First Stop, New York (20 page)

JB looked nervous. “Me? I’m hardly ever online, so I wouldn’t know.”

Corliss gave him a funny look. “But you’re the one that told me about it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t read it anymore—I live it! So, Corliss, what’s your plan?”

“Yeah, Cor, you’re not going back to Iowa, are you?”

“
Indiana.”

“Damn!” Anushka said, flinging wasabi at JB. “I knew it was one of those ‘I’ states.”

“No, I’m not going back there. I think I’m going to do an internship at my uncle Ross’s boyfriend’s law office.” Corliss tried to make it sound exciting. “We’re handling the Shia LaBeouf trespassing suit.”

Anushka and JB shot each other a look.

“Bo-ring,” said Anushka.

“Yeah,” said JB, flicking ginger at Anushka. “Sounds like that could get old pretty fast. Besides, you’re too creative to work in a law firm.”

Corliss knew they were right, so she changed the subject. “So do you think the show will be picked up?”

“All depends on how the pilot comes out,” said Anushka. “The network’s gotta love it or else—” She turned her thumb upside down.

Corliss tried to imagine it. “But it’s got so much potential!
Your character is so complex, Anushka. She’s really smart underneath her hotness and, you know, can’t you see her going into politics or something?”

Anushka nodded. “I like, I like.”

“And Ollie is not just some typical nerd. He’s a funny guy who cares more about people and feelings than impressing girls and competing with guys. I’m thinking he should go to college and major in psychology.”

“Very empathetic!” said JB. “Sounds good to me.”

“Course, I know all about that stuff ‘cause I thought
I
wanted to go into psychology. I mean I still want to help disturbed people, but now…”

Anushka put down her chopsticks. “But now you want to helped disturbed people who work in TV, don’t you?”

Corliss knew she couldn’t hide it.

“Cor, those ideas are great. You should pitch them to Petey.”

“Yeah, Corliss,” JB chimed in. “And I’ve seen the way Petey looks at you—like you were a pretty piece of sushi on a delicious bed of rice.”

“He looks at Anushka the same way!”

“We’ve both got his heart,” said Anushka, toasting Corliss.

Corliss blushed. “You can have him, Anushka. But what’s your point, JB?”

“My point is that Petey would listen to your ideas. I think they’re pretty cracklin’ good, too.”

Corliss laughed, then grew quiet. “But…I don’t work for
The ’Bu
anymore. Remember?”

Malibu Beach—11:02
A.M.
, the Next Day

“It’s a wrap, people.”

“That’s my line, Rocco,” said Max, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Max,” said Rocco, wiping the sand from his Speedo.

Max watched as the technicians began to pack up the equipment.

Anushka couldn’t believe it. “You mean we’re done? It’s in the can? The whole thing?”

“Yes, indeed, Anushka,” said Max with a mysterious tone. “The pilot of
The ’Bu
has completed principal photography. You may now resume wearing clothes.”

“But what if I don’t wanna? Ha!” She turned to the rest of the cast. “You hear that, everybody? We’re done!”

Trent looked at Tanya with big puppy dog eyes. Tanya looked away.

“Yes,” said Max, “I will now work with the editors to turn the footage we’ve shot into a work of prime-time art. You are all free to pack up your condos and retire to your respective homes.”

“Yippee,” shouted JB. “Tarzana, here I come.”

“You’ll hear from me with the network’s decision. With hard work, and the blessing of Scientology,” continued Max, “our show might just get picked up.”

He started off for his trailer. His assistants scampered after him.

Amazing,
thought Anushka. She’d made it. She’d even behaved—mostly. Of course, she had set the canyon on fire—but her lawyers said there didn’t seem to be any pending lawsuits. Knock on driftwood.

“So, Rocs,” said JB, “can I hitch a ride with you to the party next week?”

“Sure, JB. We can stop at Book Soup on the way. I want to buy you Tarantino’s memoirs. They just came out. A searing read.”

“Reading material for little ol’ me? You got it, Rocs. It’s a man date. Get it? Man-date?”

Those two are so gay,
thought Anushka, then wondered what party they were talking about.

“Tanya,” sulked Trent, “will you be, like, going to the party on your own, or will you be, like, bringing someone? Like a date or someone?”

Tanya flicked her hair over her shoulder and responded coolly. “I haven’t figured that out, Trent. The party is a whole week away and that’s, like, a whole week from now.”

“I see your point,” Trent said.

“Hey!” growled Anushka, her hands on her hips. “What party are y’all talking about?”

“The big party at Michael Rothstein’s next Sunday,” said Tanya, looking at Anushka like “duh.” “Didn’t you get the invite in your trailer with the big bouquet of orchids and the champagne?”

Anushka looked accusingly at all of them. “No, as a matter of fact I did not get a big bouquet of orchids and champagne. Did any of you get
two
?”

JB threw his hands in the air. “Innocent man! Pollen inflames my mucous membranes, and I gave my champagne to the crew.”

“Anushka,” said Tanya, waving the matter away. “I’m sure yours just got delivered late. Check your trailer.” She
clapped and jumped up and down. “Party time!” she said as she ran up the beach. Trent followed. Rocco and JB picked up the rear.

That bouquet of orchids and that bottle of champagne had better be there,
thought Anushka as she stormed up the beach.

Anushka’s Trailer—11:17
A.M.

But the bouquet wasn’t there. Neither was the champagne. And no invite to any party at Michael Rothstein’s. Anushka had torn the whole place apart looking for them. She was pissed, but when she caught site of her flawless bikini-ed body in the trailer mirror, her mood lifted.

Whatever about this invite. Guess one of Max’s assistants majorly screwed up. This would never have happened if Corliss were still around.

She grabbed her cell phone and called Corliss.

“Cor! Anushka here. Listen, next Sunday there’s a big party at Michael Rothstein’s for all the people involved in the show. Wanna come as my date?”

Corliss’s Bedroom, Uncle Ross’s House—Continuous

Uncle Ross was giving Corliss a nail wrap as she talked on the phone. “Oh, I don’t know, Anushka. Won’t that be weird? Me showing up?”

Anushka’s Trailer—Continuous

“Not with me it won’t be weird! If this footage turns out
half as good as I think it’s going to, Anushka Peters will be back big-time. That makes me
money
, Cor. And that means I’m going to start calling a lot more shots. So you game or what?”

Corliss’s Bedroom, Uncle Ross’s House—Continuous

“Well, I
would
like to see everyone one last time…” She sat up. “Wait a second. Why should
I
feel weird? It’s Max Marx who should feel uncomfortable for firing me. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of!”

Uncle Ross nodded.

Anushka’s Trailer—Continuous

“Thatta girl. Give ’em hell. I’ll book the limo. You and me will show up in style. Max Marx might have canned your butt, but you saved mine too many times for me to abandon you now!”

Corliss’s Bedroom, Uncle Ross’s House—Continuous

“Anushka, you’re the best.”

Anushka’s Trailer—Continuous

Anushka took another look at herself in the mirror and knew it was true. “Why is it I can never hear that enough?”

Michael Rothstein’s House in the Hills—4:30
P.M.,
the Following Saturday

Corliss and Anushka stood outside the front door. Anushka, wearing couture Lagerfeld, looked Corliss up and down.

Corliss was horrified. “I’m completely underdressed, Anushka. I can’t believe you said ‘It’s casual’ and then you show up in
that.
”

“Don’t bust a gasket, Cor, it was the first thing I saw in my closet. Besides, you look cute as hell. That cotton candy–colored top is totally hot.”

“I look like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol next to you.”

Just then, the front door flew open. Inside the foyer stood a gorgeous Chinese woman in a floor-length Badgley Mischka gown.

“Anushka Peters?” The woman looked horrified.

“Yeah, were you expecting Hilary Duff?”

The woman smiled broadly, shook her dainty head violently, and air-kissed Anushka on both cheeks. “Don’t be
silly, you look divine.” She took in Corliss. “And whom do we have here?”

“Hi, I’m Corliss Meyers. Anushka’s date.”

“Lesbians?” the woman asked with interest.

“Nope,” said Anushka with a big smile. “Good old straight gals.”

The woman frowned a little. “What a shame. Lesbians always bring a certain élan to a party.”

Anushka grabbed Corliss’s hand and winked. “Who knows? The night’s young.” Corliss rolled her eyes.

“Charming! I love open-minded guests. I’m Mingmei Rothstein,” she said as she swished her dress back and forth a little. “Welcome to my home.”

“Nice to meet you, Mingmei. What an amazing gown,” Corliss said with a sinking feeling. “I didn’t know the party was formal…”

“Heavens, no. We’re very casual today,” Mingmei said, now twirling in circles. “This dress was the first thing I saw in the closet.”

Anushka leaned in to whisper to Corliss. “Can you imagine the second thing?”

Corliss whispered back, “I am going to kill you.”

Anushka coughed to cover Corliss. “So you’re Michael’s wife?”

“It’s true,” said Mingmei, twisting her lips as she said it as if she all of a sudden smelled something bad. “Do come in. Everyone’s out on the lanai.”

Corliss could feel Mingmei’s disapproving stare.

“You’re sure I’m dressed okay?”

“Of course, Corliss,” said Mingmei as she took Corliss’s
arm. “You look like that terrific medicine I need to take whenever I eat Indian food.”

The Lanai—Continuous

Corliss emerged into a battery of camera flashes.

“What the—?” She shielded her face with her hands—and the flashes suddenly stopped.

“Don’t mind them, Corliss,” said Mingmei. “They thought you
were
someone.”

Mingmei was beginning to bug Corliss.

Anushka made her entrance. The flashes went off again. She smiled her million-watt smile and spun on her heel. There were so many flashbulbs, everything went completely white for an entire minute. All Corliss could see were Anushka’s teeth and eyes and fingernails.

“Enough,” cried Mingmei to the photographers, spreading her skinny arms wide. “You must now let our guest and her rather underdressed lesbian assistant enjoy the party.”

Corliss had to laugh.

“Now come this way. All your little friends are right through here.”

Mingmei took them under a portico dripping with trumpet vines. They came out the other end, where Mingmei deposited them on the lanai. A spectacular slate patio, cantilevered over the Hollywood Hills, it looked like something out of Tuscany.

Corliss stopped short. In front of her was a crowd of about four hundred people—all dressed in tuxes and gowns. “I thought you said it wasn’t formal…”

“Formal, casual…thrift shop. Who cares?” said Mingmei,
now officially evil. “Enjoy, girls. I’m moving on.”

Mingmei floated into the crowd, swooshing her gown this way and that.

“Phew. Glad she’s gone.”

Corliss turned to Anushka for support, but Anushka had just spotted Justin Timberlake smoking a clove cigarette over by the sturgeon bar. “Justin, yo!” She dashed over, stranding Corliss not two minutes into the party.

“Great,” said Corliss, glancing around. She looked back through the portico, trying to figure out if she could escape without anyone seeing her.

Just as she was about to make a dash for it, someone tugged at her hand. She looked to her right—but there was no one there.

“Down here,” came a familiar voice.

“Legend?” Corliss lowered her eyes. He was wearing a tiny tux and bow tie. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting my party on.” He shrugged.

She was actually happy to see the tiny terror. “You look so cute.”

He shrugged again. “Firth thing I thaw in my clothet.”

Corliss couldn’t help herself. She picked Legend up and planted a big wet one on his face.

“Yeuuuuchhhh,” he said, pushing Corliss away. “Come on. Thereth thomeone here who wanth to thee you.”

Far Corner of the Lanai—Continuous

Max stood looking out over the hills with his patented million-mile stare. He was dressed in a charcoal gray Paul Smith
tuxedo, set off impeccably with flat silk piping and matching gray silk tie. He looked like a gazillion dollars.

Legend deposited Corliss in front of Max and motored off. Corliss panicked.

“Wait, Legend!”

“I’m going in thearch of the burgerth and weenieth,” he said, shaking his pudgy rear end at them as he wandered fearlessly into the crowd.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” Max looked at Corliss kindly.

“Hi, Max,” Corliss said tightly. She figured she’d make some small talk and be done with it. But her mind buzzed like a hive of cranky bees. Just being next to Max made her nuts. “You’ll have to excuse what I’m wearing, Max. Anushka led me to believe this was a potluck picnic.”

Max chuckled. “That’s what’s great about you, Corliss. Faced with all evidence to the contrary, you still believe whatever people tell you.”

Corliss tried to count to ten. But she couldn’t. Every feeling she’d ever held her tongue about—Max,
The ’Bu
, her freaky internship—did backflips in her stomach and then traveled, at warp speed, up through her throat where they coiled like a storm, morphed into words, and catapulted with the full force of nature out her mouth. “Is that supposed to be some kind of crack, Max Marx? ’Cause let me tell you one thing—no, two! Or maybe twelve. First, you’re right! I’m a good person who believes in people! And where did that get
me
? Slaving away on your bogus errands that had nothing—nothing!—to do with television, the show, or anything resembling any sane person’s sense of reality! And I have a good idea about what that is
because you’ll recall you constantly exploited my knowledge of abnormal psychology!”