L. A. Candy (6 page)

Jane glanced around the waiting room and wondered how much longer it would be. It was so quiet, she could hear the ticking of the clock on the otherwise bare, white wall as it hit 6:45. She wondered what kinds of things they would ask her. And how long would the interview take? Also, if they were trying to make a savvy show about L.A., why would they be interested in someone like her? She knew nothing about L.A.

She was a little troubled by the fact that the waiting room was so—
ordinary.
Shouldn’t a TV producer’s waiting room be chic? With lots of glass and chrome and expensive art? Like Fiona Chen’s office but louder. She leaned over to Scarlett, who was sitting next to her on one of the uncomfortable beige chairs. “His assistant said six thirty, right?” she whispered.

“Relax. When did you start caring about punctuality?
You’re like half an hour late for everything,” Scarlett reminded her.

“I’m really nervous. I’m a little scared to go in there,” Jane admitted.

“Hey.
You’re
the one who talked
me
into coming here. You were the one who was all excited about meeting with that guy,” Scarlett said.

That guy.
Jane reached into her pocket and fingered the business card he had given them at Les Deux. “Trevor Lord, producer, PopTV,” it read. She and Scarlett had Googled his name right when they got home that night. He hadn’t been lying. He was
the
Trevor Lord, TV producer, the creator of hit reality shows
The Beach
and
American Adventure.
He was kind of a big deal. Jane had read about how some of his recent shows had flopped. Was this new show going to be his comeback?

Scarlett had insisted that Jane do a Google Image search to make sure the person they’d met wasn’t just
pretending
to be Trevor Lord using fake business cards from Staples. He wasn’t. Trevor Lord—
the
Trevor Lord—had really and truly come up to them and asked them if they were interested in being considered for his new show. It was surreal. Things like that just didn’t happen. Jane had never really loved being the center of attention, and with Scarlett as her best friend, she never had to be. But she had engaged in more than a couple daydreams at work—as she took notes for Fiona, while she brainstormed Sweet Sixteen party ideas with the infamous Marley twins—imagining what
it would be like to be on TV. They hadn’t agreed to call his office until Wednesday night—they did it together, when Jane got home from work—and were surprised when the girl seemed so eager to bring them in. She’d asked if they could come the next day. The thought had entered her mind that maybe she was only there because they wanted Scarlett on the show. She and Scar had, over their years of friendship, slowly become a two-for-one deal. If you wanted one of them, you usually got the other as well.

Jane had spent her entire lunch break on the phone with Braden on Wednesday while she went back and forth about whether or not to go for the interview. She was worried about even bringing it up with him, because he was so anti-Hollywood, but in the end, he had given her lots of good advice that had helped her decide to make the call to Trevor (like pointing out that being on the show could help her learn about good clubs in L.A., which would come in handy for her life as a party planner). Honestly, she didn’t care what Scar thought of Braden (i.e., “guy-with-girlfriend on the prowl”). Attached or not attached, he was turning out to be an awesome friend.

Jane’s parents had reacted with excitement plus a healthy dose of concern. “You’re in L.A. for less than a month and you’re going to be a TV star!” her mother had practically screamed over the phone. “Wait till I tell your sisters and your grandparents and Aunt Susan—”

“Mom, calm down. I’m not gonna be a TV star!”

“You’re going to be a TV star!”

Jane laughed. “Okay, Mom, whatever you say.” She had told her parents the whole story, except she’d said they were at a restaurant not a club.

“Honey, this is great, but what’s the catch?” her father had piped in.

“Catch? What do you mean, catch?”

“Do you have to sign anything? Because if you do I want to run it by my lawyer first.”

“Dad, it’s just an
interview.
” Of course, she had promised she wouldn’t sign anything without consulting him because that was the only way she could get him off the phone. But as she sat in the waiting room she was happy to know her dad was looking out for her.

A door opened, and a girl dressed in jeans and a
FREE TIBET
tee appeared. “Jane?”

Jane glanced up at her.

“They’ll see you first.”

She rose to her feet and gave Scarlett a quick, nervous squeeze on the arm. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ll be fine, Janie,” Scarlett assured her friend. She turned to the girl. “Who’s ‘they’? I thought we were just going to talk to Trevor.”

“Sorry, they don’t really tell me anything,” the girl apologized.

Jane waved to Scarlett, then followed the girl down a hallway. “Have you been working here long?” she asked,
trying to distract herself from her own thoughts with polite conversation.

“Like three weeks,” the girl said.

“So is this, like, the main PopTV office?”

“No, this is one of the production spaces they rent.” The girl stopped in front of another door and indicated for Jane to go in. “Right in here.”

“Thanks!”

Jane entered, barely noticing the door close behind her, and found herself in an almost claustrophobically small room. It had the same dingy white walls and faded blue carpet as the waiting room. The only furniture was a single gray folding chair lined up neatly against one of the walls.

About five feet in front of the chair were a large camera on a tripod and a tall, industrial-looking light. Jane frowned at the equipment. What was it doing here? She turned to ask the girl, but she was already gone.

Then the door opened again, and a heavyset guy bustled in carrying a small black pack of some sort. The pack had an On/Off switch and a green light on top and a long black wire that ended at a tiny round ball extended from the bottom of it.

“Okay if I put this on you?” the guy asked Jane.

“What is it?”

The guy looked amused. “Microphone.”

“Oh…I guess so. Sure.”

“Great. Have a seat.”

Jane sat down in the folding chair, which felt cold and hard against her bare legs. The guy handed her the wire and a piece of tape. “Run this wire down your shirt for me, okay?” he instructed. “And tape the mike to yourself, like right about here.” He pointed to his chest, just about where her two bra cups would meet.

“Uh…okay.”

The tiny round mike felt weird against her chest. Was it going to pick up the sound of her heart beating a million miles a minute? She was already nervous. The camera and impossibly small space weren’t helping.
Relax,
she told herself.

The guy put on a headset and picked up a pack of equipment. He asked her to count to ten and began twisting knobs and flipping switches. Then the door opened again, and two men and a woman entered. One of the guys didn’t even look at her as he went over to the camera and started pushing various buttons. The other two smiled pleasantly at Jane and took their positions on either side of the camera guy. They were both carrying notebooks and pens.

“Hi, Jane,” the woman said. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties. Her thin brown hair hung just below her shoulders. She was wearing a blue striped button-down shirt over faded jeans and wore silver framed glasses over her tired eyes. “I’m Dana, I’m one of the producers of the pilot. And this is Wendell. He’ll be helping out with casting.”

Wendell had short, messy blond hair and wide brown
eyes and was probably at least a few years younger than Dana. He wore a navy T-shirt and cords. He didn’t look like a Wendell.

Jane raised one hand and smiled awkwardly. “Hey. It’s nice to meet you.”

“We’re just going to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay with you,” Dana went on. The camera guy flicked a switch, and Jane squinted as a bright white glare flooded the room. “Is that light bothering your eyes?”

“No, it’s fine,” Jane said quickly, afraid to complain about anything or ask any questions. The light felt hot on her skin.

“Great,” Dana said. “So. You just moved to L.A. a couple of weeks ago, right? Do you work or go to school here?”

“I have an internship with Fiona Chen,” Jane replied. “She’s an event planner. She specializes in celebrity stuff, like charity events and showers and weddings. And birthday parties.” Oh God, why was she still talking? Of course these people knew what an event planner did!

“Loooove her work,” Wendell said, nodding.

“Have you made any new friends in L.A.?” Dana asked.

Braden came to mind immediately. And D, even though she had no idea what his last name was.

“I’ve met a couple of people,” Jane hedged. “And my roommate, Scarlett, is my best friend from when we were, like, five. I’m really excited to meet more people. Everyone
here seems so interesting.”

Dana and Wendell scribbled in their notebooks. Jane shifted in her chair, trying to find a comfortable position. Her foot began to twitch.
Wow…Sounding a little desperate, Jane? And “interesting”? You couldn’t come up with something more interesting than “interesting”? Way to show off that extensive vocabulary!

The camera light was intense and bright, and it made it difficult to see Dana’s and Wendell’s faces. Jane struggled a little to read their expressions. She wished she knew what they were writing—and what they were thinking. She reached up and twisted a strand of hair around her index finger and continued to twist the same strand as Dana and Wendell fired more questions at her: Where did she grow up? What was her family like? Where did she go to high school? Did she plan on going to college? What were her career goals? Did she have a boyfriend?

Jane answered all the questions the best she could.
(Santa Barbara. My family’s awesome. Santa Barbara High. I want to work for a couple of years, get some real-life experience, then go to college. Nope, no boyfriend.)
The questions went on and on like that. Jane felt as though they were trying to get her life story—the SparkNotes version, anyway—and couldn’t imagine why. Her life had been pretty uneventful. That was why she’d moved to L.A., to make something happen.

At one point, there was a brief pause as Dana and Wendell wrote in their notebooks. (What were they
writing?) The light was hot, and Jane could feel herself starting to sweat.

“Have you been going out in L.A. since you moved here?” Dana asked her.

“A few times. I’m still trying to figure out fun places to go. Apparently you guys have commitment issues with your clubs here,” Jane said.

They both laughed at her joke. It sounded polite.

“You’ve noticed, huh?” Dana piped up.

“Drink of choice?” Wendell asked cutely, as if he were quizzing her out of the back of
Cosmopolitan
.

“For when you’re legal, of course,” Dana added, giving Wendell a cryptic look.

“Of course,” Jane replied. Considering she’d met Trevor at a bar, she figured Dana’s remark was a joke or something she had to say. “I’m partial to vodka…anything.”

“My kind of girl.” Wendell winked at her.

Jane smiled. She liked him. He was a little chattier than Dana. She felt more comfortable talking to him. Like she was having a conversation, rather than being interviewed. “So have you met any hot guys since you’ve been here?” Wendell leaned in toward her a little.

“Not really…I met one guy, but I think he has a girlfriend. Maybe.” Ugh, saying that out loud made Jane realize how lame it was that she hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask Braden what the deal was with Willow. “I just broke up with my boyfriend a few months ago and I haven’t really been dating.”

“Awww, I’m sorry.” Wendell made a little pout, then perked up. “But, you know, nothing cures heartbreak like a new cute boy,” he said in an almost singsongy voice.

“Yeah…that or the vodka anything.” Jane shrugged.

They laughed again—and this time it didn’t feel just polite.

“Okay, so we’re gonna read off a list of words,” Dana said, all business again. “You say the first thing that comes to your mind. It’s just for fun so don’t think about it. Say whatever pops into your head.”

“Okay.” Jane straightened up a little.

“One-night stands,” Dana said, staring.

“Umm…trashy,” Jane replied, scrunching her nose a little.

“Shoes.”

“Love.”

Wendell nodded in agreement.

“Los Angeles.”

“Big.”

“Friendship.”

“Long-lasting.”

“Love.”

“Rare.”

Dana finished writing something in her notebook, then looked up at Jane. “And lastly…why did you move to L.A.? Besides your job, why L.A.?”

Jane thought for a minute. “To be uncomfortable.”

Dana and Wendell looked at her, a little confused.

“My whole life I’ve always been safe, boring…comfortable,” Jane explained. “I’ve had the same friends my whole life. I have a great family. I grew up in a beautiful place. I was really lucky, but I came to L.A. to get out of my comfort zone and do something different.”

Dana and Wendell looked at each other, and Dana nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Okay, then, we’re all done,” Dana said. “We’ll be in touch, okay?”

“It’s over?” Jane said, surprised.

“It’s over,” Wendell told her. “You’re free to go. You did great!”

“I did?” Jane felt like she’d only just gotten into the swing of things. Could she really have been great?

She got up, said her thank-yous and good-byes (she went to shake Wendell’s hand, because it seemed like the right thing to do, and instead shared an awkward half-handshake, half-hug with him; Dana was fine with a brief but firm handshake), and headed back in the direction of the waiting room. In the hallway, she passed Scarlett and the girl with the Free Tibet tee.
How did it go?
Scarlett mouthed to her.
I don’t know,
Jane mouthed back. She wished she had time to give Scarlett a quick lowdown before she walked into her interview. Although, knowing Scarlett, she would do just fine. Aside from her occasional bad attitude, Scarlett was extremely well-spoken and quick-witted.