Secrets of My Hollywood Life (2 page)

"Okay, have fun, Kaitie-Kat," Mom coos. I cringe. I don't really like it when she calls me that. "Sorry none of us could make it to the shoot today. I couldn't possibly cancel tennis with Paris's mom, and Dad is busy playing golf with Matt and that casting director from New Line. Those episodes of
ER
Matty did gave him a lot of buzz."

HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER TWO: Everyone -- and I mean everyone -- in Los Angeles is in the biz. From the studious-looking Chateau Marmont bellhop who confides that he's writing a screenplay to the checkout girl at Bristol Farms supermarket with the two-inch-long fake nails who asks you how she might break into modeling, it's hard to find anyone who isn't obsessed with the glitz, glamour, and piles of cash Hollywood attracts, including my family. Ten years ago, my mom left her job as a receptionist at a cosmetic surgery office in Malibu to manage my career. ( "No one will look out for you the way I could, Kate-Kate.") Three years later, Dad quit his salesman gig at Beverly Hills Auto to become a movie producer. So far, he's only worked on my films. ( "If I help make decisions on all your movies, sweetums, we can rev up your earnings!" Dad exclaimed, using one of his terrible car expressions.) I guess it was only a matter of time then before my thirteen-year-old brother aspired to be the next Ashton Kutcher.

Nadine seems to be the exception. As she taps her frayed Birkenstocks impatiently, I notice she's carrying her GMAT prep book. Having graduated summa cum laude from Princeton, her goal is to stay in L.A. for a few years, make a ton of money, and then go to Harvard Business School. Nadine wants to be CEO of the world -- or at least a
Fortune
500 company. She'd be good at it too.

"Don't worry about it, Mom." I glance nervously at Nadine out of the corner of my eye. "I'll see you later." Nadine grabs my arm gently and we hurry out the front door. Lately it seems like all I do is run. We sprint down the long brick walkway and jump into the black sedan, where Rodney is waiting.

"Morning, Kates," Rodney mumbles, his mouth full of his usual breakfast, a bagel and veggie cream cheese. "Oversleep again?"

At six feet four inches and weighing in at almost three hundred pounds, Rodney looks like he could lay the smack down on any wrestler in the WWE, but the truth is, he's a big teddy bear. Rodney's been my bodyguard for the past two years. My parents hired him after I was mobbed at a Virgin Megastore in the Valley while buying a John Mayer CD. Rodney's real career goal is to be an action star -- he's appeared as a bouncer in some club scenes on
Family Affair
-- but the security gig, plus chauffeuring me around, must be good money in the meantime.

I settle into the comfy black seats and stare groggily out the window as the car winds down the long driveway and Rodney punches the security code on our wrought-iron gates. We bought our house in the Los Angeles suburb of San Marino three years ago, when I re-signed my
FA
contract. I wish I could say I helped pick out the mammoth Spanish-style hacienda, but the truth is Mom and Dad went house hunting without me.

I close my eyes for what feels like a minute when the car comes to a sudden stop.

"Um, Nadine?" says Rodney calmly. I sit up and peek out the tinted windows. The freeway is totally backed up. "Unless you want to radio a chopper, we're going to be late for this shoot." Nadine frowns. "But think of it this way -- they can't start without us." Rodney lets out a big, bellowing laugh.

Since we're not going anywhere for a while, I pull out my Sidekick to text-message my best friend, and only non-celeb pal, Liz Mendes. I know better than to call her house before 10 AM on the weekends. Mr. Mendes doesn't rise before noon. He's an entertainment lawyer who usually wines and dines his celebrity clients (like moi, which is how Liz and I met a few years ago) into the wee hours of the AM.

PRINCESSLEIA25: R U up?

POWERGIRL82: Yes. Got kickboxing.

PRINCESSLEIA25: Y??? U took class yesterday!!!

POWERGIRL82: I have 2 work on my roundabout kick for competition.

PRINCESSLEIA25: U R obsessed!

POWERGIRL82: Cute. U should take a class. Then U could kick Sky's butt.

PRINCESSLEIA25: Not a bad idea.

POWERGIRL82: Want to meet at A Slice of Heaven? 4?

PRINCESSLEIA25: K. I'll be done by then.

POWERGIRL82: C U then!

"Before we get there, Laney wanted me to go over a few things about the interview," Nadine announces when she notices the traffic letting up. "She won't be there."

"Okay." I put away my Sidekick.

"Number one, make sure you talk about the
Family Affair
finale," she reads off the printed e-mail from Laney.

"Piece of cake." I stifle a yawn.

"Number two, make sure you don't reveal too many details about what's going to happen at Krystal's wedding."

"No major plot leaks," I agree, shaking my head.

"And most importantly," she finishes, "downplay the animosity between you and Sky."

I pretend to be fascinated by the shiny Mercedes and Porsches whizzing by the window.

Nadine eyes me suspiciously. "Seriously, Kaitlin. Tell this Zara chick you don't want to talk about Sky or Trevor."

"That's
all
she's going to want to talk about," I protest.

"We went over this with Laney," she recites smoothly. "You and Trevor are friends. You're happy for him and Sky. Whatever you do, don't ramble on about the whole thing. You think every reporter is your friend, Kaitlin, but they're not. They just want the story."

"I can't help it." I look over at Rodney. I can tell he's trying not to laugh. "They get me going about Sky, and I find myself coming up with excuses about why we don't hang together. I mean, I can't tell them she's positively evil, right? That would make me look bad. And the Trevor thing -- I don't like him! Not that way. I feel bad he's been hypnotized by Sky, but..."

"You're doing it again." Nadine wags a finger at me. "You're rambling."

"Sky's a sore subject with me." I fold my tanned arms across my chest.

"When you're nervous, you ramble," Nadine says sternly. "I don't care if Zara claims to be president of the Kaitlin Burke fan club.
Don't
say anything negative. Let Sky bury herself."

"Okay," I agree wearily.

"Well, whatever you plan to say, figure it out quick," announces Rodney as we pull into the tiny parking lot at Fred Segal on Melrose. "We're here."

Two:
Schmoozing at Fred Segal

When
Teen People
told me they wanted to shoot my cover story at my favorite store, I immediately thought of this sci-fi shop on La Cienega where I buy
Star Wars
memorabilia. I know it borders on geekdom, but I'm obsessed with
Star Wars.
Not only is it the best good vs. evil story
ever,
with the cutest heroes (don't even get me started on my "it boy," the charmingly cocky Han Solo), but it also has a butt-kicking
heroine.
What I wouldn't give to play Princess Leia, with my hair in wacky bun braids....

But we won't be talking about my love of all things
Star Wars
today. Laney nixed the idea. "It's nerdy. Pick Fred Segal. That store is hip."

Even if you've never been to Fred Segal, you've probably heard of this celeb magnet. The two-story shopping mecca on Melrose (there's another larger location in Santa Monica) houses a maze of mini boutiques that are filled with trendy threads boasting high pricetags. I'm partial to their jean bar, where they shorten all my favorite brands (I'm only 5'3") free of charge.

Rodney, Nadine, and I grab our things and walk up to the vine-covered gray stone storefront at exactly 8:58 AM, where a security guard is waiting for us.

"We actually made it." Nadine breathes a sigh of relief.

The guard unlocks the doors to the closed building and ushers us inside. It's weird being here when music isn't pounding over the stereo speakers and the Fred Segal Beauty boutique isn't packed. As we pass the shoe department, I hear someone call my name. I turn and see a petite blonde with a tape recorder strutting towards me.

"It's so nice to meet you," she gushes. "I'm Zara Connors from
Teen People."

"It's great to be here." I snap to attention and give her a big smile. "I love
Teen People."

"We love to hear that. So you know why we're here then? We want to capture the
real you
on a shopping excursion. Laney said Fred Segal is your favorite."

"Yes, I shop here all the time," I tell her cheerily.

"You have an hour for hair and makeup before the store opens, then we'll shoot you pointing out your favorite things." Zara consults the schedule in her hand. "At the end, we'll go over some other questions. Sound good?" I nod.

Zara leads the way to the small crew. I quickly say hello to the photo editor, the assistants, and the photographer, Marc Bennet -- making sure to compliment him on the last shoot we did together, a cover for
Lucky
-- then I head over to my hair and makeup artists, Paul and Shelly. They've been my team on
FA
ever since I can remember, and I adore them. So does Mom. She makes sure they're hired for all my photo shoots.

"Doll, we've got to stop meeting like this," Paul wails dramatically as I approach the makeshift station of beauty supplies they've set up on a Fred Segal counter. "These nine AM call times after a heinous night on
Affair
are not good for my beauty rest. And let's just forget about Jacques's reaction. He was beyond bitter when I told him I couldn't meet him for breakfast at Joan's on Third this morning." Jacques, a fellow hair designer (Word of warning: Never call Paul a "hairdresser"), is Paul's latest crush. They've gone on two dates and already Paul is smitten.

"Oh please, you saw him yesterday!" Shelly punches him on the arm.

"Yeah, but that was more than twenty-four hours ago," he sniffs.

I swear Paul and Shelly would make a great reality show. He's a handsome California boy from Venice Beach and she's a loud-mouthed Southern broad with an imposing chest. They're complete opposites, and yet they fit great (unlike Sky and me). While Paul only wears designer duds, Shelly is a bargain shopper. She hits all the sales and only buys things if they're marked down sixty percent off or more. This horrifies Paul, who wouldn't be caught dead in last season's anything.

"Okay, Kates, what's it going to be today?" Shelly asks, giving my face a once-over with toner, then dabbing concealer under my eyes. "How about some sparkly eye shadow to bring out those green eyes of yours? Or maybe some body glitter?"

"Do you think glitter is a bit much?" I wonder. "Real people go to the mall in sweats."

"Oh, not the real people thing again," Paul laments, spritzing my hair and pulling it into a low chignon, the way I like it. "Honey, let's get one thing straight. You're not real. You're Hollywood. You're supposed to look better than those people." Paul peers into my mirror, checks his curly brown hair for frizz, and gives me a wink.

I swat his face away. Everyone thinks I'm crazy to be so fascinated with "the real world"-- a.k.a anything beyond the borders of greater Los Angeles. "People would kill to have enough money to fly their friends to Turks and Caicos for their sweet sixteen," Liz always reminds me. Yeah, but real people don't have to worry about someone like Sky talking trash about them on the nightly news either.

As soon as Paul gives me a final spritz of hairspray, Zara appears at my side, ready to start the interview. Our first stop is the perfume counter. ( "I love anything with a hint of lavender," I repeat, just as Laney instructed. She said lavender traditionally evokes luck and trust or something, so Zara will be impressed.) Marc follows, snapping pictures of me posing with various products. Picking up the rear are Nadine and Rodney. Now that the store is officially open, Rodney's got his "Don't mess with us" face on. That plus his large frame, shiny bald head, and dark black sunglasses are enough to scare anyone away. Anyone but Fred Segal's PR woman.

"Kaitlin Burke! Not sure if you remember me; I'm Kathy Sutherland, public relations director for Fred Segal and Fred Segal Beauty." The tall, thin brunette in a killer tweed pant-suit holds her perfectly manicured hand out.

"Of course." I smile, shaking her hand. "Thanks for the spa day last month."

"No problem." She flashes her perfect pearly whites at me. "Fred Segal is all about taking care of their special customers. And this, by the way, is for you." She holds out several white Fred Segal shopping bags stuffed with products. "There's one for you and Nadine, of course, and I packed some of your mom's favorites as well."

"Thank you." I take the bags slowly. "That's so nice." If Kathy could only see my bathroom. It's exploding with free products. I could run a small spa out of my house.

HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER THREE: Big stars get a lot of free stuff. Small stars get zippo. Okay,
maybe
they get a small discount or a free handbag now and then, but not often. This secret has no logic, I know. Once you can afford things, free stuff starts showing up at your publicist's office on a daily basis. Mention that you can't live without a certain moisturizer on
Live with Regis and Kelly
and they'll ship a box out the next day.

Kathy joins our posse as we hit the jeans bar. Marc has me pose with several pairs of denim while Zara fires off questions like, "What's your favorite thing to wear on your day off?"( "My Princess Leia t-shirt with cut-off green sweatpants. I find green soothing.") "What did you spend your first paycheck on?"( "When I was seven, I bought a massive trampoline for our backyard.") "How much is your current handbag?"( "I splurged on thousand-dollar cream canvas and green leather Prada bowler bags for my friend Liz and me -- but I had to ask my mom's permission first.")

As we make our way to the shoe department, I notice our group has grown. A lot. Several girls are following us, even though they're trying not to make it obvious. "Isn't this cute?" one pipes up, holding up a pink sequined top and showing it to her giggling friend. Another tries to take a picture with her camera phone, but Rodney puts the kibosh on that. "Can Kaitlin take a picture?" she begs. Rodney takes another bite of his Almond Bar and says "after the shoot."