Will the Real Abi Sanders Please Stand Up?

by Sara Hantz

  …

  “You were amazing,” I say to Jon when we’re back in the limo and on the way to the party. “Your best movie so far.”

  I mean it. He was awesome. I couldn’t take my eyes off him every time he was on screen.

  “Thanks,” he says, seeming more preoccupied with checking his messages than talking to me.

  “Especially when you arrested Gregory. I was on the edge of my seat.”

  “Thanks,” he mutters. “But I wasn’t happy with the editing on that shot. They got my bad side.”

  “Well, I thought it was good,” I reply, unsure what to say. There was no need for him to be rude to me. Then again, Vince told me that actors are always hyper-critical of themselves on screen, so it’s probably that. “How long do we have to stay at the party?” I ask changing the subject.

  I’m not looking forward to it. Having to stand in silence and have every move I make scrutinized by everyone. I’d much rather we went out for dinner somewhere and spent the rest of the night alone. We wouldn’t have to talk about the movie, if Jon doesn’t want to, which he will have to do while we’re at the party.

  “Not long,” Jon replies, giving my leg a squeeze. “We’re here,” he adds glancing out of the window. “Now remember, not a word.”

  I grab the sunglasses that I’d put away in my purse for the ride and put them back on. “Got it,” I say just as the driver opens the door.

  “Ssshh,” he hisses in my ear.

  I’m just about to say sorry when luckily something inside makes me slap a mental hand over my mouth. Why didn’t someone tell me this was going to be so hard? We’re not even in the party yet.

  I link my arm through his, and we walk around the outside of the hotel to where the party is being held in a large suite that has private party written on the board outside. There are loads of people there and, as we head toward the bar, they all want to stop and talk to Jon and congratulate him. He’s all happy now, instead of showing the real uncertain side of himself like I saw in the car. That says something about his feelings for me if he can confide in me like that.

  “Tilly, drink?” asks Bryan walking over to us. I nod. “Wine okay?” Another nod.

  I’ll be nodding in my sleep at this rate. He passes me a glass, and I take a large mouthful. Gross. I hate wine, especially red. I’d much rather have a beer. But I don’t suppose that’s Tilly’s drink of choice. Come to think of it, I don’t know if wine is either. From what I’ve seen, I think she’s more of a hard liquor girl.

  “Take it easy,” says Jon leaning in and whispering in my ear. “I don’t want you falling all over the place, especially as you’re not used to drinking.”

  I am so. Except I can’t tell him that, so I scowl at him instead, hoping he’ll get the message.

  “I’m not having a go,” he adds. “But you hardly had anything to drink at the club the other week, and look how out of it you were.” I shrug. He has a point, I suppose. “Come on, let’s mingle. And remember, not a word.” His arm rests in the small of my back, sending a shiver rippling through me, and he guides me toward a group of people.

  True to his word, we spend the next hour mingling, and my feet are killing me and my neck is aching from all the nodding. I tap Jon on the arm when there’s a short lull in the latest conversation, and he leans in, putting his arm around my waist, which makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I whisper.

  “Okay, I’ll pop outside for a smoke.” He kisses me on the cheek.

  How come I didn’t know he smoked? I hate smoking.

  I follow Jon until we get to the entrance, and he takes a right toward the doors at the back, which lead out to the grounds.

  “Don’t be long,” he calls over his shoulder as I go left.

  I smile and nod.

  There’s nobody in the bathroom when I get there, so I decide to check out my Tilly smile and nod. Except I’ve hardly opened my mouth when I hear the door open, so I rush into one of the cubicles and sit down.

  “Trust me,” says a young-sounding girl with one of those high-pitched grating voices. “She’s definitely on something.”

  “You don’t know that,” says the girl she’s with.

  “If she isn’t, then tell me how come she looks so lifeless. Where’s her usual sparkle? The fire? The reason she gets paid what she does.”

  I wonder who they’re talking about. I didn’t notice anyone on drugs; then again, I’m not sure I know what to look for. If it’s someone famous, Liv will love it. She loves celebrity gossip…if she ever talks to me again, of course. I mentally berate myself. Even to my ears, my thoughts are becoming repetitive. I should put all thoughts of Liv out of my mind instead of rehashing the will she or won’t she ever talk to me again ones.

  Except I can’t stop feeling guilty about her, though I don’t know why. It’s not like I haven’t tried to patch things up. And look at her, with Rich. She’s probably leaving Matt all on his own now, which is nearly as bad as me missing her party because of Jon.

  Sort of.

  “Well, I love her,” the nicer girl says.

  “Whatever.”

  I don’t like the sound of squeaky-voice girl. She seems nasty. What’s the poor person they’re talking about ever done to her? “I don’t know what you’ve got against her. I love her movies.” You go, girl.

  “You know, she hooks up with all her producers.”

  “That’s just gossip.”

  “Even if it is, you’ve got to admit she looks really rough tonight.”

  I figure they’re talking about that woman, I can’t think of her name, but she was in the comedy about a hairdresser. I noticed her earlier standing at the bar, and she didn’t look that great. Her eyes and mouth had more lines around them than I remember her having on film, and her hair looked like it had been barely brushed. I wonder if it’s true about her getting it on with all her producers. I bet Jon will know. I’ll ask him later, once we get back to the hotel and I can actually open my mouth.

  Then again, what if it’s me they’re talking about? But they said this person hooks up with her producers. I know Tilly has been with Dean and other guys, but no one has mentioned her with producers. I’m sure it’s not her. I mean, me. Me as her. Whatever.

  “Not her normal self, maybe. Not that I’ve ever seen her in the flesh before tonight.”

  “I met her once when I was filming in the L.A.”

  Ooohhhhh, that’s interesting. Squeaky-voice girl must work in the movies. Though that’s hardly surprising if she’s at the party.

  “Filming what? I didn’t know you’d done any work over there.”

  “Well, I wasn’t filming exactly. I’d gone with a friend for an audition, and we were at the same studio as she was.”

  “And you met her?”

  “Kind of. Someone my friend knows was talking to her at a party, and we all stood together.”

  I hold my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle. The one thing I’ve learned about this business is people are full of their own self-importance and like to exaggerate big time. I guess this girl qualifies on both counts.

  “Does she still look the same?”

  “No, that’s what I was saying. There’s no star quality about her tonight. I’m telling you, she’s definitely on something, so I guess the rumors were right. Anyway, put your lipstick away and let’s go. I really want an invite to the producer’s party later.”

  “Will she be there?”

  “I guess so, unless she’s collapsed in a heap somewhere.” Her voice gets fainter and I hear the door open. “I can imagine the headlines in the morning. Tilly Watson wasted again…”

  The door closes.

  Oh. My. God. It was me they were talking about all the time. I’m the one who looks like she’s on drugs and out of it. This is so awful. What’s Tilly going to think if I let her down tonight? Thing is, everyone on set says I look like her, so what have I done wrong? What should I do now?
I can’t go back inside, yet. I need to see Jon and tell him what happened so we can decide what to do together. He might want to go back to the hotel now, before I do any more damage. Hopefully he hasn’t gone back inside already.

  I smooth down my dress and take a quick look in the mirror to make sure I haven’t smudged my makeup. I weigh the decision over whether to wear the sunglasses or not, and then I put them in my clutch. Tilly and I have similar round brown eyes, and maybe wearing the things indoors was part of what made me look like I’m high as a kite. I open the bathroom door and make my way to the rear entrance. Someone is looking out for me, because I don’t bump into anyone on my way. When I get to the outside door, I push it open and look left and right. I can’t see anyone, it’s too dark, but I can hear voices coming from down the stone steps and off toward the left. I hold onto an iron banister and walk down. When I reach the bottom, my nostrils are assaulted by the disgusting smell of smoke. I want to turn back except the voices are now much clearer so I stay and listen.

  “So, how do you think she’s doing? It’s uncanny how like Tilly she is.” I recognize Bryan’s voice.

  He’s talking about me. At least he thinks I’m doing okay. Maybe it’s not as bad as I think it is. I wait, anxious, for the response.

  “I know. I didn’t think she’d be able to step up to the mark so well.”

  A shiver of excitement runs down my spine. It’s Jon, and he’s talking about me to Bryan. The girls in the bathroom were just being catty. I knew Jon wouldn’t let me make a fool of myself.

  “I didn’t either,” says Bryan. “And she’s so easy to be with, not at all demanding, like Tilly. It’s been a real pleasure working with her.”

  I wrap my arms around me and lean against the stair rail, smiling to myself. Heat radiates through my chest, and I feel so happy and content.

  “Yes, she certainly takes direction well and never utters a word when Zac starts hollering,” says Jon.

  Liv will never believe this when I tell her. Me being talked up by celebrities.

  “And she’s so easy to manipulate,” Bryan says.

  His words land like a ball of lead in my stomach. Manipulate? What does he mean by that?

  “Yeah, I guess,” Jon says.

  See, Jon doesn’t get what he means either. So screw you, Bryan.

  “Of course, it helps that she’s got the hots for you.” Bryan laughs, a lot louder this time.

  “Yes, it definitely helps.”

  “So what are you going to do about it? Would you date her?”

  Beads of perspiration form on my brow. I don’t care what they said about being able to manipulate me. It’s Jon’s answer to this question that’s most important. Please let him say yes. Please.

  “Nah. She’s a sweet kid. But not my type. I’ve never gone for the sweet and innocent.” He pauses.

  But I can be different. I don’t have to be sweet and innocent. I can be more like Tilly if he would just give me a chance. I ignore the voice in my head that’s recoiling at my wanting to change for a boy.

  “She did me a huge favor, though, coming here,” he continues. “Getting ‘Tilly’ to this premiere was guaranteed publicity for the movie.”

  “Let her down gently, then. We might need her to stand in for Tilly again.”

  “As long as she doesn’t open her mouth.” Jon says. “With her st-st-stutter, Hicksville accent, and ragdoll personality, it would be a disaster.”

  Chapter Twenty

  My body tenses, and it’s all I can do to stop my legs from giving way. I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole. To take me somewhere safe. I’d give anything to discover that Jon hadn’t really said what I just heard. That I ate or drank something that’s giving me hallucinations. Anything. Except I know that’s not true. I know that I’m here, and Jon’s there with Bryan, and they’re talking about me. ME.

  My pulse is speeding, and my jaw’s set so hard my teeth are aching. I’ve got to get away from here before anyone sees me. Especially Jon.

  Somehow, I manage to force my legs into action, turn and half run, half stumble back up the steps, and all the time Jon’s words are echoing over and over in my head. Sweet. Innocent. Hicksville. Ragdoll. Sweet. Innocent. Hicksville. Ragdoll.

  And then Matt’s words ring in my head. “They’re so fake. Especially that Jon.”

  I’ve been such an idiot.

  Reaching the top of the steps, I push open the door and then stop. Where should I go? No way am I going back into the party. How could I possibly face everyone knowing what they all think of me?

  So where then?

  I force myself to focus, except my mind’s a total blank, until I suddenly remember the bathroom. I can go back there and be out of the way. And then think about what to do next.

  Like I want to think.

  Like I want to do anything other than crawl into a hole in the ground and stay there forever.

  When I get to the bathroom, I go back into the stall I just vacated, sit down, place my head in my hands, and let out a long groan. I feel sick to my stomach. Never in my whole life has anyone been so awful to me.

  Never. Never. NEVER.

  All this time I thought Jon felt something for me, and that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He only ever thought of me as sweet. Sweet. Who wants to be sweet? Or easy to manipulate? He was just using me. Even if it would be a disaster to have me open my mouth with my stutter and Hicksville accent. And I fell for it. God, I’m such an idiot. Liv and Matt were both right about him, but I chose to ignore all the signs.

  Plus, it didn’t just affect me. Look at all the times I have let my friends down. Not returning calls or texts. Not going to the dojo. Missing the party. Choosing the movie crowd over them. How would I feel if Liv and Matt gave me the brush off so often? I’d have been devastated. But they’re better friends to me than I am to them, because they’ve never done anything like that to me. Okay, so maybe they’ve taken me for granted a bit in the past. But that’s what being a friend is all about. It’s definitely not about how I’ve been toward them.

  And I’ve lied to Mom and Dad about who I’m here with, because I knew what they’d say if they found out the truth. I’ve been the biggest jerk on the planet. In the universe, even.

  A low moan escapes my lips, and then the floodgates open. Tears pour down my cheeks, and I’m helpless to stop them. I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, and black smudges appear all over them. Running mascara. The least of my problems.

  Why did I ever think Tilly’s lifestyle was one to wish for? Even after seeing firsthand how it affects her. How it’s destroying her. How she’s hounded by the media, trashed by the public, and dumped on by her mom. Yet, I still wanted to be her. Wanted her awesome life. Wanted Jon.

  Oh, God.

  How stupid was I, thinking I’d have a chance with Jon? All those times when he put his arm around me and kissed me. Well, not kissed me, as in full-on, apart from the time he thought I was Tilly, but on the cheek. It was just a game to him. One big ego-boosting game. He knew I liked him, and he used it to his advantage. He probably went back and told Tilly how stupid I was being over him. Yeah. What fun they would’ve had at my expense. Their very own floor show.

  Crap, crap, and a million, trillion times crap.

  “Tilly, are you in there?” The sound of Jon’s voice cuts into my thoughts.

  He’s outside. What should I do?

  I can’t face him. I just can’t. Apart from the fact that my face must look disgusting with makeup smeared all over it, what would I say to him?

  “I’m coming in.”

  NO. This is like…

  I hear the door open and quickly jump on the seat so he can’t see my feet if he looks under the door. I keep absolutely still for what seems like forever, praying he doesn’t climb up and look over.

  “She’s not in here, Bryan,” he says a few moments later, the frustration showing in his voice. “Where the hell’s she gone now? She can’t just disappear
when we…” His voice fades away as the door closes behind him.

  I can’t believe what’s happened. I’m so embarrassed about everything. And I never want to see Jon again.

  Well, I’m not hanging around here, I’m going back to the hotel and then home. I come out of the stall and double check to make sure Jon really isn’t here. I wouldn’t put it past him to have pretended to have left to get me to come out.

  He isn’t here. No one is. Hopefully he’s just gone back to the party and forgotten all about me. Though I guess that is hardly likely, knowing my luck. I check my face in the mirror and wipe away some of the black smudges with the back of my hand, but it doesn’t make much difference. I don’t care though, because all I’m going to do is go outside and flag down a cab to take me back to the hotel. Thank goodness I decided to bring some cash with me. I don’t know why I did, because Jon had said I wouldn’t need any.

  I leave the bathroom and walk toward the entrance, keeping my head down. As I get to the door, I reach out and take hold of the big brass S-shaped handle.

  “Abi. Tilly. Wait.” I stop in my tracks and swallow hard, as my stomach plummets to the floor. So much for managing to avoid Jon.

  “What are you doing?” Jon says, from behind me. “Everyone is wondering where you are. Quick, get…” I turn my head. “What the hell have you done to your face? You’re spoiling everything, you silly girl.”

  Silly girl? How dare he? Suddenly, I’m fueled with such anger, it’s like it’s going to burst out of my whole body. “Me?” I shout. “Me spoiling everything? What about you?” I glare at him.

  “What are you doing? Shut up, people will hear you.” He grabs hold of my arm and squeezes it.

  “I-I-I don’t care if the whole world hears me!” I yank my arm away from him and rub it. “I’ve had it with you and all this.” I sweep my arm back to indicate the gaudy lobby.