Secrets of My Hollywood Life: There’s No Place Like Home Read online

  I’ll fix her. “Oh, you mean my cover story for Small Fries?”

  Sky’s eyes widen and her face gets red. “I can’t believe you’d do a cover for our show without me!”

  “Gotcha. You’re stuck with me.”

  “K!” Sky wails. “That was mean! Anyway, I wouldn’t really call it stuck.” Sky grins. “Now let’s get this over with so we can go have steak! And hash browns! I’ll pay for it later with my trainer.” She eyes my backside skeptically. “Hmm… maybe you should join me too. You could use a good workout.”

  I don’t say anything. Pick your battles, Nadine always says. I don’t tell Sky that I don’t mind doing more takes either. Pretending to be on an ocean liner is fun. Especially when you’re with a friend.

  Sky yells over her shoulder, “We’re ready, Preston!”

  “Great, let’s go for it,” Preston says and heads to his camera.

  Sky and I take our marks on the ship’s bow, and the extras close in around us. The violinist starts to play again, and a couple clinks wineglasses. When the wind machine hits my face, I know it’s time. Big smile, perfect pose, act happy. It’s not hard to do.

  Preston lifts his megaphone. “And action!”

  Sunday, November 1

  NOTE TO SELF:

  Mon./Tues. Small Fries calltimes: 5 AM

  Must get caffeine first! And Froot Loops!

  A stopping by set: Mon. 4ish

  Ellen taping Tues.

  The View taping Wednesday. Calltime: 9 AM

  On set for SF following taping

  Ryan Seacrest phoner: Wed.

  SMALL FRIES PREMIERE – Thurs. @ 8:30 PM

  SF calltime 4 Fri.: 6 AM

  Dinner w/Mom/Dad/Seth/Laney: Sunday after EW shoot

  Homework…??? Check with Nadine!

  SMALL FRIES

  SF103 “Give It the Old College Try”

  SCENE:

  HOPE and TAYLOR’S dorm room. It’s packed with people—band members with tubas and drums, cheerleaders, the geek squad, goth kids, every cliché group there is. People are squished into the tiny, very girly dorm room like sardines, and music is playing at full volume. HOPE opens the dorm room door and screams.

  HOPE:

  What is going on in here? (covers ears to avoid the tuba blaring in her ear)

  TAYLOR:

  Hey! Isn’t this great? We’re having a Freshman

  Fifteen Party.

  HOPE:

  Do you mean the weight gain thing? (looks around)

  If you’re trying to set a Guinness World Record for the most weight in a room…

  TAYLOR:

  No! No! It’s a play on having fifteen people in our tiny twelve-by-twelve room. Although I think there are thirty or forty people at this party. Funny, huh?

  HOPE:

  (panicked. She reaches in her pocket for a very dingy, frayed, small pink blanket.) Party? I don’t do parties. I told you that.

  TAYLOR:

  You do now! This is our party. I figured we deserved one after a rough first week of classes. Plus, I finished all my reading for the week, so I thought we should blow

  off steam.

  HOPE:

  You finished two hundred pages in an afternoon?

  TAYLOR:

  I’m a fast reader.

  HOPE:

  (freaks out) Well, I didn’t start reading yet, and I need quiet. (The tuba blares in her ears again.)

  TAYLOR:

  Come on, Hope! The closest you’ve gotten to a large gathering is probably freshman orientation, and that doesn’t count. We’ve got to help you assimilate. You won’t survive four years here if you don’t try to fit in.

  Dorm room door opens again and GUNTHER bounces from HOPE’S bed to the floor, dances with a few cheerleaders, and finally squeezes past two drummers before stopping in front of HOPE and TAYLOR.

  GUNTHER:

  Whoa, Taylor, you were right! We can up our room occupancy to sixty. We can totally fit fifteen more people in here. (holds up the microphone around his neck) Who’s ready for Fat Fifteen Freshman karaoke?

  ZOE:

  I am! (squeezes through the crowd) Karaoke burns calories, and I only got a two-hour workout in at the gym this afternoon. The spin instructor said she wouldn’t let me in a third class. Something about me being a liability.

  TAYLOR:

  (mumbles) In more ways than one. (to GUNTHER) So should we invite more people in?

  HOPE:

  NO! This is a twelve-by-twelve-foot room! I don’t even think my backpack can squeeze in here. (looks at TAYLOR pleadingly and rubs her blanket on her face)

  GUNTHER:

  What’s with that rag you’re carrying?

  HOPE:

  (scrunches it up and pushes it into the top of her jeans) It’s nothing. Nothing worth talking about. Just something I’ve slept with practically since I was born, but no biggie. I don’t have separation issues.

  ZOE:

  It looks that old. Haven’t you ever heard of Shout?

  My mom sent me here with two bottles of it.

  GUNTHER:

  I prefer Resolve, actually.

  HOPE:

  Can we get back to the point here? You’ve got to get these people out of here. I know you want to burn off steam, Taylor, but if Edison gets wind of this get-together, you’ll get a yellow warning slip for sure.

  TAYLOR:

  (gasps) A yellow slip? (starts freaking out) I thought they were green.

  ZOE:

  Aren’t they orange? I got one of those last week.

  GUNTHER:

  I think that was an invite to last night’s Freshman Orientation Dinner.

  ZOE:

  Oh.

  HOPE:

  Whatever! Green! Blue! Polka dots! (to TAYLOR) You’ll get a warning. You. Miss Straight A. It will ruin your dean’s list chances for sure.

  TAYLOR:

  (grabs the microphone that is hanging around GUNTHER’S neck) EVERYBODY OUT! NOW! HELLO? (panicking and looking at HOPE) They’re not moving!

  HOPE:

  I’ll do it. OUT! YOU MUST GO NOW! PARTY IS OVER!

  Gunther, they’re not leaving!

  GUNTHER:

  Um, maybe they would if you turned the mic on.

  HOPE:

  Gotcha. OUT! NOW!

  (Dorm door opens again and it’s EDISON. He sees the crowd and drops all his books. The crowd sees him and storms the door. EDISON comically pulls himself out of the way before he gets run over. He’s hanging from TAYLOR’s weight-lifting bar, and the others come and stand under it.)

  EDISON:

  What was that?

  TAYLOR:

  What was what? (looks at the others)

  I didn’t see anything, did you guys?

  ZOE:

  Nope. Just a few dozen people. (HOPE nudges her.)

  I mean lab rats. They were lab rats. We were working

  on our science project.

  HOPE:

  It was a study group.

  TAYLOR:

  A freshman study group since we freshmen have been worked to the bone our first week here and we’re not… (HOPE nudges her) we love it here.

  EDISON:

  You four, my office now.

  GUNTHER:

  Yes! I’ve always wanted to see the R.A. lounge!

  TWO: Do You Want Fries with That?

  I can hear Peter Frimmons, the network top dog, speak to the crowd of journalists visiting the Small Fries set through the crack in the soundstage door, and my stomach is doing excited flip-flops. Peter is gushing—gushing—about our show. A new show that just aired last night! I don’t think I’ve ever heard a network executive go on record and say: “I’ll give up my bonus if this show doesn’t make the top ten.” And Pete just did!

  “Can you believe Fritz flew all these writers out to L.A. to meet us?” Sky asks me as we huddle together outside the soundstage doors. We’re eavesdropping and hoping not to be noticed. “He really must think Small Fries is
his key to owning a small island off the south of France if he’s spending this much dough on us.”

  The network really is pulling out all the stops for Small Fries. They’ve invited major entertainment journalists from around the country to watch us tape a scene and interview us in person. But even before this meet and greet, the early press for the pilot has been real good. Not that I want to get too ahead of myself. We just debuted last night, and we don’t have final numbers yet. Seth says I shouldn’t worry. He smells a hit.

  “Why are you smiling so big?” Sky asks suspiciously. She looks every bit the college freshman in a really cute but simple green scoop-neck top and dark denim jeans. Her black hair is actually pulled back in a Blair Waldorf–style plaid headband. I never thought I’d see the day she’d wear one of those. “And your neck is getting blotchy,” she adds. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m just happy.” I shrug. “I’m in L.A. again, things with Austin are good, and after all those months of worrying what some lousy publicity would do in my career, here I am, waiting to be introduced to the press as a star on the most talked-about show of the season.”

  Sky rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic and mushy.” She purses her full lips. “But I think you’re right. We’re on a hit, baby! I don’t think you spend this much green unless you love a show, and I think Fritz really loves us, which is a huge boost. No one wants another The Jay Leno Show snafu on their tanned hands.” We both wince at the memory.

  “And now, I’d like to bring out the Small Fries cast!” Pete says, and I hear the applause. “First up, Ian Adams as Gunther!” Ian, my wacky costar, jogs out, his brown, curly mop of hair bouncing as he goes. Ian is just as nutty as his character, and every bit as charismatic. He’s slightly gawky too, being so tall and thin, like a pro basketball player, with huge feet. This is his first sitcom, but he did a failed pilot last season and before that had some bit parts in a few Judd Apatow films.

  “Brendan Walk as Edison!” Brendan is the next to fly past me, but he walks instead of runs onto the soundstage, taking his time and savoring the applause. Brendan is nothing like the tightly wound R.A. he plays on Small Fries. Incredibly good-looking with short, light brown hair, brown eyes, a strong, angular face and body, and a deep voice that makes the extras melt, he’s slightly cocky too, having just finished shooting a potential blockbuster with George Clooney and Brendan’s so-called best bud, Robert Pattinson.

  “Kayla Parker as Zoe!” Pete yells, as if he’s introducing the Jonas Brothers. As Kayla saunters past me, I hear whistles.

  “Show-off, ” grumbles Sky. Kayla is gorgeous, and Sky is a tad jealous, even if she won’t admit it. Kayla is the classic Barbie doll come to life. Tall, blond, and thin, with measurements that would make even the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models envious. Kayla is definitely the show hottie. She’s also a model-turned-actress doing her first show and as such, her face is definitely the draw. Her acting, not so much. Sky, of course, likes to harp on that.

  “Sky, stop pouting,” I tell her lightly and fidget with the drop-waist peach silk tunic by Twenty8Twelve that my microphone is hidden in. I’ve got on black leggings and tall Gucci black buckle boots too. Our show stylist has the cutest clothes for us to wear. It’s all stuff I wear in everyday life too, so sometimes I forget whose clothes are whose! “Pete said you get announced last, which means you’re the most important person in our cast.”

  This makes Sky smile. She smooths her dark hair, making sure not to get any strands caught in the dangling green gem earrings she’s wearing, and stares down at her feet. She’s wearing Tory Burch ballet flats. I’m not sure the average college freshman could afford those, but Sky is happy to have them on. “I know you put Pete up to it.” Sky’s eyes flash at me, and I play innocent.

  I did put Pete up to it. He wanted us to walk out together, but I thought Sky could use an ego stroke. She lost out on a Vanity Fair cover this week to Scarlett Johansson and she’s been a little depressed.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insist and make sure my ponytail is in tight. Last week during filming it fell out, and we had to stop rolling.

  “Please help me welcome Kaitlin Burke as Hope!” Pete’s voice rings in my ears.

  I wink at Sky and then run out from the back of the soundstage, forcing the reporters to turn around. I stand next to Brendan and Kayla in front of the dorm room set while the media applaud. We have four sets total—Hope and Taylor’s dorm room, Brew, a coffee hangout on campus, the R.A. room, and the cafeteria. (We have other sets too, but those are put up and ripped down as needed.) Above my head are hidden lighting fixtures, and in front of me is the camera crew. We also do some scenes outdoors on the back lot so that our show will appear more “real.”

  Originally Small Fries was supposed to be a multicamera comedy taped in front of a live audience. Then suddenly single-camera shows became all the rage (think Modern Family), and our producers quickly retooled us. I would have been happy either way, since I’m used to the live audience thing thanks to the Broadway play I did last summer, Meeting of the Minds. I used to get worried when producers and studios retooled projects, but now I realize they second-guess themselves just like I do. The biggest mistake the networks ever made (in my opinion) is still fresh in everyone’s mind.

  I’m talking about Leno-Conan gate.

  If you thought it looked messy from your living room, you should have seen what was going on here in town. There was Team Coco (aka Conan) and Team Jay, and it felt like everyone had an opinion and their secrets.

  HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER TWO: For all the joking Sky does about collecting a nice paycheck, at the end of the day, good work is not about the money. The Leno-Conan debacle made Hollywood remember that. You had two guys who loved what they did and despite the payouts they would have gotten to probably go away quietly, neither of them did. There was Conan, who obviously loved his new gig very much and was sad to see it go, and then there was Jay, who has so many millions he could have retired years ago and avoided all this negativity. And yet he didn’t want to go away either. That’s what I want: to love a job so much that it’s not about the money, it’s about the love of the work. I think Small Fries could be that work.

  “And finally Sky Mackenzie as Taylor!” Pete says, and all of us—the reporters and the rest of the cast—applaud for Sky. I don’t know Brendan, Ian, or Kayla that well yet, but they seem cool. For now we’re all pretty stiff and polite with one another. Everyone is constantly saying things like “Great take!” I worked with most of the same people on FA for almost a decade, so it felt like a family, but this could be one too if we’re on the air long enough.

  God, I hope we are.

  “Before we start taping,” Pete tells the large group, “the Small Fries’ executive director has an announcement to make that is so important we wanted to share it with the cast and all of you at the same time.”

  Sky and I look at each other, and I feel my stomach flip-flop again. They wouldn’t call the executive director out in front of critics unless the news was HUGE.

  The group quiets down—you can practically hear recorders click on—and our show runner, Amy Peterson, walks out in a beautiful khaki pantsuit and matching Anna Sui heels. “Hi, everyone,” says Amy, who looks like a tiny gymnast. She’s barely five feet—shorter than me!—and has a hip brown haircut that is long in the front and shaved short in the back. “I’m glad you could join us for Small Fries’ third episode taping. As you know, our show debuted last night.”

  I inhale and Sky’s and my hands touch. We’ve been on set all day, and everyone who works on SF has been asking/talking/whispering/wondering the same thing: Were our ratings good enough to make it another week? Being a critical darling is great, but it’s not going to keep you on the air forever. You still need good ratings. We’ve been worried because we were up against Megan, Megan Moynahan’s hit sitcom. The early numbers Seth got this morning looked good, but nothing was official till this afte
rnoon. Everywhere I look—from the camera crew to the grip, to the P.A.s, to the cast—everyone is holding their breath. I look at Amy’s face, and she breaks into a smile.

  “Small Fries was the most watched show of the night!” Amy practically screams, unable to hide the enthusiasm in her usually reserved voice. “Not only that, but in the key eighteen to thirty-four demo, it beat Megan in the eight thirty PM hour.”

  Brendan fist pumps the air, and Kayla throws herself at Brendan. “We’ve survived another week!” I squeal and hug Sky. “Another few weeks like this one, and we’ll get a full-season pickup for sure.”

  “Survived? We’re beating Megan.” Sky sounds giddy. “I knew we would! It’s their fourth season, and that show is going down!”

  I stop jumping up and down. “We’ve only beat Megan once.” I bite my lip. Ratings talk makes me nauseous. I’m not used to worrying about it. FA was on forever and was so popular that whether we were number five for the week or thirty-five in the ratings, I knew we weren’t in danger of being cancelled. “This was just our first week. What if no one tunes in next week?”

  “You can get excited, K,” Sky tells me, sounding pumped herself. “Numbers like this out of the gate are a good thing.”

  “You’re right,” I say and start jumping around again. It feels too good to stop. “I just want us to do well. I like it here, and I never thought I’d like anything as much as FA. It’s not home or anything, but it’s a lot of fun and doesn’t feel like work and…”

  “Rambling,” Sky says, pointing a long, red fingernail at my mouth. “This show rocks, and so do we. I’m sure we’re going to get bigger and better.” She looks around. “They wouldn’t be doing all this otherwise. Amy is going to have us do a zillion more interviews and TV appearances next week to keep the momentum flowing. You’ll be too tired by Wednesday to even freak out about this anymore.”

  Very true. Nadine told me this month we’re doing news shows, radio shows, print interviews, and Sky and I were on The View on Wednesday because they’re shooting in L.A. Normally I’d be exhausted just thinking about all that smiling and saying “I love Small Fries!” over and over, but I’ll do anything, even go on QVC and sell T-shirts, if it means making this show work.