by Jen Calonita
Okay, I’m getting carried away.
“You know I’m always up for a joint study session,” he teases. He takes my hand and pulls me up from the booth. “But for now, let’s forget about college applications. You, my friend, need a break, from work, from your mom, possibly from life. We just have to figure out how to get you there, Burke. And we will.”
Austin looks at the dance floor. Taylor’s over and everyone is suddenly grooving to the Black Eyed Peas with Antonio, A Slice of Heaven’s owner. Sky is bumping butts with Antonio, which is a sight I thought I’d never see. I should so video her with my iPhone and put it up on YouTube. (But I won’t.) Josh is twirling Liz around, and she’s laughing so hard I’m afraid Sprite might shoot out of her nose. Trevor is singing at the top of his lungs and doing some weird version of ‘the robot’ that would get him kicked out of the American Idol auditions room. I start to laugh—hard. It feels good.
“What do you say we dance off some of your frustration?” Austin asks, swinging my hand. He winks. “A dance-off ?”
I smile. “You’re on.”
Saturday, November 7
NOTE TO SELF:
Read both scripts by Monday and make decision.
Pick one script.
Which script????
SEVEN: How Quickly Things Unravel
I’m having the best dream. It’s my birthday and I’m wearing this incredible lilac Marchesa gown. Austin is dressed like Prince Charming and is twirling me around the dance floor like I’m Belle in Beauty and the Beast. We’re inside Sleeping Beauty’s castle at Disneyland, I think (the real one is nowhere near this big), and the room is packed with people watching us adoringly. Mickey and Minnie are here, and Matty, Dad, and look! There are my former hair and makeup artists Paul and Shelly. I really must convince them to leave their new TV show and join me on Small Fries. Liz and Sky are here, along with some of my acting friends like my CW buddy, Gina. Aww… there’s that cute baby I held for a photo last weekend at the farmers market. Can’t believe she’s here too. This is all so beautiful.…
Is someone yelling?
“Meg, you can’t do this without talking to her first. She’s going to be furious and she has every right to be!”
“She’ll be fine once I explain, Nadine! I know what’s best for her!”
I stop dancing and bite my lower lip. My mom is standing on the edge of the dance floor dressed like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz, and she’s arguing with Nadine, who is dressed like Glinda. Maybe we’re supposed to be at a costume party.
“Why do you keep doing things like this to her?” Nadine is asking. “If you knew your daughter—not your client—you’d know she doesn’t want press today!”
Eek. This conversation doesn’t sound dreamlike. I could totally see Nadine saying something like this to Mom.
“She wants balance!” Nadine adds. “You know that, and yet you continue to make her do every little press opportunity that comes her way. She’s too big to do a Turkey Tasters bingo night! Matty is the one who should be doing those things.”
God. I can’t even have a princess dream without the Turkey Tasters invading?
“Oh, so now you’re telling me what’s right for Matty to do too?” Mom practically spits. “You’re Kaitlin Burke’s assistant and just Kaitlin Burke’s assistant.”
I wince at the way Mom says the word assistant. Nadine hates when Mom belittles her role in my career. I look at Austin, but he’s disappeared. I try to go over to Mom and Nadine to beg them to stop, but I can’t move that far. It’s like I’m in a glass bubble, and I can’t stop what’s happening right in front of me.
“I don’t like your growing attitude,” Mom continues, sounding shrill. “You better watch yourself or—”
Uh-oh. Oh no. Mom, don’t say it. Don’t say it! Not even in a dream! You cannot take Nadine from me!
“It’s my birthday, remember?” I yell. But in my dream my voice is warbled and it barely comes out, like I’m talking through marshmallows. “We should be celebrating!”
“Or what?” Nadine pokes Mom with her wand. “You’ll fire me? Well, guess what?”
NOOOOOOOOOOO!
I jump up and look around the darkened room. I glance at the clock. It’s eight AM. I reach for my iPhone on my distressed white bedside table and check the date: December 11. It really is my birthday. Everything else was just a dream. Thank God. I’m in bed, in my Paul Frank pirate monkey flannel PJs and snuggled in my six-hundred-thread-count duvet. I’m supposed to meet everyone for breakfast at nine thirty before my driving test at one PM.
“I can too fire you! I’m in charge around here. ME! I’m the one who makes the decisions!”
Oh God. Why do I still hear yelling? I’m awake, aren’t I? I pinch myself. OW! I’m awake.
“Kaitlin can make her own decisions! She’s eighteen now, and if you keep being a dictator she is going to resent you. You’re too rash, Meg. You’re overworking everyone, including yourself. Now if you’d just let me help…”
That’s Nadine talking. I look around. No one is in my room but me.
“Help? I don’t need help! Why does everyone think I can’t handle more than one client? I mean, both my children?”
Oh. My. God. That conversation I heard in my dream must really be going on! I look at the door. I think they’re downstairs, but they’re screaming so loud you’d think they were lying in bed with me. I better get down there. I’ve never heard Mom and Nadine brawl like this before.
Nadine gets a little quieter, but I can still hear her raised voice. “I’m not saying you can’t handle it. I’m just saying it’s a lot of work. It’s okay to admit that.”
“I want you to leave, Nadine! NOW!”
Oh God. I throw back my duvet and run straight for my bedroom door, throwing it open, knocking down a blurry-eyed Matty as he comes out of his room, past Dad, who is in the exercise room with his earphones on, missing the whole thing, and down the stairs to the kitchen. I make it to the landing just in time to hear Mom say: “Don’t come back!”
“HI!” I yell cheerfully, even though my heart is pounding. “Happy birthday to me! It’s my birthday!”
I know I sound ridiculous, but maybe if I remind them what today is they’ll forget what they were fighting about. Except, they don’t look like they’re going to forget. If anything, they look madder than I’ve ever seen them. Mom and Nadine are standing at opposite ends of the kitchen island like they’re boxers waiting in their corners. Mom is fully dressed at eight AM in a patterned silk blouse and dark denim skinny jeans with high boots. Nadine looks like she’s just rolled out of bed. Her frizzy red hair is pulled back in a small ponytail, and she’s thrown on the blue-and-white-striped American Eagle scoop-neck sweater she wore yesterday with baggy jeans. Neither takes her eyes off the other to look at me.
“Guys?” I try again, starting to feel weak. “Please? Don’t fight. It’s my birthday.”
“I’m sorry, Kaitlin, but your mom is out of line,” Nadine says, turning to look at me. Her eyes are red. “I did seventy getting over here after I read her e-mail this morning. I just don’t think it’s right. Not everything you do needs to be on a press release. This definitely shouldn’t involve paparazzi! We had enough trouble with them the last time!”
I stop Nadine. “Slow down. I haven’t checked my e-mail yet. What’s going on?”
When Mom glares stonily at my assistant rather than answering me, Nadine sighs. “Media outlets have been invited to your driving test, Kates. I’m so sorry.”
“The paparazzi are coming to the DMV with me?” I look at Mom in alarm and her face confirms my worst fears.
“Sweetie, Nadine is overreacting.” Mom hurries around the island and makes her way across the expansive kitchen toward me. She barely misses one of the heavy kitchen table wooden chairs as she rushes to look me in the eyes. “I just invited a few people, and certainly not paparazzi, only seasoned Hollywood journalists and photographers.” She puts her fingers over m
y lips to keep me from protesting. “Celebrity Insider, Hollywood Nation, and Sure. They’ve all been so good to you, honey, how could I say no?” Nadine laughs bitterly and Mom gives her a dirty look. “They’ve promised you won’t even know they’re there.”
“Mom, I’m nervous enough as it is,” I try telling her. “I don’t want to have to be ‘on’ the whole time just to look good on TV. ”
“Fine! Forget it!” Mom booms, and I jump.
I hear footsteps and see Dad and Matty. Matty is wearing a Playboy bathrobe that he got as a gift when Mom and Dad wouldn’t let him go to what would have been his first party at the Playboy Mansion. Dad is in a white Nike tee and slightly too tight gray sweatpants. They both look as confused as I am.
“I thought you appreciated all my hard work, Kaitlin, but I guess I was wrong,” Mom rants. “I try to make you and your brother the best you can be!”
“You can book Celeb Insider for me, Mom,” Matt pipes up. “I’ll let them watch me take my driving test.”
“You can’t take one yet,” I remind Matty, feeling my blood begin to boil. How dare Mom make me feel like this is my fault?
“EVERYONE JUST STOP!”
Uh-oh.
Laney struts into our kitchen at full speed, throwing her oversized Gucci bag on the granite countertop and tossing her keys so that they slide across the island and stop in front of Nadine. Laney is wearing—gasp—workout clothes! A pink tank top and fitted black spandex pants. I didn’t even know she owned sweats. Her long sandy hair is in a—double gasp—ponytail. Oh man, she must be mad if she showed up looking like this.
I see Seth walk in behind her. If the whole situation wasn’t so upsetting, I would actually laugh. Seth is in sweats too, navy ones, and a gray muscle tee. This is the first time I’ve seen his hair without product in years. His sunglasses are missing too.
“I cannot believe you did this, Meg,” Seth growls. “Kaitlin is getting Oscar-worthy offers, and you dumb down her appeal by letting Celeb Insider tape her driving test? What were you thinking?”
“I don’t have to answer to you, Seth,” Mom says coolly. “What are you two doing here anyway? Kaitlin Burke, did you call them?”
“I did,” Nadine interjects, folding her arms across her chest. “Meg, this has got to stop. You’re going to damage Kaitlin’s career, and just when it’s doing so well.”
“You invited the press to our daughter’s driving test?” Dad asks, scratching his head.
“Yes.” Mom doesn’t sound the least bit contrite. “Turkey Tasters is sponsoring the segment on Celeb Insider, and then I was talking to Hollywood Nation, and they wanted in too, so I gave them exclusive print rights and—”
“I take back what I said before,” Matty butts in again. “This sounds tacky.”
“I’m with Matty,” I tell Mom, even though I feel guilty that we’re all ganging up on her. “I don’t want an audience. Call them and tell them we changed our minds.”
“It’s too late for that. They’re already at the DMV setting up,” Mom tells me.
I’ve had it. What has this got to do with her? It’s my driving test! “I won’t show up, then,” I tell her, my anger rising. Mom looks shocked.
“Enough is enough, Meg,” Laney says firmly. “I usually agree with you on the press front, but booking something behind my back is even tackier than the time Tom and Katie bought me horoscope-sign bath towels.” She shudders. “It just should not be done. Neither should this. I won’t allow Kaitlin to show up at the DMV if the media are there.”
“I’m with Laney,” Seth agrees. “If Kaitlin doesn’t pass her test today and the entire world is watching, it will be humiliating. This isn’t the type of press we should be looking for when she’s about to shoot a Jim project.”
“And Eastwood!” Mom adds.
“Mom.” I exhale slowly to avoid screaming my head off. “I told you, I changed my mind. I am not doing both movies if I have to do them over hiatus. It’s too much.”
“It’s not!” Mom insists, sounding wild. Who is this woman? My mom may be rash, but she’s not usually this insane.
Seth looks at Nadine and Laney. “Meg, listen, this is the sort of thing we’re talking about. You have too much on your plate. Maybe that’s why you’re not thinking clearly. We’ve talked and we all think you should temporarily step down as Kaitlin’s manager.”
“WHAT?” Dad, Matty, Mom, and I say at the same time.
Why does this idea secretly excite me?
“Just temporarily,” Laney stresses. “We weren’t planning on discussing this now, but you’ve left us no choice. We will handle Kaitlin and run everything by you. You can concentrate on Matty’s career and when things calm down we can reevaluate.”
“It’s for the best, Meg,” Nadine says softly. “We have to protect Kaitlin.”
Mom starts pacing, her knee-high black Gucci stiletto boots clacking on the ceramic tiles, but she doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure if this is a good or bad sign.
Suddenly my anger wanes and all I feel is sad. I’m yelling at my mom, she’s yelling at me… this is not what I want. I wish we had a normal mother-daughter relationship. Now, more than ever, I could use my mother’s—not my manager’s—advice.
I’ve auditioned for Jim (he said I could call him Jim!) Cameron and I’m thisclose to signing on to spend my hiatus at an airport hanger that has been transformed into another planet! Jim seems incredible and I couldn’t be more excited to do this. I auditioned for Clint Eastwood too, but his movie doesn’t have a start date, so for now we’re in a holding pattern on that one. Seth and I really think I should say no if the Eastwood movie shoots during hiatus. I think that’s what I should do. Just like I think I should fill out that USC application and try to do that essay I keep trying to write. But I’m still so unsure about college. See? This is why I need my mom! And I haven’t had time with my mom in a very long time.
“Meg? Sweetie?” Dad’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Did you hear what Laney and Seth said? I think it’s a wise idea.”
“Sometimes the press you get Kaitlin puts her in danger of violating her morals clause,” Laney explains delicately, tapping her long, red fingernails on the countertop. “Yes, it’s just a driving test, but if Kaitlin is drinking an unknown beverage while driving and hits the gas instead of the brake and nips a pedestrian, the last thing we want is for Celebrity Insider to be there to capture the whole thing on film. Do we really want to have to issue another statement about Kaitlin’s beverage choices? Why get people in a tizzy in the first place? Let Kaitlin keep her Sprite and ditch the tabloids, and we’re all happy.”
HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER SEVEN: I really do have a morals clause in my contract, just like most young stars my age. It sounds old school, I know, but even Hollywood needs a system to keep their stars in line. For some celebs it’s written in broad terms, like don’t get a felony rap sheet while you’re being paid on the network’s dime. For others, like my friends who work for tween-friendly companies, it can be more specific, like no underage drinking or nude photos showing up on the Web. I’m not even sure what’s in my morals clause for Small Fries. All I know is that I never want to do anything bad enough for them to bring it up. The days of partying, shopping in excess, and hanging with the wrong crowd are long behind me.
“I will not be drinking anything while I’m taking my driving test,” I clarify, “but the last thing I want is to get in trouble, morals clause–worthy or otherwise, with Small Fries,” I say, rubbing my temples. “I think you should listen to everyone, Mom.”
Mom stops pacing and her face is eerily calm. “You think I should step down?”
“Just temporarily.” Laney nods, her blond ponytail swishing back and forth.
“You three, who I hired, think I should step down?” Mom repeats, her voice rising. “Maybe you are the ones who should step down.”
Uh-oh.
Everyone starts talking at once, pointing fingers, and their voices escalate so lo
ud I think the windows are going to blow out. I can only make out snippets of conversation, but suddenly I hear singing. Anita, our housekeeper, squeezes her round frame through the group, and I see she’s carrying a homemade cupcake with a burning candle on top. She’s singing “Happy Birthday” to me in Spanish. I think I might cry. At least someone remembered. Matty nudges Laney, who nudges Nadine and Dad and Seth, and everyone joins in (in English). When Anita stops in front of me, I blow out the candle. Peace at Casa Burke seems like a good wish.
“Happy birthday, pumpkin,” Dad says. “I’m sorry your day had to start like this.”
“I am not stepping down!” Instead of wishing me many more, Mom launches into her tirade again. “I’m sick of everyone attacking me. I’m doing the best I can. I have two careers to manage and no time for myself. None for my charity work. No time to even play tennis with Victoria.”
Suddenly she breaks down crying, and I think it’s for real. I can’t remember the last time I saw my mother cry.
I’m too stunned to speak. Matty and I look at each other. I’m so busy being annoyed that Mom’s overworking me and ignoring our relationship that I haven’t stopped to think about what the toll must be on her. “I’m sorry, Mom.” I touch her shoulder.
“You’re sorry?” Nadine explodes. “She did this to herself ! She controls what you eat, criticizes what you wear, and comes up with crazy ideas like that ‘Paparazzi Princess’ song. You are not the one who should be sorry!”
Well, when you put things that way…
“Meg, I think what Nadine is trying to say—and not too well, I might add—is that you need to back off a bit,” Seth says more diplomatically and gives Nadine a stern look, managing to take authority even in his old gym clothes. “Think of this as a vacation. Just concentrate on Matty. He has so much going on, and he could really use your years of, um, expertise.”