Amy Brashear - The Incredible True Story of the Making of the Eve of Destruction

“I know, I know. Last week they didn’t know my name. This week, damn, I’m—Max!” He yelled his name and everyone in unison proceeded to chant, “Max—Max—Max—Max.”

“I am a god,” he whispered in my ear.

I laughed.

“You’ll never guess who’s here,” he said.

“Who?”

“Come—you’ve got to see.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the cave. Sitting on a crate of dried apple slices was one celebrity—Astrid Ogilvie. Her blonde hair was so big. And her curls were permed, by the way; I can spot a perm a mile away thanks to Brenda Leigh’s Beauty Parlor. Plus, I get perms. Astrid kept moving her curly hair out of her face, blowing it back, but eventually asking some random girl at my high school for a scrunchie. There’s something about our weather down here that makes our hair rise to the occasion. Some say it’s the humidity, others say it’s to be closer to God, either way. No one knows the struggle of having to iron your hair just to get through a day.

No one in the cave was talking—they were just staring at her like we had just seen three seconds of unscrambled Cinemax or something.

Max grabbed my arm and pulled me toward her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, trying to get him to let me go.

“You have to meet her. She’s just a person. Just like us.”

“No. She’s famous. We’re not.” Hearing my words in my head, I realized I sounded like Dana. Now I wanted to puke, and I hadn’t even had a single sip of beer.

“Come on.”

“If this isn’t rock bottom, then I don’t know what is,” Astrid said, clearly to us, but pretending as if she were just talking out loud to herself. Her eyes caught mine.

“Something I can help you with, miss?”

“I was just coming over here to say hi, that’s all.”

“Well, hi,” she imitated, emphasizing the southern drawl that was apparently my speaking voice.

I turned to walk away.

Max grabbed both my arms and said, “This is my friend Laura. She’s going to be in the movie too. She won the radio contest.”

Astrid flashed a big, fake smile. “Congratulations.” She sipped her beer with a straw. “I bet you’ll do great playing a hick.”

“Why don’t you reach down with both hands, firmly grasp the stick, and pull it out of your anus,” Max replied.

I laughed.

Her straw fell from her mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Take that stick, ya hear?” Max used the same exaggerated cowpoke lilt she’d just used with me. “Out. Of. Your. An-u-u-s.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Astrid snapped.

People were staring now.

“Do you know who I am? Because you can’t talk to me like that. Who invited you to this party , anyway?”

“It’s my land. Who invited you?”

She didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “Kathy Baker.”

Of course. Kathy Baker: spoiled, stuck-up, and pretentious. The problem was that Max might not have been afraid of celebrities, but he was afraid of Kathy.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

“I think I need a new pair of underpants,” he said once we were outside the cave.

“I can’t wait to see Astrid’s character die as a fireball engulfs her as she runs across Main Street searching for shelter,” I said.

My Lord. I really am Dana.

“Where’s Peony?” I asked Max.

Max put his index finger to the side of his nose and sharply inhaled.

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “Rehab.”

“Fifth time’s the charm,” he said.

Members of the football team were trying to pump the keg. I opted for a can of Coke. I nearly bumped heads with Kathy Baker as she grabbed a Diet Coke from the ice chest and shook the can to remove the excess ice. She would regret that later when she popped the tab.

“How’d you get Astrid to come?” Unlike Max, I felt only pity toward Kathy.

“I, like, asked her,” Kathy said under her breath. (As if talking to me would infect her with radiation poisoning.) “My dad was refilling a prescription for her. I, like, asked, and she came.”

I can just imagine how that conversation went:

“The Woods, it’s like where we party, and, like, we get drunk and hang. Making out is optional. [Insert laugh.] Please come and meet us there. You’ll, like, have lots of fun. It’s up the mountain and, like, go half a mile and turn right and you’ll see a big oak with a sign nailed on it—what you see here what you do here what you hear here when you leave here let it stay here and, like, around the corner is a cave, and that’s where we’ll be. There’ll be, like, beer and moonshine—tasty, trust me. See ya!”

Kathy said “like” a lot. To the point that it made you want to throw yourself off a cliff. That was her scariest quality. All at once, I spotted Dana behind her. (Speak of the… Devil. No. Speak of the Divine? The Ditzy? Whatever.) At Kathy’s heel—like a dog. If you’re keeping track at home, Dana hadn’t said one word to me all day, which was fine, but I was kind of worried about what she would do. Like with a bomb of the nuclear variety being dropped, I was waiting for the fallout.

“What are you doing?” Dana whispered.

I thought, To me?

“Be nice,” Kathy whispered back, and smiled.

I didn’t understand why they whispered. I could hear them just fine. They were drunk.

“I still can’t get over the fact that you get to go to the set and hang out with her for real,” Kathy said.

“It’s really not that big a deal. You can hang out with her too. She’s in the cave.”

“Oh, Lauren, she’s a celebrity,” Kathy grumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s Laura.”

“Lauren, I have to ask… I mean, I know why you didn’t choose me.” She was now speaking too loudly, slurring her words a little. Her face was sweaty. “I mean, I, like, have major talent that would, like, outshine you tremendously. But have to ask, why didn’t you choose your best friend here?” She reached back and grabbed Dana’s hand.

“She’s not my best friend,” I said, my eyes on Dana.

“The feeling is mutual,” Dana said, then hiccuped.

“Okay,” Kathy said, shrugging. “What about Max? You two are attached at the hip?”

“Not his scene.”

“But you invited your stepbrother. Why? Come on, Lauren.”

“It’s Laura.”

“Terrence hates you,” Dana said. “You’re his stepsister, not his friend.”

I walked away. I wasn’t going to cry. I felt like crying. But I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Ugh. I hated Kathy Baker and Dana Cobb. Best to lose myself in the party. I roamed, looking for Max, but nobody could help me. It was hard for them to put two words together, let alone a sentence. I felt a hand clamp on my shoulder and whirled around.

It was Terrence. He wasn’t alone.

“Laura, Laura, this is Freddy,” Terrence said, and there was Freddy White. The Freddy White. AHHHHHH!!! He’s so dreamy. He smiled all the way from his mouth to his eyes, which sparkled when he talked. He was a pretty boy just like all the other actors but he seemed genuinely nice and down to earth. I wanted to be his friend. I loved him in Prime Crime . He played the sidekick to Johnny Lee Grafton’s character. Freddy White always played the sidekick. In Eve of Destruction , he’d be playing the sidekick too, no doubt. He’d probably be among the first to go.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Big fan. Like, big fan,” I said. My God, I sounded like an idiot. I shook his hand. Terrible idea, as mine was clammy.

“Nice to meet you too,” he said. He looked puzzled. I couldn’t blame him. My behavior wasn’t that of a normal human being.

“She’s my stepsister,” Terrence said.