Hollywood Star (7 page)

“It means,” Jeremy replied coolly, without taking his eyes off the TV monitor, “that on these shows they are never sure if they’ll be able to fit in all the guests. It’s
recorded as live, but aired at different times across the states depending on the time zone. So to keep it seeming live and fresh, if one guest goes on a bit, they have to bump the last one.”

“So we might not go on at all?” I asked him hopefully.

“Possibly not,” Jeremy said with an indifferent shrug.

He was talking to me at last, but he was clearly still cross. I held on very tight to David, until he bit my finger hard enough to leave teeth imprints. At least the pain took my mind off the panic and emptiness.

We all watched the monitor as the first guest came on, a recent winner of a TV talent show who had lied about his past in order to win votes. It turned out that he didn’t have a dying kid sister at all, but four strapping brothers who were all in good health and planning on forming a boy band.
People’s Choice Magazine
found out and now there was a popular campaign to get the title of winner awarded to the runner-up, a girl called Heidi Vance. Carl joked with Christian for a little while and then asked him how he thought he could get away with cheating the American people. And then Christian started crying, not just one or two tears but actual nasty, loud, snotty, red-faced sobbing.

Carl wrapped up the interview in about thirty seconds and as Christian disappeared off the TV screens we
heard his sobs growing louder out in the corridor and someone shouting at him. “You idiot! You total idiot, you’ve blown it now – don’t you remember what we rehearsed? That’s your career over.”

The woman in the red sweater put her head back round the door and rolled her eyes. “Amateurs,” she said. “Well, you two will definitely be going on. We might even need you to fill a little time, OK? So be ready for anything.”

I’m sure that Pete Peterson’s comic routine was very funny, but I didn’t hear any of it because I was too busy being frightened to death and multitasking is not one of my best things.

I kept looking at Jeremy and wishing that he would give a smile or a wink or one of those pep talks he’s so good at. But he just kept watching the TV, waiting for our cue to go on.

“Jeremy,” I said, but he didn’t hear me. “Jeremy!” I repeated his name more loudly this time and he looked at me. “Can I have a word outside?”

He nodded and we went out into the corridor, leaving the dressing-room door open slightly so that we could hear the laughter and applause on the TV as well as echoing up and down the corridor around us.

“Please don’t be angry with me any more,” I pleaded.

Jeremy shook his head. “I’m not angry with you, Ruby.”

“Yes you are. You’re angry with me because of what I said to Mum before, and to you. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“No, Ruby you shouldn’t have,” Jeremy said. He took a step away from the door and lowered his voice. “I…I love your mother and to see her hurt by the one person she most cares about in the world makes me angry.”

“Do you really love her?” I asked him in a whisper, eyes wide.

“Yes, I do actually,” Jeremy said. “But I haven’t told her that yet, OK – so let’s keep it between ourselves.”

I nodded as I tried to imagine somebody, anybody, but
especially
Jeremy Fort being in love with my mum. It wasn’t that I didn’t think she was lovable or pretty (without giant fish lips and orange skin) but it was just that she was my mum. I didn’t think that anybody ever fell in love with mums.

“And do you really love her new look?” I asked him tentatively. His expression was hard to read.

“I love
her,
Ruby. I love her the way she was when I met her, and if this makes her happy then I’ll love her this way too. I think a lot of it has got to do with the pressure she’s been under being with me. Things will settle down when you get back to England.”

Including her lips I hoped.

“So now will you stop being cross with me and protect me from Carl Vine?” I asked.

Jeremy laughed and his shoulders relaxed. “You don’t need protecting from Carl Vine,” he reassured me. “He’ll need protecting from you!”

I was still getting used to the heat of the lights, the nearness of the audience and Carl’s autocue – which seemed to have every little thing he said between guests written on it – to realise that he had introduced me as Rosie Parker
again.
I supposed that maybe the mix-up over my name might be a good thing. If I completely flopped on this show – which I was highly likely to do – then at least it would be Rosie Parker’s career that had finished before it had begun and not mine. I wished that the floor manager had let David come out on set with me. Then I’d have been holding on to him and at least I would have known what to do with my hands, but she said they’d banned pets on set ever since the pooping incident. So David was left behind in the dressing room, furiously trying to scratch his way out through the door. I sat down on the sofa next to Jeremy and hoped
that was all I would have to do until we left. But Carl spoke to me first.

“So Rosie…” he began.

“Actually, it’s Ruby,” I said with a wobbly voice and a nervous smile.

Carl Vine pulled the corners of his mouth down and looked at the audience which seemed to make them laugh. “Not Rosie actually?” he said in a mock English accent.

“No,” I said, making myself sound as posh as possible Just as Lisa had told me. “It actually is Ruby – Ruby Parker is my name actually.”

The audience laughed again and so did Jeremy, and I thought, well, if it’s this easy to make them laugh, I’ll be OK.

“Anything else I should know about?” Carl asked, still using his terrible accent. “Any titles? You’re not Lady Ruby, or Duchess Parker, or Princess anything?”

“You may call me Miss Parker,” I told him and the audience applauded.

“Ruby Parker,” Carl placed his hand on his chest, “I am very sorry we got your name wrong. Ed – fire the researcher!”

There was the sound effect of a gunshot offstage and the audience applauded again.

“So, Miss Parker,” Carl said with a smile, “what was
it like shooting your first movie role with the legendary Jeremy Fort?”

“Well, it was amazing,” I replied, listening to the sound of my voice in my head. “He’s such a talented actor and so gifted and he really, really taught me a lot.”

Then Carl turned to Jeremy and I listened and smiled and remembered to sit up straight and suck my tummy in as they exchanged jokes and stories. Then Jeremy told Carl about the film, what it was about and who was in it.

“It’s a great family film, one everyone can enjoy,” he told Carl.

“It’s interesting that you say that, Jeremy,” Carl said. “That it is a
family
film, because I hear it wasn’t all happy families on set.”

“That’s rubbish,” Jeremy said with a relaxed smile.

“What do you have to say about the rumours that Art Dubrovnik worked young Sean Rivers so hard it drove him to a breakdown, forcing him to give up his multimillion-dollar career.

“I’d say—” Jeremy began, but before he could finish I found myself interrupting.

“That’s not true,” I said.

Carl looked at me and raised an eyebrow at the audience. “I
know
that’s not true,” I added because it seemed as if they expected me to say more.

“Well, Ruby, I heard that you and Sean had a little romance going on, so I suppose if anybody would know, it would be you!”

“Sean and me didn’t have a romance,” I said, forgetting my posh accent for a moment. “We were,
are,
good friends. There
was
a photo of us kissing, but it was Just a tiny kiss, over in a second, but of course the papers blew it up out of all proportion. And I suppose it didn’t help that Sean and I went straight from a film premiere to my friend’s birthday party without remembering to give back all these diamonds I had been lent, so that the police came and nearly arrested us. But we weren’t going out together at all; it was only a cover to get Sean’s dad off of his back because he wanted to go out with my friend Anne-Marie.”

There was a shocked gasp from the audience and I got the feeling that perhaps I’d said a little more than I should have. Or a lot more. One or the other.

“So do you know the secret location where Sean Rivers is recovering from the rigours of being a child star, burned out at only fifteen?” Carl asked me, his tone suddenly intense.

“Yes, I mean no, no,” I stuttered, looking anxiously at Jeremy. “I…haven’t seen him in ages. I have no idea at all where he is living.”

“Ruby and Sean were good friends on set, Carl,” Jeremy stepped in smoothly. “But they haven’t seen each other since filming wrapped. As far as we understand it, Sean is living peacefully in England enjoying life out of the spotlight. I’m sure that is exactly what all his fans want for him, so hopefully it will stay that way.”

The audience applauded again and I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the heat in my face. I had broken my promise not to talk about Sean to anyone by talking about Sean to, well, most of America. Back home, everybody knew he went to Sylvia Lighthouse’s Academy, but no one talked about it outside school because the academy has a very strict privacy and confidentially policy to protect its more famous students. (We’ve got a couple of princesses, a prime minister’s son and one ex film star.) Everyone treated Sean like a normal boy and that was the way he liked it. Yes, I had broken my promise in front of twenty million people, but it was only because people were telling lies about him. I was sure he’d understand that. And I was fairly sure I didn’t give away anything too important.

“You also worked with Imogene Grant on that film, didn’t you, Ruby?” Carl asked me.

“Yes,” I said, glad to be talking about anything else apart from Sean. “Imogene is a wonderful actress and an amazing person.”

“Of course.” Carl leant in close to me, cutting across Jeremy who was forced to lean backwards into the sofa. “Know any good secrets about Imogene?” he asked, waggling his brows. “Any reason why she’s got a spring in her step and a sparkle in her eye recently? Any truth to those rumours that she has a new love in her life?”

“I do know a secret actually,” I said, making the audience laugh again.

Jeremy looked at me. “Ruby, perhaps—” he began.

“You do? Is it a big secret?” Carl asked me gleefully, ignoring Jeremy.

“It’s
massive,”
I told him seriously with a slow nod of my head.

“Will it make the headlines in the morning?” Carl said, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

“It will,” I said. “Although Imogene might kill me for telling you!”

“Come on, Ruby, spill it right here, right now!” Carl demanded, grinning at the studio audience. “What is this huge secret that Imogene has been hiding all of these months?”

“She likes full-fat mayonnaise on her cheese salad sandwich,” I said.

The audience erupted into applause and laughter, and Carl reached out and shook my hand vigorously. Then I saw a man behind the camera making a “wind it up” motion with his hands and Carl turned to the autocue once more.

“Well that’s all we’ve got time for tonight. Very many thanks to our guests, Christian Dane! Pete Peterson! Jeremy Fort! And tonight, ladies and gentleman, a star was born – Miss
Ruby
Parker!”

From:
Nydia ([email protected])

To:
Rubes ([email protected])

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