do
lled up on the stage at the prom, she swapped a wary glance with me. It had been hard to read Tara’s reaction, as her expression was frozen due to her father botoxing her within an inch of her life. An apparent consolation prize for her fall from grace.
I was still haunted by the memory of Tara’s unemotional eyes locked on Ellie and her twisted, permanent puckered lips, so full and so ready for a kiss that threatened never to happen. Not to mention the time I’d bumped into Tara’s dad on my way out of school one Friday afternoon and felt the lock of his professional gaze, as if his critical eye was mentally outlining my face in preparation for his scalpel.
Ellie and I had been best friends since we were six, and although I’d supported her move to the entertainment capital of the world and stayed behind in Madison to complete my nursing studies, I’d really missed her. Her frequent emails that had started out full of excitement had begun to take on a depressing tone, conveying her doubt that she’d ever see her dream fulfilled. The frequent rejections from those endless auditions were taking their toll.
Everyone has preconceptions about L.A., but when your best friend is stuck in the middle of the madness it changes everything. So, afraid my best friend would spiral out of control, I’d hopped on a plane and joined her. After all, nursing was a profession I could do anywhere, and what better place to do it than with Ellie close-by.
Half-distracted, I ventured on down the magazine aisle and stopped before GQs latest journal. Upon the cover was a photograph of the ultimate hottie. The quintessential icon. Actor and writer, director, and if that wasn’t wow enough Mr. Perfect was also a political activist and the United Nations had named him “Global Ambassador of Peace.” A man willing to be arrested for what he believed.
Swoon.
With his rugged good looks, quick-wit, and laid-back charm that seduced men and women alike, George Clooney was the number one man on every girl’s ‘to do’ list. And every guy’s ‘to be like’ list.
Here was the inspiration that Ellie needed, to remind her that men with depth were out there. When she’d re-gained her confidence and taken the time to discover herself, she’d be ready to embark on the journey of finding her soul mate. Surely such dedication would convey to the universe she was ready for a boyfriend upgrade.
What better example than an A-list actor.
I placed the magazine into my basket, catching a glimpse of the numerous George Clooney products on sale, offering a donation to charity with each purchase.
When I caught sight of the blur of the other shopper, I scurried round the corner into aisle six, passing the sleepy-eyed shop girl as she re-stocked one of the shelves with paper towels.
When the late night shopper turned the corner, I moved closer to the precariously stacked, jumbo triple roll toilet paper, burying my head in amongst them, feigning fascination with its boastful promise of extra absorbency as I waited for the person to pass behind me.
“Those are scent free,” the shop girl said.
I returned a nod, the ridiculousness of the situation dawning, and I suppressed a laugh when I considered the lengths I’d gone to not to be seen by another shopper.
Choir music flowed from the speakers, flooding Rome’s entire store, like some audio backdrop bestowing an Oprah-like ah-ha moment.
Out of nowhere, it hit me...
What Ellie really needed wasn’t to suppress her emotions by squishing them with calorie-laden food, no matter how delicious and trance-inducing those Cheetos were. (Even though mint in mint chocolate chip ice-cream had to be good for you, didn’t it?)
No, what Ellie really needed was to believe in herself and take advantage of this time to evolve into her authentic self.
A gorgeous, self-assured, confident, empowered woman.
One day she’d look back on Mr. Potato Head, aka Gabe, and thank him for letting her go and giving her the space she needed to spread her wings like a beautiful butterfly. But not the ones you see pinned to a specimen board all spread out and dead. The ones that flutter nearby on a perfect summer day.
I couldn’t wait to get back to Ellie to tell her that.
Back in aisle seven, I began filling my basket with numerous items, including the Clooney bobblehead, notepad, pen set, bookmark, coaster, mouse pad, lighter, magnet, mints, lip balm, and chocolate bars.
I knew Ellie would get a kick out of them and they were bound to put a smile on her face.
There came a feeling that this night would be looked back on as the one that changed our lives forever. Funny how something like losing a boyfriend could seem so devastating at first, but as time went on it proved to be the catalyst for a brighter future.
Waiting patiently at the checkout for the female cashier to appear, I munched on my Clooney chocolate bar, taking comfort in the fact it was seventy-five percent cocoa and therefore rich in antioxidants. After all, we’re always being told we had to get way more of those.
Zoned out, I perused the standee to my left. On the front page of Woman’s Weekly was an unflattering photograph of Australian actor Jamie Hale, grimacing directly at the camera. The article reported his tragic fall during a stunt gone wrong that had left him with a permanent limp, thus ending his career as one of Hollywood’s leading men. I wondered what he’d end up doing now? Modeling perhaps? He was certainly handsome enough.
The cashier arrived at the register, eyes widening as she stared at me.
I raised the half-eaten chocolate. “I’m going to pay for it.”
Feeling the glare of someone behind me, I turned.
All oxygen was sucked from the store…
The man whose handsome face adorned the magazine cover in my shopping basket and every single item in there, as well as the candy bar wrapper I was currently holding, was standing right behind me.
George Clooney.
He was taller in real life, and if it was humanly possible better looking. He was wearing black slacks and a simple white shirt and held a bottle of red wine. He’d fixed his gaze on the entire contents of my basket and I wondered if there was still time to throw it down and run for it. I must have seemed like the proverbial stalker in waiting.
“It’s for a good cause,” Clooney said, reaching into my basket and removing the look-alike bobblehead, holding it up next to his own. “Looks like he got all the looks.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, slowly dying inside at my inappropriate answer, so I quickly offered “Want to go first?”
“I’m okay.” He turned to the cashier. “I gave my permission for my likeness to be used. They went a little crazy with it. But, hey, all proceeds go to help our efforts in Sudan.” His gaze slid back to me. “The more you eat, the more you give.”
“I’m planning on giving a whole lot,” I said, my voice almost failing as I blushed. “I plan on eating the entire store’s supply by the end of the week.” I waved the chocolate bar in a gesture of solidarity, realizing I’d bitten George’s chocolate head off. “Doing my bit for world peace.”
His frown deepened. “Looks like they went with the lip balm after all.”
“Got two of them.” I smiled, hoping to lessen the tension, though I feared I was probably forcing my enthusiasm way too much. Despite my inner voice screaming for me to shut up, my mouth took on a life of its own, saying, “No cracked lips for me.” I gave an uneasy chuckle and turned back to face the cashier, placing my items onto the conveyor belt in what felt like painful slow-mo.
The cashier stared at me. “Phone number?”
“What?” I said.
“For your store discount.”
I punched the numbers into the customer checkout keyboard as quickly as possible and slid my credit card. Waiting for technology to do its thing was agonizing, and the silence screamed so loud it was deafening.
I turned to George and said, “Bet those lip balms will sell out fast.” Brain to mouth: no more talking now. “It’s a great idea having people give just by eating. Anyone can look at me and know I’m an eater. I mean giver. I love to eat. Give
.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I believe in this cause so much, I’d eat anything with your face on it.” I lowered my chin, my throat tightening.
“Didn’t go through,” the cashier said.
I faced her again.
“Your number,” she said.
I punched them in again, concentrating hard, the tension rising like I was defusing a bomb rather than getting 5% off.
George placed his wine down and came nearer, gesturing to his chin. “You have some chocolate...”
I wiped my chin.
The cashier scrunched up her nose. “You made it worse.”
I ignored her and told myself not to look back for fear of Clooney beaming that infamous smile my way... and rendering me unconscious.
Or having me arrested.
I quickly finished paying to get through this excruciatingly uncomfortable moment and scurried off.
I caught my reflection in the sliding glass door. My chin was completely smeared with chocolate, my face seemingly half camouflaged. All I was missing were army fatigues and an M-16 and I’d be ready for active duty.
Heading out into the night, I used my sleeve to wipe the rest of the evidence away, pretending like this never, ever happened.
CHAPTER 2
Resident Hero - Day 48 OF 60
Call Time: 07:00 am
Shooting Call: 07:45 am
Weather: Sunny
Location: Stage 9
The grandest of Hollywood’s entrances was Gemstone Studio’s ornate entryway, a dramatic welcome to those who passed through it.
Situated in the heart of Hollywood, Gemstone was perfectly located for filmmakers, tourists, and employees alike, and was hailed as one of the oldest studios in the world.
I steered my Volkswagen Beetle beneath the archway, admiring the sweeping white stone pillars towering on either side.
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