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Shirley came over. "Give me that phone."
I handed it to her and watched her stalk around my kitchen.
"Real body types are in, Lucas. Your movie sucks, but Lowell's body just might save it. You might get numbers if people think she's representing a new Hollywood standard in beauty." She listened to him and rolled her eyes. "No, I don't think your movie should be a clinical trial. That's not what I'm saying."
He must have yelled at her because she closed her eyes and braced herself against the phone.
"Say what you want. I've been in this business a long time, and I know what I'm talking about. You can thank me when it does well." She hung up and handed the phone back to me. "That guy's a real asshole."
"I tol
d you," I complained.
"He's a successful asshole, though. You still need this part." She wagged a red, gel-manicured fingertip at me.
"I know. I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep it, though." I looked nervously at Kyle. Now that I'd sort of dealt with Lucas, it was time to deal with my inner circle. We hadn't told anyone about us yet. Tori was the only person outside of our parents and Katie who knew about our past.
Shirley rarely, if ever, missed a trick. "What does that mean?"
I swallowed nervously. "It just means that Kyle and I are going to answer every question at the interview tomorrow."
"I would expect that. So what's the problem?" Shirley looked at my face, which was clearly guilty, and raised her eyebrows. Then she looked at Tori, who was looking down, picking imaginary lint off her blouse. She turned to Kyle, who was inspecting his nails. Gigi just shrugged at her, mystified, so Shirley turned back to me. "Out with it. Right now, please. I'm not getting any younger."
"Kyle and I… have known each other for longer than you think." I shot him a quick look and saw the smile spreading on his face. "We… knew each other when we were younger."
"Go on." Shirley crossed her arms. "'Cause I know that's not the whole story."
"We grew up together. For part of the time, anyway."
"My father was married to her mother," Kyle said. He put some crushed ice into a tumbler and poured vodka in it, squeezed in a lime, and handed it to Shirley.
Shirley frowned and took a large swig of her drink.
"They were married for four years. Lowell and I were stepsiblings from the time she was ten until she was fourteen and I was seventeen, when they got divorced. That was the last time I saw her. Before this."
"So…" Shirley looked as if her mind was racing a mile a minute. She didn't look upset anymore, more like she was plotting and scheming—her normal look. "Did you two have feelings for each other back then? Did you ever do anything?"
"No," we said in unison, horrified.
"He was really mean back then," I offered.
"She was sort of a dork," he explained.
"Okay, okay. We can work with this," Gigi piped up, her blond ponytail swinging excitedly. "You two didn't like each other back then, but you met years later and felt an instant spark." She sounded as if she was giving a movie pitch to an executive.
"Umm… no," Kyle said, shaking his head. "I mean, I obviously thought she was hot when I saw her again, but we didn't exactly… get along." He looked at me and smiled. "She totally wanted me though. I could tell."
I snorted. "As if."
Shirley looked confused. She elbowed Tori, who was still busy picking imaginary lint off her shirt. "I thought you said you set them up and they hit it off instantly."
Tori pressed her lips together, pretending to think. "Is that what I said? I really don't remember." Shirley towered over her, and Tori winced. "Okay, okay… I might have made some stuff up."
"Which stuff?" Shirley asked.
"All the stuff?" Tori asked, even though it wasn't a question.
"Tori didn't set us up," I interjected. "I'm the one who called Kyle. Actually, I called Kyle's… pimp."
