Sunset Boulevard (30 page)

hopefully. A big girly sleepover was exactly what she needed right now. "I got a screener of

the new Keira Knightly movie."

"Oh, that sounds fun," Fortune said distractedly. She was staring off at something outside the

tent, and Amelie followed her gaze. Myla Everhart, in a sleek green dress, pranced into a tent

offering Spa 415 treatments and mani-pedis. Talia and Billie turned to look too. They eyed

Barbar's daughter hopefully--like she was the cupcake they could have if they cleared their

plates of brussels sprouts.

And Amelie was the brussels sprouts.

"The three of us just really need to go talk to Myla about something, and then we'll be right

back. 'Kay?"

Amelie didn't bother responding, and didn't even have time to. The girls zipped from the tent,

making a beeline for Myla.

Even Amelie's trusty delusions couldn't trick her into believing they'd be back.

Jojo was an insider. Plain and simple. How many other sixteen-year-old girls got exclusive

invites to wrap parties held at the famous Transnational lot?

Okay, so it wasn't exactly exclusive: Everyone at BHH had been invited, as a thank-you for

letting the film shoot at the school. Still, she was
here
and not hiding in a corner. The party was

outdoors, and the lot had been decorated to look like a metropolitan version of heaven. Even the

tawny golden Transnational gates bore a glittery sign that read, THANK HEAVEN FOR

BEVERLY HILLS HIGH SCHOOL. Each wrought-iron spike was topped with a halo

fashioned from twinkle lights. Down the lot's New York street, beneath their cover of a white,

glittery sheen, Jojo recognized the brownstone steps where Anne Hathaway and Chris Evans

had kissed over spilled groceries in the remake of
Barefoot in the Park
. Amelie Adams stood

on the steps now, talking to BHH's principal, Dr. Nachez, who had the unfortunate nickname

Dr. Nachos thanks to his slight paunch. He was oblivious to the fact all his students were

carrying flutes of champagne in open violations of BHH's no-tolerance policy--perhaps on

purpose.

Jojo debated snapping a photo of Amelie Adams wearing a chic taupe Zac Posen dress that she

recognized from Myla's spring runway collection flash cards. She could send it to Willa. But

Willa still wasn't speaking to her. Myla had suggested sending a basket of exotic apology

treats, but instead Jojo had gone the
I fucked up big-time
route, admitting her lie and

apologizing like crazy. All to no avail.

A waitress dressed as an angel, one who looked like she possibly stripped on the side,

approached her with a tray of sweets. "Heavenly dessert?" Jojo scanned the tray of white

chocolate ice cream scoops topped with white chocolate fudge in martini glasses, white

brownies shaped like halos, and white frosted angel-wing sugar cookies.

Just as she was about to decide, Tucker appeared and grabbed two cookies in his fist. "Sweet,"

he said, handing Jojo a bottle of Corona, even though she'd asked for champagne.

"Thanks," Jojo said, immediately setting the beer down on a cloud-topped cafe table that had

been set up outside the façade of a New York diner. Jojo was a little annoyed that Tucker didn't

notice or apologize, but decided not to say anything. She'd attempted to ask Myla for advice on

the Tucker front last night, but Myla had turned the conversation around, asking if Tucker had

mentioned Ash. Jojo was able to repeat Tucker's lament that his "bro" had been babysitting

Crazy Daisy a lot. Myla had been happy to hear that--happier than Jojo had seen her in days-and after that, Jojo hadn't wanted to ruin the mood by voicing her doubts about Tucker.

"No problem," Tucker said, guzzling his beer. "This party's kind of lame, huh?"

Jojo was thinking quite the opposite. Maybe it was touristy of her, but she loved being

surrounded by the familiar backdrops of her favorite movies. "It's okay, I think."

Tucker nodded, looking around, his attention consumed by the barely dressed angels who

passed with trays of food. His eyes landed on the long bar that stretched from the brownstone

down to the old-fashioned fire department. Silver buckets of ice holding Moët champagne lined

one side of the bar.

"Oh, hold on a sec," he said, touching Jojo's arm and jogging over to the bar. Jojo felt

moderately better. He'd remembered the champagne. She watched as he sidled down the bar,

peering into the buckets. He waggled his fingers at several of the waitresses, who flocked to

him. Jojo hoped he wasn't going to make some big gesture and bring her the whole bottle of

Moët. She just wanted a flute.

Tucker lifted one of the buckets from the table and carried it over to her, the waitresses

following him like a flock of glittery birds. His face formed the mischievous grin that Jojo

actually liked.

"I had an idea for how we can liven this place up," he said.

"Stealing an ice bucket?" Jojo chided. "Really?"

"No, Jo," he replied, and she winced at the dreaded nickname. "Wet T-shirt contest."

A horrified look crossed Jojo's face. She'd heard Tucker was a horndog, but this was a little too

Girls Gone Wild
even for him.

He hefted the bucket, which contained water from melted ice, onto his shoulder. "You wanna

go first, since you're my girlfriend and everything?"

She stepped out of the way just as Tucker flung the cold water in her direction. The giant

splash hit the waitress behind her. The girl shrieked, but giddily, as her near-sheer white

negligee went from PG-13 to NC-17.

"What the hell, Tucker?" Jojo screamed, but Tucker was already running to the bar for more

water, a trail of squealing waitresses behind him, yelling, "Me next!"

"Jojo, come here, this is awesome," Tucker yelled, waving her over. He really thought she

would be his cohort in an impromptu wet T-shirt contest?

She was so dumping him. At least she still had her sister.

"To us," Kady said, raising her champagne flute high.

"To us," Jake clinked her glass with his own, conscious of cameras firing away.

When he'd made his way into the party, he'd collected high fives and congrats from BHH

classmates who'd only talked to him before to get homework help. Life as half of a superstar

couple was treating him well. The only thing better was the way Kady looked tonight. She

wore a short black sequined skirt with a red cotton racerback tank over it, a skinny blue scarf

tossed around her neck. Her chin-length jet-black hair was pulled back on one side, enhancing

her deep-set dark blue eyes and dewy olive skin. Sneaking out, even in the Corolla, had been

worth it.

They were standing in a roped-off area reserved for principal cast and crew, studio execs, and

BHH administrators. Jake was on full display--for the first time in his life, he was hanging out

somewhere other people actually wanted to be. Other students looked at him with envy and

admiration as they made their way past. Rod Stegerson and his buddies had even checked out

Kady, her legs dusted with shimmer atop a pair of candy-apple red DSquared2 high heels that

brought her closer to Jake's height. Rod had given Jake the "guy's nod" of acknowledgment.

If this was to be his life from here on out, he could definitely deal.

Kady took advantage of her added height and kissed Jake in the space behind his ear. Geoff

Schaffer and Tucker Swanson, each carrying a bucket of melted ice, gave him the thumbs-up.

Jake usually closed his eyes when Kady kissed him, but tonight he wanted to witness people

seeing him as something other than the geek who could speak Japanese and Vulcan.

He glanced at Amelie, who was talking to his principal and one of the deans. She didn't look

his way. Across the way, he saw Miles, Rush Baxter, an AV buddy who was a student PA on

the movie, and a few other AV squad guys making their way to the PS3 tent. Miles wore a

new jacket, a gray blazer that actually fit him. Rush half-smiled, but like he was afraid of Jake,

not like they were friends. Jake waved at the guys. Rush's hand went halfway up, until Miles

raised an eyebrow. Rush retracted his hand, and they all looked straight ahead and kept

walking. So Miles was mad at him? A prickle of irritation tugged at Jake. This whole manager

thing had been
Miles's
idea, not his.

Jake turned back to Kady. He had a special evening planned tomorrow night: He was going to

take her to the Little Door. Last night at Citizen Smith, Brent Bolthouse, the club promoter, had

recommended it. It was supposed to be an ultra-romantic restaurant, and really exclusive.

"I was thinking..." he started, holding Kady a little tighter. Just then, as eager photogs closed

in, her BlackBerry beeped with an incoming e-mail.

"Hold on a sec," Kady said, squeezing his hand. She fished the device from inside the

waistband of her skirt.

"Wow," she breathed. "I don't believe it."

"What's up?" Jake asked, snaking his arm around Kady's waist and pulling her close.

"I got a part in Ridley Scott's new World War II movie," she said, taking a deep breath and

looking at Jake with a message behind her eyes. "Have you heard about it? The one about the

time travelers from the present who go back to meet the Greatest Generation?"

Jake had heard about it, all right. The script was a collaboration between Ridley Scott and

Christopher Nolan, and the cast so far included Christian Bale, Will Smith, and Eric Bana. And

now his girlfriend. Jake was impressed as he catalogued all the awesome movies Ridley Scott

had made:
Alien
,
Blade Runner
,
Gladiator...
. It was a habit from his geek days he couldn't quite

break, but at least he didn't say the names out loud. "Congratulations," he said instead.

Kady kissed him happily. "I'm so excited. I auditioned months ago and never heard anything

about it. It was such a long shot. But now I'm going to working with Ridley Scott." She

shivered with happiness. Jake brushed his hands up and down her bare arms to warm her.

"I'm so happy for you. And for us," Jake said. And he was. If Kady was landing major roles in

sci-fi historical epics, who knew what might be in store for him?

Kady gazed up at him, her long lashes half-shielding her dark blue eyes. "Well, that's the

thing," she said, squeezing his hand. "It's filming in Prague. I leave next week."

He imagined himself visiting Kady in Prague. They'd stroll down cobblestone streets, tour all

the castles and cathedrals, happen upon the shadowy nooks and crannies of the atmospheric

city and steal kisses beneath the romantically dreary gray sky. "I've always wanted to go. Franz

Kafka's from there. There's a museum for his work," he blurted. He winced at the involuntary

emission of a nerd fact, and quickly backpedaled. "We wouldn't have to go or anything."

Kady's eyes popped, as if Jake just told her he was pregnant. "But Jake," she protested like she

was talking to a child. "You have no idea how bad long-distance can be. I don't want to be a

bitch, but it would just be impossible."

Jake took a step back, trying to remember to breathe. "But I thought..." he began, not knowing

what words could bring her back to five minutes ago, when everything was still ahead of them.

"We're Kake." Their couple name wilted in the air for a second. Jake wondered if he could have

made a lamer argument.

Kady pushed a curl away from his forehead, looking at him pitifully, like he was in a full-body

cast. "We'll always be Kake," she said, smiling dolefully.