First Stop, New York (12 page)

Rocco put his hand on JB’s shoulder to calm him.

“Well, my trades haven’t been going so well recently.”

“How bad is it?”

“High six digits bad?” JB gave a weak laugh.

Rocco couldn’t hide his amazement. “High six digits?”

“Yeah. So thank God I got cast in
The ’Bu
and I’ve got some pretty good money coming in. Otherwise I’d be that word that begins with ‘f’ and ends with ‘ed.’”

“Okay,” said Rocco, “I’m going to help you sort through this. In the meantime, I’m confiscating your laptop.”

“Rocs, no!”

JB clutched at it like a drowning man clutches a life raft. But Rocco effortlessly plucked it loose from JB’s hands. “Listen to me, JB. There’s a monkey on your back and I’m going to help you get rid of him.”

Rocco turned and headed back down the canyon to the set.

“Thanks, Rocs,” shouted JB after him. “But you’re really going to have to explain that monkey metaphor to me!”

Sunset Tower Hotel, Hallway Outside Anushka’s Penthouse—9:47
A.M.

Corliss knocked on the door—but nothing. She got down on her hands and knees and talked under the door. “Anushka, it’s Corliss. If you’re in there, say something!”

“Miss Peters doesn’t usually rise until the afternoon,” said Lorenzo, who stood at Corliss’s side, wringing his hands.

“That may be, but Miss Peters is in production for her comeback television show and she was supposed to be at the beach two hours ago.”

“Dear me! She told me about that. I hope it’s as good as
Suburban Magic—
all those naughty suburban girls!” He grew serious again. “Do you suppose there’s something wrong?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll knock one more time, and if she doesn’t answer I’m going to need that passkey.”

“I feel terrible about this. She’s been so
good
lately.”

Corliss knocked one last time. But still nothing. “Okay then, I’m coming in, Anushka!”

Lorenzo put the passkey in the lock and pushed the door open.

“Please don’t tell Miss Peters I was part of this. I just always want what’s best for her.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Lorenzo.”

Corliss entered the penthouse. The place was a mess, an obstacle course of luxury electronic gadgets, David Yurman jewelry, Tory Burch minidresses, and empty bottles of top-shelf everything you could possibly drink. It smelled like the most expensive frat house on earth.

“Jesus, Anushka,” Corliss couldn’t help saying aloud, “get some Glade PlugIns, why dontcha?”

As she moved into the suite, she thought she heard a
moan coming from the bedroom.
Dear God,
she prayed as she moved toward bedroom door,
don’t let me be walking in on some celebrity porn taping…

But she didn’t make it that far. She caught her toe on an aluminum-reinforced Victoria’s Secret bustier and tumbled to the floor like a sack of laundry. Her fall was broken, however, by what looked very much like a sleeping, naked boy.

“Oh my God…” Corliss said, hoping it wasn’t true.

The boy’s eyes creaked open as he awakened from a sound sleep. “Who are you?” he said nonchalantly, as if this happened all the time.

“I’m Corliss. Please tell me that’s your cell phone…”

“Um…I’m wearing a Speedo,” he said with a wide grin. “There isn’t exactly room for a cell.”

“Hey!” It was Anushka, standing in the doorway to her bedroom with her hands on her hips. “What’s going on here, people?”

The boy backed out of the suite with his hands in the air. Once he was gone, Anushka laughed her big laugh and weaved a little.

Is Anushka actually drunk at nine in the morning?

“Corliss, my girl, isn’t he the
cutest thing alive?!
He’s a bellboy and he has the keys to the pool—so we went for a three
A.M.
swim!”

“Anushka, you were due on location two hours ago.”

“Really?” asked Anushka as if she meant it. “What day is it…?”

Corliss couldn’t believe it. Anushka was a wreck. Her eyes were puffy and her hair looked like several birds had spent the night in it.

“What’s with the face?” she asked, squinting at Corliss. “You act like you’ve never seen a TV star in the morning.”

Corliss’s mind raced. She knew she’d have to work fast.

“To the shower, Anushka,” Corliss commanded.

“Does this mean no more champagne?”

“Now!”

Pacific Coast Highway—10:36
A.M.

Corliss was driving as fast as the speed limit would allow, heading up the coast to Zuma, passing MGs and Beemers and 4×4s with surf racks. Anushka was in the passenger seat, showered and dressed in a bright pink camisole and size 2 jeans. Even though she was wearing her Dolce & Gabbana blackout shades, it was obvious to Corliss that Anushka was still half-asleep and totally hungover.

“I just can’t believe you’d pull this, Anushka. You
do so
know what your call is. You knew it last night when I called everyone with today’s schedule! You really need to pull yourself together. You’re talented and beautiful, but the more I read that blog and see what you’re up to, and the more I see Max cracking under the pressure, the more I worry for you, Anushka!” Corliss looked over at Anushka. “Are you listening to me?”

Anushka had remained strangely silent in the face of Corliss’s tirade.

“Oh, forget it,” said Corliss.

As they moved north of Topanga Canyon, Anushka’s head bobbed forward once, then twice. She then let out a snore worthy of a four-hundred-pound trucker. Corliss rolled her eyes and put the car’s top down. A cold blast from the Pacific lifted
Anushka’s head to an upright position.

Anushka looked around like she didn’t know where she was. “Jeez, can we put the top up, Corliss? It’s like I’m in a total smackdown with the wind.”

“No, Anushka, I won’t put the top down. You need to wake up. Now wake up!”

“Please, oh please, stop shouting,” begged the young starlet, rubbing her temples. “I promise I’ll be good from now on…I don’t want to be like that trashy girl they say I’m like in that stupid blog, I promise…”

Corliss’s cell phone rang. The ID said Max. “Oh, God, it’s him! You don’t have to promise me anything, Anushka. When we get to the beach I am telling Max that’s it, I quit. I’m through being a babysitter, a spy, and a rehab clinic all rolled into one. He can find himself another number-one assistant.”

“You really have to stop screaming.”

“Sorry.”

“Cute sundress, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Corliss floored it.

Santa Monica Pier—The Ferris Wheel—8:12
P.M.

Corliss was screaming her head off. She hated Ferris wheels, but Uncle Ross thought if they went on one together it would be a good way for Corliss to face her fears. Now they were stuck at the very top as technicians worked below to fix a glitch that kept them there.

“Corliss,” said Uncle Ross with his fingers in his ears. “Think of happy things.”

But Corliss kept screaming. She couldn’t form words. She could see the black, black Pacific spread out in front of her and the lights of ships and rich people’s yachts dappling the water. It looked like the abyss and she was sure she’d topple into it.

“Breathe, Corliss. They’ll fix it soon and we’ll be down on the ground and we’ll go to the Ivy. After this experience, I might
finally
be able to persuade you to drink underage. God knows I’ll need a libation. It’s been a horrific day. Jurgen’s dog-walking business is tanking because Tara Reid’s Yorkie gave Ryan Gosling’s schnauzer fleas, and now I’m stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel with someone who sounds as if she’s being attacked by hungry sharks.”

Corliss took deep breaths.

“I was just hoping to get rid of the last vestiges of this scared little Indiana girl,” said Uncle Ross as he crossed his legs, which made their gondola rock back and forth more. Corliss screamed louder. “The kind of person for whom quitting a job becomes a paralyzing notion. You didn’t do it today, did you?”

Corliss shook her head and continued screaming.

“No, you did exactly as Max told you and you found Anushka like a good little girl. Tsk, tsk. You’ve already had a staggering physical transformation—thanks to someone who claims he is not gay—
hahaha
—but now you need an internal transformation. I’d like to be responsible for
that.
”

Corliss gave her uncle a look that could kill. She’d been scared of heights since she was a little girl and had to be airlifted from the Statue of Liberty—and he knew that.

“Uncle Ross…” she managed.

“Well, well, she finally speaks.”

“I…am…going…to…kill…you.”

“That won’t solve anything, Corliss. You need to quit your job. To do that you need courage. Or
courage
, as the French say, which is spelled the same but said with a French accent.”

“Uncle Ross!”

“Don’t shout at me, young lady, I’m still your uncle.”

“Sorry,” she said, closing her eyes—which helped immensely. “I understand what you are trying to do—you’ve always been a ‘tough love’ kind of guy—and I appreciate it.”

“Corliss, it’s very strange talking to you with your eyes closed.”

“Uncle Ross, it’s very strange talking to someone two hundred feet in the air! Sorry, I’m shouting again.”

“No,” said Uncle Ross. “I think we’re finally getting somewhere. Do you realize what just happened, Corliss?”

“Did I wet my pants?”

“No. You actually spoke your mind. In a way that was both succinct
and
witty. This, to me, is a personal triumph.”

“Huh.” Corliss knew he was right. “You know what, Uncle Ross? Something about this little plan of yours may have worked.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Corliss, allowing her eyes to creak open. “Hey, it’s kind of pretty up here…”

“Well, look at you.”

Corliss took in the view through different eyes. Her uncle Ross was smiling his crooked smile at her and beyond him she could see the twinkling lights of Malibu Canyon. “I can do it! I can tell Max to take this job and shove it where the Prada don’t shine!”

“Touché, Corliss! You’re becoming quite the wit.”

“Quick, before I lose my nerve.”

“What do you need?”

“My cell phone. I think it’s in your man purse.”

“Right. Thank God you got rid of that fanny pack.”

Uncle Ross shivered to convey his disgust. After some digging between various moisturizers, he found Corliss’s cell phone and handed it over. Corliss scrolled through her phone book until she came to “Max Cell.” She placed the call, held her breath, and waited.

Max picked up. “Corliss, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Where are you?”

“Two hundred feet in the air over the Santa Monica Pier.”

“Is that a new club?”

“No, Max. It’s a long story. And before I go into it—”

“Wait, Corliss, before you do, I just want to thank you for today.”

“For what?”

Uncle Ross gave Corliss a look like “keep going.”

“For finding Anushka and bringing her to the set in one piece.”

“You’re welcome. But Max—”

“You’re the only one I can count on, Corliss.”

“That’s very nice to hear, but—”

“And frankly, I’d be lost without you. You are the model of professionalism. Everyone likes you. You’ve been able to keep Trent and Tanya apart
and
help me with the delicate and overblown egos of the cast. Somehow you’ve managed to do all that while transforming yourself from a rather dowdy
Midwestern girl into an assistant I’m no longer embarrassed to have standing next to me. In fact, I’d start paying you if we weren’t so far over budget.”

“Gee, thanks, Max. Most of that is very nice of you to say,” Corliss said, weakening.

Uncle Ross shot her a look and hissed, “
Courage, courage!”

“You’re welcome,” said Max. “I’ll need you to show up at dawn tomorrow. I have to reshoot a very important scene where Travis and Tessa have a suntan lotion accident.”

“Wow, that does sound important, but—” Max disconnected. “Hello? Max?”

“He hung up?”

“I don’t believe it! This always happens! I’d scream but I’m totally hoarse from screaming!” Corliss folded her phone and returned it to Uncle Ross’s man purse as the Ferris wheel finally kicked in and started its descent.

Uncle Ross frowned. “Whatever am I going to do with you, Corliss Meyers?”

Corliss shrugged and shook her head. “I’d say throw me to my death, but it looks like we’ll be on the ground in a moment.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Uncle Ross, shaking his head now, too. “On the ground again, Corliss. Is that really where you want your life to be?”

Malibu Beach—Dawn, the Next Morning

Corliss yawned. JB, who stood next to her, waved his hand in front of his face. “Jeez, Corliss. Ever heard of Listermint?”

Corliss wasn’t in the mood. “My breath is fine, JB. It’s my lack of courage that’s stinking up the place.”

“‘Lack of courage’ is a funny thing to call morning breath.”

“Cut me a break, JB. It
is
morning. And I’m cranky. I don’t know how to tell Max I don’t want to be his assistant anymore and my throat is sore from screaming at the top of my lungs at the top of a Ferris wheel for fifteen minutes straight.”

“Wow. I’d say ‘interesting,’ but I’m too fascinated by what Max is doing down the beach.”

Corliss squinted. Her new contact lenses had arrived, but she hadn’t put them in yet. She was too scared because it involved touching her eyeballs. She’d tried to all morning, but she kept thinking about all those dead fish on ice at Whole Foods.

Corliss dug her old glasses out of her bag and threw them on. A hundred yards off she could see Max stamping his feet in the sand and tearing up the latest script.

“Uh-oh,” Corliss sighed. “Max is making confetti again.”

“Making confetti—I like it. It makes Max’s breakdowns sound so festive.”

“Excuse me, JB, I better head over to see if I can diffuse this with my psychological insight.”

“Sure, isn’t that what all future-ex-assistants do?”

“I told you, JB, I’m
conflicted
!”

JB saluted and Corliss headed over to where Max stood ankle-deep in script confetti.