HDU #2: Dirt

by India Lee

  “I very much got the sense that something was strange when I visited her and Liam. They were very stiff together and didn’t share the chemistry that a real couple would. They weren’t affectionate with one another, they never really touched each other or kissed. Those were definitely red flags. The only reason I let it all go was because Amanda has always been a very timid, nonsexual person.”

  Regarding her alleged affair with Liam, Megan added the following:

  “It’s comforting to me to know that what I shared with Liam can no longer be considered adultery as he was obviously not in a real relationship. Hopefully, this means people will stop sending me hateful messages and calling me a slut or liar — I’m neither. I’m a girl who submitted to her passion that night. As an aspiring actress, I am a very emotional, passionate being and I strongly believe that that was what connected me to Liam that night. I can imagine that we’d make a blockbuster together if I ever had the opportunity to be in a film with him — our energies simply cannot be contained when we’re in the same room.”

  My, oh my, Miss Mayer. Looks like you thought about this thoroughly! And now — a juicy round-up of the best quotes from the fine folks of Merit, Missouri.

  “This is the hard truth that Amanda Nathan’s so-called fans deserve for what they’ve done to my daughter. Megan has spent months receiving hate mail and even death threats on Facebook and the Twitter. Amazingly, she has braved through it all despite the stress of the extremely prestigious and strenuous acting program that she is currently enrolled in. For representation inquiries, please contact Megan’s manager at ActressMeganMayer@gmail.com.” — Alice Mayer

  “Even as a child, Amanda was very unlikeable. I sincerely hope this incident proves to the world that the liar here is and always has been her. In middle school, she frequently forged her mother’s signature on poor test scores and earlier this year, she struck me in public because I asked her why she didn’t have a boyfriend.” — Tandy Mueller

  “I watched Amanda grow up next to my beautiful niece, Megan, and I always felt that she was a very crafty, cunning and manipulative girl. Now that her fake relationship is done, I fully expect her to be fired from her job and living back home in no time. I’ll give it three weeks. She didn’t earn anything out there in New York City, it was all given to her because of that boy, and now that she’s lost him, she’ll have nothing but Merit again, soon. And she’ll be sorry for ever thinking she was better than anyone.” — Karen Mayer Davis

  “We all expected to see Amanda back in Merit at some point, anyway. She isn’t Hollywood material and without the Liam guy, she can’t survive. I look forward to seeing what she has to say for herself when she comes home. She made her bed, now she’s gotta lie in it.” — Brad Mueller

  AMANDA NATHAN: LOVABLE GIRL NEXT DOOR OR LYING WANNABE ACTRESS?

  Celeb-o-Matic

  July 21st

  Well, relationship aside, the Nice Girl act was obviously a sham now that we’ve read the email that Amanda sent Liam back in January, which includes such terms as $1500 weekly fees (housing not included) and romantic outings in plain view (makeup dates available in the case of paparazzi no-shows).

  And here we were calling her a shy girl-turned-fierce. Nope. Turns out the girl was fierce all along — fiercely deceptive. I mean was she ever the shy girl who squeaked with fear when faced with a rolling camera? The ball of insecurity who blogged about fashion woes and bloating? Was she ever the nervous wreck who nearly passed out in fear while doing a little dance on the stage of the LES nightclub Roue?

  Not so much. It was all an act. Why? Because — shocker alert! — the girl’s a wannabe actress, just like 90% of the other folks who get famous for being famous. Put the below pieces together and it’ll all makes sense about our former friend:

  * HDU moderator/celebrity-obsessed

  * Blackmailed Liam for industry connections/flight to New York/publicity

  * Included in contract: Requirements for Liam to take her out to be photographed

  * Played a little too perfectly into the everyday girl next door role

  * Cleans up a little too well/Quickly opted to ‘Hollywood-ify’ her looks (hair straightening perm, dye job, probable teeth whiteing, etc)

  * Best friends (or former best friends) with fellow aspiring actress, Megan Mayer

  So there you have it. Amanda Nathan was never the underdog, the inspirational, feel-good Cinderella story. She was just a story — one that she wrote for herself, built from a web of lies mean to warm your heart. She is an aspiring actress whom we loved not just because we wanted to but because the girl was darned near a professional when it came to playing a part.

  And to think we called her America’s Sweetheart.

  Three months.

  That was the last time she had been forced to do this. As she sat numbly in the corner of the bed, pressed into the corner of her wall, Amanda couldn’t help thinking how that really wasn’t a long enough time ago. She sincerely hoped this wouldn’t become some sort of quarterly ritual from now on — holing up in her apartment for two to three consecutive days while hoping for even a little bit of scandal to blow over, all the while forcing herself to stay away from the Internet or any TV channels featuring gossip news. And of course, eating three meals of greasy delivery with the shades drawn to avoid having cameras pointed into her windows. She was on the second story but the paparazzi had found ways past that before.

  And now, with the bombshell of her fake relationship revealed, they were trying harder than ever to get their pictures somehow — even if it meant sneaking into her apartment disguised as her pizza delivery boy. Since her actual delivery boy never made it, Amanda could only assume that a paparazzo had paid him to scram. Or they killed him for his uniform, she thought to herself with a dark laugh as her phone rang with the alert she had assigned for Ian’s text messages. Since the bombshell had dropped, she had gone through her contacts and designated a personalized sound for each of her friends and family, just so her heart no longer stopped with every ring of the phone.

  Hey, we have your lunch. I’m sorry it’s from Agno… Harper said you need antioxidant foods because stress can cause inflammation in the body (?). If I don’t text to be buzzed in within five, the paparazzi trampled me.

  Despite the utter numbness she felt — and had been feeling since her last night with Liam at his apartment — Amanda managed something resembling a snort. Though he probably meant it as a joke to lift her spirits, Ian’s text actually wasn’t that far from what could be the truth. Camped outside her building for the past three days was a paparazzi crowd so large and shameless that Amanda wondered how it was legal for them to do what they were doing. They littered her sidewalks with trash from eating all their daily meals outside her building. They shouted insults and questions at her from the sidewalk at all hours. Through her window, Amanda could hear them getting acquainted with one another during down time, chatting about sports and movies to pass the hours. Only once did they clear out — after Amanda’s upstairs neighbors had called the police in irritation. But most of them ended up staying on the block, several of them simply hanging out at the deli across the street until the authorities left. Then it was back to camping out. It seemed that they took the day and night shifts so as to ensure they catch her eventual exit.

  But there was no exiting.

  Her hibernation had been ordered by Wendy while she spoke to her husband about Amanda’s job with Leadoff at ZINC. Miraculously, Wendy was still intent on fighting for her. Amanda couldn’t quite understand why but she certainly didn’t care to question it. With or without Liam — though now, it mattered much more since she was without — Amanda needed her job on the Leadoff writing staff. Rent money was one thing and probably the most immediately important thing.

  But sticking it to the entire town of smug doubters in Merit was another.

  And getting revenge on Casey was the last but to her, by far the most important. Thanks to her, Amanda had literally no idea when
she would next see Liam.

  On the day that they had been set to release their statement announcing the breakup, they’d both woken up at 5AM so they could enjoy a long breakfast together. Rising so early had never been so easy. Circumstances aside, they had passed out hard the prior night. It wasn’t a huge shock considering their thorough bedroom workout — the one that had brought Amanda to various realizations, the first being that she wasn’t in fact the “conservative” and “nonsexual” being that Megan and Brandt had both described her as in the past.

  She just hadn’t known good sex until a couple days ago.

  Since her night with Liam, the thought of being in his bed again had yet to leave her mind, which said something considering the other things she had to worry about. But she simply couldn’t stop thinking about him — about their fight, the sex, the way he’d kissed her in the morning and talked about anything besides the breakup while cooking French toast in the kitchen, just so they could enjoy a halfway decent meal together and pretend that things were normal before they had to be the opposite.

  And she couldn’t stop thinking about her regret, since her second realization of the morning was how damned much she loved her boyfriend. She had known before but she hadn’t quite realized how much she wanted and needed him until she knew he’d soon be gone — and all because of a single person whom she’d made the mistake of trusting. Back when she’d been foolish and a complete stereotypical newbie.

  So sad for you, doll, Casey had dared to text after the release of the breakup statement. Because when she aimed to infuriate, she enjoyed doing so in the fewest number of words possible. Amanda imagined that it was a demonstration of her pure evil. She didn’t need many words to ruin someone’s day, just like she barely had to lift a finger to ruin someone’s life.

  Recalling a few old words of Casey’s, Amanda had come to her final realization that morning.

  “You haven’t arrived till you’ve gotten fully screwed. So welcome to the game.”

  Congratulations, me. She had finally come to know the real Hollywood. Having been so thoroughly screwed by Casey, Amanda figured she couldn’t be more officially in the game. And if that was the case, it was probably time to start playing.

  And playing to win, Amanda noted.

  “Holy Jesus, dude, I thought they were going to figure it out for a second.”

  Ian sucked in a long, deep breath the moment Amanda let him and Harper into her studio. He hadn’t even needed to text her upon his arrival — she had heard the crescendo of buzz outside her window from the near two dozen photographers who swarmed like bees anytime someone neared her door, even if it was merely some other resident of her building. Luckily, they had mistaken Ian and Harper for just that.

  Both dressed in a disguise of Amanda’s suggestion — she had seen the upstairs couple leave for their daily jog about an hour ago — Ian and Harper arrived in the same cheesy, low-worn visors, pastel zip-ups and running pants that her neighbors usually wore out. She had texted them a description of the gear down to the brands and colors, promising to reimburse the purchases for their clothing and her lunch — and, since Harper seemed to take it upon herself to give her disguise a full hundred percent, the wig as well.

  “I’m a platinum girl and you said she was strawberry blonde,” Harper reasoned. “They would’ve noticed the difference.” It was possible, considering that strange paparrazo who had noticed the specific days on which Amanda had worn a pair of plain black heels.

  As Harper set the food from her restaurant on the miniature dining table, unpacking and even plating the raw foods in the same way the restaurant’s kitchen did, Amanda pointed at her, flashing Ian an inquisitive look.

  “Uh, yeah, she knows everything. I told her,” he said aloud with an apologetic cringe. Amanda let her shoulders slump, flashing him a “way to follow my lead” look. Since rehab, he had developed a compulsive need to tell the truth at all times. It was fitting considering his newly adopted lifestyle of being completely and utterly clean. Maybe that’s why he stays away from most people these days, Amanda thought, he’ll tell them anything if they ask. She stood around awkwardly as Harper turned around, holding a squash blossom stuffed with cashew cheese and pomegranate.

  “I won’t tell anyone that it was Casey. Behind his whole thing,” she nodded toward Ian, “Or your whole thing. I know that she only gets crazier when you try to challenge her.”

  Amanda cocked a silent eyebrow.

  “She went to The Cabot School with Casey,” Ian explained, referencing the Upper East Side private academy known as the stomping grounds of baby socialites from kindergarten to twelfth grade.

  “You did?” Amanda rushed instinctively to Harper. “And? What do you know about her?” she asked, only realizing how desperate she sounded once the words were out. Harper shook her blonde head with disapproval.

  “There’s no getting back at Casey Mulreed if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “And revenge does the body no good anyway. Karma, girl. Ian and I were just talking about karma with my Pilates guy today.” Harper looked to Ian for confirmation.

  “Yep,” he nodded.

  Amanda clenched her jaw. “I wasn’t thinking of getting back at her,” she lied. “I just want to know everything I can about the girl who has decided to devote her life to screwing with mine.”

  “If it makes you feel better, she isn’t devoting her life to yours. Just this year of it.”

  “I’m so relieved.”

  “What I meant is that this has happened to other people before,” Harper said, washing her hands at Amanda’s sink before sprinkling a handful of pomegranate seeds over a dish. “If Casey wants something, she stops at nothing to get it. She’ll ruin careers and reputations for something as small as a specific venue on a specific date for some random party. She’s been like that since she was a sophomore.”

  Amanda paused for a moment to imagine Casey as a teenaged girl. The mere thought of going to high school with someone like her sent chills down her spine. Squinting, she cocked her head at Harper who handed her a glass of Kombucha. “Since sophomore year? What was she like freshman year?”

  Harper shrugged, gathering her hair around her shoulder. “Normal for a teenager. Catty like the rest of us but maybe a little bit less, actually.”

  “Was she… a drug addict then?” Amanda dared to ask. Harper laughed.

  “She smoked weed but that was it. She didn’t even really drink and I’m pretty sure she didn’t touch coke.”

  Both Ian and Amanda raised their eyebrows with surprise. “You sure?” Ian asked, scratching his head of flat hat hair. Harper smirked.

  “Trust me. I knew who partied then and who didn’t,” she said, reminding Amanda that her addiction issues had famously begun even before her teen years. “Casey was actually pretty chill until sophomore year.”

  “At which point…?”

  Harper eyed Amanda’s full cup of tea. “Drink your Kombucha.”

  Damn it. Wrinkling her nose, Amanda took a sip of what tasted like vinegar. “I drank it,” she said, feeling five years old. “What happened to Casey sophomore year?”

  “You’re the gossip site moderator, don’t you remember? By the way, your site published some cold stories about me back in the day,” Harper teased. Amanda felt her face flush instantly red, her stomach preparing for a somersault until Harper cracked a smile. “Not that my drunk ass didn’t deserve it.” She heaved a sigh at the sight of Amanda’s still-red cheeks. “Sorry. Had to. Especially since you totally fake-drank the Kombucha just now.”

  “I drank it,” Amanda insisted. Harper’s blue eyes glimmered with amusement as she watched Amanda attempt another drink. Her laugh was something close to a giggle now, which was surprising to hear.

  “Fine. Well, you know how Casey’s acting thing started taking off around the time she was like, fifteen. That was when she started being just… insane.”

  “Insane? How so?”

  “I went to school with fi
fty other little heiresses who were convinced that every element of the world existed to serve them — myself included. We were a million times more entitled, bitchy and conniving than the average teenaged girl but trust me when I say Casey Mulreed put our shit to shame.”

  “Massive bully?” Ian guessed with a wince. Amanda eyed him warily, hoping the Casey talk wasn’t too heavy for him.

  Harper shook her head. “Not to us — to the teachers. She could screw with us too easy, she liked showing that she could own the grown adults who were supposed to be authority figures.” She shook her head and laughed. “You know how mafia bosses have cops on their payroll? Casey had teachers on hers, she just wasn’t paying them. I don’t know what she even had on them, but they were totally wrapped around her pinky. They just… did whatever she told them to do. We used to pay her or give her things so she’d work her magic and get us grading curves or test dates pushed back.” Harper pursed her lips and shrugged. “Since we didn’t get automatic A’s the way she did.”

  Amanda and Ian exchanged looks, surprised but at the same time, not really.

  “There was only one teacher who didn’t bend over backwards for her and she ended up getting fired for lying about something on her job application. Some stupid thing, like where she went to school.”

  “Casey probably dug that up,” Ian muttered quietly, staring down at the neon jogging visor he tossed around in his hands.

  “More like definitely. She told us that she hired someone to find dirt after this woman like, told her to shut up during class or something.”

  Amanda chewed her lip as she eyed Ian, whose eyes were suddenly cast over with a dark look. Harper’s stories were starting to sound far too familiar. Luckily, Harper noticed at the same time.