Premiere (8 page)

“Did you even
see
your sister?” Natasha shoots back at me.

“I don’t have to see Paige to know she wouldn’t be—”

“She totally threw herself at Benjamin.” Natasha’s hands are on her hips and she steps closer to me, making me wonder if she plans to pick up where Mia left off. What is wrong with these girls anyway?

“Paige doesn’t need to throw herself at anyone,” I say calmly.

“She was
all over
him!” Natasha is bent down and locking eyes with me, perhaps to remind me that she too is a lot taller than I am. The truth is I am intimidated.

“Maybe you should take a look at the film footage.” I nod toward the cameras. “It’s all recorded, you know. Cameras don’t lie.”

Surprisingly this seems to quiet her. But now a girl I barely met steps in. From what I remember, her name is Brogan, and I know she’s tight with Mia. I’ve noticed that when Brogan’s not glaring at someone (like now) she’s pretty, in a dark, sultry
sort of way.

“Why don’t you two go back to wherever it is you came from?” Brogan says. “You’re not part of this group and it seems rather obvious that you’re not wanted here.”

“We were invited here,” Paige tells her.

“Maybe it’s time to
uninvite
you.” Natasha seems to have revived now. She makes a sly smile and I notice the camera tightening in on her again, and I’m reminded of why we’re here.

“Maybe you’re acting this way for Mia’s sake because she’s your friend,” I say to both of them, “or maybe you’re just trying to get your share of the limelight tonight. But you might be embarrassed tomorrow.”

Brogan laughs. “You’re one to talk about embarrassment,
Nerd Girl
.”

I stand a little straighter. “I might look like a nerd to you, but at least I can face myself in the morning…or when this show airs.” I turn to Paige. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this so-called party.”

Paige still looks uneasy, but she nods. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

And, okay, it seems a bit strange, but I kind of feel like a hero as we leave. Like maybe Mom was right—maybe Paige does need me around to help keep her out of trouble.

On the other hand, maybe I’m not so different than these drama queens who think they’re actually actors. Maybe I’m just fooling myself too.

The cameras remain on us as we exit the party. I hold my head high—or as high as I can compared to Paige—as we walk out. Although it’s a New Year’s party and we didn’t even make it to midnight, I am so glad this is over. But no sooner are we outside than this older guy with a goatee and wire-rimmed glasses comes over and wants to talk to us.

“You girls were great in there,” he tells us.

I just frown, but Paige suddenly brightens. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” He smiles and shakes our hands. “I’m Rod Spencer and I’ve been watching the whole thing out here on the monitors. I’m the director of
Malibu Beach
, and I gotta say you girls really spiced things up tonight.”

“Well, thanks.” Paige seems to be regaining her old confidence again.

He turns to me. “And what you said to Mia, Natasha, and Brogan was classic.” He pats me on the back. “Pure classic.”

I want to ask him what exactly he means by “classic,” but he turns away and tightens his focus on Paige, encouraging her to stay for the rest of the party. “I can promise you that you’ll
get a lot of miles out of this.” He nods with enthusiasm. “Your producer, Helen, is a good friend of mine and I promised her to give you as much camera time as possible. You stick around and you’ll get it. Especially now that Mia is over in the tent puking her guts out. We have room for another star tonight.”

My sister is convinced that this is a great opportunity, and she takes me aside and tells me that we owe it to our show to take full advantage of it. And the next thing I know we turn around and head back into the party. I so want to scream. But then I get an idea.

“Wait a minute,” I tell her. “What about our show?”

“What do you mean? This
is
for our show.”

“Not really.” I pull her aside, fully aware that we’re still mic’d and cameras are still rolling. “Once we step through those doors, we belong to
Malibu Beach.
But out here, we can still be filmed for
On the Runway
.” I glance over to the camera guys that Fran didn’t even bother to introduce us to, but who I know are here to film us.

“So what are you saying?” Paige looks confused. “That you and I hang out here and enjoy a party of two?”

“No.” I look toward the house. “I’m saying we get the word out in there that we can continue conversations out here, whether it’s about fashion or whatever, and maybe some of the cast would like to join us.”

“I don’t know.” Paige shakes her head. “Why would they want to—”

“Because you’re Paige Forrester,” I remind her, “host of
On the Runway
.”

“That’s right,” the bald
Runway
camera guy tosses our way. And the other one gives us a thumbs-up. I suspect it’s been a pretty boring night for them.

“Only this time, maybe you could tone down the criticism,” I suggest. “Let’s not make any more enemies, okay?”

She looks skeptical.

“You could turn it more into interviews,” I try. “Find out more about these girls, what makes them tick, and why they like being on the show. Then talk about fashion.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do you want me to go find Fran and ask her?” I suggest. “I’m sure she’d back us up—”

“No…that’s not necessary.” Paige nods like the light just went on. “I think you are right, Erin.”

“Okay, then. How about if I try to get Avery and some of the more-reasonable girls to come out from the party to chat with you?”

“Sounds good.” Paige smoothes her hair and straightens her shoulders.

Just then a couple of girls from the cast are strolling toward the house from the tent area. My guess is they’ve just been retouching their makeup and hair. “In the meantime, why don’t you snag those two and see if they want some
On the Runway
time?”

And just like that Paige turns on her bright smile and waves. “Hey, Cassie and Giselle, you girls are looking really hot tonight.”

So, hoping that maybe we’ll have things somewhat under control, I hurry back inside where the music is playing again. I can’t help but notice that the action on the dance floor seems a little halfhearted, and the crowd has thinned. I’m worried that some of the cast might be blaming Paige and me for that. I nervously glance around the room, shooting up a silent prayer that Natasha and Brogan won’t spot me, corner me, and pull
my hair out. Just then I see Avery and another girl talking. I head straight for them and quickly explain this opportunity.

“So you’re inviting me to come out and be trashed by Paige?” Avery frowns like I’m nuts.

“No, Paige is going to keep it positive this time. It’s going to be more like an interview. And if it goes well, maybe it’ll make it on our first show.” Okay, even as I say this, I have no idea, but it’s worth a shot. Plus, it keeps Paige and me from getting stuck in their crazy party, which I’m afraid will only get worse if the drinking and catfights continue.

Before long, Paige has a cluster of girls and guys around her, and I can’t help but be impressed with how easily she charms them with her wit and humor. She’s dishing out compliments like hors d’oeuvres and everyone seems to be eating them up. Fortunately for us, but maybe not so much for Mia, we learn that Mia’s still not feeling so well and that her mother’s been called to pick her up.

I can only imagine how pathetic the party must be now. We can still hear the band playing, however, so maybe some people are still having a good time. Finally, Natasha and Brogan come out to see what’s going on. To my relief, they keep a distance, hanging on the sidelines with sour expressions.

“Do you guys want to be interviewed?” I eventually ask them, trying to offer an olive branch of sorts. “It might be used for our show.”

Natasha still seems to be pouting, but Brogan looks mildly interested. “So when is your show going to air anyway?”

“Probably not for years, if at all.” Natasha narrows her eyes at me.

“I’m not sure of the exact date,” I admit. “But I know we’re supposed to cover the fashion show that Mia is helping with.
And we’ll be at the Golden Globes…so I’m thinking our initial air date can’t be too far out.”

Brogan smiles and extends her hand. “Sorry I tore into you in there, Erin,” she says quietly. “You actually nailed it…I
was
trying to catch some camera time. It’s not always easy, you know.”

“Don’t worry about it. And anyway, that’s just the kind of thing that Paige is asking people about tonight,” I tell her. “She’s getting to know the cast of
Malibu Beach
.” Then without wasting time, I walk Brogan over, and although Paige looks a bit surprised she jumps right in and runs with it.

“I have to say, Brogan,” Paige begins warmly, “I really love your dress. You want to tell us about it? My guess is that it’s BCBG, am I right?”

Brogan nods. “Absolutely.”

“One of my favorite designers.” Paige nods. “And I have to say the color and cut are perfect.”

“How did you learn so much about fashion?” Brogan asks her.

“I study it with a crazed obsession.” Paige laughs. “My mom says that I’d be a scholar by now if I put half that much effort into academics. But think about it—books or dresses…which is more fun?”

“Dresses for sure.”

They both laugh as if they’re old friends, and I lean back against a pillar and sigh in relief. After about an hour, everyone seems happy and friendly and we all decide to head back inside to get some food and enjoy the music. Our two camera guys, who I have learned are named Alistair and JJ, decide to wrap it up too. I suspect they have their own New Year’s parties to go to.

As we’re heading inside, I notice that Rod Spencer, the
Malibu Beach
director, is standing off in the shadows with another guy. And they do not look too pleased. At first I’m surprised, but then I know what’s wrong—or what I think might be wrong. I suspect that he wants the cast to fight and act crazy and totally humiliate themselves in front of the camera—because that’s probably what the viewers expect.

As the party continues and midnight draws closer, it looks like the director may get his way. Whether it’s due to his suggestions or simply natural consequences, some of the cast appear to be 1) showing their true colors, 2) drinking too much, or 3) trying to get camera time. Because, once again, it feels like things are getting out of hand. Even some of the guys are acting feisty. Vince and Benjamin exchange words, although Juan helps to calm them down. And now Natasha is making some pretty malicious remarks to Paige—all related, it seems, to the fact that Benjamin keeps asking my sister to dance.

“Why is Natasha getting all nasty again?” I ask Avery while we’re both in the bathroom at the same time. “I mean, I know she’s Mia’s friend, but Mia is MIA.” I chortle at my own joke. “Seriously, does Natasha expect Benjamin to suddenly turn into a wallflower just because his girlfriend is gone? Or maybe she thinks he should go hold Mia’s hand?”

Avery simply laughs. “You’re not even close.”

“What then? Is she showing off for the cameras?”

“Partially. But more than that, she’s jealous of Paige.” Avery drops her used towel into the bin. “Natasha probably assumed, with Mia out of the picture, it might be her big chance to go after Benjamin tonight.”

“Nice friend.”

Avery shrugs. “It’s how the game is played.” She pauses to freshen her lip gloss with one of the little disposable flasks from the basket on the vanity. “The director intentionally sets up the show so that girls outnumber guys. I think it’s kind of like
The Bachelor.
You know, females vying for male attention. For some reason, probably because girls are über-competitive, it works.”

“It works meaning more cattiness…”

“That’s what the viewers want. And most of the viewers are teenage girls. So what does that tell you?”

“That teenage girls are bloodthirsty.”

Avery and I laugh and we both go back out. I watch as Avery rejoins Juan, heading for the dance floor with, it seems, no intentions of getting caught in the crossfire, which I must admit is both mature and admirable.

As I stand there watching the crowd, I wonder why teens are assumed to enjoy this kind of thing. It’s like everyone thinks we thrive on conflict and chaos. Maybe some teens do. But I happen to think we have enough to struggle with simply to survive adolescence. Could it be possible that we don’t need a steady diet of adolescent strife on reality television too? Then again, it’s not like I’m much of an expert on this stuff since I hardly ever watch it. That irony doesn’t escape me…or how it must appear that I condone this stuff since I’m actually participating in not just one, but
two
teen reality shows. Again I have to ask myself, how did I end up here?

Somehow Paige and I make it until midnight with no missing hair, broken bones, or claw marks across our faces, and I am so relieved when we finally say our “Happy New Years,” and I begin to entice Paige to go home.

“Come on, Cinderella,” I tease her as I tug her away from
the dance floor. “I’m pretty sure our limo has turned into a pumpkin by now.”

She makes a
call me
sign to Benjamin, then turns away and sighs. “Oh, Erin, you are such a party pooper.”

“Aren’t you curious about Mom?” I try. “I mean, tonight was her first date since Dad and—”

“Oh, man, Erin!” Paige is walking faster now. “I totally forgot about that. Let’s hurry!”

Soon we’re in the car. Fran has left, but there’s a note saying that she’ll call us in a day or two. And for some reason that just totally irks me. She was supposed to be the director, right? The responsible adult? Yet she just takes off like it’s no big deal. What would’ve happened if there’d been a real problem? Even our camera guys are gone. Something about this just doesn’t seem right, and I wonder if I should inform our mom. Not that I want to be the tattletale of the family. But, really, it seems weird.

Paige leans back in the seat and lets out a long sigh. “Benjamin is such a cool guy…” She says this in a way that sounds too dreamy not to be taken seriously.

“Meaning what?” I ask her.

“Huh?” she looks at me as if she forgot I was there.

“Benjamin is such a cool guy—how? Like as an actor? As a friend? Or are you talking romance?”

She just smiles.

“Paige,” I say with a warning tone. “He’s still going with Mia, you know.”

“I know…but it sounds like he’s trying to break up.”

“Trying to break up means they’re still a couple, right?”

“Oh, Erin, you can be such a buzzkill.”

Whatever. I lean back into the seat, cross my arms over
my front, close my eyes, and pretend she’s not there. Childish, maybe, but I can’t believe she’s treating me like this. Especially when I think of how I rescued her tonight, not just once, but twice. Some appreciation I get!

Mom appears to have gotten home just ahead of us. I can tell by the look on her face that she probably had fun tonight. If I’m not mistaken, there seem to be actual stars in her eyes. In fact, I think that both Paige and Mom are wearing the same expression.

“So…how was your date?” Paige asks as she kicks off her shoes.

“Very nice.” Mom sits down on the sectional and sighs. “Much nicer than I expected.”

“Who exactly is this Jim, Tim, Tom guy anyway?” I ask, suddenly feeling like my dad—and that is pretty weird. But he was the type to get directly to the point and ask the hard questions, probably because he was a journalist.

Mom just smiles. “His name is Jon. J-O-N.”

“And he works with you?” I say.

“Not exactly. He’s a producer for a morning program. I’ve known him for a while. Very nice man.”

“So, what’s he like, Mom?” Paige sits down beside her. “Tell me everything. What’s he look like? How old is he? Did he kiss you?”

Mom actually giggles. For some reason, I don’t think I can handle this much information. I mean, I realize Mom has every right to romance. She probably
needs
romance, but I’m just not ready to hear the details. Not yet.

“I’m tired,” I tell them. “I think I’ll call it a night.”

“Happy New Year, Sweetie,” Mom says happily.

“Happy New Year to you,” I say in a voice that doesn’t
sound nearly as hopeful as it should. And really, I think, as I remove my fancy dress and shoes and wash what now looks like way too much makeup from my face, what is going to make this a happy year? I won’t be going back to school. I’m trapped into doing reality TV, which is feeling more and more like a moral compromise. I’m feeling slightly alienated by my best friend Mollie, since she even admitted being jealous. My mom and my sister are both acting like airheads. So, really, what about this new year is going to be happy? Of course, that could just be exhaustion talking. I hope so.