Star Crossed Page 2

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  ALTHOUGH AQUARIUS IS USUALLY FOCUSED ON A GOAL,

  IT’S ALSO IMPORTANT TO FOCUS ON THOSE AROUND YOU

  WHO HAVE THE POWER TO HELP YOU MEET THAT GOAL.

  OR NOT. A FIRE SIGN WOULD CRASH THROUGH THE

  DOOR, AND AN EARTH SIGN WOULD DIG ITS HEELS

  IN. A WATER SIGN WOULD REDUCE EVERYTHING TO

  EMOTION, BE HURT, AND SAY NOTHING. IF YOU’RE AN

  AIR SIGN, YOUR MIND IS LIKE A COMPLICATED MACHINE

  TRYING TO GET FROM HERE TO THERE. STOP THINKING

  AND START TALKING. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.

  —Fearless Astrology

  Fearless Astrology was right again. I needed to stop speculating and start talking. Having Jaffa for my mentor was a huge plus, but he wouldn’t be able to control my internship at the magazine. Stacy Rogers would. Although she had seemed a little cool during our telephone interview, she had given me the job. Now, I just needed to prove to her that I was worthy of it. I would do that, not by crashing my way through the door the way a Fire sign would, but by talking my way through it like a Gemini or the Aquarius that I am.

  The CRUSH offices were on the second floor of a building on Powell and Union Street in North Beach. The months of September, October, even November were San Francisco’s real summer. The day was warm enough for short sleeves, but experience had taught me to dress in layers. Even though fall was my favorite time to visit the city, I knew that the weather could do an about-face in an instant. At any moment, the fog could roll in and change everything.

  The boots I wore were a gift from Paige, who had insisted they would make me look taller—and, yes, maybe a little older. The vehicle I had driven here was my dad’s ugly Chevy paint van he used to deliver his artwork to galleries and page proofs to his advertising clients. I parked it in a garage about a half-block away where no one could possibly see me. Then I started walking down Powell.

  Between two large, bushy trees, I spotted the burgundy-and-gold awning of Washington Square Bar and Grill. Those bay windows, trimmed in white, against a yellow background, looked as if they belonged in a Victorian home. The building where CRUSH was located must be straight ahead.

  “Logan. Over here.”

  Thank goodness. There was Jaffa wrapped in the same navy scarf he’d lived in during our summer workshop. I was so happy to see him, his frizzy hair even wilder in the warm breeze, I could have hugged him.

  Except that Jaffa wasn’t a hugger. He was a focused, kind-of-weird Aquarius. He grinned just then as if he were a mad scientist, and I a bug under his microscope.

  “I told you we’d get approval from your school, didn’t I?”

  “You did. I’m so happy.” I didn’t mention that my Capricorn journalism teacher wasn’t.

  “You’ll like Stacy,” he said. “She’s very ambitious and dedicated, the same as you. If you get along as well as I think you’re going to, perhaps you might try for something more than an internship.”

  “Something more?” I asked.

  “An astrology column, for instance.” He gave me a pleased-with-himself grin and stopped to examine some flowers from a sidewalk vendor. “I need to send something to my wife.”

  I was still thinking about the astrology column and remembering my no-astrology promise to Snider.

  “I don’t think you can ship those,” I told him. “What’s your wife’s Sun sign?”

  “Aries.” He continued to eye the flowers. Good combination. The Fire sign wife was running the relationship while he was trying to save the world.

  “Maybe you should just call her,” I said. “She’d probably like to know that you’re thinking about her. Aries women often want to be the center of their loved one’s life.”

  “Great idea. Actually, she gets upset when I don’t call often enough. Thanks for reminding me.” He turned away from the flowers. “You are going to be a fine astrology writer, and this is where we’re going to try to make it happen.”

  My mind exploded with reasons why I couldn’t go after more than I already had. Snider would be angry and end my internship. That was at the top of the list. Right along with how I could possibly write an astrology column for a national magazine.

  “Don’t you think I should prove myself as an intern before I ask for a column?”

  Jaffa stopped before a building of weathered bricks. “Remember this, Logan. Everything in life is action or distraction.”

  “Action or distraction?”

  “If it’s not moving you forward, it’s distraction, regardless of how noble or how interesting it appears at the time.”

  “But what if CRUSH already has an astrology columnist?”

  “Do you know where I would be if I had worried about what if?” He gave me that same weird grin I remembered from class when he was trying to drive a point home.

  “Sure,” I said. “But you’re Henry Jaffa.”

  “I wasn’t always.”

  Good point. I started to say that I appreciated his confidence in me, but just then an elegant girl in a sapphire-blue jacket stepped out of a taxi at the curb in front of us.

  “Henry.” She ran to us and took both of Jaffa’s hands in hers.

  Her thick black hair was pulled straight back, no bangs, just those dark eyes that dominated her face. I tried to guess her age. Late twenties. Jaffa must be right about her ambition and dedication. Her skin was pale as porcelain, her lip gloss muted and natural. With that hair, she had to be a Leo, I thought. She wanted to be on stage, and right now, with Jaffa beaming at her, she was.

  “Hey, Stacy.” He turned to me. “This is Logan.”

  “Welcome.” She put out her hand with the understated-but-perfect nails that matched her lips.

  “It’s so good to meet you in person,” I said.

  “You, too. Sorry I’m late. I just got back from an appointment with Arianna Woods and her people. She’s going to be our first cover model for CRUSH, but of course you know that.”

  “Arianna Woods?” No, I hadn’t known that, and, apparently, neither had Jaffa.

  “Isn’t she having some issues?” he asked.

  “Just a little negative press. She’s okay now, better than okay, and she will be a great cover for our debut issue. Don’t you think so, Logan?”

  “I’m sure she will,” I said.

  “I mean, you’re our target demographic. Wouldn’t you want to read a magazine with Arianna on the cover?”

  I tried really hard. “I wouldn’t not want to read it.” Lousy, lousy Aquarius liar.

  “Well, then. Is there someone you’d rather see on the cover? Someone who’d make you pick it up or subscribe to it?”

  I was starting to feel sweaty and anxious. I knew she wanted me to say no, but I couldn’t. “Girls like guys. So, I don’t know. Maybe Josh Mellick. He and Cory Scott have done pretty well even after Arianna left their group. And Josh was on the cover of People a few months ago.”

  “Magazines like ours have girls on the covers,” she said. “We’ll have guys inside, of course. Maybe even Josh or Cory. I really do think Arianna’s perfect, in spite of her ... alleged problems.”

  “If anyone can make it work,” Jaffa said, “I am certain you can. Now, I need to get back to my hotel.”

  “I was hoping we could all have lunch.” I could tell that Stacy was disappointed to be stuck with me.

  He shook his head in that unaware, onto-his-next-mission Aquarius way. “I’m on deadline, same as you.”

  I was reminded that this was the Henry Jaffa and that I was beyond lucky to even know him, not to mention have him on my side.

  “Thanks so much for making this happen,” I told him, “and for taking the time to meet me here.”

  “You two will work well together,” he said. “My instincts regarding these matters are seldom wrong.”

  Stacy smiled at him, and I could see that even though she was a magazine editor now, she was just as in awe as I was. Jaffa-ites. That’s what the writers he mentored called
themselves. I hoped to be one of them someday.

  “Henry says you’re a hard worker,” she told me. “The intern we tried before you was all about the glamour. I don’t have to explain to you about unrealistic expectations.”

  “No, you don’t. I’ll do any job you want me to.” I realized that Jaffa was staring at me. “I’m also ... I mean, I am kind of into astrology. I’m just putting it out there in case you ever have a need for something like that.”

  Although she looked as friendly as ever, I could feel the air freeze between us.

  “Henry told me about what happened in Monterey this summer. It’s a little difficult to believe that astrology had much to do with it.”

  “If you were there,” Jaffa said, “you wouldn’t question.”

  He was trying to help me. So I couldn’t just stand there, too terrified to speak.

  “It was a forty-year-old mystery that no one had been able to solve until then,” I told her in a voice that sounded far more confident than I felt. “It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t studied the astrological charts of the people involved.”

  “That may or may not be, but I think these magazine astrology columns are clichés. And, yes, we are looking for one, but I’m going to have to find a real astrologer or at least a reasonable astrology service. As much as I like your sincere approach, Logan, you’re still only a high school student.”

  “The same as your readers. Why wouldn’t teens want to read an astrology column by a teen?” I asked.

  “She’s right,” Jaffa said. “It’s one way you can get past the cliché, Stacy. A teen astrology writer.”

  “I don’t know.” She looked from him to me, as if trying to decide how much denying my request would harm her relationship with him. Finally, she said, “Okay, so here’s what’s happening. We’re going to do a Halloween launch party for the magazine, a costume party.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” I wasn’t sure what she wanted from me. “Are you saying that I might be able to attend?”

  “Of course, but more than that, I am going to give you the birth date of one of the celebs we’ve invited to be there. You then have to do the person’s chart and predict their future.”

  “How much of their future?” I asked, and wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

  “Just the month ahead,” she told me. “The same way you would do in the magazine. Deadline will be the day of the party. If your predictions come close enough, I’ll consider you for a contract as our teen astrologer.”

  “Consider?” I asked.

  Henry chuckled, and Stacy laughed too.

  “Okay, Logan. Here’s the deal. Figure out this one chart correctly for me, and you have the job for six months at least. We’ll give you a contract.”

  “I can do it,” I said. “No problem.”

  Yeah, right.

  NOTES TO SELF

  Thank you, Jaffa. Thank you very much. You’ve given Stacy enough confidence in me that she is actually considering me as a columnist. Even though she doesn’t believe in astrology. Even though she thinks I am too young despite these boots that Paige said made me look sophisticated. So now all I have to do is figure out this chart. Double Gemini with an Aries Moon. That’s a no-brainer. Arianna Woods. Everything she does is Gemini. Now, what do I say to Ms. Snider next week in class? That’s pretty easy for this Aquarius.

  Nothing.

  3

  NOTHING ABOUT THE ZODIAC IS CLEAR-CUT. THE CAR-

  DINAL SIGNS ARE THOUGHT OF AS LEADERS, FOR

  INSTANCE, YET SOMETIMES THEY ARE SIDETRACKED BY

  A NEED FOR ATTENTION. ALTHOUGH FIXED SIGNS CAN

  BE STABLE, THEY CAN FREQUENTLY GET STUCK BY

  REFUSING TO LET GO OF THE SAME-OLD SAME-OLD.

  MUTABLE SIGNS POSSESS FLEXIBILITY, BUT TOO MUCH

  FLEXIBILITY CAN LEAVE YOU TIED IN KNOTS. REMEM-

  BER THAT EACH SIGN HAS A POSITIVE AND A NEGATIVE

  SIDE. BEING AWARE OF BOTH WILL BETTER PREPARE

  YOU FOR SUCCESS.

  —Fearless Astrology

  CARDINAL, FIXED, MUTABLE: WHICH ARE YOU?

  CARDINAL: Aries, Libra, Cancer, Capricorn

  FIXED: Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius

  MUTABLE: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces

  I already knew I was a Fixed sign, and, yes, I was well aware that I had to get unstuck in order to have a chance at a column with CRUSH. Even the thought of it sent terror through me. And hope.

  At least I really did know something about astrology now. When I first found the book, I was clueless about how to figure out a chart. Now I knew that with only the birth date, I could find out everything except a person’s Rising sign. Fortunately, Stacy had given me that too. Arianna was a double Gemini, with both her Sun and Rising in that sign of communication. Her Moon was in Aries, the Ram, as was her Mars. No wonder she went after what she wanted with little regard for anyone else. Her Venus was in Pisces, the sign of the dreamer who believed in Prince Charming and the fairy-tale ending. That was a surprise.

  One thing I did well was focus on a task, so that’s what I forced myself to do, starting with some online research on Arianna. I didn’t have to go past her YUTalk page. Right there, it proclaimed:

  Arianna Woods

  Motto: Don’t even try it.

  Hair: Fake

  Eyes: Hazel

  Sun Sign: Gemini

  Music: Everything

  Goal: Race the Death Machine all the way to hell

  Now, that was an uplifting thought. It was followed by some pretty hot stuff pertaining to guys. A Mutable sign for sure, with some Cardinal Aries thrown in there. Would it help me or hurt me to suggest that Stacy try to get her to change the bio before Arianna showed up as the face of CRUSH’s first issue?

  But at least I had figured out the mystery chart on my first try. Arianna was a Gemini, and probably a pretty messed-up one. Although she was only a couple of years older than I, the information on her site failed to hide how disturbed she looked beneath the makeup and the multicolored hair extensions. What was that race the death machine stuff all about? Was it part of the act, or did she mean it? And it was up to me to predict what would happen to her in the month ahead. I would attempt that as soon as I checked out the ephemeris and found out a little more.

  EPHEMERIS

  A Latin word that comes from the Greek “ephémeros, -on,” meaning daily. An almanac listing the positions of the planets and other data for any given time period covering six thousand years. A tool used by astrologers in forecasting. As with any tool, its effectiveness is based, in part, upon the skill of the user.

  I sent Jeremy a text late Friday night after I had driven home.

  call when u can

  I need to talk

  And I love u

  Since he was a musician, he might know something about Arianna. Besides, he’d be happy that I’d found such an amazing opportunity, as Jaffa put it.

  Right. I couldn’t lie about it to myself. It wasn’t Arianna or the internship. It wasn’t even the possibility of a column. It was loneliness. I needed to hear Jeremy’s voice, needed to hear him say he loved me.

  By Monday, he still hadn’t called. Nor had he replied to my text. That was a first.

  I tried to drive the doubts from my mind by singing louder than I could think in the shower. Channeled Beyoncé. Channeled Gwen Stefani. Even channeled Arianna Woods. “Love me just a little bit, a little bit, a little ...” I showered in words, swam in them.

  The steam didn’t do much for my out-of-control curls. My hair looked as if it belonged in a cartoon.

  How could a guy like Jeremy fall for someone with a flat chest, a nonexistent butt, and hair like mine? It wasn’t the thought I wanted to think as I stared into the bathroom mirror. I closed my eyes and pictured the beach in Monterey, the two of us that last day at the airport.

  Everything in life is action or distraction.

  I could hear Henry Jaffa, could see that strange little smile. Beat
ing myself up in the mirror was most definitely distraction. And so was daydreaming about Jeremy. I needed to focus today.

  That meant wearing the new tank and jacket my mom bought the weekend of the GDA (Great Divorce Announcement). And the boots again. Yes, definitely the boots. I pulled my hair up in back with a little braid on the side, and I was ready to go.

  When they picked me up for school that Monday morning, Chili and Paige said I looked hot. I realized it was the first time in a long time I had heard that from them. Maybe that’s because it was the first time in a long time that I had cared about how I looked at school. I really hoped that Jeremy would show up and take me away at any moment. Now that he wasn’t answering my text, I could somehow see myself more clearly again. And I wanted to like what I saw. Today—my first Monday back from San Francisco—I did. Kind of, and for an Aquarius, kind of was just fine.

  In journalism class, Snider asked us to work in groups of three to brainstorm story ideas. I started for a table but noticed that Chili was walking slower than usual. Sol, our editor, caught up with us.

  “Like your hair,” he whispered.

  Not what I wanted to hear. Not from him. He was a tall, soft-spoken Cancer who had moved with his family from Texas at the end of my sophomore year. Although I liked him, he was coming on a little too strong, especially for such an easygoing guy.

  “Thanks.”

  I glanced away from him and slid onto a chair.

  “Mind if I join you?” He looked around at us as if not certain how to proceed.

  “You’re the editor.” I didn’t mean to make it sound harsh, but it came out that way. “I mean sure,” I said.

  “Have a seat,” Chili told him, in that hyperfake way she used when she was up to something.

  I wasn’t certain what was going on, but I didn’t like it. I especially didn’t like Sol pulling up a chair next to me and crowding my personal space.

  “We need to come up with a great feature story. Any ideas?” He gazed at me with that kind of cute lopsided smile, and I felt even more uncomfortable.