Secrets of My Hollywood Life #5: Broadway Lights (6 page)

"The Darling Daisies sound life-changing, Mom," Matty mocks her, and runs a hand through his short dirty blond hair.

"Anyway, Kate-Kate, with that new job of yours you won't be able to attend many of the Daisies fund-raisers, but we can squeeze in a few now and, of course, you'll be able to make a few events in the Hamptons on weekends." Mom glares at me, raising her recently threaded right eyebrow thoughtfully.

"I have matinees and evening performances, Mom," I remind her, wiping my hands on my little jean cutoffs (It's not even worth telling you the designer, since I've had them since before they were cool).

"Not every day! And you're off on Monday." Mom isn't going to give up easily, so I decide it's best to go back to unpacking. I pull my framed Carrie Fisher (aka Princess Leia) autograph out of the box. Why exactly did I think I needed this in New York?

"We're going to do some lovely dinners," Mom gushes. "There are a few charity events coming up, a Polo match in the Hamptons that sounds to die for, and, of course, the Ivory Party."

"You mean the White Party," I correct her.

"This year it's all about the
Ivory
Party." Mom's long blond hair is styled just like mine. ("We look like sisters!" she always tells people.) "Nancy says it's going to be better than the White Party in every way."

Matty looks up from the
Star Wars
alarm clock he's just unpacked for me. "Didn't Diddy's White Party move to Los Angeles anyway?"

Mom rolls her eyes. "Figures he'd move it to Los Angeles when all the best people are in New York for the summer."

"Can I go, Mom?" Matty pleads.

"Of course, sweetie." She puckers her lips slightly at him, like he is still five. "It's been much easier booking
your
schedule, since you don't have anything till July. Nancy said her daughter is very excited for your show, by the way."

"I'm hearing that a lot," Matty says, trying to sound modest even though he's not. His eyebrows raise hopefully. "Is she a fan of mine?"

Mom hesitates, looking away with the green eyes we got from her. "No, but she did say how much she loves the cast as a whole. Anyway, back to the Chanel dinner--"

"I'll go," I say, hoping it will get Mom off my case. No one says no to a Chanel event. "Just leave me a list of things you want me to go to, and I'll star the ones I like, okay?"

This seems to make her happy, because she takes a call about some costume gala this weekend and leaves the room just as Nadine pops in. "You done yet?" she asks, looking around at the room's modern furnishings. The previous owner's taste is different from mine--stark, minimalist, with modern chairs and plastic headboards on the bed. It makes me feel like I'm in a twisted version of
Alice in Wonderland
. I warmed the room up a bit by bringing my Ralph Lauren comforter from home, some stuffed animals, and loads of personal touches.

I groan and fall backward on my bed, landing on my R2-D2 pillow. "I'm never going to be done," I complain. "Just send the rest home."

"I would, but the box in the hall says
Kaitlin's underwear drawer
. You sure you don't need that?" Nadine tries not to smirk. Matty snorts.

I bite my lower lip and cover my face with R2-D2. "Never mind."

"Just leave it for later." Nadine grabs my hand and pulls me up. "Rodney is waiting downstairs. We're going on another field trip."

I slip on some Havaianas and follow her dutifully through the rest of the minimalist apartment, which has touches of Asian influences. The whole building is "green" (very Cali), so the people we're subletting from have used a lot of sustainable materials, like a bamboo floor, and have put a compost bin in the limestone and steel kitchen.

Nadine's "Getting to Know Your New City" field trips have been so much fun! Tuesday night we had a late dinner at Houston's because Nadine knows I'm obsessed with the chain and I love the spinach dip. (I'm so relieved there's a location in New York.) On Wednesday we went to MoMA, and I stared at Claude Monet's
Water Lilies
for almost twenty minutes. Then we had frozen hot chocolates at Serendipity. On Thursday Nadine took us to the Central Park Zoo and then to Dylan's Candy Bar to stock up on chocolate-covered Oreos (I also bought this cute Dylan's dispenser with a little silver scoop and filled the whole thing with watermelon gummies for Austin). Friday included a trip to the Statue of Liberty, which Dad tagged along for, and then dinner at South Street Seaport.

"Where are we going today?" Matty asks. "The American Museum of Natural History? That
Journey to the Stars
movie is supposed to be awesome."

"Dad wanted to see that on Sunday," I remind Matt. "I'm coming with you, but I'm skipping the planetarium and sticking with the dinosaurs exhibit."

"Today's excursion might be Kaitlin's favorite," Nadine says with a sly smile. "I'll tell you about it after I get you guys out the door."

"Can we get something to eat first?" I ask, letting her lead. "I'm starving." I quickly grab my tan Gap spring trench coat with my free hand. It's a bit cooler in New York than it is in Los Angeles in June, which is fine by me. Seventy degrees is gorgeous. I still slip on some oversized Chanel sunglasses, though--seems like all the New York celebrities do it, and I like the way they make me look mysterious.

"We'll grab a quick bite in midtown," Nadine says. "We're not having dinner till much later." I look at her quizzically. "We have reservations at Dos Caminos at eleven-thirty PM. First up, the Empire State Building."

Nadine is so organized, even when it comes to sightseeing. I've been obssessed with seeing the Empire State Building ever since I saw
Sleepless in Seattle
back in the fifth grade. (Yes, I know it's an oldie, but it's on TBS all the time and I love it!) I was kind of disappointed to learn from Nadine that select windows don't actually light up red on Valentine's Day, but I still want to go.

We wave goodbye to Mom, who is still on the phone. From what I can make out, she is making plans for me to attend some
Teen Vogue
high tea for teen stars. When we're finally in the elevator, Nadine tells us the big surprise.

"You got tickets to
Wicked
?" I freak. I've seen the Los Angeles production several times but haven't made it to the one in New York yet. I have a list of shows I want to see before I start my own, and
Wicked
is at the top of the list.

"I called the production office and they hooked you up," Nadine says proudly, and then puts on the Gucci sunglasses I got her for her last birthday. "I told them you were a big fan. They even offered to give you a tour backstage. They do them on Saturday mornings, but they could set up a private one for you if you like."

Matty high-fives our already favorite doorman, Andrew, on our way out of the lobby. He's an adorable old man who takes his job very seriously, wearing an outfit that looks sort of like a policeman's, complete with a hat. Andrew made us show our ID every time we came or went the past few days--Mom was peeved that he did not know her star children--before he remembered we were new tenants.

We move through the revolving door, where Rodney is waiting at the curb, and the noise level increases. It's considerably higher than it is at home, but I'm starting to like the sound of taxis honking--just not at one in the morning when I'm trying to sleep. Rod is in his standard outfit (all black even in June) with black sunglasses, his brown head shaved so close it's shiny and a frown on his face as he nurses a soda and cradles a Twix in his right hand. Rodney is never without a snack.

"What's wrong, Rodney?" I ask as I slip into the air-conditioned car behind Matty and Nadine.

"I still feel weird not driving while we're here," he grumbles, and closes the door for me. He goes up front next to the driver.

"I'm mad that Mom won't let me take the subway, but what are you going to do?" I tell him. My biggest pet peeve with Mom so far is that she won't let me go underground. She'd rather I hoof it, take a taxi, or use a car service (her preference). "There is not enough Purell in the world for me to let you go
down there
!" she declared when I mentioned getting a MetroCard. Nadine just rolled her eyes at her. She's been taking the subway everywhere, and she says that nine times out of ten it's the quickest way to travel.

"Rod, Seth hired a car service for off hours, and the theater hired Kaitlin one for workdays," Nadine reminds him gently. "It's easier if you don't have a car here. Where would we park?"

"They have garages," he says gruffly, and takes the second Twix out of the wrapper.

"I know, Rod," I say, looking at Nadine worriedly, "but I'd rather not have you waste time trying to park when I need you by my side." New York streets are much more crowded.

Rodney appears to mull it over. "You're right." I think I even see him smile a little, because the sunlight hits his prized gold tooth, making me flinch. Satisfied, Rodney chats up today's driver (unlike Rodney with me in L.A., the driver we have here changes every time). "Hey, how is the mileage on this thing? Are you from the city? Do you know where the nearest Whole Foods is? I need to get my protein shake mix."

Nadine's schedule is dead on, as usual. My camera has been living permanently in my coat pocket this week, so we take pictures of our group at the top of the Empire State Building (where I also pose with tourists) and of me insisting we all stop in Macy's and buy something decent to wear to a Broadway show. (I hate how people dress down these days to see theater!) I buy a cute BCBG chiffon taffy-colored, pleated dress to wear, Matty gets Ralph Lauren khakis and a navy polo shirt, and Nadine even splurges on a Calvin Klein cream sleeveless organza dress that's on sale for $65. Rodney sticks with his own clothes despite our begging him to try on a Michael Kors suit.

Finally, I have a tourist take a picture of us all dressed up outside the Gershwin Theater before we see
Wicked
. The show is incredible. I've seen the touring production before, but there is something about seeing that time dragon clock and Elphaba flying and Galinda pouting here on Broadway that kicks the magic up to a whole new level. The play flies by and it's all too soon that I'm clutching my
Wicked
book and staring at the sign on the wall above the exits that says
You're Now Leaving Oz. Fly Carefully.

The streets are packed as people spill out of shows on several blocks at the same time, and everywhere you look tourists are smiling and laughing as they walk along or jump into taxis or waiting limos. It's nice to see so many people in one location that aren't a corral of paparazzi. In Los Angeles, you never see this large of a crowd together unless you're leaving Dodgers Stadium or the Kodak Theater. "Can we walk to the restaurant?" I ask Rodney. The high I have from seeing the show has me feeling all wound up and gooey. "It's so nice out."

Rodney looks around skeptically. Other than a group of young girls at twelve o'clock--I heard them debating whether to ask me for an autograph--I don't think anyone else notices or cares that I'm here. It's one of my favorite things about New York so far. The anonymity is a nice change.

Nadine laughs. "Kate, it will take too long if we walk. This is just like the other day when you wanted to walk from the apartment to Topshop--it's too far when we're in a time crunch. We have dinner reservations in forty-five minutes."

I keep forgetting that the city is bigger than it seems. With so many stores near our apartment, it feels like everything is within walking distance, which is not the case at home. I guess it's not the case here either.

"I'll tell the driver to meet us a few blocks down," Rodney compromises.

The crowd gently pushes us toward the neon bright lights of Times Square. It's impossible not to slow down and look up at the flashing screens and ads here, even if I know I'm walking too slow for locals. I can hear people around us discussing dinner plans (everyone eats late in this town!) or chattering about the plays they've just seen. I can't help but think that they'll be doing the same thing about my show in a few weeks. Will they like the play with me in it? Will they miss Meg Valentine, who originated the part of Andie Amber? It's dizzying to even think about what their reviews will be.

"Kaitlin, look!" Matty says, pulling at my arm as he points up. "It's both of us!"

Strangely enough, Matty and I have billboards right next to each other. Matty's is a cast photo from the upcoming
Scooby-Doo
. The picture is dark and smoky and the cast is smiling, oblivious to the fact that there is big, green, icky monster lurking behind them. Well, oblivious except for Matty as Velma's boyfriend and the CGI Scooby he and Shaggy are holding. It's a really cool print and I stare wistfully at the tagline: THE SCOOBY GANG--SAYING BOO THIS FALL ON THE CW. Even though the CW is continually struggling, it seems to have all the coolest shows, like
Gossip Girl
and
90210
... I so want to be on that network.

Next to
Scooby
is a poster of the
Meeting of the Minds
cast, with me front and center. We shot it at a quick one-hour shoot a few weeks ago when I flew in to meet with the whole cast, who thankfully seem pretty cool. I mean, it's hard to tell at an event where you're smiling, not talking, the entire time, but Ben, who plays my brother, was really nice. I stare up at the poster and read and re-read the words over and over. "With
Family Affair
's Kaitlin Burke starting June 26th." I take a photo of the posters with my camera, then snap another with my iPhone and send it to Liz and Austin.

HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER THREE: I don't know about Broadway show posters, but when it comes to movie and TV posters, everything you see on that one-sheet is deliberate. Studios market their shows and movies very carefully and posters are no exception. Every word, every actor name and their placement (the biggest star's name goes above the title), and each image is carefully thought out. A studio will use a good review, even if it's by a no-name outlet or critic, to full effect. They'll enlarge the quote and put the unknown critic's name in small print. Sometimes studios will even deliberately use an image that reminds people subliminally of another movie they liked.
The Women
had a poster with a ton of writing that looked just like the poster for
27 Dresses
, on which Katherine Heigl is wearing a dress made out of words. I guess they hoped women seeing the poster would get the same fun feel, but they didn't (
The Women
bombed). A Renée Zellweger movie that was dead on arrival looked just like the poster from
Sweet Home Alabama
with Reese Witherspoon--black dress, sitting/standing near luggage. Studios who try this should be forewarned: If you think the press won't notice the coincidence, you're mistaken and in for a bashing.