Nor will I mention Sage. I hadn’t quite realized what a feud they’ve been having. It’s not just the cancer-victim-shaving-head remark that Sage keeps going on about. It started ages ago, when they both arrived at an event in the same vivid green dress, and Sage accused Lois of doing it on purpose. Then Sage didn’t turn up to an AIDS event organized by Lois. She was supposed to be presenting the whole evening, apparently, and Lois said she felt “snubbed and let down” but that she wasn’t surprised that Sage had “once again displayed her innate selfishness.”
Then, last year, Lois did the Hollywood Walk of Fame and said in her speech, “Hollywood is in my DNA.” Whereupon Sage immediately commented on Facebook, God help Hollywood.
What’s really sad is that they used to be friends, years ago. They even appeared in a TV show together as children. But Hollywood is a tough place for the twenty-first-century actress, and she learns to look on every other star as an enemy (according to Hollywouldn’t.com, this brilliant blog I found). Apparently, actresses compete over roles, men, ad campaigns, and even plastic surgeons. They set up camps like royal courts and become paranoid about their competitors, even those they’re “friends” with.
It all sounds super-stressy. I can’t imagine competing with Suze over a plastic surgeon. Although, to be fair, we did once clash over an Orla Kiely coat which we both wanted to buy on eBay. (Suze got it. But she lends it to me.)
Anyway, so there are quite a few possible conversational pitfalls, if and when I meet Lois tonight. I won’t mention Sage, or shoplifting (or shopping), or Lois’s dad, or Lois’s latest film, The Spiked Bed (it got bad reviews), or white sugar (she thinks it’s evil). Not that I was planning to mention white sugar, but still. Worth remembering. Topics I can safely mention: Lois’s Golden Globe, kettlebells, macadamia nuts. I’ve written them down in case I get tongue-tied.
“Why macadamia nuts?” says Suze, who has been reading the list with interest.
“Because Lois loves them,” I say. “It said so in Health and Fitness. So I’ll pretend to love them, too, and we’ll connect.”
“But what can you say about macadamia nuts?” objects Suze.
“I don’t know!” I say defensively. “I’ll say, They’re really nutty, aren’t they?”
“And what will you say about kettlebells? Have you ever even seen a kettlebell?”
“That’s not the point. Lois has done a kettlebell DVD, so it’s a good conversational topic.”
We’re in my room, getting ready for the Actors’ Society Awards, or ASAs, as everyone calls them. And I can’t help feeling a little bit hyper. I have to get it right tonight. I have to make a good impression. I’ve analyzed Lois’s style endlessly over the last few days, and I’ve got loads of ideas for her. I think she could go far more young and glam. She wears dresses that are too old for her. And who does her hair?
“I read another piece in Variety today saying Lois’s career is on the skids,” says Suze conversationally. “Hair up or down?” She grabs her hair extensions in one hand and piles them in a knot on her head.
“Up. That looks amazing. And it isn’t on the skids.”
“Well, her price has fallen. Apparently she’s really moody. Shannon’s worked with her. Shannon says she’s permanently on the edge.”
“Shannon’s just jealous,” I snap.
I’m getting a bit sick of this Shannon. After our departure from The Black Flag, Suze got herself a day’s work as an extra on a TV show called Cyberville and made a new friend called Shannon, who’s been a professional extra for over twenty years. Shannon considers herself an expert on Hollywood, and Suze treats all her views with total reverence and keeps spouting them back to me. I mean, honestly. Just because you’ve been in The Matrix, it doesn’t mean you know everything.
“Lois just needs an exciting new look,” I say firmly. “Which I will give her.”
“What did Luke say about it?” Suze turns, her voice muffled by hairpins in her mouth. “You never told me.”
“Oh. Um.” I play for time by lining my lips carefully, even though I’ve already lined them.
“He is OK with it, isn’t he?” Suze gives me a sharp look. “Bex, you did tell him, didn’t you?”
“Well …” I cast around for the best answer. “There’s no point telling him yet.”
“You have to tell him!” Suze shoves a sparkly clip into her hair. “You can’t just join Team Lois and he has no idea!”
“I haven’t even met Lois properly yet,” I retort. “What if we don’t get on? Then I’ll have told Luke for no reason. I’ll wait till I get hired and then I’ll tell him.”
I don’t want to tell Luke yet about meeting Lois. First because I secretly know that Suze is right—Luke might raise objections. And, second, because I want to tell him when I’m already a success. I want to prove that I can make it here on my own.
“What if he sees you making conversation with Lois tonight?”
“Suze, this isn’t the Cold War! I’m allowed to talk to people! I’ll just say we were chatting. Can you hook me up?”
As Suze starts pulling at the fabric of my corset dress, my phone bleeps with three new texts, all in a row, and I reach for it on a nearby chair.
“Stop it!” Suze scolds me. “I can’t hook you if you move around. It’s only a text.”