Read Confessions of a Hollywood Star for Free Online Page A

probably sending him an urgent fax even as we speak.”
    Carla’s lips were straight as a blade. “And just how do you have all this inside information?”
    “She made it up like she usually does,” muttered Tina.
    I knew exactly what I was going to say, of course. It was short, but it was very sweet. I’d tell Carla about the costume designers coming into Second Best, and probably mention that I’d been more or less promised a job as an extra. But what I’d planned didn’t include any extraneous details about what anyone else would say – or how they’d look. It definitely hadn’t included the expression of disdainful skepticism on Carla’s beautiful face, or the Greek chorus sighing and snuffling behind her. These changes required some adjustments. They required improvization. I’ve always been good at improvization.
    “Me?” I straightened up, sidling slowly towards the empty seat next to Sam. “Oh, the director came into the store – you know, where I work?” Out of the corner of my eye I could see Ella staring at me, a sushi roll frozen between her lips, but my attention was on the scene in my mind of a man who looked a lot like Martin Scorcese striding through the door of Second Best. “He was checking out the location and everything. He wanted to know all about Dellwood and what was around…” I smiled fondly at the memory. “We had a really good talk.”
    “Oh, really?” Carla’s voice was hard, but the practiced ear could hear the tiny wedge of doubt prising open the steel door of her confidence. “What about? Secondhand clothes?”
    The disciples tittered.
    “As a matter of fact we did touch on that topic. He was looking for vintage stuff for Bret. You know … Bret Fork?” I pulled out the chair and sat down, looking over my shoulder at her. “But then – much to my astonishment – he wanted to know if I’d ever done any acting myself.” I laughed with surprised delight. “Can you imagine?”
    I couldn’t see Ella even out of the corner of my eye now, but I could hear her. She sounded like someone had just punched her in the stomach.
    “Oh, please…” [Cue: long-suffering sigh.] “Why would he ask you that?”
    “Because he liked my face.” I didn’t even have to pause to think. It was like I was reading from a teleprompter. “He said he was looking for someone with my combination of wholesomeness and sophistication.”
    “Oh, God…” groaned Alma, Marcia and Tina.
    “You’ll be telling us you got the lead next,” Carla snickered.
    “No, not the lead.” I stared into her eyes like I was trying to read something behind her head. “It’s nothing big of course – just one of those blink-and-you-miss-it kind of parts really – but it should be fun.”
    Carla didn’t say anything. She suddenly had to go. “I’ll see you later,” she informed the disciples. “I just remembered I have something to do.”
    She marched out of the cafeteria the way Pinochet’s troops marched into Santiago.
    Ella finally dropped her sushi roll. “Are you crazy?” she hissed. “Why did you tell her you had a part?”
    “She goaded me into it.” I opened my lunch box. “And anyway, what’s it matter? Friday’s our last day of school.”
    “Thank God this part of our lives is almost over,” muttered Sam.
    Sadly, he has no future as a prophet.

Carla Beats Defeat To The Ground And Snatches Victory Out Of Its Jaws
    I t was a Dellwood High tradition that on the last day the senior class threw a barbecue for the other years. Since there was no school social event that wasn’t taken over by Carla Santini I planned to miss it. But Sam and Ella wanted to go, and because Morty was senior class president and put soya burgers on the menu I couldn’t even argue that a vegetarian at a barbecue is like a teetotaller at a drunken Harvard student party (offended and bored), so I let myself be persuaded.
    The barbecue was a happy, jubilant affair. There was a lot of last-minute yearbook