Queen of Hollywood by Marisa Maichel (classic novels for teens .txt) 📕

mood at all, but at least some pampering and keeping busy would help. Seth was looking around for a new gig and I was ready for it, when it came. I had also prepared a bit for an interview, when one was called. I sipped my sparkling lime flavored water with as much dignity as I could muster.

 

Power to the popularity. That's what Monique likes to say. She knows what clothes can make you hot, and what clothes don't. She's the one who got me into turtlenecks and skinny jeans. And tank tops and flowing, medium length skirts, which I was wearing at that moment. I adjusted my necklace chain. Of course the magazine had pictures of me. A couple of me burying my head in Seth's shirt and him comforting me. The caption said'

 

Here, Holly is seen with her head in her agent Seth Rogers's chest. 

 

 

 He comforts her, rubbing her head as she sobs.

  

'He's shushing and hugging her like an old friend would," said an inside source. 'Trust me, they are not interested in each other.' Hmm, we didn't ask about "that!

 

 

 

Well, interesting. So now a rumor was quite possibly flying around that Seth and I were engaged! I tried to maintain calm and poise. I listened to relaxing music. I was so absorbed in the magazine that I didn't notice Blonde And Bad until she touched my knee. Slapped it hard, more like.

 

"What the hell?" I demanded. I glared up into her smug, pretty face.

 

"Hey, ugly." she half-joked.

 

"Hey. Your name's Medea, right?" To my satisfaction her smile faltered. She kept up the fake act and tapped her pink Jimmy Choo pump. I could tell that she was fighting for an insult.

 

"Well, I got the goods." she smirked.

 

"Aren't you afraid your popularity's gonna sink?" said Monique, coming out with an armful of dresses. Angelia laughed.

 

"Nothing can sink me. Nothing can outshine me!" she bragged. Monique rolled her eyes and set the dresses down on a table and began organizing them. Angelia sauntered off to get a manicure.

I hope she gets a hangnail, one that can't be cured. If she's getting her hair done, I hope she gets a crappy stylist and it comes out frizzy and damaged. So damaged that she has to shave her head. I hope.... I hoped and wished a million bad things on that girl.

 

I did notice that her pink dress was fifties-waitress worthy and her hair was teased Snooki-high. Her bag was a Marc Jacobs and made with real fur. I smiled. This was a moment too precious to let go to waste!

 

I texted Olivia, quickly, and informed her on Angelia's tacky state and forwarded her a picture. Ah, revenge. Tomorrow her look would be all over the news. It felt good to be on the other end.

I made sure that Olivia understood what her job was before I turned back to the magazine.

 

I leaned back as my hair was rinsed and I relaxed in the hottub. I was being prepared for a facial mask now. I had a few blackheads that needed to disappear. Like, pronto. The girl doing my facials, Janette, did her thing, scrubbing, squeezing and peeling. It was made easier by the steam from the tub. When she was finished, I sipped some vitamin water and ate a salad. I don't eat salads because I'm a celebrity, I eat them because I like them.

 

I let my manicurist do her thing afterwards. I really should have let her do it right after my pedicure, but I had other things to do and she was busy with another high end customer anyway. After that customer, Blonde Bat herself got her nails done. I stared at my newly prettied nails. Janette had painted them red with a black trim. I loved it. I didn't pay attention to Angelia, who apparently decided to steal two dresses that Monique had set out for me.

 

"I should have been watching. It's like she just snatched those dresses up!" Monique berated herself.

 

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's in her personality. Besides, this is perfect," I told her.

 

She stopped waving her talons around and let go of her relaxed hair.

 

"It is?" she asked, cocking her head.

 

"Totally. She stole something; that's a crime. So if we report it, she might get in legal trouble." I explained. Monique smiled.

 

"I love it. When do we call the cops?"

 

"As soon as she makes another mistake. The cops aren't going to worry about two dresses, but if we dig up more dirt on her, we can make a case."

 

"Holly, you are so smart."

 

"I know, I mean thank you."

 

So a plan was set into place. Wait for Angelia to make another mistake. If I or someone in my crew were to force her to make an eff up, we'd likely get caught. I told my parents about my plan. Dad was all for it, but Mom was skeptical. She was worried about Angelia finding out.

"Of course she might find out, but she can't do a thing about it because it was all on her," Dad explained. "Besides, she kind of deserves it. Kissing our daughter's boyfriend was bad enough, but she went way too far, stealing those dresses."

"I know. That little...that skank is going to regret everything. She will have her just desserts." Mom threatened.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" I asked.

"You and Alan are starting to make sense. I get why you want revenge, and this is perfect. She will never suspect a thing."

 I was busy out shopping with Olivia, Monique, and Mom. We were in Forever Young when I spotted a leopard print tank top. Totally me. I checked the price quickly, (even celebrities shop within budget), and I snatched it from the rack. I slipped into an empty dressing room, and put it on.

Hella hot!

I stepped out, and all three jaws dropped.

"That so fits you!" Monique said happily.

"I wish I'd spotted it first!" Livia cried. Mom wasn't so all over it.

"Half your chest is hanging out!" she said. I got into my Hopeful Look on and studied myself in the mirror.

Mom sighed. "All right. How much is it?"

"Only a hundred bucks."

"Not too bad with your budget. All right, you can have it." I grinned in triumph. The all-mighty I-so-want-this look always works. A few more skirts, two pairs of jeans, one purse that would go with everything I owned, one pair of high heels that the salesgirl tried to talk me out of, (she admitted she was saving them for Angelia, she so wants to be her friend although Angelia did not ask for them), a pair of fresh tights with a purposeful rip in the leg, and we were onto the next place of business, which was a quaint but cool cafe. Leather boots worn by movie stars hung from the ceiling. A motorcycle used in a low-budget film sat in the center of the restaurant. Fresh daffodils sat wherever you looked. A Sphinx cat flitted from table to table, begging for a scrap. Unable to ignore her cute face, I discreetly handed her a piece of chicken.

"Her name's Marinara," the waitress said. "She usually gets what she wants. She belongs to the owner's daughter-in-law. Chrissy spoils her rotten, and so do most of us." I looked down again at the interesting-looking feline, and decided she earned some love. I offered my hand, which Marinara petted.  I love cats, but I can't have one because I'm allergic to their fur. A Sphinx would be a perfect cat for me, but I'll have to wait because my parents don't want any sort of litterbox in the home.  I've told them time and time again that cats can be trained to use toilets, it just takes time and a lot of patience.

 I smiled, turned back to my grilled chicken, side salad and Diet Coke. I don't care about being thin, my thyroid takes care of that, I just like salads and chicken.

 

 

Okay, that's kind of a lie. When you're a celebrity, a lot of weight gained is huge for tabloids. And the tabloids were already torturing me with pictures of Alejandro and Angelia. I wanted to die.

 

Seth called with some new information about a movie I'm thinking of doing.

 

"The part you got is a young teenage stripper. Which means you may have to take your clothes off. Are you okay with that?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Actually, that's illegal. So I'm afraid you won't be able to do it. Not unless you want to have the director and producer arrested."

 

"My birthday is in two months."

 

"I'm afraid that's too late. Let's keep looking. And Holly?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"I love you."

 

"I think I love you too."

 

"Good enough."

 

We hung up and ended on an average note.

 

 

I needed a new project now.

 

"Why don't you take classes?" Mom asked.

 

"Huh?"

 

"Take some classes with things that interest you. Your voice could use some tuning. Take a voice class. You've always wanted to design an advertisement for yourself. Take a class for that."

 

I thought about her advice. It was all true. So I did it. I called for a drawing class. The teacher was excited to have Holly Capulet calling and intelligently asked several times if this was a prank. I also signed up for a pottery class and a painting class. It was time for changes.

 

 

nhvljh

My first drawing class. I'd already signed a few autographs. I definitely got some stares and smiles. Some idiot even asked for my number. I tried to set up my drawing pad correctly.

 

"Well, well, Holly Capi." I recognized that evil voice.

 

"Angela."

 

"Hey there, sissy." She ruffled my hair. I smoothed it over. I started singing "Hero" by Bonnie Tyler to calm my nerves.

 

"Your god became my god!" Angela whispered.

 

"The only God is in Heaven, and he's already decided that your fate is in Hell."

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Publication Date: 02-15-2013

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