Chapter 5
It’s not really hot in LA, even though the sun is always shining.
The air feels like nothing on your skin.
Los Angeles is the opposite of weather. I went down the three elevators, got lost in the winding paths of the Hotel Bel-Air, and eventually found the entrance, where several black SUVs were lined up.
Windows tinted. I wondered if they were full or empty.
I was wearing black jeans and a Mountain Goats T-shirt. Over by the valet stand, an old guy was smoking a cigarette. He was a famous actor, but I couldn’t place his face or remember his name. William something. One of those guys who has been in a hundred movies, but you don’t really notice him.
Ellen appeared and said, “Thanks for dressing up, Kai.”
“Was I supposed to? I can chan—”
“You’re fine. It’s on-brand. We gotta go.” She told the valet her last name and he pointed at one of the SUVs. As we approached, Al got out and opened the door for us.
“Hello again,” I said.
“Cobra Kai,” he said, nodding and ushering me into the car.
Al told us it would be fifteen minutes to the studio lot, so I got out my phone.
I had regrammed Juniper’s picture of the plane—or Ellen had, anyway.
I scrolled through the comments—lots of hearts and smiles, lots of strangers saying one or both of us were so beautiful.
The best comment was, “Imagine being that plane and having Kai Laramie inside of you.”
I read it to Ellen and she laughed and said, “You know what’s funny? I wrote that. Fan-Girl-Of-Literally-3V3RYTHING is one of my burner accounts. Glad you like my work, Kai.”
Some actual friends had also commented—one of my New York roommates, Carmen, wrote, When did you become a Jenner sister? Congrats! with champagne poppers.
I texted Carmen. I am no longer in control of my Instagram. It is now the property of The Studio.
She didn’t immediately reply, so I texted Juniper. Hi.
Her: Hi. You nervous?
Me: I’m something.
She didn’t answer. I asked Ellen how many fake accounts she had. “Personally, four. But we have people who help with that stuff.”
My phone buzzed. Juniper. Sorry I feel like I’m gonna puke. Already puked at the hotel.
Me: Everyone says the movie is good.
Her: I always puke before I watch something I’m in. I hate it. Plus press is gonna be there.
Me: Shit really?
Her: Yeah and Kathryn. And maybe Matthew.
Me: Now I’M gonna puke.
Ellen looked up from her phone and said, “Apparently there’s going to be a bit of press there.
They won’t have seen the movie, just there to meet-and-greet with you and Juniper and Matthew.
You won’t need to talk to them except to say hello, but just in case you do accidentally end up saying more than hi to anyone, we’re gonna practice adjectives. ”
“Adjectives?”
“Yes, adjectives, Kai. I assume you attended fourth grade and remember adjectives. When press asks you about the movie or the cast, you use adjectives. Juniper is dreamy, for instance.”
“Juniper isn’t dreamy. She’s—”
“It was an example.” I could feel her nerves, and that made me feel mine.
“Okay.”
“You tell me the adjectives, and I’ll tell you if they’re good adjectives. Matthew.”
“What?”
“Matthew. Adjectives.”
“Loving. Distant. Generous.”
“Distant is bad.”
“Loving. Generous. Mentor.”
“Mentor is not an adjective but it’s good. Great. Kathryn.”
“Intense.”
“Intense is bad.”
“Bold. Confident.”
“Better!”
“Dedicated. Passionate.”
“Love it. Juniper.”
“Um.”
“Um is not great.”
“I loved her?”
Ellen exhaled through clenched teeth. “Present tense, Kai. She is not deceased. You love her.”
“I love her. Juniper is…thoughtful. Prepared. Careful.”
“Careful is not great. Caring is great,” Ellen said.
“But I don’t mean caring. I mean careful.”
Ellen closed her eyes. “What else?”
“Ambitious.”
A slight shake of her head. “Ambitious is terrible.”
“Hardworking.”
“No,” she said. Ellen was pressing her thumb and forefinger to her eyes now.
“She’s a great scene partner.”
“Adjectives.”
“Smart.”
“Meh.”
“Beautiful.”
“Oh, I like beautiful,” she said.
I laughed. “I bet you do.”
“But you don’t say that. You show it with your eyes, right? You’re an actor. So you say brilliant, loving, and hilarious, and the beautiful you show-don’t-tell.”
I didn’t think Juniper was brilliant, loving, or hilarious. I thought she was thoughtful, prepared, and careful.
We turned into the studio lot, and the guard waved Al past. I could see Juniper and Katie the Publicist standing together in the parking lot, talking to Kathryn and Studio Todd.
“Three adjectives about everyone,” Ellen said. “Flattering and particular. Then you expand. Matthew is kind, loving, and supportive. Insert story here about his kindness. And so on. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said. The car had stopped. Al hustled out of the driver’s seat so he could come around and open my door. Even though I knew how to open a car door, I waited for him, and let him do it.
“Kai, my love,” Kathryn said as I got out of the car.
She kissed me on both cheeks. Something smelled like coconut oil—her face or her lip gloss.
“I can’t wait for you to see our movie.” She hugged me, and I closed my eyes because I always do when I hug someone.
But Kathryn held on for so long that eventually I opened my eyes, and through Kathryn’s ash-blond hair I could see Juniper, her face drained of color.
“Love you,” I said to Juniper.
“I’m trying not to puke,” she answered, not unkindly.