Some like it hot: an A-list novel Page 15

  "Not a chance." He shook his head. "I have a policy against blind dates."

  Cammie was momentarily stuck. Then she got an idea.

  "Come with me."

  She marched over to Ben's juice bar, where he was in the midst of preparing yet another three smoothies simultaneously. As she'd suspected, Punk Boy followed.

  "Ben?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Dee needs a prom date for tomorrow," Cammie explained enthusiastically. "Your friend isn't sure. Tell him how cute she is."

  Ben turned off one of the blenders. "Real cute. But--"

  She cut him off. "See? You just got a guy's opinion. Besides ..." She moved close enough to Jack that her breasts pressed lightly against him. "We'll get a chance to dance too."

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  Cammie had Punk Boy put his digits into her BlackBerry and told him she'd call him in the A.M. about the logistics. Mission accomplished. Now if only she could remember Punk Boy's name.

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  Mystery Punk Boy"I can't believe Eduardo's gone," Sam told Anna J. wistfully, as they pushed through the front door of Boss Sushi on South La Cienega Boulevard. "It was amazing. I already miss him."

  "He'll be back soon, for the whole summer," Anna reminded her. "Lucky you."

  Sam nodded.

  Early in the week, they'd agreed to get together on Friday after school for prom prep. When the prom had been rescheduled, the prep date had been rescheduled too. But frankly, Anna was surprised that Sam wasn't already up in Palmdale, running preprom like a five-star general. She had assured Anna that with Monty already at the facility, plus Fee and Jazz with their handheld cameras, there would be more than enough footage to sort through.

  Once inside Boss Sushi, Sam waved to some people she knew. The restaurant was dimly lit, with well-spaced wooden tables and Sinatra on the sound system. Boss Sushi was one of the city's hottest eateries, and her

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  father was friends with master chef Tom "the Boss" Sagara and had even secured him a small role in Ben Hur. Once the Boss spotted Sam, he rushed out to kiss her on both cheeks and promised that he'd provide the freshest and best sushi and sashimi, no need to bother with a menu. He sat them in a booth and recommended the minced yellowtail with avocado and shiso, wrapped in Japanese radish. A black-clad young waitress with red hair cropped close enough to render her scalp visible brought them a carafe of the house wine--a gift from the Boss--a chardonnay so light and crisp that it tingled on the tongue.

  "So, you're free for the whole afternoon, right?" Sam asked. She poured some chardonnay into her crystal goblet.

  "Why?"

  "I've got a stylist coming over with prom dresses for you, Dee, Cammie, and me. And yes, I told them to bring you size twos and fours--for which I hate you."

  Anna was a bit taken aback. She'd already planned to wear a pale blue chiffon Chloe gown. She'd worn it once before to a state dinner at the White House. (Jane and Jonathan Percy each regularly made predictably sizable donations to both political parties. No matter who won, they'd still have access.) The White House banquet had been no great shakes--chatting with one of the president's daughters had been surprisingly uninteresting. But the wife of the Belgian ambassador had asked where Anna had found the grown, which was flattering.

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  "Uh-oh, you're pissed," Sam decreed. "I see it on your face."

  "No, I'm not," Anna insisted. And she really wasn't. With Sam, she'd learned to expect this kind of surprise.

  "Oh, great, then!" Sam grinned. "Whatever you were going to wear--forget it. This stylist does all the chicks on the best-dressed list every year. And ..."

  She peered at Anna more intently. "There's still something going on. Spill."

  "It's not the dresses." Anna struggled with how to say what she wanted to say. "It's ... your film. I know you want to be a director, and I know how talented you are, and--"

  "And what? "

  "I just ... I wonder if you want to jump-start your career--to make yourself look good by making some other people look bad."

  Sam leaned back, put her hands behind her head, and laughed. "Anna. You don't have to pull your punches with me. Just say it: You think I'm going to do a hatchet job on the prom weenies. Is that it?"

  Anna took a meager sip of her wine. "Yes. And I don't see what's so funny."

  " You are funny. You're so lucky you didn't grow up here in Hollywood, Anna. You would have been eaten alive before you graduated from nursery school."

  "Don't change the subject," Anna warned. "It took a lot of courage for me to bring this up with you."

  Sam laughed again. "I know. And I want you to know

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  you don't have anything to worry about, even though I don't let my friends dictate my art, especially when they have no idea what the finished product is going to look like and didn't want to see any of the edited footage and decided to jump to conclusions without even knowing the facts."

  Anna blinked slowly. "I am totally confused."

  "Okay, maybe in the beginning I was thinking about a prom-weenie hatchet job. But since then, I changed my concept for the film."

  "To what?"

  Sam fiddled with a straw wrapper. "The bizarre thing is, once I started to get to know the weenies, I actually kind of sort of ... like them."

  Anna's face lit up. "That's so sweet."

  "Don't let it get around. As soon as you start seeing people who are different from you as actually three-dimensional, it's a lot harder to dis them. So my new concept is a lot more ... affirmative."

  The Sinatra CD ended and was replaced by Billie Holliday singing "Strange Fruit"--a song Anna adored. She leaned forward. "I am so glad that you changed your mind."

  "Look," Sam continued. "You knew a lot of writers and painters in New York. You know that art is an evolving thing. Your first concept isn't always going to be your best concept. Last night with Eduardo ... it was just so ... real. Honest. Open. Authentic. When I woke up this morning, I realized that as much as Jazz and Fee

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  want to be part of something they're not, everything they're doing for prom they're doing with their hearts. They really, truly, deeply care about this. That's what I want my movie to be about. How here in Beverly Hills, where party-giving is an art form, two high school girls can put their hearts into putting on a great party. Heart in a heartless town. That's what I'm going for."

  Anna couldn't help but grin. "Sam Sharpe, you're a genius."

  "True. Now, moving on," Sam replied briskly. "I have a surprise. At any--"

  She was interrupted by the waitress, who carried an enormous tray with plates of sushi and sashimi, and identified each as she set it down: salmon, tuna, shrimp, and eel.

  "Sam!"

  The voice had come from the doorway. Anna turned and was surprised to see Dee trotting toward them. With her was a gangly guy, all arms and legs, with the faraway squint of the nearsighted. He had red curly hair, nervous eyes, and a prominent Adam's apple that bobbed up and down like it was attached to a yo-yo string. His ears stuck out a little, and he wore ironed jeans with a crease.

  "Here comes my surprise," Sam explained to Anna happily. "On her day pass. With ... you know, I have no clue who that guy is. I hope not her new boyfriend."

  She rose to hug Dee. "I'm so glad you're here!"

  "Oh wow, this is so fantastic!" Dee gushed.

  Anna rose and embraced, Dee too, pleased to see her

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  up and around--maybe even getting back to a normal life. "It's good to see you. You've got to be feeling a lot better."

  Dee's face was absolutely devoid of makeup. She wore Bebe khakis, a little faded olive-green T-shirt, and red Vans sneakers. Anna didn't think she'd ever seen her so dressed down before. The look worked, though ... maybe even better than ever.

  "Sit, sit," Sam told Dee and the gangly guy, ushering everyone into the booth.

  "This is Marshall Gruber," Dee said, introducing Gangly Guy. "
He's my warden for prom."

  "Chaperone," he corrected, in a reedy voice. "I'm a clinical intern at Ojai."

  Sam gave Anna a dubious look. It was great that Dee could get a pass for prom, but for her escort to bear such a striking resemblance to the guy from Napoleon Dynamite? This was definitely not the stuff that prom dreams were made of. What about the date that Cammie was supposed to procure? Meanwhile, the waitress hurried over with more plates and another large platter of sushi.

  "Dig in," Sam instructed Dee and Marshall. "The yellowtail is amazing."

  "Oh no." Marshall looked horrified. "I'm vegan. Just rice. Unbleached, if they've got it."

  Dee nabbed a piece of yellowtail--evidently, her own former vegetarianism had vanished along with her bipolar symptoms--and bit into it. "Freedom," she declared,

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  after she'd happily savored the fresh fish. "It's awesome. A whole afternoon with my friends, plus prom."

  Friends plus chaperone, Anna thought. She tried not to stare at Marshall, who was using his chopsticks to pick apart the white rice on his plate, seemingly grain by grain.

  "There's no nutrition in white rice," he scowled. "A person might as well down cyanide."

  "Marshall? Maybe you'd like to sit at the sake bar?" Sam suggested cheerfully. "Far from the evil ivory rice?"

  Marshall shook his head. "No. I have to be with Dee."

  Dee rolled her eyes. "Sam? Did you hear anything about my actual prom date? "

  Sam shrugged. "Nothing from Cammie, but she's supposed to meet us at my house in about an--

  "Hey, Dee!"

  With movie-perfect timing, Cammie swung into the restaurant unannounced, clad in a flouncy tiered Crazy Chic orange gauze skirt and a pink-and-orange bandeau top. "I've got news. Too good to hold until later."

  Dee jumped up and hugged her, then introduced Marshall. Since there were no free chairs, Cammie slid onto Marshall's lap. He stiffened up; she glanced down.

  "Is that a chopstick in your pocket, or are you glad to see me?" she teased.

  Sam and Dee laughed; Anna tried not to show too much bemusement at Cammie's crack. As for Marshall, he blushed beet red and scooched out from under Cammie.

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  "My date?" Dee prompted. "Or else--"

  "Done deal," Cammie announced, plucking a seaweed wrapped Pacific albacore roll from the platter. "His name is Jack Walker. Friend of Ben's from Princeton. Very punk-bad-boy hot."

  Anna stopped with her chopsticks dangling in mid-air.

  Jack Walker? The same Jack Walker who had hit on Maddy? Had to be. She couldn't imagine Dee going out with such a player; she had to still be emotionally fragile.

  On the other hand, Dee looked so hopeful.

  "I know him, Dee. He's cute," Anna assured her, hoping she was doing the right thing.

  Marshall cleared his throat, which made his Adam's apple bob like a bobble-head doll in his throat. "Um, excuse me. Dee's pass specifically says that I'm escorting her. I've got it in the glove box in the car. I'll go get it to show you."

  Cammie draped an arm casually around Gangly Guy's shoulder. "There's no need for that. You are escorting her, Marshall. So is Jack. Consider it... a variation on a double date."

  The intern nodded solemnly. "I suppose that's all right, but I can't allow any alone time that could be an opportunity for illegal drug or alcohol activity or sexual relations that would not be conducive to the therapeutic process."

  Cammie stroked Marshall's hair. "Marsh, honey, can you excuse us? We've got some girl talk to do."

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  "Sure," he agreed, apparently satisfied now that he knew he'd be with Dee at prom. "I'll go to the sushi bar and watch the fish swim around before they're murdered."

  As Anna watched him depart, she didn't notice the teen girl with long, thick dark hair who was approaching their table from the opposite direction.

  "Hi, Anna. Wow. Am I interrupting?"

  To Anna's surprise, there stood Maddy. She wore oversize khaki pants and a navy T-shirt large enough to house a small island nation. Her hair was roped in a long, frizzy braid; she carried what looked like an overnight bag.

  "No, of course not," Anna told her. "What are you doing here?"

  Maddy looked embarrassed. "Can I talk to you for a second? In private?"

  Anna nodded, excused herself, and led Maddy to a short corridor by the rear restrooms.

  "Are you, like, pissed?" Maddy asked as they found a quiet spot. "I would have called your cell but I forgot to ask Ben for your number and he wasn't home but I remember he said that you were having lunch here. I could have called the restaurant and asked them to page you, but I didn't think of it until I got here."

  "It's okay. You did the best you could. So what can I do for you?" Anna asked. She still couldn't figure out what was such a big emergency.

  "The thing is ..." Maddy hesitated. "Okay. I should just say it. Okay, I'll say it. My mom sent me a prom

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  dress. I don't have a lot of money to go buy a new dress at the Beverly Center or anything like that. None of my old clothes fit. I wanted to show you the dress so you could maybe tell me if it's okay."

  Anna was touched and a little ashamed that she'd ever been jealous of this girl. She was so ... young. Innocent.

  "I'd be happy to look at your dress," she declared.

  "Gosh! Thanks!"

  Maddy opened her overnight bag and extracted the dress. It was hot pink polyester, with rows of ruffles from the neckline to just under the bust, and little cap ruffled sleeves. Plain and tentlike, it fell straight to the floor.

  All in all, it was perhaps the most hideous garment Anna had ever seen.

  "What do you think?"

  "I think you should put it back in the bag," Anna told her, in as neutral a voice as she could manage.

  "You don't like it," Maddy declared. "I knew it sucked."

  "You can do better." Anna was formulating an idea as she spoke. "Listen ... would you like to come sit for a while with me and my friends?"

  Maddy's face lit up. "Really? If it's not an imposition ... that would be great!"

  Anna linked her arm through Maddy's and led her through the crowded restaurant and back to the table, signaling the hostess--an Eva Longoria look-alike

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  (which had to piss her off, because that meant she wouldn't get any roles unless someone was casting look-alikes)--to add another chair to the end of the booth.

  As Maddy sat down, Cammie gave the girl the once-over. "Who are you?"

  "A friend of Anna's. Madeleine McGee. You can call me Maddy. Everyone does."

  Cammie eyed Maddy's oversize T-shirt. "Whoever you are, were you wearing that T-shirt before you gave birth?"

  Anna cringed. She should have expected Cammie to make such an obnoxious and rude remark, but it was such a mean thing to say.

  Maddy's reaction, though, was completely disarming. Instead of getting mad, she grinned broadly. "I used to be really fat and I haven't bought new clothes yet because I'm going to lose even more weight. Plus I don't have all that much money, to tell you the truth." Without further prompting, she launched into the story of her stomach stapling, leaving no stitch untouched, even digging into her pocketbook for her well-worn "before" picture to illustrate.

  As the photograph was making the rounds, Sam snapped her fingers. "I know who you are. You're the chick living at Ben's house."

  "That's right!" Maddy exclaimed, almost jumping out of her chair that the great Sam Sharpe had heard of her. Thus prompted, the story of how she'd come to

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  move into the Birnbaums' house tumbled out, followed by a rhapsody about Ben himself and how it was so wonderful of Ben to take her to the Pacific Palisades junior prom that same evening.

  With this last disclosure, every eye at the table swung to Anna.

  Oops ."Well, that's true," Anna allowed, doing rapid damage control. "I suggested that Ben be her escort, then come over to our senior prom. I mean,
you only have one junior prom, right?"

  "Cool!" Cammie cried gleefully. "That is so Esalen Institute--my aunt did Esalen years ago before she became a Scientologist. You two are sharing Ben."

  "Well, why not? You don't have him anymore." Dee touched Maddy's forearm. "Cammie and Ben used to be an item."

  "Wow! Before he fell madly in love with Anna?"

  "What do you think?" Cammie jibed.

  "Maddy, are you at all hungry?" Anna jumped in, wanting to change the subject so Maddy wouldn't become the object of Cammie's pique. She'd been in that position herself; it wasn't much fun. "Why don't we order another--?"

  Maddy shook her head. "I can't eat much because my stomach is smaller, remember? I'm always hungry but I can never eat; that's just the way it is. It's worth it, though, 'cause I look at you guys and you're all so, like, thin and perfect. It makes me feel like I'm still a moose."

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  Cammie eyed the garment bag. "What's in there?"

  Lie . Anna wished that telepathy were not just a figment of science-fiction imagination.

  Maddy told the truth. "Umm, it's my prom dress. My mom sent it."

  "Show it to me," Cammie ordered, in a voice that brooked no opposition.

  Slowly, Maddy took the horrid garment from its carrying case, mumbling again how she hadn't picked it out, how her mother had sent it to her from Michigan. As the dress came out of its bag, the table fell deathly silent. Even Cammie couldn't seem to grasp that someone's own mother had suggested that her daughter wear such a frock.

  "Does your mother hate you?" Cammie ventured, in a voice that sounded more shocked than mean.

  "I know. It's ugly." Maddy looked crushed as she wadded the dress up and stuffed it back into the bag.

  "Please. It's beyond ugly," Cammie snorted. "It's like, post ugly. It should be shredded and burned before it breeds and multiplies."

  "You need a different dress," Dee agreed, squinting at Maddy. "If you don't mind my asking, what size are you now? It's hard to tell because your clothes are so baggy."

  "Twelve, maybe? Fourteen? I haven't really shopped much."

  This is the moment, Anna thought.

  "Sam? You know, that stylist is coming over later.... Maybe we can call and see if she could bring Maddy a different dress."