Truly Madly Famously

by Rebecca Serle

  I end up in New York. There is a part of the lot that is a makeshift Manhattan. The West Village, I think, but I only know that from old Friends reruns. We went to New York on the press tour, but I mostly just saw the inside of the Soho Grand and the sets of talk shows.

  This New York is all brownstones and cute walk-up buildings. Old-school traffic lights that hang overhead.

  I take a seat on a stoop and exhale. The whole of New York is just a block long, and right now no one is here. I wanted to go out when we were in New York, but there wasn’t any time, and Tawny said it would be too crazy. And all I wanted was a moment like this one to soak in the city.

  I know this isn’t New York, not even close, but it’s like that old saying—you get what you need.

  I sit with my hands on my knees for another twenty minutes, until my butt starts to feel sore. And then I find my way back to the parking garage, check my wrist, and take the elevator up to the third level.

  I dial Sandy from the car and fill her in.

  “So what now?” she says when I finish.

  “Call Amanda,” I say. “I’m ready to work.”

  CHAPTER 14

  My sister’s wedding is a month later. It seems to come out of nowhere, and when my mom reminds me that I need to book my ticket home, I immediately feel guilty. My sister and I have been talking more these last few months, but I’m Joanna’s maid of honor and besides some phone calls, I haven’t been much help. Not with the planning. Not with the bachelorette party. Not to look after Annabelle the way I would have done while Joanna and my mom ran wedding errands. I didn’t even order my own dress. Jessica did that for me, as a favor. Along with a Just Like Me doll to give to Annabelle for her birthday. I need some face time with my family, before my niece forgets I exist.

  I mean, in my pitiful defense, this month has been crazy. Prep for the second Locked and meetings with nearly every studio exec in the business. We’ve lined up three new projects in as many weeks. Things Amanda and I agree on, even if I have been appeasing her a little. My head is spinning, but it’s good motion. Staying busy is the key, I’ve realized, to moving forward.

  Tonight I’m headed to Portland without Rainer. He was going to be my date, back when he was, well, my boyfriend. Alexis is going with Georgina to New York for upfronts. I’m glad we’re all leaving at the same time. They’re the only people I hang out with anymore. I’ve seen Rainer just a few times. He moved back into the Bel Air house. He’s going out. We may be unfinished, but we don’t seem doomed. We’re keeping our promise: I don’t see him out with other girls, and I’m not in touch with Jordan. I’ve even resisted the urge to Google-stalk him. No good can come of that.

  “What’s the deal with your sister?” Georgina asks. We’re at lunch. This vegan place called Café Gratitude in Hollywood. Jake would love it here. I, however, suffer through tempeh in silence.

  Tailor is with us. I’ve properly met her since the night of the MTV Movie Awards—turns out she’s the star of Locked’s competing franchise about demons. She’s friends with Georgina, but Alexis thinks she’s intolerable. Personally, I think she’s kind of boring. She always needs to be so pretty and perfect. Her stylist chooses what she wears to the gym.

  “She’s not bad,” I say. The truth is I’m not entirely sure how to answer that question. My sister used to be selfish and absent, but she’s changed since Annabelle, and over the course of this last year. It’s like my being gone made us closer. We’re not best friends or anything, but I’ve even started to miss Joanna a little bit, although it could be magnified guilt over not being there to help out at home.

  “I wish you were coming to New York,” Alexis says. “I’m going to be so bored while this one”—she elbows Georgina—“does press events all day.”

  “I went to upfronts one year!” Tailor squeals. “The CW party rocked.”

  “You only think that because you hooked up with Dave Marsh that night,” Georgina says, making a face like she’s just smelled fish.

  Alexis rolls her eyes, and it’s not that inconspicuous.

  “My second-to-last upfronts,” Georgina says. She leans down and takes a long drag of her spirulina juice. Gross. She looks at me from underneath her lashes. “Then I will be out here all the time with you guys.”

  I don’t mention the fact that we’re leaving—soon. We start shooting three weeks after the wedding. Three weeks, and we’ll be back on Maui. All of us. Me. Jordan. Rainer and Alexis—who continues to remain a neutral third party. She and Jordan may have “broken up,” but they’re still friends. I don’t ask her about him, though. I don’t want to put her in an awkward position.

  “What’s the latest on Closer?” Alexis asks.

  I knee her under the table. Word has leaked that I’m up for the role, but I still haven’t met with Susan. They keep postponing. I have a string of e-mails from James telling me to “keep the faith.” I haven’t heard a peep about it since.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m hoping I still have a shot.”

  “I heard you’re jumping through hoops for that project,” Tailor says. “Why?”

  I spear a piece of kale. “I love it.”

  “You guys are so lucky,” Georgina says wistfully. “If I didn’t have to shoot a million weekends a year—”

  “Oh, come on,” Alexis says. “You adore it. Stop whining.”

  “It’s true,” Tailor pipes up. “That’s why I never tried TV.”

  “You never tried TV because the first thing you ever did was a movie with George Clooney,” Georgina says.

  Tailor nods, like fair.

  There are photographers around. They’re snapping our photos from the street. I’ve gotten used to chewing with my mouth closed. I try to always smile, but I know I fail at that. There are still articles daily about how I’m “coping” with the loss of Rainer. One photographer caught me sneezing last week, and it looked kind of like I was crying, which was good enough for them.

  PAIGE MOURNS RAIGE

  Georgina lowers her voice and motions for us to all lean in. “It’s not working with Blake,” she says.

  Alexis eyes her. “What are you saying?”

  Georgina bites her lip. Her auburn hair falls just slightly in her face. I have the distinct impression that even this, this confession, is staged. It’s like she’s doing a scene from her show.

  “But you two are so cute!” Tailor chirps. She’s currently dating the lead singer from that English boy band. The one with five guys I can’t tell apart. Their music is catchy, though.

  “He’s too old for me,” she says.

  “He’s not that much older than Rainer,” Alexis points out.

  “And that turned out so well.” Georgina looks at me. “No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “It’s just complicated,” she says. “We want different things. For instance, he wants to be there and I want to be here.”

  “Aren’t Cassy and Damien about to get together on the show?” I ask.

  I’m almost through Elsewhere and hooked. It’s supersexy. They get hot and heavy weekly. I can only imagine what her consummation scene with Blake will entail.

  “Yeah,” she says, setting her fork down.

  “That sucks,” I say. “But if you break up, how are you going to film all that stuff? Won’t that be awkward?”

  The three of them look at me. Alexis’s face is incredulous.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, sitting back. “How are you going to do it?”

  All three of them are looking at me with raised eyebrows. “Darling,” Alexis says. “You’ve read the second Locked, right?”

  “Yes.” But then it dawns on me, what they’re talking about. I’ve been so busy trying to figure out the fallout of my relationship with Rainer that I didn’t stop to consider what actually happens in book two.

  Book two is all August and Ed. It’s me and Jordan. It’s him trying to win her back.

  “Crap.”
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  Alexis smiles. “Good luck with that.”

  Georgina glances at Tailor. “Don’t ever fall for James,” she says, referencing Tailor’s costar.

  “Can’t,” Tailor says, downing a wheatgrass shot. “He’s gay.”

  “But isn’t he hooking up with Lindsay?” I ask.

  Alexis picks at her plate. “It’s not real,” she whispers.

  Georgina slings her arm over Alexis’s shoulder. “We’re messes,” she says.

  “Hot messes,” Alexis corrects, leaning her head on Georgina’s. The gesture makes me immediately miss Cassandra. It’s a pain I feel often, and always seemingly out of nowhere. But how could it be out of nowhere? She’s still right here, even if I’ve been keeping her at arm’s length. That’s the thing about the people you love—they don’t really go away.

  “Anyone want to go to Bungalow tonight?” Tailor asks. “It’s Alessandra’s birthday. I think she closed it.”

  Alexis picks her head up and yawns. “Can’t. I have training.” She looks at me. “I still can’t believe we start shooting so soon.”

  “I’m so happy you’re going to be there for longer than a few days this time,” I say.

  “Beach days!”

  “Not quite,” I say. “But you remember, just shooting there is pretty awesome.”

  I’m not going to be there this time as long as I’d like to be. Only for a month, then Jordan and I fly to Seattle to shoot the rest of the second film. Rainer and Alexis will be in and out.

  “Let’s pay,” Georgina says. “I have to pack.”

  “Me too,” I say. I’m trying to remember where my shoes and bridesmaid dress are.

  “I already took care of it,” Tailor says. She waves at the waiter, who gives her a little nod.

  We make our way down the steps and wait for the valet to bring Tailor’s car around.

  I tuck my chin to my chest and cross my arms. The paparazzi are yelling at all of us, but I see them angle toward me. That’s a strange thing. That in this group, I’m the most famous. The photo of me will go for more than the one of Tailor or Georgina or Alexis.

  Some of it is the scandal, but most of it is Locked. It’s bigger than anything else. I don’t know whether I feel pride or shame at that. Both, probably.

  Tailor’s car comes around, and Georgina gets in front, Alexis and me in the back.

  “That was intense,” Tailor says as she makes a left onto Melrose.

  “You think?” I say. “That’s nothing compared to what it was a few weeks ago.”

  Alexis squeezes my shoulder. “They’ve been cruel,” she says.

  Tailor flashes me a sympathetic smile in the rearview.

  “What time is your flight?” Georgina asks me.

  “Nine,” I say. “I have to help my mom with the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. We’re hosting.”

  “Isn’t that traditionally the groom’s responsibility?” Tailor asks.

  “I guess. But the groom’s family hasn’t really spoken to either of them since my sister got pregnant.”

  “Families are so fucked up,” Georgina offers.

  I think about the legal battle Rainer is currently in the middle of with his father, the details of which I’m not even sure of anymore. Lately, I’ve been feeling pretty lucky to have the family that I do. Sure, my sister and I are different, and my brothers still treat me like a football, but at least we’re not actively trying to mess up each other’s lives.

  “Do you mind dropping me off in Beverly Hills?” I ask.

  Tailor nods. “No problem. Do you have a ride to the airport?”

  I hadn’t even thought about it. “I’ll call a cab.”

  “I’ll send over a driver,” Alexis says, nodding at me. “Nicer and more discreet.”

  When they stop in front of the house, Alexis gets out and pulls me into a hug. “Have fun,” she says.

  “I will.” And I think it might be true. I’m excited to be back in Portland, and even to see my sister. For the first time in a long time, I’m ready to go home.

  Whether home is ready for me, or even aware of me, is another story entirely. No one in my house would notice me if an anvil fell on my head. I swear. It’s like I’m invisible. Which, given the overexposure of the last few months, is totally fine by me. My sister and mom buzz around like they’re on every ounce of speed on the planet.

  Saturday morning there are two caterers, three servers, two handymen, six bridesmaids, my mother, and two of her friends all stuffed into our house. And everyone is in motion.

  The wedding is going to be in the backyard, and people are setting up chairs and erecting an arch where our swing set used to be—it’s made entirely of daisies, my sister’s favorite.

  Joanna sits in her room directing as one of her bridesmaids does her hair. My sister’s hair is more blond than red—but it still falls somewhere in between. Another friend is applying eye makeup. And they’re talking animatedly about the honeymoon. Joanna and Bill are going to Vancouver for four days without Annabelle—a first.

  Annabelle is downstairs with my mom, and I hear her chirping. She’s talking so much now, it’s crazy. Whole, complete sentences. There is a lot I’ve missed, being in L.A. Annabelle growing up is definitely one of the crappiest parts of not living in Portland anymore.

  “I can’t believe you’re getting married!” Joanna’s friend Aliyah squeals.

  I look at my sister. Her cheeks are rosy, and she’s smiling from ear to ear. She looks radiant—more beautiful than I have ever seen her before, and I feel close to her all of a sudden. It makes me remember a time before. Back when we were not just sisters but best friends. When she used to let me borrow her dolls and dress me up like I was one. She’d let me sleep in her bed, and tell me stories at night. Stories about princesses in faraway lands and evil queens and beautiful, fierce dragons. I think about her barking orders at Cassandra and me when we’d play tea party, just the three of us.

  I feel bad about the last conversation I had with Cassandra, and the creeping doubt I feel about that tabloid piece. It’s been enough that I haven’t returned half a dozen of her calls. She’ll be at the wedding. I still have no idea what I’m going to say to her, or even how much I can.

  Aliyah stands to admire her work. “You’re so hot,” she tells my sister.

  Joanna grabs a hand-mirror and smiles. “Good,” she says. She looks over at her dress. It’s hanging on the back of her bedroom door. An ivory lace affair that just sweeps the floor. “Will you help me get in it?” she asks.

  At first I don’t say anything, assuming she’s talking to Aliyah, but then I see her looking at me.

  “Me?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you.”

  “What about Mom?” I ask.

  Joanna huffs. “We have pictures in five minutes. Can you just do this one thing for your sister on her wedding day?” But she’s smiling at me, and I smile back.

  “I’d be honored,” I say.

  Aliyah and the rest of the girls file out of the room. It’s just my sister and me, and I try to remember the last time we were alone together, without Annabelle or our parents or brothers. It has been too long.

  I take the dress off the door and carefully unzip it. I hold it open, and Joanna steps in, placing one hand on my shoulder for support. She puts her arms through the sheer sleeves, and then I zip it up and lock the tiny satin buttons that run from the neck down to her lower back. She stands in front of the mirror, and I stand behind her.

  “Wow,” I say.

  The overall picture is stunning. Her hair is pulled up into a French twist, and small wisps fall around her face. Her makeup is soft—all browns and rose tones. And she’s wearing a string of pearls around her neck.

  Joanna turns away from the mirror, and then she does something surprising: She takes my hands in hers.

  “This is the most important day of my life,” she says. “And I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I’m really happy I’m here, too,” I say.<
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  She squeezes my hands and then drops them, turning back to the mirror. She grabs a lip gloss off the tray of makeup and starts dabbing at her lips. “And I’m really glad you let all that stupid press stuff go. Mom said you’re doing much better.”

  I’m trying to smooth out the blush on my cheeks in the snippet of mirror I can see. Aliyah did my makeup, too, and she got a little heavy-handed with the Summer Sunset.

  “It’s just a part of life now,” I say. “It’s not easy, but I’m trying not to let it dictate every one of my moods. Otherwise, I’d end up in an insane asylum.” I smile at her, relishing this moment of sisterhood, of togetherness.

  Joanna purses her lips in the mirror. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I’ve been wanting to come clean. You know the story was already leaked when I told them that stuff about Jake.”

  I drop my hand from my cheek. “What?”

  Joanna doesn’t turn around, but I can see her eyes shift in the mirror.

  “Joanna,” I say. “What exactly are you telling me?”

  Joanna huffs, and pivots, bustling up her dress. “Don’t get snooty with me,” she says. “Sorry we don’t all have millions at our disposal. Ten thousand dollars paid for your niece and me to move out of the house, you know.”

  “You took money from them? From the tabloids?” My voice feels small in my ears. All I can hear is the blood pounding. “It was you. You sold me out.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Joanna snaps, turning back to the mirror. She pops off the lipstick top. I have the intense desire to grab it out of her hand and smear it all over her white dress. “They already had those photos. I didn’t see what the big deal was.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” I say. “You never do. You still have no idea that your actions have consequences.”

  “Don’t talk to me about consequences,” Joanna says. “You don’t know the first thing about responsibility.” She turns to me. I want to slap her, or scream, but my hands and face feel frozen.