Star Power (18 page)

E
mily walked slowly behind Chris on the Sony lot, smiling in the dark, cool L.A. night. He wore his usual uniform of corduroys, pumas, and a brown hoodie. That day's T-shirt said ALEXANDER PAYNE'S ABOUT SCHMIDT.

“So I looked up Truffaut,” Emily told him. Chris had mentioned the director yesterday. Truffaut was his idol, since he'd left school as a teenager to start working on movies, too.

“You're failing me, Iowa,” Chris said, shaking his head. “You're supposed to be a huge brat by now, and instead you're actually paying attention to me. Your friend—I mean,
agent
, on the other hand. . . .”

Emily smiled and decided that no comment was the best comment. A tiny part of her was glad she wasn't the only one who thought Mac could be difficult. Plus, she felt too inspired by her iChat with Paige to dwell on Mac's shortcomings. She
could
have it all: She could love Davey
and
be a great actress. Even better—the only person standing in her way was still at dinner.

That evening the
Deal With It
soundstage felt like a ghost town. The only people from production were Emily, Davey, Shane, and a few crew members to handle lights and sound. There weren't even any extras because the scene was supposed to be a private moment between Emily and Davey's characters in the computer lab.

The classroom set was bare, except for a giant poster of Niagara Falls on the back wall and three rows of empty desks, each with its own computer. Someone from the art department had written computer code on the chalkboard. Davey was waiting for her by one of the workstations. He sat in a swivel chair wearing a gray sweater dress, and his brunette wig was done in a chiffon knot. Spotting his costar, he spun around in a circle in his chair. Emily's heart pinged.

Shane stood next to Davey, doing yoga poses. At the moment, he was in Tree. “So listen up, dollface.” He stepped out of the pose. “I looked up
gorgeous
in the dictionary and there's just a picture of you.” He pointed both fingers at Emily.

Emily wanted to hug Shane for complimenting her in front of Davey. She hoped Davey was paying attention and that he'd noticed her Marc by Marc Jacobs heart leaf-print dress, and her faint scent of Vera Wang Princess.

Suddenly Shane closed his eyes and shook his head quickly. “Yada yada yada! Less talking, more directing!” He looked right at Emily. “Do you know your lines?”

Emily nodded.

“Well, it doesn't matter, because we're just going to improvise this scene. I know I wrote it, but I'm over it. You two work your magic!”

Emily smiled shyly at Davey, wondering if he noticed that Shane had said they had
magic
.

Shane turned to the crew. “Okay, everyone, I want you to just let the cameras roll. We're probably going to do like twenty takes on this, so just get ready to be here for a while.” Emily tried to hide her smile at the idea that she might be there with Davey all night. Shane took his seat in the director's chair, and hollered “
Action!
”

And they were off.

Davey began typing quietly at his computer while Emily worked in silence next to him. “I don't get how you're so good at writing html, Kelly,” Davey said, after several long seconds of silence.

Emily was still looking at her screen, which was a long list of numbers and symbols. She was so focused that she almost believed she was writing a super-advanced computer program. “My dad always wanted a son, so he taught me what he thought boys should know.”

“Okay, I get it, but—”

“The most important thing in code is clarity,” Emily spoke in her character Kelly's know-it-all voice. She swiveled in her chair to face Davey. When their eyes locked, Emily didn't notice the cameras silently filming her, or Shane's intense gaze, or the rows of empty desks. All she saw was Davey looking lovingly at her. Suddenly she wasn't acting anymore, she was looking at her true love.

“You really are something else,” Davey said softly.

Emily didn't know what to say. Neither did Davey, evidently. They had already hit the main point of the scene, which was a moment of subtle connection between their characters. There was a long pause.

Suddenly Shane's voice boomed. “
And cut!
” He began clapping, slowly. Then he turned to the crew. “I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you for making that Hollywood's fastest take. Perfection!” Then, like a mental switch had been flipped, Shane said to no one in particular. “I'M GOING HOME NOW. GOODBYE, PEOPLE!” And then he stalked off the set.

Davey shook his head and laughed. He pushed his feet onto the floor and his rolling chair sailed backward on its wheels. Emily copied Davey's move and sailed backward in her chair so they were once again next to each other.

“That man is outta his mind!” Davey laughed.

Emily giggled, trying to connect with Davey without gossiping about Shane. Mac was crazy, but some of her rules had merit. “He
is
something else.”

“You know,
you're
something else.” Davey smiled at Emily. “You're a great actress.”

Emily looked around the computer room to be sure he was talking to her. Spotting only the crew, she felt silly.
Of course he had been talking to her. She was the only actress on set.

“Thanks.” Emily shrugged. Her left leg was starting to tremble, so she stood up and pretended she needed to stretch. She locked her fingers behind her back to loosen her shoulders.

“And we really do work well together,” Davey added. “I'm so glad we're friends.”

Emily barely heard the part about friends, because her heart was in the process of dropping to her stomach. Davey Farris Woodward, A-list movie star, crush of her life, thought they worked well together? What else did he think?

Emily catapulted herself back to Earth. “So, what did you want to talk to me about before?”

Davey glanced around at the few crewmembers still lingering on set. “Maybe we could talk about it later, in private?”

“You should come to Mac's party tomorrow,” Emily blurted out. She was pretty sure she didn't have the right to invite people, especially not Davey and especially since Mac was such a control freak about everything. But the words were out before she could stop them.

“I didn't know Mac was having a party. . . . ” Davey sounded intrigued.

“Yeah,” Emily offered. “To celebrate me and some of our friends.” Feeling extra confident from his earlier compliment, she tapped him once on the shoulder. “You can be my date.” She said it like a joke because she wasn't brave enough to show she meant it. Yet.

“Hmmm. . . .” Davey pretended to think about it for a few seconds. Just enough time for Emily's heartbeat to race even faster.

“And maybe we can finally talk about that thing,” Emily added leadingly.

Finally Davey grinned. “Sure. That'd be great.” “Perfect.” Emily smiled. As of tomorrow night, she and Davey would be SkyWard.

mac

I
t was 10:30 a.m. on Saturday morning, and even though Mac was wearing her softest American Apparel sweats, she felt like her skin was crawling. The worst feeling in the world to Mac was being out of control, and that morning there was so little she could control—starting with her party. In less than twelve hours, she would be hosting all of BAMS, plus half of Hollywood, plus paparazzi, plus caterers, at her Star Power party. More like
Star Powerless.

Of all the days to be phoneless, today was the cruel est, Mac thought, as she sipped her acai berry smoothie, which their housekeeper, Berta, had made for her. Mac wasn't allowed to leave the house like a normal, civilized member of society, and she looked longingly at the Bel-Air canyons through her French windows. She felt like Rapunzel, stuck in her two-story Spanish villa, a prisoner in her own home.

Mac imagined sending a note by messenger pigeon to Elena to remind her that the dance floor needed to be big enough to hold at least fifty people. Would Elena remember? And more importantly, she wondered, how could she even get a pigeon without a phone to order it?

All her other notes were on her iPhone, which was confiscated until tomorrow morning, hours after the party
ended
. Mac still hadn't confirmed the play-list, or the sushi list, or the chocolate fountains (dark chocolate, not milk!), or the mocktails or the napkins (specially printed with pictures of the I.C.). Had she even sent that e-mail? Without her phone she had no record-keeping system. On top of
that
, Mac had no way to reach Becks to explain why she couldn't make her photo shoot, or to reach Coco to determine whether she had decided to change anything
else
about herself in the last several hours. There was only one solution to her technology meltdown—face time.

But
how
could she possibly get anywhere when Erin was off for the day? Public transportation was out, since the nearest bus stop was miles away. Besides, Mac wouldn't even know what bus to take. One false move and she could wind up in Pomona. She stared out the window where Jenner and his friend Ethan were practicing volleyball serves. Mac longed for their freedom. Ethan had a car and could leave any time he wanted to. . . .

And then Mac pressed mental rewind:
Ethan had a car and could leave any time he wanted to
. But how could she convince him to drive her down to Venice? The situation seemed hopeless, but Mac knew that to give up then was to think like a normal girl. And Mac was
not
a normal girl. She bounded down to the backyard.

“Go away,” Jenner said, the second he saw her. “You're grounded.”

“Where are your manners, big bro?” Mac asked in a Splenda-sweet voice. “We have company.”

“What'd you do, Mac L.A.?” Ethan asked. He was tall and gangly, with slightly bug eyes and a narrow face.

Mac didn't have time to get into the history of her situation. Her mother was downtown, visiting a client on the set of his new action movie. Her father was playing golf with Marty Scorsese in Newport Beach. So she had at least three hours until either parent returned. And if she couldn't convince Ethan to go to Venice, then she needed to start brainstorming a plan B.

“It's just a bummer.” Mac sighed, ignoring Ethan's question. “Because all the Dixie Gals are waiting for me at the beach.”

“The Dixie Gals?” Ethan stopped looking at Jenner and gripped the volleyball. “You mean like the surf models?”

“Mm-hmmm. We're like this.” Mac crossed her fingers so it looked like they were tight. But actually she was crossing them because she was lying. “If we're ever in the same place, I should introduce you. . . .”

“But didn't you say you knew where they were?” Ethan asked. His eyes got even buggier.

“Well, Kip and Ella are in Venice,” Mac said, making up names.
Why hadn't she learned their names?

“Aren't their names Tully and Darby?” Ethan asked, looking confused. ”And there's a third girl . . . from Hawaii? And for a little while there was a fourth?”

“Oh yeah,” Mac said quickly. “
Kip
and
Ella
are my nicknames for them. And I call the Hawaiian girl Aloha. It's a really long, dumb story.” Mac laughed, like it was just
too
funny. But she made a mental note to research Becks's teammates a little more. “My best friend is their new fourth.”

“Don't feel like you have to be nice to her,” Jenner called from across the net.

“Ethan and I are talking,” Mac said, smiling fakely at her brother. “The Dixies are in Venice for a photo shoot before they go to the Maldives. If you want to meet them, today's actually a good day.” Mac had no idea how she would introduce Ethan to girls who didn't even know her name, but she would worry about logistics later.