Sunset Boulevard

The A-List: Hollywood Royalty #2: Sunset

Boulevard

Zoey Dean

To my parents, Debra and William, for never making my epic dreams feel too big for me and

for helping me feel like the star of my own life. Oh, and for genetically gifting me with good

looks and a quick wit.

All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up.

--Gloria Swanson as Norma Desmond,
Sunset Boulevard

I'LL GRANT YOU THAT

Myla Everhart's black SUV pulled up in front of Beverly Hills High, and immediately, her

driver, Charlie, came around to open the door. Myla sighed and stepped out onto the school's

front walkway. At least she'd gotten to come in late. After a terrible, sleepless weekend, she'd

gotten her mom, megastar Lailah Barton, to call the attendance office and tell them Myla would

be missing her first few classes, citing "female troubles." Worked every time.

Myla walked toward the front doors, faking a bounce in her step. She could almost hear the

whispers of the students gathered on the front lawn between their second-and third-period

classes. Normally, Myla loved when people talked about her. Relished it, in fact.

As long as what they were discussing fell along the lines of:

* How she'd snagged a limited edition pair of Louis Vuitton peep-toe pumps.

* How her long ebony hair maintained its shimmer.

* How she'd rocked Gucci on the red carpet for one of her parents' new movies.

* What an impossibly beautiful and perfect couple she and Ash Gilmour made.

But she and Ash were officially broken up. She strode down the path at the center of the front

lawn, staring down the curious eyes of the student body. She knew exactly what today's Myla

Fun Fact was.

Myla Everhart, caught making out with Lewis Buford, the biggest slimeball asshole at BHH.

Caught by Ash, that is. Ash, who was mortal enemies with Lewis.

Myla held her head high, gliding across the BHH grounds in her new Miss Dior silver

stilettos. Yesterday she and Ash had called a truce, vowing to be civil to one another. True, it

was better than him hating her forever. But it wasn't exactly the outcome she'd been looking

for.

But at least she had her girlfriends. She was on her way to meet them now. Billie Bollman,

Talia Montgomery, and Fortune Weathers could be counted on to take her mind off things.

Myla usually chose retail therapy over "Why doesn't he like me?" wailfests, but today, she

needed to unload some baggage, and knew her besties would be there to carry it for her.

Her friends were waiting for her in their usual spot, a sunny corner just outside the main

entrance to BHH. A light breeze drifted by, and the white Moonstone rosebushes lining the

paver-stone pathway swayed, their dancing, curvaceous shadows flickering over the girls.

They were huddled in a circle, like a football team with great taste in couture, but looked up and

gave gleeful shrieks as Myla approached.

"Omigod, omigod, omigod," Talia cried, bouncing on her strappy mulberry Fendi platforms.

Myla couldn't wait for her glossy brown hair to reach shoulder length again after an ill-fated

bob. "Did you hear?" She tightly wrapped her thin, tan arms around her buxom chest, as if her

petite frame couldn't contain her excitement.

Myla shook her head. She wondered briefly if some new rumor about her and Lewis had

surfaced, but decided to play it cool. "No, what's going on?"

"Two words..." Fortune Weathers chimed in purposefully. She stepped between Talia and

Myla, adjusting her black satin Chanel headband so that it rested over her canopy of blond hair.

"Grant. Isaacson." She arched one slightly overwaxed brow to punctuate the news, looking like

the star of a 1950s commercial for dish soap.

Billie Bollman tapped her bubble-gum pink ballet flat against the brick wall, her smile two sizes

too big for her long, horsey face. "He's
here
," she squealed, twirling a strand of her fine, white

blond hair. "Somewhere. This is so much better than the time JT performed at your birthday

party."

Myla suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Grant Isaacson was all the current hotness if you

were a girl between ages twelve and eighteen who couldn't find a real boyfriend. He'd only

acted in two movies. Lucky for him, a beyond-hot love scene with Kristen Bell in Martin

Scorsese's
Cocked
, a crime drama about a suburban pizza delivery boy who outwits the mob,

had made the film a categorical success with the unlikely teen girl demographic. Grant--a pale,

high-cheekboned hipster with permanently mussed dark brown hair--was master of the glower,

a sleepy-eyed, purse-lipped glare that most teen girls believed could only be improved if he

took off his shirt. Personally, Myla thought his famous look was just a lame attempt at Derek

Zoolander's Blue Steel--without the comedic timing.

"Oh-kay," Myla said finally. She was so not in the mood to feign giddiness over a random

celebrity sighting. She could eat breakfast with the world's hottest on-and off-screen couple,

Lailah Barton and Barkley Everhart, every day if she wanted to. Nicknamed Barbar by the

press, her adoptive parents reigned supreme in Hollywood. There were no celebrity sightings

to outrank them--except maybe their unspoken rivals, Brangelina--and no news more coveted

than that of whatever they did next: charity in the third-world, adopting another malnourished

child as a souvenir from an impoverished country, or even something as minor as sitting next

to one of their old flames at the Oscars. Of course, nothing beat the news that they were

bringing home their sole biological child after sixteen years of separation. They'd done just that

two weeks ago, when Myla returned home from Paris to find Jojo Milford sitting at her dinner

table. Jojo was Barbar's
real
kid, and Myla, who'd been adopted from Thailand years ago, had

instantly detested her. Probably because their parents just couldn't get enough of their bio-kid.

After a few weeks of putting Jojo through the wringer, Myla was finally coming to terms with

Jojo being here, even liking her a little. Maybe because, for all the attention Jojo was getting, at

BHH Myla was still the queen. And that was what counted. "So what about him? He goes here

now?"

Talia's eyes widened. "I can't believe you haven't heard," she whispered, as though ashamed

Myla would be so out of the loop. "He just got cast as the best friend in
Class Angel
. They're

reshooting a lot of it here this week. I guess they want it all to feel like a real high school."

Myla, Billie, and Fortune all turned to Talia, surprised. Her attention span was often so short

she didn't finish reading text messages. Talia shrugged. "I read
Variety
."

Myla shook her head, her golden Alex Monroe dragonfly earrings swinging.
Class Angel
was

a lame teen movie that she wouldn't have been caught dead seeing even when she was eight

years old. And if it was being reshot, it was probably a solid bomb. "Why would I bother

reading up on a movie with Fairy Princess in it? Do I look like I spend free time arranging my

Bratz doll collection?" The only reason anyone her age knew about
Class Angel
was its A-list

collection of stars: Kady Parker was the industry's newest wild child, even if she had never

gone full Lohan. Hunter Sparks was the tabloids' latest favorite player, and cover reports of his

conquests sold almost as many mags as new baby rumors about her parents. And Amelie

Adams was the ultimate good girl. She had a loyal little-kid following from her long-running

TV show
Fairy Princess
, and the entire world seemed to be awaiting her eventual fall with

sick, rapt attention. Myla had been lying when she pretended to be ignorant of the movie. Her

little sisters, Ajani and Indigo, were
Fairy Princess
-obsessed and Myla had promised to take

them to
Class Angel
when it came out. Though she'd definitely wear a disguise.

"You would know because Grant Isaacson is the hottest guy on earth," Fortune said, a little

bitchily. "You don't
look
like you live in a cave."

"Yeah, I get it. He's filming a movie here," Myla said hastily, making a mental note to

reprimand Fortune later for her impudent tone. But right now, she was impatient to move on.

They needed to address a more important topic: how Myla could wish Ash a happy birthday

next week, in a heartfelt but not desperate way. "So what?"

"We have the perfect plan is what," Billie chirped.

"You're looking at Amelie Adams's and Kady Parker's new BFFs," said Fortune, drawing out

pauses between the letters. "We get close, and we get Grant."

Myla gave Fortune her most sympathetic half-smile. The plan was so lightweight, it would

barely qualify for an item on Myla's to-do list. "But why go to all that trouble just to land an

actor? Just have one of our parents phone in a favor."

Talia's jaw set in a hard line. She and Myla had been friends long before Fortune and Billie

because Talia's mother, Peg Montgomery, owned Montague's, a high-concept brasserie that

was a Barbar favorite. In fact, it had been the famed locale of Barbar's hush-hush wedding

ceremony and reception. "Who would phone in the favor? You? Just like all those times you've

helped when your parents are shooting?"

"I've called in favors," Myla fired back, instantly feeling defensive. It was the truth: Freshman

year, her girlfriends had requested bit roles in Barbar's remake of
It's a Wonderful Life.
Hunter

Sparks had had a supporting role, and at the time, they'd been into
him
. So maybe it hadn't

really worked--Myla had forgotten to ask until the last minute, and they'd only gotten to visit

the set, on a day that Hunter wasn't even there. But the fact that she'd gone out of her way for

them was what mattered. Where was the loyalty?

"Anyway, Grant will see right through that, Myla," Billie scolded. "It has to be real. And the

Lacey twins are off filming their stupid show, so they're out." Moira and Deven Lacey were the

school's acting double-threat, and had just announced a junior-year hiatus as they left to film

their hit CW show,
School for Scandal
, on location at a Connecticut boarding school. After

bragging nonstop about their minor roles in
Class Angel
, they apparently didn't think the parts

were worth sticking around for.

"Okay," Myla said, feeling like she might shrink into the pleats of her Marc Jacobs dress. She

was used to the occasional snippiness from Fortune and Talia, but Billie was unfalteringly

loyal. She'd trade couture for Walmart separates if Myla insisted. What the hell was going on

today? Myla lifted her chin proudly, trying to pretend this mini revolution didn't bother her.

The bell chimed, signaling that class was about to start.

"It's okay, Billie," Talia whispered, leaning her petite frame into Billie's athletic one. "She'll

see."

Myla's friends fell into step together, forming a previously unheard-of line ahead of her. Two

paces behind, Myla felt like the left-behind caboose on the runaway train of her life.

THE PUKE HEARD ROUND THE

WORLD

"T
hat fucking bitch just puked in my mouth!"