"Today is all about Kaitlin." Austin winks at me. "But maybe next time."

Wow, Laney has really taught him well. One fifteen minute tutorial with her, and he's a media pro!

"I understand," Christy says, even though she looks disappointed. "Should we head inside?" She turns and walks up the stone stairway and opens the double doors.

The house they've rented is gorgeous. Every stitch of the floors, ceiling and furniture are a shade of white. I'm afraid to touch anything! The living room we've walked into is expansive. It only looks smaller because rows and rows of designer clothes are hanging on rolling clothing racks, waiting for me to look at them. There is a large team of people standing by to dress and primp me for the shoot, which will probably take place outside. On either side of the living room fireplace are sets of French doors leading onto what looks like a large patio and infinity pool. They have a killer view of the city, which you can see really well now that the smog has lifted. I notice the photographer is already setting up on the patio. I breathe deeply. To my left must be the kitchen and from the smell of things, I'm thinking some sort of quiche, or possibly chicken and veggies, are on the catering menu for today.

"Wow," Austin whispers.

Wow is right. It looks like the Sure crew went all out.

"Has Laney Peters or my dad gotten here yet?" I ask. It's not like Laney to be late for anything.

Christy shakes her head. "I'm sure they'll be here soon. In the meantime, we were thinking we'd get you styled and made up, take some test shots, and then maybe break for lunch. If you don't mind, I can interview you then," Christy tells me.

As I head off to makeup and to get my hair done, Austin settles into one of the comfy-looking white couches and picks up the latest issue of Sure. A magazine assistant quickly hurries over with smoothies for each of us. Someone hooks up their iPod to the sound system and blasts the latest John Mayer CD. I begin to relax when my phone rings.

"KAITLIN?" It's Laney. "THIS FREAKIN' TRAFFIC ON THE 101 IS A MONSTER. I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON. MY CAR HASN'T INCHED IN AN HOUR. IF SOMETHING ISN'T ENGULFED IN FLAMES WHEN I FINALLY GET PAST THIS JAM, I'M CALLING SCHWARZENEGGER TO COMPLAIN!"

"It's okay," I tell her. "I'm just doing hair and makeup right now."

"THAT'S FINE, BUT DON'T DO YOUR INTERVIEW TILL I GET THERE," Laney barks. "I'LL CHECK IN WITH YOU -- beep -- TER." Someone else is calling me. I look at the ID. It's Dad and Matty.

"Okay, Laney," I tell her. "Call me soon." I click over to Dad and Matty. "Where are you guys?"

Dad moans. "A tractor trailer fire on the 101 has blocked off all but one lane of traffic," he laments. "We haven't moved in almost an hour."