Read Secrets of My Hollywood Life #4: Paparazzi Princess for Free Online

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    This year's event is being held at Mac Murdoch's Cuban-American eatery, Fusion. I doubt Mac will be on hand for the event. Mac once told me that he only drops in a few times a year. That would explain HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER THREE: Most stars don't have time to oversee their own BlackBerry messages, let alone run a restaurant. Many stars in the restaurant biz are usually silent partners who contribute with their wallets and recipes. (What star doesn't want to share their mother's beloved meatloaf with the world?) If a star's eatery is good, the place can be a way to bring in cash in between projects. But if business is bad, get ready for a nasty bashing in the press.
    Thankfully, Mac's restaurant is the former. I give myself a once-over before heading inside, checking my eye concealer coverage. The lunch is semi-casual so I'm wearing a strapless navy blue Samantha Tracy dress and three-inch Jimmy Choos. My hair is down and I'm carrying a brown leather Cinch bag. (It's always good to wear or carry something from the designer whose event you're attending.) I'm about to open the door when I hear a familiar ringtone. I pick up on the first ring.
    "HOW WAS TURKS AND CAICOS?" My publicist Laney bellows. Laney may be in her thirties (I think -- she still won't tell me her exact age), but she scares even the most seasoned people in the business. She's known for being loud, brash, and a big celeb name-dropper. ("Jess Alba and I had lunch yesterday at this darling place!") But she'll also defend her clients within an inch of her life, which is what I love about her.
    "GOOD," I yell, forgetting for a moment that I don't have to yell back. Laney always seems to find the nosiest locations to call me from so she's always screaming into the phone. "I water-skied and Matty and I . . ."
    "WHEN ARE YOU MEETING WITH SETH?" she asks, shouting over a symphony of jackhammers, drills, and falling lumber. Laney's house in Malibu is being renovated.
    "I'm calling him today," I say guiltily. I got so busy between FA stuff and SAT studying this week that I put Seth's repeated messages aside. Not that I'm going to tell Laney that. "How was Cabo with Drew and Cameron?" I change the subject.
    "Fab," Laney coos and takes her voice down an octave. "I told the girls they have to do another Angels flick and put you in it. Now about your meeting. I think . . . NOOO! I SAID PUT IT ON THE TERRACE. NOT ON THE DECK."
    I pull the phone away from my ear. "You sound busy," I tell her.
    "I'm not." Laney sounds offended. "I was calling to set up a lunch for after you see Seth. Nadine said she thinks you're putting the meeting off. Are you?"
    What? Why would Nadine say that to Laney? She's supposed to be on my side! "I'm not," I insist quickly. "It's just going back was harder than I thought and --"
    "I WANT THE JACUZZI THERE!" Laney interrupts. The hammering and the drilling grow louder again. "OVER THERE! Kaitlin, call Seth. No buts. I'll call you later after I deal with this ." Click.
    Sigh. It's just as well I didn't tell her about my crying fit during the promos taping. She'd tell me I was just being dramatic.
    I can still hear the jackhammer in my ears as I make my way through the air-conditioned restaurant to the outdoor patio. Fusion's outside area is really peaceful. Ivy is draped over the concrete patio walls, planted trees provide extra shade, and white twinkling lights dot the bushes even during the daytime. A large stone fountain with two cherubs sits in the center of several wrought-iron tables topped with hydrangeas and small votives. For today's event, I see the restaurant's outdoor bar has been converted into a mini Cinch store being run by girls wearing the brand's signature CI logo. I look around. The place is packed with women I know, or have at least seen, on the big and small screens.
    Cinch's marketing chief, Enid Euber, greets me warmly. "Hi, Kaitlin! So glad you could make it. You're at table eight." She points to the