Shopaholic to the Stars
Page 113
“Huge,” Lois agrees.
“They’re going to plug it everywhere. The big truce. Sage and Lois confront each other.” Sage’s eyes are sparkling. “Who’s not going to watch that? Lois has this whole remorseful-sinner thing going on too. You’re going to wear white, yes?” she adds to Lois.
“White shift and flats,” Lois confirms. “Penitent angel. They may get the store owner on, apparently. So I can apologize to him.”
“That would be good TV,” says Sage. “I’m going to offer Lois help,” she tells me. “And we’re both going to cry. I need to talk to you about a dress,” she adds. “Something innocent-looking. Maybe Marc Jacobs? Maybe, like, a soft pink?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s like they’ve practically written a script. They probably will write a script.
“Do the Camberly people know about this?” I splutter. “That it’s all fake?”
“No!” Sage seems shocked. “Nobody knows. Lois even fired her media team to keep them out of the way, so they have no idea.”
“I knew we had a big chance,” says Lois. “But my people would never have gone along with it. They’re so conventional.” She shakes her head impatiently.
“So …” I rub my head, trying to get things clear. “So you’re not really a shoplifter? But I caught you red-handed!”
“That was an experiment,” says Lois. She sits down at the table, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. “I wasn’t expecting to get caught. But it all worked out.”
“Lois is really imaginative,” says Sage admiringly. “The feud was her idea. She came up with the cancer-victim line. She came up with the two green dresses. I mean, those were just tiny little ideas between ourselves. They didn’t get us huge attention. But now this suicide thing is on a whole new level. Genius. It’s put us right back on the front pages.”
As I look at Lois’s calm face, I feel revulsion. She actually faked a suicide attempt?
“But how could you do that? People have been really worried about you!”
“I know,” says Lois. “That’s the point. The farther you fall, the more they love you when you bounce back.” She sighs at my expression. “Look. It’s a competitive world. We need exposure. All the public craves is a good story. Don’t you love a good story? Don’t you read Us Weekly?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Do you think every word is true?”
“Well, no, but—”
“So what’s the difference?”
“Well, some of it has to be true!” I say hotly. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“Why? Does it matter? As long as we entertain our audience?”
I’m silenced for a while, thinking about all the stories Suze and I have read in the gossip magazines. Does it matter if they’re true or not? Like, I’ve always taken it as gospel truth that the cast of Our Time all hate one another. What if they don’t? What if Selma Diavo isn’t really a bitch? I’ve read about the stars for so long, I feel like I know them. I feel familiar with their worlds and their friends and their ups and their downs. I could probably write a thesis on Jennifer Aniston’s love life.
But the truth is, all I really know are images and headlines and “quotes” from “sources.” Nothing real.
“Wait a minute,” I say as something occurs to me. “If everyone thinks you’re a suicidal wreck, how will you get any work?”
“Oh, I’ll get work,” says Lois. “The offers are already coming in. Lots of shoplifting roles.” She gives a sudden burst of laughter. “I’ll be punished and then I’ll be forgiven. That’s how Hollywood operates.”
She looks so relaxed, I feel a spurt of anger. Does she realize how worried I’ve been about her? And I don’t even know her! What about her friends? What about her parents?
Oh, actually, her parents are dead. And she doesn’t have any friends. (At least, that’s what National Enquirer said. But who can I believe anymore?)
“I thought you were about to have a breakdown,” I say accusingly. “You were shaking … you were collapsing … you couldn’t even breathe.…”
“I’m an actor,” says Lois with a shrug.
“We’re actors.” Sage nods. “We act.”
I cast my mind back to the Lois I caught shoplifting all those weeks ago—the timid wraith in the hoodie. The trembling hands, the whispering voice, the flinching expression … That was acting? I mean, OK, I know I shouldn’t be surprised. Lois is one of the top actors in the world. But still. She looked so real. I almost want to ask her to do it again.
“They’re going to plug it everywhere. The big truce. Sage and Lois confront each other.” Sage’s eyes are sparkling. “Who’s not going to watch that? Lois has this whole remorseful-sinner thing going on too. You’re going to wear white, yes?” she adds to Lois.
“White shift and flats,” Lois confirms. “Penitent angel. They may get the store owner on, apparently. So I can apologize to him.”
“That would be good TV,” says Sage. “I’m going to offer Lois help,” she tells me. “And we’re both going to cry. I need to talk to you about a dress,” she adds. “Something innocent-looking. Maybe Marc Jacobs? Maybe, like, a soft pink?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s like they’ve practically written a script. They probably will write a script.
“Do the Camberly people know about this?” I splutter. “That it’s all fake?”
“No!” Sage seems shocked. “Nobody knows. Lois even fired her media team to keep them out of the way, so they have no idea.”
“I knew we had a big chance,” says Lois. “But my people would never have gone along with it. They’re so conventional.” She shakes her head impatiently.
“So …” I rub my head, trying to get things clear. “So you’re not really a shoplifter? But I caught you red-handed!”
“That was an experiment,” says Lois. She sits down at the table, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. “I wasn’t expecting to get caught. But it all worked out.”
“Lois is really imaginative,” says Sage admiringly. “The feud was her idea. She came up with the cancer-victim line. She came up with the two green dresses. I mean, those were just tiny little ideas between ourselves. They didn’t get us huge attention. But now this suicide thing is on a whole new level. Genius. It’s put us right back on the front pages.”
As I look at Lois’s calm face, I feel revulsion. She actually faked a suicide attempt?
“But how could you do that? People have been really worried about you!”
“I know,” says Lois. “That’s the point. The farther you fall, the more they love you when you bounce back.” She sighs at my expression. “Look. It’s a competitive world. We need exposure. All the public craves is a good story. Don’t you love a good story? Don’t you read Us Weekly?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Do you think every word is true?”
“Well, no, but—”
“So what’s the difference?”
“Well, some of it has to be true!” I say hotly. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“Why? Does it matter? As long as we entertain our audience?”
I’m silenced for a while, thinking about all the stories Suze and I have read in the gossip magazines. Does it matter if they’re true or not? Like, I’ve always taken it as gospel truth that the cast of Our Time all hate one another. What if they don’t? What if Selma Diavo isn’t really a bitch? I’ve read about the stars for so long, I feel like I know them. I feel familiar with their worlds and their friends and their ups and their downs. I could probably write a thesis on Jennifer Aniston’s love life.
But the truth is, all I really know are images and headlines and “quotes” from “sources.” Nothing real.
“Wait a minute,” I say as something occurs to me. “If everyone thinks you’re a suicidal wreck, how will you get any work?”
“Oh, I’ll get work,” says Lois. “The offers are already coming in. Lots of shoplifting roles.” She gives a sudden burst of laughter. “I’ll be punished and then I’ll be forgiven. That’s how Hollywood operates.”
She looks so relaxed, I feel a spurt of anger. Does she realize how worried I’ve been about her? And I don’t even know her! What about her friends? What about her parents?
Oh, actually, her parents are dead. And she doesn’t have any friends. (At least, that’s what National Enquirer said. But who can I believe anymore?)
“I thought you were about to have a breakdown,” I say accusingly. “You were shaking … you were collapsing … you couldn’t even breathe.…”
“I’m an actor,” says Lois with a shrug.
“We’re actors.” Sage nods. “We act.”
I cast my mind back to the Lois I caught shoplifting all those weeks ago—the timid wraith in the hoodie. The trembling hands, the whispering voice, the flinching expression … That was acting? I mean, OK, I know I shouldn’t be surprised. Lois is one of the top actors in the world. But still. She looked so real. I almost want to ask her to do it again.
