Shopaholic to the Stars (Shopaholic #7)

Shopaholic to the Stars (Shopaholic #7) Page 67

Lobby your local government representative for “Ermintrude’s Law”

May I, at this point, offer you my sincere solidarity and sympathy. I am not familiar with the exact details of your case, but I gather it was a moving story and must have been painful for you to share.

I look forward to hearing from you and welcoming you to our fight.

All my best,

Gerard R. Oss

President, DiscriminHate L.A.

Survivor and Fighter: size-ism, name-ism, odor-ism, and sexual-practice-ism

Author of I’m Different, You’re Different, S/he’s Different

[LHA]

LETHERBY HALL ASSOCIATION

THE PARSONAGE • LETHERBY COOMBE • HAMPSHIRE

Dear Mrs. Ermintrude Endwich,

Thank you for your recent letter.

It is always interesting to hear from an “unbiased member of the public,” as you describe yourself. However, I must take issue with your various points. The LHA is not a “bunch of Nazis with nothing better to do than complain about fountains.” We do not “meet every night in some grim little cavern” nor “plot like the witches in Macbeth.” Our dress sense is, I would suggest, irrelevant.

I also rebut your assertion that The Surge is “one of the wonders of the world.” It is not. Nor will we “all be sorry when the brilliant Tarquin Cleath-Stuart is given a medal for it by the Queen.” I cannot quite imagine which medal this would be.

May I have your address in the UK? I cannot find any record of you on the electoral roll.

Maureen Greywell

President

LHA

I’ve done my research. I’m taking this seriously. I’m going to be the best extra ever.

No, not “extra.” The proper term is “background actor.” I’ve found out so much on the Internet about being an extra, I feel really well prepared. For example, you should always bring playing cards or a book in case you get bored. And you shouldn’t wear green, in case they’re using a green screen for CGI. And you should bring a variety of outfits. Although that doesn’t apply in this case, as apparently our costumes will be provided. A limo has also been provided to take us to the film set, which is definitely not standard practice. They’re being super-nice to us because of Suze being married to Tarkie.

In fact, I’m secretly hoping they might be so nice that they give us each a little line to say. I mean, why not? Obviously not big lines or speeches or anything. Just something small. I could say, ’Tis true, Cap’n, after the pirate captain makes a speech. And Suze could say, Land ahoy! or Ship ahoy! or Pirate ahoy! Anything ahoy, really. I’ve been practicing a special growly piratess voice in the mirror, and I’ve read an article on acting for film. It says the most common mistake, even for trained actors, is to overact, and that the camera picks up the most infinitesimal movements and magnifies them, so you need to make everything tiny.

I’m not sure Suze realizes this, because she’s spent the whole of breakfast doing all these loud warm-up exercises and shaking her hands out to “loosen herself up” and saying, “Wibble-wobble,” over and over again. But I can’t tell her anything about acting, because she just says, “Bex, I went to drama school, remember.”

The film is being shot at a soundstage in Burbank, and that’s where we’re heading right now. Luke is dropping off Minnie today, as well as Suze’s children. (As soon as the Little Leaf headmistress found out who Tarkie was, she fell over herself to offer the Cleath-Stuarts temporary places, and the principal of the nearby private school immediately found room for Ernest too.) We’re sitting in the limo, watching the billboards speed by and grinning madly at each other. This is the most exciting thing I have done in my life, ever.

I don’t know what the scene’s about—in fact, I don’t really know what the film’s about, because all it says online is, Drama set on the high seas. But I’ve done a bit of practice at swinging a cutlass (I used a kitchen knife), because, you never know, it might be a fight scene.

“Hey, Suze, if I have to fight someone, bagsy it’s you,” I say.

“Me too,” agrees Suze at once. “Except, will the womenfolk fight? They might just look on and jeer.”

“There are female pirates,” I say knowledgeably. “We can be one of those. Look at Elizabeth Swann.”

“I want to fight Captain Jack Sparrow,” says Suze longingly.

“He’s not in it!” I say for the millionth time. Suze is a bit hung up on Johnny Depp, and I think she was hoping that we were going to be in a new Pirates of the Caribbean. But it’s not that. It’s called The Black Flag, and I don’t recognize the names of any of the stars except April Tremont, who is playing Gwennie.