Liz has been obsessed with getting in to New York University ever since she assisted me on the set of Pretty Young Assassins and began working with the film's producer. Now Liz's goal is to be a major Hollywood producer. Someday we want to team up and create our own production shingle. It could happen. Having a production company is the hot star trend these days.

"Well at least I'll get to see you this weekend at the Cinch luncheon," I say. Cinch is this high-end handbag company that stars drool over. Their annual invite-only luncheon is one of Liz's and my favorite events. The money from every Cinch handbag we buy goes to charity, which means I can spend and not feel guilty about borrowing from next month's allowance. "Maybe we can meet up with your friend afterward."

"Perfect," Liz says. "I'll call you later. I better get back to class before Principal P. catches me."

When I hang up and look in the mirror, my hair is full of big, bouncy curls that have been finished with a high gloss. The look works with the outfit Renee gave me in wardrobe. I'm wearing a Zac Posen denim skirt and a pale pink halter top. But together, neither my hair or my clothes seem right for a scene where Sam is supposed to come from just playing tennis. "Paul, this looks great, but isn't it a little dressy?" I ask tentatively as Shelly applies my foundation.

"I'll redo your hair before the first scene," Paul explains as he runs a comb through my curls one more time. "First you have the promos to shoot."

"Promos? What promos?" I ask.

"There you are," Nadine says as she strides into the room. I jump out of my chair and give her a tight hug. Nadine is more than just my longtime personal assistant. She's my Yoda. While Mom and Laney, my publicist, are consumed with me doing the best thing for my career, Nadine is the one concerned about me doing the right thing for me. She worries when I get caught up in work stuff, always has my best interests at heart, and keeps my life organized better than any assistant I know. I don't know what I'd do without her.

"Did you hear about the promos yet?" Nadine asks me. "That's why I'm late. I had to go pick up your script from Tom." Nadine's balancing a huge stack of papers on top of her bible (aka the binder that holds my schedule) and her personal cell phone and work BlackBerry are ringing and vibrating simultaneously, but at least she looks relaxed. She's wearing makeup, her collarbone-length red hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she's sporting a black ribbed shirt and green cargo pants with her Adidas sneakers.

My face must look confused because Nadine adds: "Don't worry. Your lines are easy. The network wants you to shoot some clips about FA going off the air so that everyone and their mother tunes in. You're meeting Melli and Sky on the set in fifteen minutes." Nadine hands me a paper and I look at the brief script.