by Jen Calonita
It’s still mind-boggling to me that we’re even on the air already when it’s only November. When I got back from New York in August and officially signed on, we were slated to be a mid-season replacement show. We quickly shot the pilot, and execs loved it so much they aired it straight away, right after, believe it or not, an episode of Dancing with the Stars. (As much as it kills me, that confounded show is popular! I’m still never doing it.) Networks have found doing a special VERY early “sneak peek” of an upcoming show can bring in big buzz, which is exactly what happened when they aired our pilot for the first time. Our ratings were through the roof, we got a fast-tracked November premiere date, and suddenly everyone wants in on SF, as Sky and I have started to call it (it’s our own personal ode to FA).
“We’re going to set up the scene you’re going to see today, and then we’ll do interviews,” Amy tells the reporters. “We’ll break for a half hour first to set up. See you in a few!” I use the time to run back to my new dressing room and dial Laney and Seth. My phone is already ringing when I get there.
“You heard the news, right?” It’s Seth, my agent, and he’s practically crying. “I told you this was a winner! Didn’t I say this was the one? Your mom was happy, of course, but you know her. She couldn’t come out and actually thank me for pushing TV again. She was too busy asking whether you will get a raise.” Seth laughs. “Let’s survive the next few weeks first, shall we?”
“Absolutely.” I take a swig of the sparkling water I left on my dresser earlier. I also grab a few Sour Patch Watermelons. It is so nice having a craft services cart in my life again!
“KEVIN! Line two is ringing!” I hear Seth yell to his assistant. “Sorry, shining star. I’ll see you Sunday night for dinner. I know you have that cover to shoot for Entertainment Weekly, so don’t worry about the time. I’m sure I can persuade the kitchen at the Polo Lounge to stay open late if I have to.”
Laney is beeping in, but someone is knocking at my door, so I let her call go to voicemail (she hates when I’m talking to two people at once even though she does it all the time). The knocker must be Nadine. She had some errands to run for me off the lot. Before I can reach the door, it flies open.
“We just got a full-season pickup!” my younger brother, Matty, screeches. He’s in costume and covered in fake blood. “They just ordered the back thirteen episodes!”
I jump up and hug him lightly to avoid staining my own costume with red dye number thirteen. “That’s awesome! Are you really surprised? You guys have been killing the competition.”
“Yeah, well, you know.” Matty shrugs slightly and, seeing my Sour Patch Watermelons, takes a bunch. “You never know. Anything could have happened.”
See? All actors are superstitious. It’s not just me.
“I wanted to watch you this afternoon, but I’m sort of in the middle of a pretty big battle,” Matty says and points to his attire. He looks so terrifying that if I didn’t know it was him, I would probably scream. His honey blond hair is matted in blood, his face is dripping red goo, and he’s got a fat upper lip. His shirt is torn and his jeans are shredded at the knees, like he’s been attacked by a werewolf (which he may well have been). But his green eyes are sparkling.
“Looks pretty bloody. I hope you’re winning. Aren’t you exhausted? You’ve been on set all day.”
“Not really.” Matty perches himself on a high stool in front of my mirror. “I had math and science this morning, lunch in the cafeteria with you, and then history and English. I only started taping an hour ago. If I get done around seven and you’re still here, I’ll stop by.”
“You can watch me another time. I want you to go home and get some sleep.” I don’t care what Matty says, he looks tired.
“Stop worrying about me.” Matty reads my thoughts. “I’m fine. I’m having a great time! I know you worked too hard at my age, but I promise I’ll learn from your mistakes, and I won’t overdo it. Is that what you want to hear?” He grins a smile that will someday soon make girls faint.
“I know I’m overprotective, but I don’t want you burned out.”
“I’m not,” Matty insists. He looks wistfully at the couch, but I know he doesn’t want to stain it with fake blood. “Let’s talk about something else. I heard you guys pummeled Megan. Nice.”
“It’s a good start.” I play with the chunky, gold Michael Kors watch I’m wearing. “We’ll see what happens.”
“Mom was on the phone with Laney earlier,” Matty tells me, swiping some more Sour Patch. Mom has been dividing her time between Matty’s set and mine. Thankfully we’re on the same lot, but the way she trots back and forth we keep joking she’s going to have to give up her stilettos and start wearing sneakers. (“Over my dead body!” Mom declared.) “They’ve got you booked on everything on the West Coast they could squeeze in next week.”
“I can’t believe I’m in such high demand all of a sudden. It’s kind of nice.” I sink back into the couch. This thing could really use some throw pillows. I’ve been putting off adding a personal touch to my dressing room (superstitions!), but hearing that news makes me feel more at home. Heck, I’m going to buy pillows and an area rug too. If we get cancelled, I’ll find a place for them in my bedroom.
There is another knock at my door, and my costar Kayla peeks her head in, her blond hair falling around her face. “Hey, Kaitlin. I was just running down to crafty before we start. Want to join me?”
A new show feels a lot like a new school year. Well, if I went to an actual school. Even though I want to hang with Matty, I feel like I should join Kayla and get to know her better. “Sure.” I glance at Matty. “Kayla, this is my brother. I don’t know if you two have met.”
“Hi there,” Matty says in a voice much deeper than his own. He shakes Kayla’s hand, and if I didn’t know any better, I would think she’s blushing. Isn’t she sixteen? She’s a little older than Matty. “I’ve seen your work the past few weeks. You’re really good.”
I almost gag on the last Sour Patch Watermelon I swiped when Matty wasn’t looking. Kayla is not good. She’s good-looking and very sweet, but she’s no Meryl Streep.
Kayla plays with her hair thoughtfully. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from a star like you.”
“Star? Nah.” Matty seems flustered. “Well, maybe. But I’m new too, you know. I’ve been in your shoes so I get where you’re coming from. Listen, if you ever need some advice…”
Oh brother…
“I’d love some advice!” Kayla says with glee and beams at me. “Your brother is awesome, Kaitlin.”
“Awesome doesn’t begin to describe him,” I say wryly and give him a look. He pretends to be looking at my dressing room’s dull, white ceiling.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kayla says to someone we can’t see, and I hear a muffled voice. “Yeah, she’s right in here.” The door opens further, and there is the best delivery I could ever get: My boyfriend, Austin Meyers, is standing in the doorway holding a small bouquet of daisies.
“What are you doing here?” I gasp, jumping up and practically leaping into his arms.
“I got out early, so I thought you’d like some company.” He smiles and stares down at me with his incredible blue eyes.
I can’t help but grin. Austin has one of those faces that just sticks with you, and it’s not just because his eyes suck you in or because he has great hair. (It really is great. His bangs are long and his hair skims the bottom of his ears.) His face is practically hand-carved and tan, and then when your eyes trail down to the rest of him, you can’t help feeling all gooey. He gives being fit new meaning, thanks to daily lacrosse practice even during off season, and I love his muscular arms. He’s a great dresser too. Today he’s in a navy, long-sleeve, Abercrombie tee and dark denim jeans with low, brown Diesel shoes that I got him at a gift suite.
“I know we have a date later, but I figured we’d start early,” he says, handing me the flowers.
“Sounds good to me,” I agree and kiss him.
We had a rocky summer apart—I was in New York and he was at a lacrosse camp in Texas—but ever since we’ve both been back in Los Angeles, it’s been bliss. Well, bliss on a much tighter schedule. My new show has required some seventeen-hour days, which doesn’t give me a lot of time for date nights, but Austin has been incredibly understanding. He’s always doing romantic things like popping by the set.
Austin sits down on the couch and grins at Matt. “Nice outfit.”
“Thanks, man,” Matty says, standing up and puffing out his chest, which you can sort of see through his ripped, blood-soaked shirt. I’m not sure if the effect is for Austin, who Matty is always trying to impress, or for Kayla. “Just keeping it real.”
I look at Kayla and realize we’ve kept her waiting. We probably have to be back on set in five minutes. “Kayla, I’m so sorry! You remember my boyfriend, Austin, right?” The two quickly say hi. “I didn’t mean to keep you from crafty,” I apologize. “Go without me. Can we go together some other time?”
“Definitely,” Kayla says. She looks at Matty. “Do you want to go with me, maybe, before you go back to Scooby?”
“Sure,” Matty says a little too eagerly. He clears his throat. “It’s not like they can start without me, right? I guess I can take ten more minutes.” Matty looks at me. “Kates, have a great taping. A, I’ll catch you later. I’m heading from the set to the gym.” He puffs out his chest again and sneaks a glance at Kayla. “I’m really bulking up for this role.”
“I see that,” Austin says, and I think I see the corners of his mouth twitch.
I resist the urge to giggle till Matty has led Kayla down the hall. “You may have to help me bring Matty down a peg,” I tell Austin as I close the door behind them and snuggle up next to my boyfriend on the uncomfortable couch. “Can you imagine how inflated his ego will be by the time his show finishes taping in March? We won’t be able to fit him through the studio gates.”
Austin chuckles. “It’s not so bad yet. He was trying to impress a girl.”
“True, but if he starts giving me or Kayla acting or workout tips, I’m staging an intervention.” On the other hand, it is nice to see Matty so confident. He seems really happy.
Austin grins as he plays with my hands. “Deal.” He looks around the bare room. I never realized how bad the lighting was in here. “We have to do something about this space of yours.”
My new dressing room is nothing much to look at—yet. It’s standard; lots of mirrors, a couch, bad art on the wall, a lounge chair, blah beige walls. I did pin up a promo poster they made for Small Fries. It’s supposed to look like a fast-food ad. The cast is in knockoff McDonald’s uniforms and the tagline reads: “Supersize your Thursdays. Get (Small ) Fries!” It’s pretty cute. But that’s my only personal touch so far. Sky started redoing her dressing room immediately. She painted her walls hot pink and bought a faux zebra rug, but if we’re only here a few weeks, I don’t want to get too attached. Still… I look over at the tiny paint swatches I’ve taped to the rear wall where no one can really see them. If things go well, I am so painting this room a warm, buttery yellow.
“Maybe we should paint and get you some posters?” Austin suggests. “From what I just heard out in the hall, it sounds like you’re going to be here awhile.”
“Can you believe it?” I squeak. “We beat Megan! Megan!” Sky is right. That is amazing!
“My mom said Small Fries is on this week’s TV Guide cover and the article said you were the show to watch,” Austin marvels, throwing his arm around me. “You guys have hit written all over you, Burke.”
I bite my lip. “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s overwhelming, but in a good way.” I play with Austin’s hair. “I feel really lucky.”
“You are, but you also earned it,” he reminds me. “I’m so proud of you, Burke. Everyone at school was talking about the show today. Principal P. even mentioned it during morning announcements.”
Austin’s principal and I go way back. She was a major FA fan.
“I really like it here, Austin,” I admit. “The cast seems great, Amy has a cool vision for the show’s first season, and it feels right doing TV again. I know I’ve been logging a lot of hours,” I feel the need to add, “but once the show gets off the ground we’ll be able to hang out somewhere other than my dressing room. At least you’ve had college applications to keep you busy.” Austin and my best friend, Liz, are in full-on college mode, a thought I try to block out since both seem determined to go to places as far from the Pacific Ocean as possible. I have to be supportive, as much as I wish they’d stay close to home. And to me. “How’s that going, by the way?” I ask.
“Good,” Austin says easily. “My English lit teacher read over my Boston College essay and she really liked it. Did you look at any of the applications that Nadine pulled for you yet?”
“No,” I admit, feeling ashamed. “But I will.”
“It’s your call, Burke,” Austin says and leans his head back against the cinder block wall. “You don’t have to do the college thing if you don’t want to. You do have a pretty good thing going right here.”
“I know, but…”
This is the one area of my life that I don’t have an answer for yet. Go to college or forget it? I’m so torn. Sometimes I wish I could split myself in two. I’d be Kaitlin the actress and Kaitlin the regular girl. Then I wouldn’t have to make a choice.
“Don’t worry about this tonight.” Austin reads my mind as a P.A. knocks on my door and announces I need to be on set in ten minutes. “For now, let’s figure out when we’re going to have a dinner that isn’t catered by crafty.”
I love that Austin is using Hollywood terms now, like crafty for craft services. I grab my iPhone and scroll through the calendar. Nadine found this great application that syncs our calendars, so mine is always up to date. I start scrolling through the next seven days. “Saturday we have that Turkey Tasters thing,” I remind him.
“What are we doing again? Cooking turkeys?” Austin looks confused.
“We’re making turkey care packages for Turkey Tasters,” I explain.
“Why do turkeys need care packages?”
I give him a look. “They don’t. They’re care packages sponsored by Turkey Tasters, with turkey items inside, I guess. Mom says I need to do more charity work, so she signed us all up, including Sky and Liz. Hopefully we can go out after.” I look at the next few days’ schedule. “I told Mom you and I were way overdue for a proper date night, so she should leave some nights free next week, and she said she would. I know I’m free Tuesday night and Wednesday and…HEY. ”
“What?” Austin sounds surprised at my tone.
“Every night next week is booked up with interviews or meetings!” I say indignantly. “Nadine even has a note next to each event that says ‘booked by your mom.’ ” I guess she knew I’d be mad. I can’t believe Mom did that to me. Okay, I can believe it, but I can’t. Grr…
“Breathe,” Austin says soothingly and strokes my arm. I take a deep breath and place Austin’s hands in mine, tracing a heart on his calloused palm (too much time cradling a lacrosse stick).
“I just want more time with you.” I sigh.
“You have time with me,” Austin says softly. “Only it feels like we’re on house arrest or Big Brother.” I giggle. “But it’s okay, Burke. Like I said before, I just want you to be happy, and I know this show does that for you. You know what makes me happy?”
“What?” I whisper, even though I think I know the answer.
“Being with you.” He kisses me again.
I really do have the best boyfriend.
“FIVE MINUTES TILL TAPING.” I hear the P.A. loud and clear.
“Maybe I can beg for ten,” I murmur between kisses.
“We’ll deal with five,” Austin says, super supportive as always.
And then we go back to kissing.
Friday, November 6
NOTE TO SELF:
Saturday: Tu
rkey Tasters event/go out with A
Sunday: EW shoot followed by dinner w/Seth/Laney/rents
Talk 2 Mom re: next week sched. Need date w/A!
Driving test: FIVE weeks away!
THREE: This Party Is a Real Turkey
My Small Fries costar Brendan scoots past me on his brand-new (free) skateboard before he veers out of control and nearly careens into the giant tower of canned cranberries that are set up in the Turkey Tasters Feed the Homeless Photo Lounge. Two Turkey Tasters workers, who are dressed in green aprons with pictures of the cartoon Tom Turkey Taster on them, run for cover as a photographer snaps pictures of the impending disaster.
Brendan thankfully stops himself inches from the towering processed Thanksgiving favorite, but the shutterbug continues to snap away. “Who put these cans here?” Brendan demands more for the sake of his wounded ego than the almost ruined display. “I could have dropped one of these babies on my head and wound up with a real shiner. I have a taping tomorrow!”
Three Tasters employees rush over to make sure there isn’t a scratch on widdle Brendan’s chinny chin chin (hee hee) while two more Turkey Tasters sponsors give Brendan more freebies to soothe the only thing he did bruise—his ego. One hands him the latest iPad while the other offers the newest edition of Rock Band, both of which he practically salivates over. The event photographer snaps a photo of him holding his loot.
“Your costar is a total tool,” my best friend, Liz, says under her breath. “This is a charity event, not a gift suite! And yet, here we are, packing food for the needy while someone tries to photograph us wearing the latest ‘it’ jacket. Why are they giving us iPads and coats? How is that related to giving thanks?” Liz asks, getting fired up. I notice one of the Tasters people staring at us, and I give a little wave. “They should be spending all their time and money on the people that really need it, not pampering the likes of him.”