"Let's get to the car." Nadine gives Larry a look. "He can't get you there."
We start walking -- cars aren't allowed on the Pier -- and my phone rings. I reach in my new leopard print Cinch bag (I've gotten tons of compliments on it already) and pray the call is from Liz. We've been playing phone tag for two days, which is so unlike us. I look at the caller ID and don't recognize the number. "Hello?"
"Hey, chickie! It's Ava," she drawls in a deep voice. "Want to hang with me and Lau?"
I smile to myself. I had so much fun with them at the luncheon. I thought Lauren and Ava were going to be pretty self-involved, but they weren't. They wanted to know a lot about me and my relationship with Austin. We must have talked about boyfriends for an hour. (Lauren's single. Ava is on and off with this popular band's lead singer who is known more for being a serial dater than for his group's singles.)
"We're going to Chateau Marmont and then dancing," Ava says. "You can come with as long as you don't drink too much, you lush."
I'm laughing so hard I don't notice the black Escalade pull up next to the street corner we've just reached. Larry jumps out of the way as the car screeches to a halt. The tinted passenger window opens and Rodney grabs my arm. We're prepared to flee when I hear a familiar voice say: "Kaitlin Burke, get in this car right now."
"Mom?" I peek my head in and see Mom and Dad in the backseat. Mom's face is grave, the way it is after a bad Nielsen number, but she looks great, as usual. She's wearing her favorite Dolce & Gabbana cream-colored pant suit and her long hair is curly. Dad looks like he's ready for a day at the office -- even if he doesn't work at one -- in his light blue Izod button-down shirt and navy trousers. "Is everything okay?" I ask nervously.
"Everything's fine. Rodney will take Nadine home," Mom presses. "Get in."
"Ava, I have to call you back," I tell her quickly and hang up as Larry continues to shoot the bizarre scene. I open the backseat door and barely have time to say goodbye to Nadine and Rodney before we pull away.
"Hi, Kaitlin. How was your day?" Laney is in the front passenger seat. What is she doing here? Laney looks fabulous. Her long blond hair is ironed to flat perfection and she still has a tan from her vacation. She's wearing a black tailored shirt with sleeves she's rolled up to reveal toned arms, her diamond-encrusted Movado, and a tennis bracelet she bought herself. (Laney says the only relationship she has time for is the one with her clients.)
"It was fine up until now," I tell her and peer curiously at the unknown driver veering us to points unknown. "You guys are freaking me out. Why did you just kidnap me? Did you see Larry the Liar standing there? He must have shot a zillion pictures and they're all going to be online later."
Dad frowns. "Hmm . . . we didn't think about the paparazzi."
"I'll handle that," Laney insists. "This is more important. Your parents and I decided the only way to get a real answer out of you is to talk to you in person."
"For the zillionth time -- I was drinking seltzer!"
"We know that." Mom sounds agitated.
"I do want to address these new acquaintances you've made at a later time," Laney says ominously.
"This get-together is about your meeting with Seth," Mom explains. "We want to know why it hasn't happened yet. Is there something you're not telling us?"
"I've been busy." I squirm uncomfortably. They don't look convinced and I'm not sure I would be either. I could have met with Seth by now. I make time for everything else. I guess I haven't wanted to face the future yet. I have enough of a reality check every time I step on the FA soundstage. "I've had all these interviews and we've been filming long hours and doing promos," I remind them. "I haven't had the time."
"You need to make time!" Mom tells me, sounding annoyed. "Meeting with Seth is more important than anything else, Kaitlin. Finding your next project is crucial if you want to remain at the top of the Hollywood most-wanted list."
I feel my stomach begin to churn, like I'm on the verge of a major ache, and I feel slightly nauseous. Is getting another job that pressing? Does Mom think if I don't get something right away the public will forget about me before the next TV season starts?
Dad takes my hand. "I know you'll miss FA. I remember the day I gave up my 1977 Mustang," he says. "I thought I could never love another car as much as that one. Then I saw the 1982 Pontiac Firebird. It had leather seats and fifteen-inch aluminum wheels and I just knew it was the car for me. Sometimes you can open your heart to more than one automobile."
I squeeze his hand. I understand what Dad's saying.
"This is your moment to shine," Laney tells me, sounding like she's a king readying me for battle. "You need to show the world that you can play a part that's different from Samantha. Seth can help you do that."
"I know," I admit.
"If you're going to do a pilot, we need one now," Laney says. "Otherwise all that will be left is bland teenager parts on a bad sitcom with some C-level comedian."
"Or Dancing with the Stars," Mom threatens.
I gasp. Dancing with the Stars is one of my biggest fears. I don't want my star to fall so far that I have to resort to learning the quick step and the mambo. I have to meet with Seth! I'll tell him what I'm looking for and if he doesn't have something I like, I won't take something for the sake of taking it. Who knows? Maybe Dad's right and I'll find something I like even more than I like playing Sam. "I'll set up a meeting right away," I promise, feeling suddenly confident. "Is that all you wanted? Because I was going to meet some friends for dinner. Maybe you could drop me off at Chateau Marmont."
Mom smiles serenely. "I'm afraid you'll have to cancel. We're on our way to Seth's office now."
"What?" I feel my self-esteem come crashing back to earth. Now? They want me to meet with Seth now? I'm not ready! My merlot-colored Abercrombie tunic feels like it is suffocating me and my Divine Rights of Denim jeans are glued to the leather seats. Does the driver have the air on? The nausea is coming back, and my stomach aches. I want to argue, but it's pointless. Nothing is getting me out of this meeting. Except maybe jumping from the car. That would hurt. Sigh. "How could you guys do this without asking me?"
Mom shrugs. "We knew you'd understand. This had to be taken care of, Kaitlin."
"Fine. Drop me off then," I say defiantly. "I can meet with Seth myself."
Mom and Dad chuckle. "Sweetie, we need to be there," Mom says. "We can't have you making the wrong decision, can we? We want to make sure your next project is a blockbuster, and good for your image, and we don't think you can do that on your own. You need our guidance, Kate-Kate."
"Thanks," I mumble. Mom can be so embarrassing sometimes. I know she's looking out for my career, but I hate when she treats me like a child. I sink into the seat feeling defeated and Ava's words echo in my head. When do I get to do what I want to do without having to ask for permission? My family doesn't know what kind of role I want. I do. Well, I might if everyone stopped hounding me long enough to let me figure it out. Suddenly I feel like I'm six again and I'm asking permission to ride my bike alone around the studio backlot. I wasn't allowed, of course. Mom was afraid I'd talk to a passing studio exec and say something silly.
"Don't be mad," Mom says in a gentler voice. "We're trying to help." She looks at Laney. "Speaking of which, there's also another matter I wanted to discuss with you."
"What is it?" I ask wearily.
"Fashionistas wants to profile me in their next issue." Mom sounds excited now. "I'd have a photo shoot and they'd follow me around for a few days and do an in-depth interview. I wouldn't talk too much about you, of course, just my management duties, but Laney thought I should clear it with you before accepting." She stares at me hopefully.
Finally something Mom needs my permission for. I'm so aggravated I want to say no on the spot, but I look at Mom's elated face. Fashionistas is a big, thick fashion bible. It's incredibly hip and read by most of Hollywood. Mom is obsessed with it. "You should do it," I tell her. "It sounds like fun."
&n
bsp; "Really?" Mom looks like she's about to burst. She starts punching numbers on her cell using her long fingernails. "Thank you, honey! I've got to call my trainer and add more workouts, get my hair redone, and set up an airbrush tanning appointment. The photo shoot is next week."
At least one of us is ready for our close-up.
Some celebrities like to be the star of every moment in their lives. They want their charity work chronicled in OK! They want their child's first baby pictures to spur a bidding war. When they have a movie, TV show, CD, or documentary to promote, they book themselves on every talk show couch that will let them warm the seat.
As you might have noticed by now, I'm not one of those people.
I like a rave review or an exuberant fan encounter as much as the next person, but the thought of talking about all things Kaitlin Burke at length is embarrassing.
Needless to say, I don't spend anywhere near as much time with my agent, Seth Meyers, as Vince spends with Ari on Entourage. I like Seth well enough and I know he has my best career interests at heart (He should. I pay him practically a mortgage payment each month to guide my career.), but I guess I've always felt I didn't need Seth. I'm on a hit TV show so I don't have time to let him book me as many projects as an A-list film star or musician.
That's all about to change, isn't it?
When we arrive at the office building and reach Creative Connection's floor, Seth and the rest of the company are waiting for us at the elevator. I feel like a dark cloud is hanging over my head and I wonder if it shows on my face. I hope Seth doesn't know I was forced here against my will. When the agency reps see me they start to applaud. I smile sweetly and try to push my ill will aside. Seth is standing in the middle of the crowd with a huge, laser-white smile.
If you met Seth six years ago, you wouldn't recognize him today. Seth wore Dockers and Old Navy polos and had big, brown glasses that always slid down his nose when he talked in a soft, low voice. He didn't make eye contact much, probably because his brown hair was constantly falling in front of his brown eyes. He was so pale that sometimes when he wore beige, I used to joke that he looked like the invisible man. He was fresh out of college and it was his first year at CC so he was eager to work triple hard, which Mom loved. (My old agent kept pushing for me to leave FA and stretch my wings on a "real soap" like The Young and the Restless. I'm glad we ignored him.)
Seth envelopes me in a tight hug, giving me a whiff of his cologne. (Armani, perhaps?) "I was worried you were avoiding me," he whispers.
"Never," I lie. The new(ish) Seth has his groove on. He's tanned to perfection, thanks to airbrushing. His hair is still chin-length, but product-heavy and I'm pretty sure it's highlighted. His clothes (Armani suit, Tom Ford tie, Prada shoes) are strictly from Fred Segal or Barneys. The only thing missing are Seth's trademark silver shades. Usually whether we're indoors or out, Seth has them glued to his face -- along with his Bluetooth.
"Good," he says and his eyes, 20/20 thanks to Lasik eye surgery, bounce from one person to the next. "Let's get you in the conference room and pick your next project." Seth puts his arm around me and leads me down the hall.
The Creative Connections conference room always makes me feel like I'm in a fishbowl. One wall faces busy Wilshire Boulevard and the other three walls are made of glass so everyone in the office can look in. The refreshment table along the back wall is fully stocked with three types of water, Coke and Diet Coke, and an assortment of flavored coffees. I grab a Smartwater and take a seat in the chair Seth has for me at the head of the table. Every seat has a pink folder with an embossed K on the front. At the opposite end of the table is a large flat-screen TV. Mom and Dad take seats on either side of me. (Laney has decided to wait in Seth's office and make some calls.)
"As you can see, we're excited to have you here." Seth stands next to the TV. "And we're committed to helping you take the next step in your career."
The lights dim and I dig my fingers into the chair. Oh no. I know what's coming. My mouth feels dry and I do my best to resist the urge to dive under the table. A Josh Grobin song plays as images of me on Family Affair flash across the screen.
"Even as a small child, Kaitlin Burke was destined for stardom." A voiceover that sounds like Seth narrates.
They highlight some of Sam's biggest moments -- her first kiss, her first horseback riding championship, fights with Sara, the heroic moment when she saved her mom during the Buchanan Manor fire -- and include this famous FA scene. I'm five and Sam is in the hospital because of one of the many bizarre illnesses she's developed over the years. Paige and Dennis are crying over my limp body and I sit up and say, "Stop crying! I'm not dying, you know." Tom thought I was so funny, he left the line in.
"As the years passed, Kaitlin's star shined brighter and the film world beckoned." Roles like Off-Key are shown and there's even footage from PYA.
"The public's appetite for everything Kaitlin is insatiable," Seth adds as several of my magazine covers, my Fever endorsement, Nickelodeon awards, TV appearances, and red carpet moments flash on the screen. "The question is, what is Kaitlin's next move?" The screen goes black. "The answer? Anything she wants." Images of Barbie dolls, Oscar winners, the VMAs, and other Hollywood commodities zoom by. "The choice is up to you, Kaitlin, and Creative Connections is ready to help you make it." Everyone applauds. When the lights come up I see that Mom and Dad are teary.
This. Is. So. Embarrassing.
"The film, TV, music, reality, and theater divisions are all here and they have a lot of exciting offers to go over with you," Seth continues. "It's time to leave the wholesome goodness of Sam behind and take on a new character and a new career path that will distinguish you from your work on Family Affair."
Why does everyone keep reminding me that I'm no longer playing Sam? For years all anyone would say was how lucky I was to play such a goodie-goodie who is adored by the public and the press. Now everyone wants to throw her under the bus.
The film division is first. There's a bizarre action flick shooting in Mexico that is based on a true story. I would play a missionary's daughter who single-handedly saves a whole village from extinction. It sounds intense. There's also a teen comedy from a well-known director whose films all make a truckload of cash. I'd play a high school party girl who takes over the principal's office and runs the school. Um, if I'm leaving Sam behind, I want something more mature. That's why the third film sounds so appealing. It's a chick-flick drama based on one of my favorite books, Manolos Are Meant for Small Feet. It's set in London and I would play a college freshman who unearths all this dirt about the television industry. None of the movies start shooting till the summer.
Next the television division pitches several pilots. Seth points out what I already know and dread -- if I want to do another TV show, I have to pick a pilot right away. The first pilot is I Would Hate You If I Didn't Love You. Seth says they definitely want me to take a meeting. I feel uneasy, knowing this is Sky's number-one choice. The next one is about a group of college kids in Alaska and it's directed by a little-known filmmaker whose last movie I adored. It sounds quirky and irreverent and a total change of pace. The third pilot is an ensemble drama with a killer cast (Pam Sommers is the Meryl Streep of TV and she'd play my mom!) and a well-respected director who is known for giving his actors great scenery-chewing moments. The problem is I'd be playing the youngest daughter, who is giving the family trouble. I'm not sure how I feel about playing the daughter role again in a family drama. How could any family compare to the one on FA? I know I have to stop thinking like this, but I don't know if I'm ready to commit to another show -- that could take up the next ten years of my life if it does well -- just yet.
Seth's next pitch blows my mind. He wants me to star on Broadway. "Doing a play is very chic," he says. "Lots of stars are doing three-month turns and getting rave reviews. This kind of experience could catapult you to the adult roles I know you want."
Wow. Star on Broadway? "But I've got no stage experience," I
remind him.
"You'd be a natural," Seth tells me. "The play we're thinking of just finished a sold-out run in London's West End. It's called Meeting of the Minds. The star, Meg Valentine, is coming to the States to reprise the role, but she has to drop out in May, which is perfect timing. They're dying to meet you."
"I did some plays back when I was in college," Dad tells us all proudly. "There's no thrill like live theater, Kate-Kate. Every night is a different show and you react off the crowd. I think you would really love it."
I've never heard Dad so excited. I'm about to tell Seth I want to read the script when Mom interrupts. "Has no one thought of Kaitlin doing her own CD?" she asks.
I can't help but glare at my mom. She's got to be kidding. First she kidnaps me and now she wants me to be a rock star? I'm not recording an album no matter how much she begs.
The music division pounces and Broadway is forgotten. Apparently several music makers, including hotter-than-hot producer TJ, have asked to meet with me about an album. TJ has sculpted the music careers of several stars with great success, and he's only in his twenties.
HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER FOUR: Ever wonder why so many movie stars cross over to the music world? In my opinion, it's because they can make major cash from a CD. If they've already established their name as an actor, then music companies think those fans will follow them to iTunes. And nowadays, anyone who can hum a tune can make a decent record. You wouldn't believe how they overproduce and synthesize things till you sound like a completely different person.
"There is one more pitch," pipes up a tiny agent at the far end of the table. "A Burke reality show. VH1 wants to follow Kaitlin as she makes her next acting choice. They'd introduce your mom, and then when you're tired of filming, they'd spin off the show and make it all about her management business."
I open my mouth to say no, but Mom speaks first.
"I love it!" she gushes. "Don't you think it's fabulous, Kaitlin? I mean, I always thought I was destined for TV. People have told me I have a natural gift of gab. I have to call Fashionistas and tell them so they can add this to their story. Fashionistas is profiling me next month," Mom tells the room. "This is a great idea, I can feel it. We should do the show!"