Whoa. She's done all that already? It's January fifth!
"I heard you're going after that show based on the book, I'd Hate You If I Didn't Love You, about girls who live in a Chicago hotel. I'm meeting with them too."
I haven't even heard about that pilot and here Sky's already heard I'm interested? "I still have to meet with my agent. I'm stuck in FA land and don't want to leave," I joke. "Can you believe we're shooting our last eight episodes? I thought there were more."
Sky shakes her head. "Nope. The show is almost finito," she says without emotion. "You better get going if you want another show or a movie this spring."
"How are you so calm?" I'm shocked. "Aren't you upset about FA ending?"
Sky shrugs. "I'm over it already. I'm focusing on getting a new show that I can headline. You should do the same. I'm sure we'll be going after the same projects. Maybe that will be fun. I've always liked a good competition."
"You don't say?" I deadpan. We've reached the soundstage.
Melli, who plays Paige, our TV mom, is waiting for us on the other side. "Girls! How are you?" she asks and pelts us with kisses. "How were your vacations?"
"Great," we say in unison. It feels so good to see her. Melli is like my second mom. The one I can share my fears with. But that's going to change, isn't it? Soon I'm not going to talk to her every day. A lump begins to form in my throat.
Sky's phone rings and she looks at me triumphantly. "That must be my agent with another offer! I'll be right back." She runs off to answer it in private.
"What's wrong, Kaitlin?" Melli gives me a knowing look.
"I don't know." My voice is shaky. "I guess seeing you, being back here, filming this promo. The end of FA is really hitting me."
Melli hugs me. "It's okay to be upset. You've grown up here." She looks around. "FA is what you know and love, but that will change." She smiles.
"I know," I say, even though I'm not sure I believe that.
Tom Pullman, our creator/executive producer, walks over carrying a clipboard. His bald head is beaded with sweat and his black glasses are slightly fogged. Tom's wearing jeans and a T-shirt that says The Affair is Almost Over. "Why the long faces?"
"We're talking about the show ending," Melli tells him.
"Ah," Tom mumbles. "We can't deny it anymore, can we? Especially when we have these promos to shoot." He waves the dialogue at us and accidentally smacks Sky in the face as she walks back over. "Are you guys ready? These are twenty-second promos the network wants to air right away. They'll announce special episodes, show retrospectives, and count down to the final episode. Everyone is taping different ones so the network will be blanketed with FA reminders." Tom looks pleased. "Let's do a quick run-through and then we'll shoot. This shouldn't take more than half an hour."
Eight episodes. Eight episodes. I can't believe that's all that's left. I try not to think about it as I walk over to my mark. Tom sits at his director's chair, which is behind two flat-screen monitors showing different angles of our setup. The grips are already in place with the microphone, and two cameramen are focused on us. We rehearse the scene twice before we shoot.
"Promo number one, take one," Tom announces as we start taping.
"Will I finally get my act together?" Sky says with a sneaky grin.
"Will I convince my family I know what's best for them?" Melli smiles.
It's my turn. I stare into the camera. "The only way to find out is to tune in. Don't miss . . ." I can't remember my line! How did that happen? I did fine in rehearsal. "Don't miss . . ."
"Don't miss the final eight episodes of Family Affair," Tom reminds me. "Keep going. We're still rolling."
But I can't. I can't say it. I can't say "the final eight episodes." These promos, the thought of losing my on-set family; it all feels too real for the first day back to work. Sky already has a list of projects lined up and I haven't even looked at one. How is she so blasé about this? How is everyone so calm about FA going off the air? Doesn't anyone but me feel like this is all happening too fast? Don't they care that our lives are changing?
Tears drip down my cheeks. I start thinking about Dad's bad joke again. I'm not just losing my on-set family. I'm losing my steady paycheck, which shouldn't matter too much to a seventeen-year-old, but I'm one that has a roster of people on her payroll (including my parents). "Don't miss the final . . ." I begin to sob. "I'm sorry."
Melli starts to cry now too and Sky shakes her head. "Will these two ever stop crying? Tune in and find out," she says. "Don't miss the final eight episodes of Family Affair."
The crew laughs, but I can see Tom and his eyes are watery too.
"It's okay, Kaitlin." He gives me a hug.
"I'm sorry," I sob. "I can do it. Just . . . just . . . give me a second."
"I can see now it's going to be a hard few months," Tom says softly.
He just figured that out?
Ten hours later, I'm standing in front of the ArcLight theater with Austin.
"Where do you guys want me to pick you up when the movie gets out?" Rodney looks concerned. Paparazzi were waiting for me outside work today. I'm sure it has something to do with the pictures of me with Ava Hayden and Lauren Cobb that were splashed all over the tabloids this morning. They're calling me the girls' new BFF, which is funny considering I don't even know their phone numbers.
"Rod, we'll meet you at the car," I say. "I think Larry the Liar got enough shots of me at the airport. I see one guy behind that trash can, but I'm sure he'll leave when we go inside."
"Don't worry, Rodney, I'll take care of her." Austin puts his arm around me protectively.
How did I get so lucky? I met Austin last fall at Clark High, where I masqueraded as a new student for a few months last year, and if you had asked me then if we would have wound up together, I probably would have said no. Austin found out my secret and was really hurt. Even after he forgave me, neither of us was sure how to balance his schoolwork and lacrosse practice with my crazy work hours and appearances on Jimmy Kimmel, but somehow we've managed to make our relationship a priority.
Tonight is the first time I've laid eyes on Austin in over a week and I have to wonder: Is it possible he got even more good-looking while I was away? His blond, windswept bangs are skimming his gorgeous blue eyes, and he looks Abercrombie catalog-ready in a navy T-shirt over a long-sleeve white thermal and distressed jeans that make his butt look unreal. (I hope he hasn't caught me staring at it.) I was so excited and nervous about seeing him that I agonized over my outfit tonight. My skin is bronzed from a week of sand and sun, so I changed into a crocheted white halter top and hip-hugging PRVCY jeans.
When Rodney is finally convinced I'm not going to be harassed by photographers, he drives away. We're completely alone. Well, alone with that one paparazzi guy and a sea of moviegoers, but they don't seem to notice me or if they do, they don't care. The ArcLight is very celeb-friendly, which is why I tend to go here even if the tickets are fourteen bucks. Plus, this is the only theater I know that lets you reserve actual seats in the theater ahead of time.
"It's just you and me. Finally." Austin grins at me, revealing his perfectly straight white teeth, and kisses me.
For a minute, I forget about work, my SAT practice test (Nadine gave me one today and I did horribly) and the shutterbug taking pictures of us.
When we come up for air, Austin says, "I could stay out here all night, but we should go inside if you want to catch the movie." We're seeing the new Mac Murdoch flick. He played my dad in Off-Key, a movie I made last year, and I never miss one of his films. Austin takes my sweaty hand in his and leads me toward the main entrance.
The ArcLight lobby reminds me of Grand Central Station. There is a large "departure board" that lists fourteen or more movies playing in the auditoriums and in the Cinerama Dome (which is this geodesic-shaped theater they built in the 1960s). I'm immediately overtaken by the smell of caramel popcorn, which is a theater signature. The theater also has a snack area and a café/bar th
at serves meals like tamales with grilled shrimp in lobster cream sauce or Angus beef burgers. We head right to the concession stand and Austin gets us two sodas, Raisinets (for me), Milk Duds (for him), and a large popcorn.
"How was your first day back to work?" Austin asks when we finally take our assigned seats in the theater.
The smile that's been on my face since I first saw Austin slides right off as I tell him about taping the promo and how blindsided I felt. "I thought I was okay with the show going off the air, but when I saw everyone today, I lost it," I admit. "I can't believe we only have eight episodes left. I've been on that set every week since I was four. Do you have any idea what it feels like knowing your whole life is going to change in a matter of months and you can't do anything about it?"
"I don't," Austin admits. He retracts the armrest (another cool ArcLight feature) so that I can lean on his shoulder. "I guess vacation is really over, huh?"
"You can say that again." I sigh. "On vacation, the only pressing thing I had on my agenda was memorizing vocab words for the SATs, but the minute we touched down in L.A. everything changed. Everyone is hounding me to meet with Seth and find a new job. They've got me worried about making money and keeping a roof over everyone's head. And I am freaked out about that, I really am. But part of me just wants to spend some time mourning FA too."
Austin tries to suppress a smile. "Burke, even if you can't find another job for a year, or three, I think your family will still have a roof over their heads."
"I know that, and you know that, but Mom and Dad act like finding the next big thing is essential to our livelihood. Every time they bring it up, I get a lump in my throat. I guess I never thought about what my job at FA meant to the people around me."
"You can't be so hard on yourself," Austin tells me. "Today was your first day back at work and you're overwhelmed. You'll figure this out. FA isn't going away tomorrow."
I stare at the movie screen. They're playing one of those trivia games with questions about celebrities and one about me just flashed on the screen ('What is the name of Kaitlin Burke's character on Family Affair?' Answer: Samantha Buchanan). "Austin, that show is my rock," I practically whisper. "I'm not ready to let it go."
He kisses me. His lips taste salty from the popcorn. "I can be your rock," Austin says softly.
I must have the best boyfriend in the world. What guy says things like that outside of a romantic comedy?
"Thanks." I smile and dig into my bag. "I forgot. I got you a souvenir." I break out a royal blue T-shirt and ball cap that says Parrot Cay, which is the name of the resort where I stayed. It's not much, but my funds are low after Christmas. I got Austin this cool, framed, vintage New York City subway sign. He's always wanted one. It was listed on eBay for a hundred dollars, but I got into a bidding war with ICrackBax82 and wound up paying $450. Austin doesn't need to know. And, um, neither do Mom and Dad.
But Austin, he got me something ten times better. It's this beautiful, thin white gold bangle bracelet that I'm wearing right now. Inside, he had engraved: Love, A.
LOVE, A.
L-O-V-E, A. Sigh.
I still can't believe he's said those three little words to me and I've said them back.
Austin admires the shirt I gave him. "Very cool. I can wear this to practice on Monday."
"Lacrosse season is starting already?" I'm confused.
"We don't officially start till February," Austin explains, "but most of us aren't in a winter sport so we're starting early. I want to be at the top of my game this season."
"You're one of the best on the team," I say proudly.
Austin smirks. "You have to say that. But seriously, I need to work harder. Rob and I are thinking of doing a lacrosse training camp in Texas this summer. We've heard college scouts check out this camp for prospects."
"Wow, it sounds like you should go there then." I try to sound ultra-supportive even though the idea of Austin being halfway across the country for the summer bums me out. Before I can say anything else, the lights dim and the movie trailers start. This is my favorite part of the movies. I love deciding what flicks look good and which ones look like stinkers.
HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER TWO: Movie trailers are an important piece of real estate for a film. A good film trailer can create industry, fan, and Internet buzz months or even a year before a movie's release. A lousy trailer can drive potential moviegoers away in less than two minutes. Movie trailers have become so important that studios actually vie for placement before certain films and even request what order their trailer be placed in the rotation (the last trailer before the feature is typically better than the first one, which most people miss because they're buying Milk Duds). The inside word is that some studios pay big money to make sure their trailer gets shown exactly where they want it. But you didn't hear that from me.
"Do you know why movie trailers are called trailers?" I whisper during a lame-looking romantic comedy trailer with an aging B-lister and a way-too-young-for-him blonde.
"No, why?" Austin whispers back.
"Back in the 1950s movie trailers ran after the movie, not before," I tell him as I steal a handful of his Milk Duds. He swipes a few of my Raisinets.
Suddenly I hear my own voice, and it's not coming from my mouth. What the ... ? I glance at the screen. It is me! They're showing the trailer for Pretty Young Assassins.
"Hey, that's you!" Austin says excitedly.
"SHHHH!" Someone behind us hushes.
In under two minutes, we watch me battle debris, fight with Sky (who plays my backstabbing best friend), and see my character run from Mrs. Murphy, the evil clone doctor, and her army. The last shot is of Drew Thomas, who plays my boyfriend, and me on the run from a speeding car. A loud, upbeat soundtrack plays as the scenes cut fast and furious and our names -- director Hutch Adams, Kaitlin Burke, Drew Thomas, Sky Mackenzie (in that order) -- flash across the screen. At the end, the screen goes black and the title appears in bloodred letters -- Pretty Young Assassins, coming to you this May.
A few people clap and I feel myself blush. I know what I said about trailers, but still. The movie shoot might have been a nightmare, but the movie itself looked good.
"You looked amazing." Austin kisses my cheek. "Very Princess Leia-like. I especially liked your tight black leather pants."
I giggle. "Keep May open," I tell him. "I want you to be my date for the premiere."
Austin squeezes my hand. "I wouldn't miss it."
FA may be ending, but I guess I do have something fun to look forward to.
Monday, January 5
NOTE TO SELF:
REALLY call back Seth. He's left 4 messages!
Tues., Wed., Thurs., Fri., call times: 6:30 AM
Cinch 4 a Cause luncheon w/Lizzie: Sat.
Three: Cinch for a Cause
Rodney's just dropped me off at the Cinch for a Cause luncheon and I'm standing outside the restaurant trying not to fall asleep standing up. We shot on location last night till eleven so I'm exhausted. Under-eye circles or not, there was no way I was missing this. Cinch's lunch combines two great perks: I can buy a limited-edition handbag and raise money for cancer research at the same time!
This year's event is being held at Mac Murdoch's Cuban-American eatery, Fusion. I doubt Mac will be on hand for the event. Mac once told me that he only drops in a few times a year. That would explain HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER THREE: Most stars don't have time to oversee their own BlackBerry messages, let alone run a restaurant. Many stars in the restaurant biz are usually silent partners who contribute with their wallets and recipes. (What star doesn't want to share their mother's beloved meatloaf with the world?) If a star's eatery is good, the place can be a way to bring in cash in between projects. But if business is bad, get ready for a nasty bashing in the press.
Thankfully, Mac's restaurant is the former. I give myself a once-over before heading inside, checking my eye concealer coverage. The lunch is semi-casual so I'm wearing a strapless navy blue Samantha Tracy
dress and three-inch Jimmy Choos. My hair is down and I'm carrying a brown leather Cinch bag. (It's always good to wear or carry something from the designer whose event you're attending.) I'm about to open the door when I hear a familiar ringtone. I pick up on the first ring.
"HOW WAS TURKS AND CAICOS?" My publicist Laney bellows. Laney may be in her thirties (I think -- she still won't tell me her exact age), but she scares even the most seasoned people in the business. She's known for being loud, brash, and a big celeb name-dropper. ("Jess Alba and I had lunch yesterday at this darling place!") But she'll also defend her clients within an inch of her life, which is what I love about her.
"GOOD," I yell, forgetting for a moment that I don't have to yell back. Laney always seems to find the nosiest locations to call me from so she's always screaming into the phone. "I water-skied and Matty and I . . ."
"WHEN ARE YOU MEETING WITH SETH?" she asks, shouting over a symphony of jackhammers, drills, and falling lumber. Laney's house in Malibu is being renovated.
"I'm calling him today," I say guiltily. I got so busy between FA stuff and SAT studying this week that I put Seth's repeated messages aside. Not that I'm going to tell Laney that. "How was Cabo with Drew and Cameron?" I change the subject.
"Fab," Laney coos and takes her voice down an octave. "I told the girls they have to do another Angels flick and put you in it. Now about your meeting. I think . . . NOOO! I SAID PUT IT ON THE TERRACE. NOT ON THE DECK."
I pull the phone away from my ear. "You sound busy," I tell her.
"I'm not." Laney sounds offended. "I was calling to set up a lunch for after you see Seth. Nadine said she thinks you're putting the meeting off. Are you?"
What? Why would Nadine say that to Laney? She's supposed to be on my side! "I'm not," I insist quickly. "It's just going back was harder than I thought and --"
"I WANT THE JACUZZI THERE!" Laney interrupts. The hammering and the drilling grow louder again. "OVER THERE! Kaitlin, call Seth. No buts. I'll call you later after I deal with this." Click.