Popularity Takeover (10 page)

20

THIS OLD HOUSE?

“COOPER! COME IN!”

Ashley answered the door herself, pushing the elderly butler out of the way in her excitement. “Oops, sorry!” she chirped, leading Cooper inside.

It was Friday night, and—for the first time ever—Cooper was coming to her house to pick her up. Sure, he'd been to her party, but he spent the whole time in the front yard on the Vespa or hanging out on the steps.

And when they went out on dates, they always met up somewhere else; Ashley wasn't sure why. Cooper always had a good reason, like he was in that particular neighborhood already and it would be easier if Ashley could just get dropped off. He'd be waiting for her
on some street corner or outside a restaurant or at the entrance to the museum.

Ashley was looking forward to showing off the Spencer palace, but when Cooper stepped into their grand marble entryway, his face wrinkled with disapproval.

Huh? Ashley followed his gaze. Everything was as beautiful and tasteful and expensive as it could be—the huge mirror, the fluted columns leading into the great room, the perfect crystal bowl on the console table holding an artful arrangement of twisted lilies. Her mother had flowers delivered every three days from In Water, one of the most chic and innovative floral designers in the city. Maybe he thought flowers were cliché?

“My parents are waiting for you in the great room,” she told him, taking his arm and leading him down the airy hallway.

“What's so great about it?” he asked.

The slightly sarcastic tone threw her off a bit. “That's just what it's called.” Ashley didn't know what to say.

“Why don't you just call it a living room like everyone else would?”

“But it's not our living room, really.” Ashley didn't know what Cooper was getting at. “
This
is our living room, I guess—isn't it beautiful?”

She gestured at the expansive room with its pale walls and highly polished grand piano. Cooper just shrugged.

“Doesn't look like anyone hangs out there,” he said, kind of dismissively.

“Well, no,” Ashley admitted. She was puzzled: Why would they need to hang out there, when there were dozens of other rooms in the house?

“The kitchen's that way,” she pointed. “If you want to stay here to eat, our personal chef could make us whatever we want. As long as it's organic, of course. She makes amazing gourmet meals.”

“I'd rather go out,” Cooper said quickly. Ashley hung her head. Of course Cooper wouldn't be impressed by a personal chef. He probably had a dozen of them at home.

“Well, here we are!” she said in a loud voice, so her parents would stop lolling around on the sofa and get up. But they must be getting deaf, because they both stayed exactly where they were until Ashley and Cooper were practically standing in front of them.

How annoying! Her mother was lying down, as usual, propped up with pillows, wrapped in an ivory pashmina and looking pale and languid. Her father was slouched on the floor, lovingly stroking Matilda's hand
and resting his head on her baby bump. Oh no! He wasn't singing dreary old Cat Stevens songs to the baby again, was he? Just when Ashley wanted her family to make a good impression on Cooper! How humiliating!

“Hello, Cooper!” Her father clambered to his feet and did that hearty hand-shaking thing men did. “Welcome to our home. Please excuse my wife—Ashley probably told you she's expecting.”

“Hello,” breathed Matilda, holding out a limp hand. “So nice to see you again.”

“Hey,” said Cooper, who didn't seem to know where to look.
Not surprising,
thought Ashley. Who wanted to see old people acting so icky and lovey-dovey, not to mention openly discussing something like being pregnant? They had no shame.

“I was just giving Cooper a tour,” Ashley told them. “He wants to see the house.”

“No, I don't.” Cooper sounded curt. Why was he being so dismissive about everything? Ashley loved this place. Her parents had made it so cozy and welcoming, even though it was big. Maybe Cooper was used to much grander places. Was their house
so
inferior to his? “I think we should get going. The movie's starting soon.”

“Is this the one on Van Ness that you have free
tickets for?” Ashley's father asked, and Cooper nodded, scuffing at the rug with one shoe.

“Our driver can take you,” Matilda offered, pulling the pashmina tighter around her narrow shoulders.

“That's okay,” Cooper told her. “It's just a short walk.”

“But it's cold outside,” Ashley complained. “And it's dark!”

“We'd feel better if our driver dropped you off,” Ashley's dad told him, and Cooper shrugged, staring down at the floor. What was going on with him tonight?

Ashley was hurt. Her house might not compare to the Gettys' fifty-room mansion, but it was large and open and elegant. It was bigger than Lili's place, and the Li family had, like, five children! Okay, so Lauren's place might be a teensy bit larger, but it was so nouveau riche and tacky.

She was rightfully proud of her house, plus her parents were friendly, welcoming people who loved her and were hospitable to her friends. They were even acting nice to Cooper, even though he was so cold and aloof. Her mother was beaming up at him as though he was some long-lost son, and her father clapped a hand on Cooper's shoulder as they walked back toward the front door.

Suddenly Ashley felt a rush of nerves and self-doubt.
Maybe Cooper not loving the house wasn't the problem. Maybe Cooper just didn't love Ashley. This whole “not in relationship mode” thing was getting her down. She wasn't even sure if she was his girlfriend. Could he be dating other girls? Could A. A. possibly have been right? Was Cooper scared, intimidated, or merely not that interested?

But as they were approaching her father's tan Range Rover, parked outside the front steps, Cooper did something sweet. It had rained a lot that afternoon, and there were dozens of puddles all over the gravel driveway. Ashley was just about to splash her way through a puddle when, all of a sudden, Cooper grabbed her around the waist and lifted her over it. Talk about gallant!

He flashed her the sweetest smile. “I don't want you to get your feet all wet,” he muttered, dark hair falling into his eyes.

Ashley couldn't help herself: She fell in love with him all over again. So he wasn't tripping over himself to compliment her on her house. So what? It was just a house. Cooper's family probably had ten of them.

21

NOT QUITE READY FOR HER CLOSE-UP

“AND . . . ACTION!”

A. A. walked along the sidewalk to the spot marked with an X of blue tape, trying not to (a) stare at the ground; (b) tug at the hem of her too-short skirt; (c) sweat under the glare of the bright lights angled over her; or (d) get distracted by the crowd of people watching.

This was a busy street, especially on a Saturday morning, and loads of onlookers were standing behind the barricades, trying to see what was going on. Add to that the fifty-plus people actually working on the movie, including four producers who all sat in a row staring at monitors, and it was hard not to get a serious case of stage fright.

She had no idea so many people or trucks or strange, huge pieces of equipment were needed to make a little romantic comedy. It wasn't like this was the
Avengers
sequel or anything. She hadn't even heard of most of the actors—with one key exception. The leading man was the totally yummy Rake Parkins! Her crush! Even better, the main thing she had to do in this film was kiss him. Kiss Rake! Omigod! Since when did she get so lucky?

“And CUT! Good job, A. A. One more time, okay?”

A. A. wasn't sure what was so good about walking along the street looking like an idiot, but that was apparently another thing about making a movie—you had to do inane stuff over and over.

Marty liked to get a lot of angles, according to his bossy, clipboard-toting ADs Chelsea and Spike, so that meant A. A. had to walk up and down the street by herself over and over again for half an hour. She kept an eye out for the other Ashleys, all of whom had promised to be there—mainly to get a good look at Rake—but the public was far away, behind crowd-control barricades.

Meanwhile, she was getting more and more nervous. When they'd finished shooting her walk, Rake Parkins was going to emerge from his trailer all tanned, rested, and powdered, and they were going to film the next
scene, where they had to stand outside a store and he was going to lean down and kiss her. Just like in
Beautiful Girls
where thirteen-year-old Natalie Portman charmed twenty-seven-year-old Timothy Hutton.

A. A. was playing the role of Veronica, the lead actress's little sister. In the upcoming scene, Veronica was supposed to be looking in a store window when her sister's boyfriend, Charlie—aka Rake—bumps into her.

He kisses her hello, but all his girlfriend sees is that he's kissing another girl. She gets outraged and dumps him, and the rest of the movie is about him trying to win her back.

Apparently they'd already filmed most of the rest of the movie, including three of the four scenes with the little sister. But the young actress playing the little sister had disappeared off to Eric Clapton's rehab facility in the Caribbean, where she and her entire family were being treated for their addiction to celebrity.

Because the girl couldn't shoot the rest of her scenes, Marty had to do some rapid-fire recasting. Which meant A. A. got to kiss Rake Parkins. There is a God.

One of the trailer doors swung open, and Rake emerged, a battered leather jacket slung around his broad shoulders. He looked even more gorgeous than
the last time she'd seen him, during lunch in L.A. with Lauren. Except he was shorter.
Much
shorter than A. A. remembered. He was tiny.

She had to wear flats for this scene, and he was wearing what her mother rudely referred to as “pimp heels.” A. A. couldn't help but notice that he was plastered in a ton of makeup. She knew that movie actors had to wear makeup, but she had no idea it was
this
much.

Rake looked like he'd been lying in a toaster oven all day, then gotten slathered with butter, and finally dusted with cornmeal. It wasn't quite as exciting kissing someone who looked like walking breakfast cereal.

“Rake's on the set!” shrieked Chelsea into her megaphone, and A. A. froze, letting several other people in headsets bustle her into position outside the store. She wished Marty would give her some direction, or at least some words of encouragement, but he was busy talking to the line of producers. And she really wished all the gawkers would go away. Didn't they have anything better to do?

“Rake, we love you!” a girl's voice called from behind the crowd-control barrier.

Hang on—didn't that sound like Lili? A. A. scanned the crowd and spotted Lili's happy face. Lili had been
on cloud nine ever since she and Max had gotten back together. And there was Ashley, standing right behind her, grinning like crazy. And Lauren! Lauren was giving the thumbs-up to A. A.—they all wanted her to do well.

A. A. waved happily, thrilled to see her friends, but Rake just gave a grimace-grin, as though he hated the fact that he was a sex symbol. When he followed the other AD onto the street, he pulled off his jacket and let it fall to the ground. A girl wearing a headset scampered to snatch it up and carry it back into his trailer.

A. A.'s mouth dropped open. Even though it was obviously that girl's job to pick up after Rake, the gesture seemed incredibly rude.

“This city,” Rake was complaining as he and the AD approached. “It's freezing out here. We may as well be in Vancouver.”

A. A. gulped. What should she say to Rake?
Hi, I'm A. A.—really pleased to meet you. I'm a big fan. Seen all your movies.
Looking forward to working with you.
God! How lame.

Her stomach was churning, twisting itself into elaborate knots. At least she didn't have any lines to remember. All they had to do was mime saying hello to each other, and then Rake would bend in for a kiss. The
idea was that the sister/girlfriend was across the street, too far away to hear anything.

“Here's your mark, Rake—whenever you're ready.”

What? A. A. was kind of flustered. He wasn't even going to talk to her before the shot? He was standing about eight feet away, eyes closed, rocking back and forth on his high heels.

“He's getting in the zone,” Chelsea whispered to her. “He's a real pro.”

A. A. sighed. She guessed she was just an amateur, wanting to have a conversation with someone before she had to kiss him in front of a huge crowd of people.

“Remember, A. A.”—that was Marty, back in his chair, picking at something in his silver beard—“all you have to do is act surprised, look up at him, and let Rake do the rest. Good girl. Let's do it!”

A. A. stood as still as she could, willing her legs not to shake, pretending to look in the shop window, and waiting for the magic word—ACTION. And then suddenly Rake was by her side, twisting her around, flashing her a superwhite smile, and pressing his lips onto hers. Yuck! He tasted of bitter coffee and something sweet—maybe cherry lip gloss? Did guys wear that?

“And CUT!”

Rake pulled away, not making eye contact with A. A., clicking his fingers at one of the many crouched headset wearers. Two of the makeup artists descended on him, combing his eyebrows and powdering his chin.

A. A. wasn't sure what to do. It was very weird kissing someone who ignored you when the camera wasn't rolling. And it was even weirder to kiss someone with hundreds of people watching you. The Ashleys would want all the details later, and A. A. wasn't sure what to tell them. He tasted sweet and yucky? He smelled of cigarette smoke and too much Calvin Klein?

A. A. gazed into the crowd of fans and onlookers again, trying to remember where her friends were standing. Maybe the crowd had jostled and pushed them into another spot: Everyone wanted to get a glimpse of Rake. Oh, there they were. Ashley was taking photos with her cell phone, and Lili and Lauren were chatting with some guy. . . . A dark-haired guy in a Gregory Hall letterman's jacket . . . It was Tri. A. A. felt her skin get hot, and it wasn't due to the klieg lights. What was he doing here?

“Let's do that again,” Marty called.

Suddenly A. A. felt ten times as nervous.