Behind the Scenes

by Dahlia Adler

  “Liam told me what Zoe did. I swear, that girl is crazy.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. It was Zoe. Thank the Lord. “An absolute psycho,” I agreed. “How did she even get my address?”

  “No clue,” said Van, “but she’s a serious creep. It doesn’t surprise me that she could track it down.”

  “Listen, Van, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about Liam. I just wanted you to be able to do what was best for your career and I really didn’t want to make things weird for you.”

  “I really wish you would’ve just told me the truth so I could’ve made an educated decision when Jade asked us to do this. I never would have agreed if I had known.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “That’s not how things work, Ally. You’re supposed to be the one person I can trust, and in return, I expect you to trust me to make decisions about my career based on all the facts. Okay? You might not have faith that my show will do fine without a stupid publicity stunt, but I do.”

  I winced. Van sounded more authoritative and, well, adult than I had ever heard her. She sounded hurt, too, which was something I never wanted to hear in her voice, especially not as a result of something I’d done. “Van, I’m really, really sorry. I promise I wasn’t trying to suggest that I thought you needed it. I was just trying to do what I thought was best for you. You’ve done so much for me, especially lately, and it felt like the only way I could return the favor.”

  She paused before responding, and I was afraid that she was going to lecture me again. Instead, she said, “Actually, you can return the favor by giving me some deets on the BF like you’ve probably been dying to do for days anyway. So can I come over now or what?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, so incredibly relieved at the idea of having my best friend back and being able to talk to her about things like a normal human being. “Please God. And bring some ice cream with you. This tuna casserole is just not gonna cut it.”

  12

  UNFORTUNATELY, THE PAPARAZZI continued to arrive at my house in droves the next day, in addition to calling my cell and—I discovered when I finally checked—bombarding my e-mail account. Fortunately, Lucy was still at her friend’s, and my mom braved it to get into the car and away from the house so she could spend the day at the hospital with my dad.

  Knowing I wouldn’t be able to escape nearly as easily, I stayed locked in my house for yet another day. I tried calling Liam, to no avail, and Van wasn’t picking up either, so my day was full of nothing but scholarship applications, random schoolwork, and forcing myself to return Dana’s and Leni’s calls. All in all, not my ideal day, but it picked up considerably when my mom got home in the early afternoon and informed me that my dad had miraculously been switched to a private room at no cost to us and was now much, much happier.

  “At least one thing is going well,” I murmured, flopping back down on the couch to return to my viewing of a Simpsons rerun.

  “Is this really how you want to spend your time?” Mom asked, pouring herself a glass of juice. “This doesn’t seem like much of a break for you, honey. Nor do you seem very ‘springy.’ Isn’t there anything you could be doing that doesn’t involve locking yourself in our house, the set, or the hospital?”

  I was about to respond that no, in fact there wasn’t, when I remembered my brief conversation with Nate in which he mentioned hanging out with him and his friends. Despite the fact that both hanging out with his friends and exposing myself to UV rays held zero appeal to me, getting out of the house to do something normal sounded kind of…awesome.

  “Excellent suggestion, Mom,” I replied, shutting off the TV and walking over to kiss her on the cheek. “I think I’ll see about doing just that.” I dug my cell phone out of my back pocket while I walked upstairs to my room and promptly called Nate.

  “Yo, Duncan, what up?”

  “How genuine was your offer to hang out?” I asked without preamble.

  “Totally and completely,” he responded. “I’m actually going to the beach in a bit with a bunch of guys from school. Any interest?”

  “In hanging out with a bunch of guys?”

  “I was using it in the…whatever sense includes both guys and girls in there.”

  “Gotcha. And yes, I have interest.”

  “Cool, I’ll pick you up in, say, half an hour? You’re on Highland, right?”

  “Right. Awesome. Thanks, Donovan.”

  “No prob, Duncan. See you then.”

  And just like that, I had real-life, high school-senior plans.

  * * * * *

  An hour and one liberal coat of SPF 70 later, I was stretched out on a towel between Nate and Macy Easton, blocking out some late-afternoon sun while devouring a historical romance novel.

  “I can’t believe you’re reading on the beach,” said Macy in that high-pitched voice of hers, sweeping her long, blond hair back into a ponytail. “And isn’t SPF 70 a little extreme?”

  “Not when your dad has skin cancer,” I replied without so much as a glance in her direction.

  She winced, and I instantly felt bad. It’s not like she knew, and before the melanoma, I would’ve probably thought anyone who wore above 30 was nuts too.

  “I should probably acquaint myself with a spray tanner,” I conceded, putting down the book. “I could definitely use some color.”

  She simply nodded, which made me feel even more awkward.

  “So now what do you guys do?” I asked, eager to recapture the normalcy of the afternoon.

  Macy just continued to look at me strangely for another moment, and then she lit up with a smile. “Hey, I know. You could tell us what’s really going on with you and Liam Holloway.”

  I’m embarrassed to admit that I did not see that coming; I was so wrapped up in the idea of a normal afternoon that I’d forgotten that my now-abnormal life would still follow me absolutely everywhere.

  Fortunately, Nate chose just that moment to come save me. “Hey, Duncan, let’s go in the water.”

  I flashed my best apologetic smile at Macy and dashed off to join Nate, relishing the cool breeze against my skin and warm sand under my toes as we headed toward the ocean. “Sorry about that,” he said as we waded in cautiously. “I forgot that Macy’s an obsessive gossip fiend. The guys are cool, though.”

  As if on cue, two of said guys, Sam Washington and Chase Marino, joined us in the water. “Hey, Bro,” Chase greeted Nate. “Hey, Ally.”

  Hellos were said all around, just in time for a big wave to throw me down on my butt.

  The guys all laughed, and Sam immediately reached a hand down to help me up. “Careful, the waves are really rough out there,” he teased.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly why I had to give up my competitive surfing career,” I joked, rubbing my bruised backside in what I hoped was a subtle attempt to get the sand out of my bikini bottom.

  The guys laughed again, and just like that, my stupid slip was forgotten as the conversation changed to imagined hobbies and water sports. We stayed in the water for a while, joking about nothing and jumping over waves, and when it got chilly, we got a volleyball game going and I got to show off my negligible athletic prowess.

  The afternoon was fun, but even as I joked with Sam, spiked sets by Macy, and talked classic rock with Chase, I couldn’t help wishing that Van was the one offering me terrible sangria from a Thermos. I certainly wished that Liam, and not Nate, was the one rubbing a new coat of sunscreen on my back. Most of all, I wondered what my dad would think of the fact that I was lying in the sun, exposing myself to the very same elements that had him lying in a hospital bed that day.

  But of course Van and Liam weren’t there, because they were actors, and they were too busy with their soul-sucking, all-consuming jobs to do the things normal teenagers did, the things I should’ve been doing every day instead of running lines, researching belly-dancing classes to find out which one would best improve Vanessa’s abs for her bikini scenes, and dodging cameras. And
in my heart, I knew nothing would’ve made my dad happier than seeing me out and having a good time. Which I was. Mostly.

  “You okay there, Duncan?” Nate asked, wiping his hands on his thighs and reaching into a small cooler to offer me a can of beer, which I politely declined.

  I shrugged. “Just thinking.”

  “You do way too much thinking. There’s no way I’m the first person who’s ever told you that.”

  I smiled weakly and wrapped my arms tighter around my knees. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and though it was beautiful, there was a slight chill in the air that made me think it might be time to pack it in and head home. “How’d you guess?”

  “I’d say you’re predictable, but I think you’ve proven otherwise in the last couple of weeks,” he said with a grin, popping open the can. “So, did you have a decent time today?”

  “Yeah, I really did, thank you. Nice of you to let me tag along.”

  He pulled his knees up to his chest and took a long sip from the can. “I wouldn’t call it ‘tagging along,’ but I’m glad you had fun. You should come hang out more often.”

  “Sure, maybe.” I wasn’t sure when I’d have the time now that spring break was ending and I was going to have to kick the studying into high gear. Plus the last day of shooting on the pilot was next week, and then Van would need actual assistance handling her auditions for summer projects. But it was nice to think it was possible, to know the option was out there. Besides, barring what would basically be a scientific miracle, I’d need a lot of distractions come August, when my dad’s projected six-month lifespan hit its end.

  He shook his head. “Why is it that you’ll do just about anything for Vanessa but you can’t commit to anything when it comes to your own life?”

  “You say that like the two are disconnected,” I pointed out. “Working for Vanessa is committing to something for my life. She’s helping me go to college. You realize that, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And it’s not like she’s my raison d’etre,” I reminded him. “For your information, I haven’t been on set all week. The only place I’ve gone besides the beach today is the hospital.”

  “Because you were trapped in your house by paparazzi,” he responded with a grin, bringing the can back up to his mouth for another swig.

  “What’s your point, Walter?” I deadpanned, quoting The Big Lebowski, which I knew was one of Nate’s favorite movies.

  “My point is that this isn’t you. Don’t you ever just stop and think that you’re living the wrong life?”

  “And what life should I be living, exactly?”

  I expected a quick response but there was none, and I realized from the look on his face that he’d expected neither to say the words that had come out of his mouth nor to hear the ones that had come out of mine. He suddenly seemed…dazed. I wondered if he was drunk, but I was pretty sure he was on his first beer.

  Oh. God. He was going to kiss me.

  I froze, completely panicked. The idea of bringing up Liam after that conversation seemed ridiculous, and yet, he was my boyfriend, wasn’t he? At least, for all intents and don’t-kiss-other-people purposes.

  But then, he was probably out with Van at that very moment, locked at the lips for all of Hollywood to see and all of America to read about. I knew he didn’t have feelings for her, but kissing someone else was kissing someone else, wasn’t it? I didn’t feel a damn thing for Nate, but the thought of him touching his lips to mine made me want to hurl.

  So why didn’t the thought of kissing Vanessa seem to do the same for Liam?

  “Surf’s up!” Nate declared suddenly, jumping to his feet so quickly that he sloshed beer on his board shorts. Without another word to me, he ran off to the ocean, leaving me alone without so much as his half-empty can.

  * * * * *

  I’d made a concerted effort not to check my phone all day—an easy task since the glare from the sun made it impossible to read the screen anyway—so I felt bad when I returned home only to find that I had a couple of missed calls from both Van and Liam. Compelled by the BFF code (and my lingering guilt), I called Van back first and ended up killing two birds with one stone.

  “Hey, A! Where have you been?” I started to explain that I’d been at the beach, but she cut me off. “I’m in the car with Liam, and I’m putting you on speaker.”

  No, that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach wasn’t jealousy that they had spent the day together. Not. At. All.

  “Hey, Al,” Liam said in that low, sexy voice that always made me feel all melty, and suddenly I felt bad that I’d been caught calling Van first.

  I didn’t have much time to dwell on the petty politics of return phone calls, though, because Van immediately jumped in again. “We’re just coming from a meeting with Jade, and we talked about how to fix this whole thing. We’re gonna give an interview together to say that it’s all a stupid misunderstanding, someone for some reason leaked bad info to the press—”

  “Someone?” I said wryly. “You sure you don’t want to call out Zoe? Because I sure do.”

  “Trust me,” said Van, “I wish we could. Anyway, we’ll confirm that we’re dating, explain that you’re my assistant and obviously have to deal with Liam sometimes, et cetera, et cetera. Everything should blow over in no time.”

  Yeah, maybe. But something about the way they’d once again made a whole plan without asking my input until the end didn’t sit quite right. After all, this was my life too, and I might not have been a star but I should have had a say in my own relationship. Besides, if I was going to stay on board with this stupid publicity plan, I needed to know that my opinions would matter.

  “I have an even better idea,” I said slowly as a plan that was either incredibly brilliant or incredibly stupid formed in my mind.

  “Do you?” Liam sounded amused but curious, and I hated that I couldn’t see his face.

  “I do,” I said firmly. “How about we go on a double date? I’ll bring Nate. You can announce that we’re obviously not together, seeing as I have my own boyfriend; Nate gets a date with his dream girl; and you and I finally get to go ‘out’ out on a date. Everybody wins.” Plus, it’ll remind Nate that I’m not available to be maybe-kissed, I mentally added, though I clearly wasn’t going to say that out loud.

  “Yeah, everyone but me,” said Vanessa, but from the teasing note of her voice, it was obvious she would do it. “Call Nate. Tell him he’s got a date.”

  “What do you think, Liam?” I prodded.

  “I think…that I’d do pretty much any stupid thing if it meant seeing you tonight. Oh, stop making that gagging face, Vanessa.”

  “You guys are gross.”

  I laughed. “Just you wait, Van,” I said cheerfully, glowing from Liam’s sweet words. “Maybe you and Nate are meant to be.”

  13

  THEY WEREN’T.

  It wasn’t hard to get Nate on board—he loved the idea of witnessing the whole spectacle, not to mention getting to see Van in the miniskirt I promised she’d be wearing. Once the date—a late dinner at some Mexican restaurant I’d never even heard of but which Jade had apparently put a lot of thought into—actually got underway, however, it quickly became clear they had nothing in common.

  “Get it?” he tried explaining to Vanessa for the third time. “The dog is a robot.”

  “Right, right. A robot.” She took another sip of the sparkling water in front of her and shot me a sideways glance.

  At least, I’m pretty sure she did; I was otherwise occupied, playing a voracious game of footsie with Liam under the table. Suddenly, I heard my cell phone beep with a text, and I glanced at it.

  You look seriously gorgeous in that dress. Just thought you should know.

  Heat rose to my cheeks but I forced myself not to outwardly acknowledge the compliment. I was about to text him back when I heard a minor commotion near our table. I looked up and saw that it was just a couple of teen girls coming to ask Van and
Liam for their autographs.

  “Hmm, how come they don’t want ours?” I joked to Nate, but he didn’t even smile. I couldn’t really blame him; he and Van weren’t clicking in the slightest.

  “Guess peons aren’t so exciting,” he muttered back.

  I punched him in the knee. “Can’t you at least pretend to have a decent time? Like, literally just freaking pretend? You’re on a date with a hot girl in a good restaurant. Seriously, how miserable can you actually be?”

  “I’ll be a lot less when my food actually gets here,” he grumbled.

  “We just ordered five minutes ago,” I reminded him. “Just eat some chips and shut up.”

  “Shouldn’t your superstar friends be getting us some special treatment or something?”

  I rolled my eyes and pointedly plucked a chip from the basket in the middle of the table. “Being on TV can’t magically cook your nachos any faster, Donovan.” I dipped it in guacamole and popped it in my mouth.

  He grumbled something unintelligible, and I didn’t even bother asking him to repeat it. Instead, I figured I’d try to see if I could get a conversation going that would actually interest both Van and Nate so that he’d have a better time. I racked my brain for something they had in common, but came up empty. Van loved TV, clothes, detective novels, and pretty much everything British. The only thing I knew Nate watched on TV was soccer, he’d once told me he wished school had uniforms so he wouldn’t need to waste five seconds of thought on what to wear in the morning, I’d never seen him read a book for fun, and I had no idea where he stood on the UK except that I’d once heard him humming Oasis.

  Vanessa ended up speaking first, only it was to me, not Nate. “You look tan,” she observed. “I think you got some more freckles, too. Does this mean you actually left the house since last we spoke?”

  “We went to the beach today,” said Nate as I lifted my hand self-consciously to my nose. I’d never been crazy about my freckles. “It was a lot of fun. Ally actually hung out with some people besides you guys and those two wastes of space she calls friends.”