FanGirl

by Lawson, Angel

  “Aww. You lie to make me feel better. Thanks bestie.”

  “Whatever, I’m not lying — oh my God, don’t look!”

  “What?” I ask, looking across the room. And that’s when I see her. Taylor Lyn. “WHAT THE WHAT?”

  “Yep. It’s her.” Iris moves back and forth trying to see.

  “Why is she here? Why! Did you talk to Nick or something?”

  She snorts. “Hell, no.”

  “Me neither. I’ve tried to figure out when to ask.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, do you see who that is with her?” Iris shakes her head, but I swear I hear “don’t be Reid” muttered under her breath. I grip her arm and shout, “She’s with NAB. NAB!”

  “Of course she is,” Iris says, and rolls her eyes. “She’s so freaking lame. She couldn’t get in through us, even with blackmail, so she goes after the weakest link. The nerdy assistant boy who just has to have a hard-on for blondes.”

  “Well, this is just perfect — and by perfect, I mean not perfect at all. So what, they’re dating now? Is that what this is? Do you think she dumped Reid?” I don’t want Taylor Lyn here, in my little bubble of zombie happiness, with Andrew and the bitchy model girls and Gabe, who just walked in the door looking tired.

  “Don’t let her bug you. We’ll find out and plot our revenge from there. Oh look, here comes the drink police, maybe he’ll know.”

  “Hey,” Gabe says, passing us to go to the bar. He comes back with a bottle of soda and stands with us. “I hear you had a good week.”

  “Ugh, I don’t know.”

  “I keep telling her it’s fine, but she won’t listen,” Iris says. “But anyway, what’s with the blonde chick over there?” She points right at Taylor Lyn who, at that moment, has her hand on NAB’s shoulder but her eyes on Andrew, who had just appeared in the doorway. His hair is a little damp from his post-run shower and his cheeks are flushed. He looks amazing. From the gleam in Taylor Lyn’s eye, she thinks so too.

  “Oh, that girl? Tricia? Linda?”

  “Taylor Lyn,” Iris prompts.

  “Taylor Lyn? Yeah, Sean needed some help and that girl wanted to intern, so we offered it to her.”

  “Who’s Sean?” We both ask at the same time.

  “Um, Sean? Our assistant?”

  “Oh,” I say. “Yeah, we call him NAB.”

  “NAB?” From the dark circles under his eyes, I have to think Gabe is exhausted because he is completely unable to follow this conversation.

  “Nerdy Assistant Boy.”

  He laughs. “That works, although it’s a good idea to be nice to the assistants, you don’t want them spitting in your coffee.”

  “Gross! That’s not true.” I think for a second. “Is it?”

  “In effort to not incriminate myself, I can only declare that I may have worked as an assistant for Marvel for one summer.”

  “Oh my God! Did you spit in Stan Lee’s coffee?”

  “What? God, no. Like I was allowed near Stan Lee.” His eyes are wide, but the smile on his face is huge.

  “Did you meet him for real?”

  “Once, at a comic convention. I almost wet myself.” Again, he laughs. “I fanboyed out.”

  “Like us,” I say. “But without the wetting myself problem. I don’t do that.”

  “ANYWAY,” Iris says, making a disgusted face. “Back to Taylor Lyn. This situation won’t work for us, Gabe.”

  “Work how?”

  “She’s a bitch and we don’t like her. And she gave Celeb Weekly a photo of Ruby from high school that was terrible.”

  “Iris!”

  “Well, it was. And well, you need to keep her away from us. Whatever. I’m going to find Nick.” She turns with a huff and stalks away.

  “I feel like I’m missing something,” Gabe says. “Did she really give a picture of you from high school to the tabloids?”

  “I think so, but it’s fine. She can work here, it’s important to her. Let Iris and Nick have it out and we’ll see how it goes.”

  “If you say so. Just to be clear though, she had to sign all the same non-disclosure stuff everyone else did. If she leaks anything related to the movie or anything that can be seen as harmful to the movie or cast, she can be fired and sued.”

  “Oh, reeeeallly?”

  “Yep,” he says. “What did she do to you anyway?”

  “Nothing, just stupid high school stuff,” I do not want to talk about Reid. I look around and find a bar stool. We both sit. “I can say that now, right? You know how art school is anyway, everyone is competitive.”

  “That’s true, and the rivalry gets worse at the college level. People fight for internships and summer jobs. The best are pulled out way before graduation.”

  “Like you.”

  He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah, something like that. Tell me what you two are fighting over?”

  “She competes for everything. She’s one of those girls.”

  He shakes his head a little. “What does that mean?”

  I sigh, “You know the girl who wants what everyone else has just because they have it? Oh! Like Chloe.”

  Recognition lights up his eyes. “How so?”

  “Oh, you know, like how she fights with Alexandra for no reason. She only wants Wyatt because Alex does. She doesn’t have any real goals or desires. She’s freaking out about their situation and will use anyone to make herself feel better,” I explain. “Jeez, for a dude you write a lot of romantical soap opera-type stuff. You have David completely convinced Cole and Alexandra will end up together.”

  “Maybe they will.”

  I shoot him a dirty look. “Don’t even play like that.”

  “As for the romance, I have four sisters, I can’t help it.” He leans his elbows back on the bar.

  “Four?”

  “Yep. All older. They tortured me for years — still do.”

  “I’d love to see that! There’s only me and James Brown. My parents work with kids — it’s like one ongoing, never-ending family for them. Plus, one of me was all they could take. I think I broke them.”

  “I can see that,” he says. “You know, I was inspired by my sister Caroline when I wrote the Chloe character.”

  “Really?” I didn’t know anything about his family. Somehow he has managed to keep that quiet and out of the media.

  “Yeah, she’s hard and kind of bitchy, but usually she was just scared. She always talked a big game, but there was never any follow through with her threats.”

  I glance across the room at Taylor Lyn, who is still hanging on NAB, but is now in a larger group talking to Andrew. “I’m not so sure Taylor Lyn won’t follow through, but whatever, I’m not going to fight her. I’ll just get my payback by making out with Andrew on set. That will make her batshit.”

  Gabe takes a long drink from his glass before standing. “Yeah, well, that sounds like a plan then. I’m sure Andrew doesn’t mind two women fighting over him.”

  I slide off my chair and punch him in the arm. “I’m not fighting over Andrew. As if. Like I would embarrass myself like that. I mean, I’m pretty sure if it comes to an actual choice, he would pick her over me anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Stupid Taylor Lyn and her blonde hair and painted nails and not looking like the kind of girl that obsesses over zombies.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Gabe says.

  “So sure about what?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing. Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go order some dinner.”

  g

  [1] For work. Duh.

  [2] Insult: slut/whore.

  Chapter 11

  That night, Andrew hugs me on the way out of the restaurant. He picks me up with his massive superhero arms and I become inappropriately giddy and stupid, smelling his recently showered skin. Even though I harbor a secret crush on him, the hug was just between friends. I know this. He knows this and the entire cast and crew, if they are watching, know this. That doesn’t stop some creeper paparazzi from snapping photos of
us and selling them to the tabloids. The online gossips are the first to grab them. They’re worse than the paper ones because, with a click of a button, the story becomes fact and enters cyberspace forever. The caption beneath the article implies a hook up.

  “Sorry, babe,” Andrew says when I ask if he saw them a couple nights later. He’s texting, like always, and the phone screen lights up his face. “I don’t look at those anymore.” He chuckles in a good-natured way that makes my heart hurt a little. “But me and you? Good one. They need to try harder.” And with that, he ruffles my hair and walks back to the set.

  Ouch.

  We’ve spent the week in the middle of nowhere, fighting mosquitoes and muggy-sticky nights. Atlanta may be a big city, but drive outside the city limits and you’ll find nothing but farms and wide open spaces. The past two days of shooting have been the intro scene between Alexandra and her mother. This means arriving on set in the late afternoon and working until dawn. Staying out all night is kind of fun. I’ve adapted to being a night owl. Good thing Alexandra already has bags under her eyes. The makeup department would have a challenge covering up my dark shadows.

  “So it doesn’t bother you to be attached to girls you aren’t seeing? I mean, I know this happens, showmances[1] and set-ups and rumors for magazines, but seriously, they got all that just from a hug?” I ask Andrew as we stand by the edge of the field where the continuity guy preps the truck for our next scene. I think of all the girls I assumed Andrew had relationships with over the years simply due to a picture in one of Iris’ magazines.

  “Nope. It’s not worth the time. They make up what they think will sell the most magazines or get the most hits. It’s all about money.”

  “I know, I guess, but then don’t you feel stupid or like a jerk or something? You have quite the reputation.” I say. The makeup lady comes over and wipes the real sweat off my face before spraying fake sweat back on from a bottle.

  “Well, I won’t lie. That reputation helps me, too. The more I’m seen, positive or negative, the more bankable I am as an actor. If I can sell a magazine, I can sell a movie. It’s just how this business works.” Again, he checks his phone. A quick smile crosses his lips. I feel the faint prickle of jealousy.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says, pocketing the phone. “From now on, I’ll keep my hands to myself and the speculation will stop.”

  NO! I want to shout. You can touch me however you want! I’m not afraid of a stinkin’ magazine! “Ha, ha. Whatever,” is what I say instead.

  “Stop moving,” the makeup lady instructs and nudges my face into the light.

  “Off the phone,” the other woman barks at Andrew, making us both laugh. From the corner of my eye, I catch his smile and get a wink in return. That simple gesture makes my concerns disappear.

  g

  “Sorry!”

  “Cut!”

  “Try again.”

  “You can do this.”

  “I can do this.”

  “Crap! I can’t do this!”

  “One more. Give me one more.”

  “Everybody take 15!”

  The everybody implied in that “everybody” is me. After messing up royally, I’m hiding behind an old barn, leaning against a gigantic tractor wheel. I may or may not be crying. Either way, I’ve tucked myself in the shadows, away from the harsh glare of the lights set up by the crew to make it bright enough to film. Back here it’s dark as night. Since the first week of filming, this has been my habit — taking a break when things get too rough. I look for the most out of the way space to get my head back in the game. Back here, it’s quiet too, until a twig snaps.

  Without looking up, I say, “Go away, Iris. And if you have your camera back here I will break it. In half. Then stomp on it for good measure.” Performing in front of the camera is bad enough, but Iris’ incessant need to film every. Single. Moment. Is too much.

  I wait and hear nothing but cicadas, but I know I’m not alone. “I can hear you breathing.”

  “You do? I always wanted supersonic hearing. It’s on my list of top 10 superhero traits.”

  “It is not,” I argue, not with Iris, as I’d expected. Gabe has found my hiding spot. “Stop trying to make me feel better using your lame attempt at humor.”

  “Sure it is. Also mind reading. Well, not so much reading minds, but like, the ability to communicate with someone without talking.”

  I lean forward, peering around the tractor to see him. “What do you want?”

  Gabe walks around the tractor and stops when he’s standing over me, his sneakers inches from my own. “Just checking on you.”

  “I thought you were Iris.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, smearing black mascara all over the place. It’s so freaking hot and humid out here. The makeup lady will kill me and I can only imagine the mess I’ve made of my face. I’m vain enough to care.

  “Nope. I told her and her intrusive camera to go film a cow or something.”

  “You did not.”

  He rests his shoulder on the giant tractor wheel and shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe I gave her five bucks and told her to go buy you a Mountain Dew.”

  “You did? For me?” I narrow my eyes. ”Are you sure you can’t read minds?”

  “Not yet.” He drops to the ground so we face one another, legs crossed. It’s the first time I’ve seen him all night. I didn’t even know he was out here.

  “When did you get here?”

  “A while ago.”

  “Oh, so you saw all that.”

  “All what?” Now it’s his turn to play dumb. Bless his zombie writing heart.

  “Shut up. You saw the epic fail back there. I just couldn’t get it right. The emotions and all that.”

  “It’s a hard scene. Alexandra has to leave her mother’s body in that barn and continue on with Wyatt. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know anyone anymore. I mean, she doesn’t even know where here is, right? She’ll never find this place again and God knows if she would even survive long enough to attempt to try.”

  “She should just end it all right here. Take the gun and blow her brains all over that barn.” I’m half-joking, but I’ve had this thought before and it’s what’s holding me back in the scene. Alexandra has a choice. She can end it all right now and stay with her mother, or she can leave with Wyatt and try to continue living. This is her moment. The scene is pivotal to the entire future of the characters’ lives, but I keep getting stuck. “I don’t know if I could keep going. I can’t figure out the balance between fighting and the vulnerability of considering the other direction.”

  “Well, have you ever read books about the Holocaust?”

  “Sure, I read Anne Frank for school.”

  He nods. “When I was younger, I obsessed over that time period. Not just the Holocaust, but the idea of the survivors. I never understood how they made it. All those people walking for miles, forced into trains like cattle – no water or food. Years in the camps. As far as they knew, their lives were finished. Their families were gone. I always think, surely they would just rather die. Who wants to suffer like that?”

  “Anne and her family lived in that attic for three years. Three years! Can you imagine?”

  “I think people have an innate desire to survive. It’s built into us to fight, despite the odds.”

  “Hope?”

  “Yes, hope — maybe faith? As long as there are humans there will be hope. For humanity to survive, we have to strive for something better.”

  “So, it’s okay for Alexandra to be sad, but she can be hopeful at the same time.”

  “Exactly.” He taps his fist on my knee and smiles.

  “It’s hard being vulnerable out there, you know? Being tough and brave is one thing, but showing fear and stuff, it sucks.”

  “Yeah, you guys are brave. I’m not sure I could do it. I sit behind my desk and computer and geek out and draw pictures.” He ducks his head.

  “What? You’re brave! Have you seen the fansites? Peo
ple critique every single page of your work. The pictures and the dialogue and the storyline. Not to mention the fan fiction where they go back and rewrite everything.”

  He looks up with a sly grin. “Did you just admit to reading Zocopalypse fan fiction?”

  “Shut up,” I say and kick him on his foot.

  “You secretly ship[2] Alex and Chloe.”

  “I do not!” I laugh and kick him with my foot again until he traps it between his ankles.

  “Nope.”

  His phone beeps and he slips it out of his shirt pocket. I remember we’re both at work and it’s time for me to woman-up and finish this scene.

  He releases my foot and helps me off the ground. I brush the dirt and grass off my butt. “Those women in wardrobe and makeup are going to kick my ass.”

  “Definitely.” His fingers move to my face and he wipes under my eye with his thumb. “They scare me a little.”

  “They scare me more than that. I think even Andrew is scared of them.”

  “That I’d like to see,” he says.

  We walk around the side of the barn where the set buzzes with life. Andrew’s on his phone (again) while Iris sits next to Nick with a fresh soda waiting for me.

  I turn to Gabe. “Tell me the rest of your superhero wish list.”

  “Ahhhh. No.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Well, I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

  I stop and cross my arms over my chest. “That’s a little dramatic.”

  “Well, it’s kind of a personal list.”

  “And crying in front of a camera, Andrew Xavier and everyone else isn’t revealing or anything?”

  He tips back on his heels thinking, finger on his chin. “True, but maybe I’m saving mine for a top secret future comic book.”

  I study him to see if he’s joking but his face is set and determined. “Oh my God! You are!” I say this too loud though because I catch the attention of the makeup women who immediately gather their supplies and start my way.