Secrets of My Hollywood Life (17 page)

PRINCESSLEIA25: What time is the mtg?

POWERGRL82: 11.

PRINCESSLEIA25: Can't make it. The shoot is just starting.

POWERGRL82: I'll cover.

PRINCESSLEIA25: Thx. Remind me 2 talk 2 U about kickboxing. I need 2 join.

POWERGRL82: Maybe U'll learn how 2 kick Sky's bootie. Josh can give us private lessons:)

PRINCESSLEIA25: Aww ... Josh. U R not off the hook about him. I want deets!

POWERGRL82: Uh huh. Talk to U later!

"Hey, K," A familiar voice coos. I look up. Sky is clinging to Trevor's arm as if she might fall over if she lets go. "We haven't seen you since my party." Sky's wearing Daisy Duke-style denim cutoffs, no bra, and a cropped white tee that says HIS in rhinestones. Her long black hair hangs straight down her back. Trevor's baggy white tee says HERS. Poor Trev.

I quickly close my notebook so that Sky can't read it. "Hey, Skylar, Trev." I grin. "Nice, uh, shirts."

"Sky ordered them." Trevor frowns. "Do you think I look like a girl in this?" He points to the rhinestones across his chest.

"No, sweetie!" Sky gasps. "You look cute." She looks at me smugly. "And it shows the world that we're truly a couple." She looks thinner than ever, if that's possible. I can almost count her ribs through her tight t-shirt.

I raise an eyebrow. "So she finally wore you down, huh, Trev?" He turns beet red.

"Trev asked
me
out," Sky protests indignantly. "Not the other way around."

"Whatever you say, Sky." I smile sweetly.

"OH MY GOD! IT'S SAM, SARA, AND RYAN!" someone shrieks. The three of us turn around, alarmed. The girl I saw over by the breakfast spread is sprinting towards us clutching a
Family Affair Family Tree
scrapbook that was published last year. (It's a fictitious photo album with "handwritten" notes from Paige about our family's stormy history.) The girl stops at the edge of the couch I'm sitting on. She's wearing a pink shirt with the words FAMILY FANATIC painted across her chest. "I LOVE YOU GUYS!" she shrills, showing her mouth full of metal. She looks around the same age as Austin's sister. If she were older, I'd be a little nervous about her eagerness. But she's a kid, so I know she's harmless. I motion to Rodney to back away.

"You don't have to shout," Sky snaps. "We're not deaf." The girl looks stricken.

"What's your name, sweetie?" I ask, shooting daggers at Sky.

"Marlena, as in
Days of Our Lives,"
she says. Sky snickers, but Marlena doesn't notice. "That's my mom's favorite soap, but mine is
Family Affair.
And you're my favorite, Sam." She points to me.

"Thank you." I nod to the scrapbook she's hugging to her chest. "Did you want us to sign that for you?"

"Yes, please." She sits down on the couch next to me. She opens the scrapbook to Sam's and Sara's "diary." "Sign it right here," she says, pointing to my picture. "And write 'to my best friend in the whole world, Marlena.'"

I smile and pull my purple Sharpie out of my large black messenger bag. "You got it," I say.

"I'm not writing that," Sky scoffs. "I don't even know you. I'll just sign my name. So will Trevor."

"Sky, she's a kid," I whisper hotly. "Can't you make her happy?" Sky turns her head away in disgust. Trev looks at me sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders.

"OOOH! Is that a Sidekick?" Marlena reaches over me and digs into my bag. The green bedazzled machine is sticking out.

"Um, please don't touch that," I say as nicely as I can. I reach over to take it out of her hands.

"I read in
Celeb Insider
that you're never without this thing!" Marlena exclaims in awe as she rotates the Sidekick in her hand. "Hey, do you have Hilary Duff's phone number in here? Could I have it please? I promise I won't use it."

Sky snorts.

I pry the Sidekick from her sweaty hand. "No, I don't know Hilary very well," I tell her, and drop it into a zippered section of the bag. Marlena watches me, her mouth drooping around her braces in disappointment. I hand her back the scrapbook. "Here you go. It was nice meeting you, Marlena."

She frowns. "Could I see your Sidekick again? Maybe I could just have one green gem off it. I read you glued them on yourself."

"You did it yourself?" Sky spits. "What, you couldn't afford to send it over to Swarovski?"

"Marlena!" The woman in the black apron hisses, hurrying over to us. She grabs Marlena by the wrist and yanks her off the couch. "Leave the cast alone. I told you to wait till after the shoot to ask for autographs."

"But Aunt Lil, the whole cast is here now!" Marlena whines, pointing to the sea of white tees and denim that has filled the room.

"I'm so sorry," the woman says to the three of us, wringing her hands.

"Are you supposed to be here?" Sky snaps. "Who
are you?"

"A Boom! waitress," the woman explains sheepishly. "They said it was okay if I brought my niece in here to watch."

"I think you'll have to leave now." Sky motions to her beefy bodyguard to escort them out.

"Sky!" I protest. I turn to the pair apologetically. "I'm sorry. We're just getting ready to shoot now. Why don't you guys take a seat on the couch and watch. I'm sure everyone will sign Marlena's book afterwards."

"Thank you," Lil says gratefully.

Nadine walks over. "Kates, they want you to do a lighting check," she says, ignoring Sky. "Trevor, they want you too. You're doing a pose together."

"Gee, that's going to be awkward with that shirt you have on," I tease Trev. He looks at Sky nervously.

"I'll just have a word with the photographer, sweetie," Sky says through gritted teeth.

Nadine rolls her eyes and leads us away from Lil and Marlena, with Sky following close behind.

The shoot itself takes less than an hour. Sky would only agree to the shoot if it was that quick. It's fine by me. Maybe I can still catch the meeting. Or finish studying. First, I hug Melli goodbye and whisper to her about Marlena. She walks over to the couch with me to meet her.

"Marlena, this is my TV mom," I say, putting a hand on Melli's shoulder. "I thought you might want her autograph." Marlena squeals with delight and jumps off the couch to hug us both. Melli laughs.

"Got everything?" Nadine appears at my side.

I pick up my nylon bag and sling it over my shoulder. "Yep," I say, patting it.

"Bye, Marlena." I smile. She's busy chatting with Melli. "Oh yeah, bye, Sam!" she says, distracted.

Melli shakes her strawberry blond head, and I walk away.

It's not until we're halfway home that I remember I was supposed to e-mail Laney about the shoot. She had to skip it because she had a press conference in Santa Monica. ( "I can't trust Russell alone with reporters," she said.) I reach inside the bag and feel around for my Sidekick. When I can't find it, I pull my bag onto my lap and start pulling things out of it. My Gucci sunglasses, my French notebook, my other pair of jeans.

But it's not there.

"Is something wrong?" Nadine asks.

I start unzipping the inside compartments. "Yeah, I can't find my Sidekick," I say, trying not to panic. "I know I had it with me."

"It's got to be there," Nadine soothes.

I lift the bag over my head and frantically shake it to see if anything falls out. It's not inside. "Nadine, I think we have a problem."

Fifteen:
Hallway Meltdown

Dread. Gloom. Panic.

That's the pervading theme at my house, which resembles a scene out of
King Kong,
with everyone screaming at each other over the whereabouts of my missing Sidekick. And for once, I'm in total agreement with my whole team.

If my Sidekick wasn't swept away with the trash (which is doubtful) and was in fact stolen, then I'm FINISHED. DONE FOR. Or as we say in French class,
danger de mort.

I've looked everywhere for my Sidekick, including Boom! Nadine, Rodney, and I retraced our steps at the studio, turning the place upside down. But we found nothing.

Liz kept e-mailing my Sidekick, hoping someone would answer. She sent notes like,

PRINCESSLEIA25: If U turn this Sidekick over 2 the police, U'll get a $$$ reward (or if I find U first, a total butt-kicking!).

Laney called the editors at
TV Tome
and did what she does best -- threatened to sue. She was worried that my Sidekick notes would turn up on the Web, which happened to a famously hard-partying socialite. Hackers were able to read her e-mails and download her phonebook, which had digits for all her fabulous celeb friends. The story was all over the news.

Nadine thinks that kid Marlena swiped my Sidekick. I did leave my bag on the couch next to her at the shoot. She says Marlena was probably a fake fan instructed by Aunt Lil to swipe my Sidekick so that they could sell it to the tabs for a small fortune. Laney was so crazed by the mere suggestion of this that she called Boom! and demanded to speak to Lil. Turns out she quit after my photo shoot Saturday afternoon and the phone number the studio has for her is
out of service.

"SHE'S PROBABLY NOT EVEN HER AUNT!" Laney had shrieked at the poor Boom! receptionist who took her call. After Laney threatened to have the operator's job if she didn't find Lil's address, the girl broke down in tears. Nadine felt so bad for the girl, she suggested we arrange for the Boom! receptionist to be my own personal guest on the
FA
set this fall. Laney, however, thinks the girl is in on the Sidekick conspiracy.

I can't say I blame her. All I can think about is who could be reading my Sidekick right now. Is it the photographer's assistant? Marlena? The bathroom attendant at Boom! who scowled at me when I smiled at her?

I wanted to question Sky. She saw me using my Sidekick Saturday morning. She's the perfect suspect, if you ask me.

"But if it was Sky, you would have read about it in the
New York Post
by now," Laney says dismissively. "She never would let it sit idly in her hot little hands. She would have used it to get the Hutch Adams part over you."

I guess....

Mom won't voice it out loud, but I think she's afraid my missing Sidekick will cost me the Hutch Adams role. While Dad's response is to be rational ( "Your Sidekick is not in sinister hands") and Matt's is to laugh about it ( "I can't believe you left your Sidekick
on the couch"),
Mom is in a state of panic.

"Are you sure it's not somewhere in your room?" she asks for the fortieth time as she ransacks my bedroom, which Anita has just finished cleaning, and pulls clothes out of my closet. She hasn't changed out of the black PB&J Couture suit she's been wearing since yesterday, which is very unlike her.

"Mom, I told you. I had it with me at the shoot!" A pair of white Pumas fly past my head.

"You wouldn't have left it in your bag and walked away." She's frowning, which she usually tries to avoid because it encourages wrinkles. "Maybe you threw it away by accident."

"Let's
pray
she threw it away," Nadine mumbles. She's clutching her bible. She hasn't put it down since the Sidekick incident happened, paranoid that someone will get my other source of information. She even took it to bed last night and slept with it under her sensible Discount World pillow. That couldn't have been comfortable.

My phone rings and I pick it up. It's Laney. "Put me on speaker phone," she orders cheerfully.

"I have some good news," Laney announces to all of us. "Sky's demands at the
TV Tome
shoot will be on
Celeb Insider
today."

"You mean about her only agreeing to shoot for an hour?" Nadine asks. "How'd they find out about that?"

"I might have called over there and slipped," Laney coos. "They'll be so busy looking into Sky's antics that no one will pay attention to Kaitlin for a few days. That should buy us some time till we figure out where her Sidekick is."

HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER SIXTEEN: Sometimes publicists, yes publicists, will play as dirty as their clients. They'll plant items in the press themselves if it will help their desperate situation. It's not just PR folks who use this trick either -- celebrities, magazine editors, photographers, anyone out to get revenge can dial a gossip hound's digits and cause some serious image damage.

"People know you're my publicist," I panic. "Won't they be suspicious?"

"I didn't call them myself," Laney responds dismissively. "My assistant called. And she called from our mail carrier's cell phone and used a fake name." I bite my lip. I hope Laney's right.

"You should get to school, Kates," Nadine points out. "Your mom will help me search your room again."

"Actually, I have a deep tissue massage at ten," Mom protests.

"The more people looking, the better," Nadine adds, ignoring her. "We'll also call your cell if we find it," she tells me.

"Or if you hear from Hutch Adams," I remind her. I actually called him on Saturday after the Sidekick fiasco, as Laney had suggested, to see if his nieces liked the autographs I sent over. He was in the editing booth at Wagman finishing up the sound on his latest film,
Die Harder.
He was a bit distracted, but I could have sworn he said, "They're looking forward to spending time with you." But maybe I imagined it. My mind obviously isn't all there right now.

Rodney and I drive all the way to Clark Hall in silence. All I can think about is my Sidekick in the wrong hands. My whole life is in that thing -- my friends' phone numbers, my homework assignments for Clark Hall, and some seriously incriminating e-mails about my double life. If someone finds it, I'm more than
danger de mort
-- I'll drop from the Hollywood food chain completely. And I'm starting to realize that as hectic as my life is, I really don't want that to happen. And I
really
don't want Sky to win the Hutch Adams role either.

After Rodney drops me off, I drag my huge feet across campus to my locker. I was so bummed out this morning, I didn't realize I put on a pink ten-percent cotton turtleneck sweater with my favorite Chloe jeans. I hope Liz doesn't notice. Especially since she's standing in front of my locker wearing the same exact pair. She, however, isn't wearing a polyester sweater. Instead, she's wearing a funky strapless navy-and-red-striped top. She sees me and frowns.