Secrets of My Hollywood Life: Family Affairs (5 page)

Nadine shakes her head. “I’m sure people are just jealous of all the attention she’s getting,” she says. Nadine sticks the new issue of
TV Tome
in front of me. “Like this. Take a look at this article.”

Fresh Face

TV Tome’s Guide to the Blazing Stars of the New Season

“Who’s that girl?”
have been the words on everyone’s lips in the
Tome
office, where we can’t get enough of gorgeous redhead Alexis Holden, who plays secret-ridden Colby on this season’s
Family Affair
. The 17-year-old should spice up Summerville High, where fraternal twins Sam and Sara (eternally dueling costars Kaitlin Burke and Sky Mackenzie) walk the halls. Sure, the ratings are still stellar for this aging nighttime soap, but the addition of Alexis, as Paige’s (Melissa Ralton) possible long-lost illegitimate daughter, should add some juice to the stuck-in-a-rut storylines of the past few seasons (Sam and Sara go on a triple-date with their parents? Yawn). Alexis’s past seems as secret as Colby’s at this point — all the show mouthpieces will say is that she was handpicked by executive producer and creator Tom Pullman for the role and she hails from Vancouver, where she was raised by her single mom — but who cares? As long as the girl can act better than that nitwit who plays Penelope, we’ll TiVo in. (
Family Affair
airs Sundays at 9 PM EST.)

I’m quiet for a moment. The article reminds me of a Hollywood Secret that is particularly worrisome. HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER ONE: There are a few telltale signs that a TV show’s days are numbered. One is when a head writer leaves (that hasn’t happened yet. Tom has been writing episodes for years). Another is when a show does a ton of stunt-casting. (Um . . . we did have Gwen Stefani drop by
Family Affair
last year. Hey, she’s a genuine fan!) The third is when a bunch of new characters are brought on board . . . oh no!

“Do you think our show has gotten stale?” I ask worriedly. “Do you think that’s why they hired Alexis?” As much as I sometimes complain about my crazy life on a big TV show, I wouldn’t want it to disappear. You hear that, God? I actually love being on
FA!

“
FA
is the longest running primetime drama on TV and you have top twenty Nielsen ratings,” Nadine reassures me. “That’s not stale. I’m sure they just hired Alexis to pull off some new plot twists.”

“You’re right.” I tell myself, “I’m sure we’ve got nothing to worry about with Alexis. She’s probably just trying to fit in and maybe extend her story arc for a bit.” I grin. “I can’t say I blame her. This is a pretty fun place to work — most of the time.”

“Yeah, chauffeured rides, a fabulous assistant, a killer time slot — I would have to agree you have it pretty good.” Nadine grins.

My stomach rumbles. “Hey, want to go over to crafty and see if they have any of that Oreo ice cream left?” Crafty is our nickname for craft services, which is basically a meal on wheels for the set. No matter what time of day it is you can find food, snacks, and drinks.

“Aren’t you meeting Austin for dinner later?” Nadine asks.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a snack now.” I race her to the door and fling it open. The long, sparsely decorated dressing room corridor is crowded as usual, with actors in costume racing to their next scene, crew members carrying scenery or equipment, and weary production assistants (we call them P.A.s) on their short lunch break. Nadine and I have barely taken two steps past Sky’s door, where loud alternative rock music is playing, when we hear my name, or some variation of it.

“Kate-Kate! Katie-Kins! KAITLIN!” My mom is yelling this as she and my younger brother, Matty, run toward me. Mom’s in full work mode in a fitted white pantsuit that offsets her airbrush-tanned body. Her long honey-colored hair, dyed to match my own, is pulled into a ponytail. “There you are! We knew we’d find you hiding out in your dressing room e-mailing Austin for the hundredth time today.”

I ignore the dig at my boyfriend. Mom seems to dislike Austin for the very reason I adore him — he’s not in the business. “Actually I’ve been memorizing my new script and now Nadine and I are off to get ice cream. Do you . . .” I stop midsentence at the sight of Matty. His hazel eyes are glazed over and the grin on his face is so wide, it could light up our whole soundstage. “What’s with Matt?”

“We’ve got fantastic news!” Mom gushes. “We didn’t want to tell you till it was official, but guess who is a new recurring character on
Family Affair
?” She doesn’t wait for my answer. “YOUR BROTHER!”

Wow. After years of Mom begging, fighting, and practically bribing the writers, Matty has finally managed to get on the show. I grab my younger clone — my whole blond, green-eyed family could be an advertisement for the sunny state of California — and give him a fierce hug. “Way to go, Matty! How’d it happen?”

Matt takes a deep breath. “You know how I’m always asking you to get me a job here and Tom always tells you they don’t have any parts for a guy my age?” I nod. “Well, Tom called our agent last week and told him they were actually looking for someone this year and he wanted me to audition,” Matty says proudly. He’s dressed to the nines in gray pants, a burgundy vest, and a white button-down shirt. Very Justin Timberlake. “But Mom called Tom and made him promise not to show me any favoritism just because we’re related and hiring me would be a great public relations move. You know, because they’d be able to say they have two Burkes on the same show.”

“How professional,” Nadine says lightly.

Mom raises her eyebrow at Nadine in that menacing way of hers and Nadine clams up. Mom and Nadine don’t always see eye to eye on Mom’s showbiz tactics.

“Anyway,” Matty says, “Tom and everyone there loved me. They said I was perfect for the part of Dylan, a new junior high student at Summerville High.” Our fake high school actually houses students in seventh to twelfth grade.

“That is awesome!” I hug him again and he doesn’t fight me. “It will be nice having a built-in ally around here.”

“I guess it will be kind of cool to be known as Kaitlin Burke’s bro,” Matty admits. “As long as it doesn’t overshadow my performance.”

“Of course.” I grin.

“And this means we’ll have the same on-set tutor now,” Matty adds. “I can’t wait to give Donna the heave-ho.” Matt’s been homeschooled by a private tutor since kindergarten. Our parents said they knew he’d be a big star someday so why not just start with a tutor from day one?

“Tell me more about this Dylan,” I prod my brother. “I don’t think I’ve heard of him yet.”

“He’s this mysterious outsider who wants to hang out with Sam and Sara,” Matty explains breathlessly.

“Oh wait,” I realize. “I think I heard Trevor talking about this. Is he the guy Ryan’s going to be tutoring? The geeky kid from the broken home?” Trevor Wainwright plays my boyfriend, Ryan, on the show.

“I wouldn’t call him geeky,” Matty scoffs. “But yeah, that’s him.”

“I probably got that part wrong,” I say quickly. “Anyway, this is great news, Matty. How many episodes are you on for?” I smile politely at a crewman passing by who is carrying Sheetrock and paint cans. Maybe he’s heading over to the
FA
wall of fame, in the soundstage entrance hall. That’s where there are larger-than-life, hand-painted drawings of the main cast members of our show. Tom swears they’re going to redo mine this year. The picture they have of me is from when I’m thirteen and have a mouth full of metal. It’s a painful reminder to walk past every day.

“They said I’m on for eight,” Matt explains, watching the action swirl around him. “But since I’m only thirteen, child labor laws say I can only work five hours a day. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“How cruel,” Nadine agrees. I try to stifle a laugh. Nadine likes Matty, but he tried to get her to do assistant duties for him on the set of
PYA
(he had a small part as my character’s brother), and I think it left a sour taste in her mouth.

“I know,” Matt complains, oblivious to Nadine’s sarcasm. “I mean, I’m sure they’d be willing to give me more lines if they didn’t have to write around these restrictions. They can’t get the full range of my talent on only five hours of . . . WHOA. Who is
that?
”

We all turn and see Alexis Holden strutting toward us. Her long, flowing red hair (think the hair of a younger, prepartying Lindsay Lohan) bounces behind her as she struts past us in a formfitting black V-neck tank dress and knee-high stiletto boots. She looks way older than seventeen, as the bio Tom gave us claims she is. Alexis sees me and squeals.

“KATE-KATE!” She gives me a big hug. “How are you doing? You were awesome in this morning’s scene. I wish I could be that cool and calm under the glare of the cameras.” She looks at my family and Nadine. “I love this girl.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a lot of practice. You’ll get there.” I blush. Gee, Sky has Alexis all wrong. She’s so nice! “Guys, this is Alexis, our new guest costar,” I add. “Mom, you know Alexis. She’s playing Colby. And this is my brother, Matty. He’s new this season too.”

Alexis turns and squeezes Matty, shoving her chest into his face. The slight come-on can’t be helped since Alexis towers over Matt, but either way, Matty doesn’t move a muscle. His mouth is practically hitting the floor. “I’m so glad there is someone else new around here!” she gushes. “We have to stick together.” Matty nods.

“So this is Alexis,” my mother swoons. “I’ve read so much about you already! You’re going to be a huge star just like my Kaitlin. I can feel it. Do you have representation, dear?”

Alexis shakes her head. “The studio says I shouldn’t waste the money. They can do it for me.” Her voice is always a little raspy, like she just rolled out of bed.

“That’s wonderful for now, but eventually you’ll want someone to manage you, I’m sure,” Mom presses. “Don’t hesitate to ask Kaitlin or Matty for my number.”

“That’s so sweet.” Alexis takes my mother’s hand and squeezes it firmly. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Nadine and I were just on our way to crafty,” I say. “Want to come?”

“Oh, I wish I could, but I was just on my way to the writers’ room to bring them some cookies I made,” she says, pointing to the bag on her arm.

“So you like to bake?” Nadine asks innocently.

Alexis nods. “I used to love cooking for my friends back home. Baking for everybody here makes me a little less homesick,” she says, sounding sad. “What’s your favorite cookie? I’ll bake you guys something next.”

Nadine and I quickly look at each other. I guess that set gossip was wrong. Alexis really is just trying to fit in. “You don’t have to do that,” I tell her. I don’t want to add that I’d probably eat the whole batch in one sitting and not be able to fit into wardrobe.

“Are you sure?” Alexis asks. “The writing staff says I make a mean oatmeal raisin.” She laughs.

“I’m positive,” I say, but inside, I feel a twinge of jealousy again. She’s brand-new and taking the set by storm. It’s hard not to feel slightly competitive.

Maybe I will make those caramel brownies to bring in next week.

“Have fun.” I smile.

“I will,” she says. And with that, Alexis saunters off, leaving the group of us to gape at her model-perfect figure and runway-worthy exit.

FRIDAY, 9/13

NOTE TO SELF:

Dinner w/ A, Liz & Josh @ Les Deux @ 8 PM

*Have Nadine double-check reservation

Mon. call time: on location in Malibu

Hair & makeup @ 5 AM, pickup @ 6 AM

Mon. @ 7 PM: J.T. bash @ Hyde

Tues. call time: 6 AM

Tues. @ 6 PM: Priceless Benefit

Two:
TGIF

I’ve just discovered something about Hollywood hot spots: Just because you have a reservation doesn’t mean you can get in. Literally.

“Are you sure this is where Les Deux is?” Liz frowns as she peers through the tinted glass windows of our Lincoln, her purple satin minidress shimmering in the glow of a nearby street lamp. Her olive face, dazzling with glitter foundation, is scrunched up in concentration, and her brown curly mane is tamed under one of her signature head scarves.

“I think so,” I say and bite my lip. The hot Euro-style club and restaurant is as well known for its hard-to-find entrance as it is for its dessert. There’s a parking lot full of Beamers and Mercedes, so I know we’re close, but the nearby buildings look too nondescript to be Les Deux. I’ve only been here once for a party and the promoters ushered me in so quickly I didn’t get a good look at the outside.

“Aren’t big stars like you given the secret code ahead of time?” teases Austin. He says this as he’s massaging my shoulders and it’s giving me goose bumps.

“I’ll go look for it first,” my bodyguard/driver, Rodney, says. “Larry the Liar could be skulking nearby. I don’t care if it’s against the law to pummel the paparazzi. If that guy gets in Kate’s face again, I’m taking him down with one punch.”

Rod could, too. Especially after his stunt training on
PYA
. (The film was Rod’s first big-screen stuntman credit. Rod’s goal is to be the next Arnold Schwarzenegger. Minus the Governor title.) Rodney can be pretty intimidating with his 300-pound frame, bald head, and black sunglasses, but the big guy is a teddy bear when it comes to me.

“It was an accident,” I remind him, thinking of the event last week when Larry the Liar tripped over the rope and smashed his Nikon D50 into my right cheek. The bluish-purple bruise has finally gone down; Shelly had a nasty time covering it with concealer.

Suddenly I see someone walk out of a Craftsman-style bungalow at the edge of the parking lot. At first I think they’re just leaving their house, but what’s a home doing in a parking lot? Then I see two more people, dressed fabulously, exit with take-out bags. That’s it! “I remember where we go in,” I say excitedly. “It’s that building over there!”

“I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t get to have any of those lemon cupcakes you rhapsodized about the whole way over,” Liz’s boyfriend, Josh, jokes. Even in a loose blue silk shirt, you can make out Josh’s defined upper body muscles.

He’sakickboxer, just like Liz, and the two met several months ago, around the same time I met Austin. I love that the four of us double-date. It’s so adult.

“You shouldn’t have worried,” Austin says, his mouth twitching. “The Burke name guarantees the presence of the paparazzi and admission to any venue.” He winks at me.

I break into a huge grin. Austin loves teasing me about the perks of fame. And okay, I can admit it. Sometimes it really is fun being me.

With the four of us behind him, Rodney walks us to the valet, who is guarding a long line of pretty people. How did we miss this crowd? Rodney whispers my name to the valet who turns and whispers it to a harried guy with a clipboard and the door opens to let us inside. People groan as we walk past them.

“Have fun! Make sure you bring me a cupcake!” Rodney calls after us. “Or two!”

A super-skinny hostess with a cute bob leads us past the gorgeous, modern lounge with rock walls and black leather booths, and onto the patio, where an old French film is being projected on the wall. A fountain bubbles in the middle of several couches and ottomans; trees and bushes dot the serene landscape. The girl seats us at a private set of leather couches and wordlessly hands us each a menu. “I’ll be back for your drink order,” she says before walking over to the outdoor bar.

Salivating, I quickly scan the eats. The Italian menu looks delish, but I can’t help reading about the desserts first. Red velvet, lemon, carrot-pecan, and vanilla cupcakes . . . ahhh. I want to order them all. As I settle into the comfy couch, I feel my achy shoulders start to relax. I happily peek over my menu and stare at my boyfriend.

Austin’s blond mop of hair is hanging over his turquoise eyes. As usual, he looks like he just walked out of an American Eagle ad. He’s wearing a button-down polo and dark brown khakis.

“What’s on your mind, Burke?” he asks without looking up. I blush madly. He’s caught me staring at him. Again.

“Nothing ,” I reply. “I’m just so happy to see all of you. It’s been such a loooonnnnnggg week without you guys.” After
PYA
wrapped, I had two blissful weeks off and the four of us hung out 24
/
7. After
FA
started back up, we hung out at night or they’d come by the set (I love showing off my boyfriend!), but now that school has started again, everyone’s schedules are all over the map and we’re limited to getting together on weekends. It’s so depressing.

Liz’s smile turns into a yawn. “We missed you too,” she mumbles sleepily. “Especially when we were sitting in American history and Mrs. Watson was droning on about our gazillion-page textbook,
The American Nation
.”

“We have to read the second chapter on prehistory to the eighteen hundreds and write a short essay by Monday about the most trying time for settlers in the English colonies,” complains Austin. “I wish I could rewind three weeks and be back at your house, lying by the pool.”

“Me too,” Liz chimes in, resting her hands under her chin.

Her eyes look heavy, like she’s ready to go to sleep. “I’d even be your assistant again. And that’s saying a lot.”

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. Liz was my second assistant (Nadine holding the longtime “first” throne, of course) on
PYA
and it wouldn’t be a lie to say she hated the job (Tip: Friends shouldn’t hire friends). Some good did come out of the experience, though. Liz met Daniella Cook, Hutch’s producing partner on
PYA,
and made such a great impression that Daniella gave her an after-school job helping out in the production office. Now Liz is seriously considering a career as a producer someday.

“I am so tired,” Liz whines. “But I missed you too much to cancel.” She frowns, revealing the dimple in her left cheek. “Between school, kickboxing, and working with Daniella, I could curl up under this table and not wake up till Monday. ”

Josh laughs, his face turning as red as his strawberry blond hair. “Just wait till your SAT prep class starts next week. You’re going to be really wiped.” Liz moans.

“Were you able to get into the one you wanted?” I flag down the waitress to take our order before Liz starts snoring.

“Yep. We have it during fifth period,” Austin says. “We take that the first half of the year and then second semester we take statistics. Liz and I got into the same class.”

“I’m stuck taking it on Saturdays because my school doesn’t have a prep during the day,” Josh complains. While Liz and Austin go to private Clark High School in Santa Rosita (which is where I joined them for a few months), Josh goes to the public school across town. “What about you, Kates?” Josh adds. “Are you taking a prep course too?”

I blush. “I don’t think so. Monique has been quizzing me, but she says I shouldn’t sweat the test too much since I’ll probably be on
FA
till I’m fifty.” I laugh, but when I think about it, it’s not really funny. What if the show is suddenly canceled or I’m slammed in the press about something really awful and I’m fired? If I get a bad score on the SATs, I’ll never get into a good college. And if I don’t get into a good college, I won’t be able to find a new career and new job prospects. And my money will run out. I feel myself start to perspire. An image of Mom, Dad, Matty, and me huddled on a street corner wearing shredded Prada coats flashes through my mind. I shudder.

I guess I could try out for
Dancing with the Stars
as a last resort. Double shudder.

“Are you cold?” Austin asks. I shake my head.

“The SATs are all I can think about,” Austin says to us. “Junior year is time to get serious, you know? I don’t have lacrosse till spring, so I’ve got no excuse not to hit the books. Coach wanted me to take track, but I’m not a hundred-meter-dash kind of guy. I’d rather concentrate on getting a killer SAT score so I can get into UCLA or Notre Dame or Boston College.”

Wait a minute. Austin is moving to Boston? The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Liz and Austin are going to college in two years and they’re probably going to pick someplace far away. My stomach starts to growl in protest. In the past, I never worried when Liz brought up college because it seemed like such a long way off, but it’s really not. Not anymore. I picture myself waving goodbye to Liz and Austin as they drive off to points unknown. Pretty soon we won’t get to hang out like this anymore. We’ll see each other on breaks and during the summer, but we’ll spend most of the year apart. It takes every ounce of energy I have left not to burst into tears right in the middle of the courtyard at Les Deux.

Austin and Liz’s futures seem set. So where does that leave me? Do I even want to go to college? I already have a great job. Nadine is always bugging me about college, saying it’s really important for my growth. She recites her list of popular stars, like Natalie Portman, who’ve taken time off to go to class. That’s when I say that people like Natalie Portman and Julia Stiles weren’t starring on a hit TV show that shoots nine months out of the year when they went to college. But in theory, I guess I could go, if I want to. And if I don’t totally fail my SATs. I should talk to Monique about this. She’s been my tutor since I started on
FA
and it’s her job to prepare me for life by teaching me well, right? My PSAT scores weren’t horrible, but they weren’t stellar either. I should get SAT help. Just in case.

“So you’re thinking of a school on the East Coast?” I ask Austin, trying to sound calm and not at all concerned.

“Maybe,” Austin says, looking pensive. “But my top choice is UCLA.”

Oh thank God.

“NYU is still my top choice,” Liz says. “I’ve always wanted to go there, but now that I want to be a producer, I’m obsessed with getting in. Their film school rocks. And New York seems like such a great city to live in.”

“I will miss you tons, but it really does seem perfect for you,” I agree regretfully.

New York really is full of possibilities. Every time I go to New York to do the talk-show circuit, I fall even more in love with that city. In New York, no one even notices celebrities. It’s true. There’s no paparazzi brigade following you down the street, no cameramen in the bushes waiting to get a picture of your face dripping with Pinkberry yogurt. I wonder what it would be like to live there. It sounds serene, if you forget about the street traffic and constantly honking taxis. But I could probably drown them out with a noise machine from Sharper Image.

I have a fleeting image of Liz and me as roomies at NYU. Eating at Serendipity, flagging a cab with our arms full of shopping bags, Rollerblading in Central Park . . . How fun would it be to live 3,000 miles away from home and still be with Lizzie? Sure, I get to go away anytime I shoot a movie on location, but still! If I went to college, I’d be away
all year
. That would mean no parents, no rules, and no publicist. That’s kind of cool. Now I’m a little jealous, even if the idea is far-fetched. I push the fantasy out of my head and try to pay attention to what Liz is saying.

“I just hope I can keep up with everything I have on my plate,” Liz says, looking stressed. “I’m on overload already and it’s only mid-September. I don’t even have an hour a week to watch
Grey’s Anatomy
.”

“Don’t forget driver’s ed is starting too,” Austin says with a twinkle in his eye.

“That’s right,” I say, happy to change the subject. “I can’t wait for you guys to get your licenses and drive me around. Rodney is going to be so bummed he’s not my main chauf-feur anymore,” I joke. “Austin, your birthday is first, so I guess you’re hired.” His birthday is October 26, which makes him just shy of two months older than me. My birthday is December 11.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be seventeen,” Austin marvels.

“Welcome to the club, man,” Josh pats Austin on the back. Josh just got his license, but his mom still won’t let him take the car at night.

“Any idea what you want, Meyers?” I ask. “Other than a candy apple red Jeep Cherokee?”

Austin shrugs. “Not really — other than you having the day off.” He leans over and gives me a kiss. He’s so cute.

“I don’t turn seventeen till March,” Liz laments. “I’m lucky they even let me sign up for the class now.”

“Backtrack,” Josh says suddenly. “Kates, what did you mean by, ‘I can’t wait for you guys to drive me around’? Aren’t you getting your permit too?”

I bite my lip. “I haven’t really thought about it,” I reply, feeling small. Wow, this conversation is getting really depressing.

“I think you should get your license.” Austin reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re not going to want Rodney to drive you everywhere for the rest of your life.”

Austin has a point. A license is my ticket to freedom. I could actually get in the car and go to Kitson Boutique by myself for once. It would be nice to get one of those cute little convertibles in a deep shade of green. I can see myself driving along Pacific Coast Highway, the wind blowing my hair. “How much fun would it be if we could all take driver’s ed together?” I say, feeling wistful. I frown. “But with my luck, I’d show up and
Hollywood Nation
would mob the parking lot with cameras and ruin class.” Everyone laughs.

Yes, my life is extraordinary and meeting the President and going on
Oprah
can’t be beat. But sometimes I can’t help but be frustrated when I realize I’m missing out on normal rites of passage like driver’s ed, going to my own prom, or having a dorm room the size of a shoebox. Skipping that stuff makes me feel ancient sometimes. Too ancient for someone who hasn’t even turned seventeen.

Austin gives me one of his beyond-perfect smiles that always make me turn to goo. “Private driving lessons are better than driver’s ed,” Austin says. “At least you won’t have to put your life in the hands of three other overexcited teens taking turns at the wheel.”