HDU

by India Lee

  But she quickly forgot about all that when Thea handed her a Carolina Herrera garment bag and a June Magazine tote, sending her off to raid the beauty closet for “whatever looks like something you’ll need.”

  “Fair exchange,” Amanda murmured to herself as she stood before her bathroom mirror in the flattering Herrera gown. It was the hypnotizing definition of glamour with color blocks of different French cafe laces – black over the bodice and taupe over three-quarters of the ivory silk trumpet skirt. Providing a pop of color and a cinch at the waist was a red belt, still striking and brilliant as it peeked through from under the black lace. It was most certainly the first piece of clothing to take Amanda’s breath away. She wished she could keep it, but of course, she was simply grateful to have to opportunity to don it even once. Before meeting with Thea, she’d settled on wearing a black maxi-dress from Arden B. with a blazer, which probably would’ve looked tragically casual for what she now realized was a black tie event.

  I think I’m getting the hang of this, Amanda mused as she applied just a little more of her favorite lipstick. If there was any positive, lasting effect from Amanda’s brief friendship with Casey, it was her recommendation of a bright red lipstick while shopping at MAC. Red, Amanda decided, was no doubt her color, which she never would have expected considering it was such a bold shade. But she was certain of this, and though she was years from being expert, makeup was at least beginning to feel less foreign to her. Despite the intimidating vastness of June Magazine’s product-packed beauty closet, she’d at least had the good sense and manners to pick only the things she’d come to learn as essentials – a tube of Lancôme concealer, a makeup brush, a palette of Dior eyeshadow and a bottle of hairspray. Kelly had stopped by to toss a few brands of primer into her tote bag, which Amanda graciously accepted, but didn’t end up using, resolving to research its purpose whenever she next had the time.

  With one last look in the mirror, after tucking her cell phone into her clutch with her lipstick, Amanda literally waltzed out the door, her heels clicking in rhythm against the tiled hallway. She kind of hoped her neighbors would look through the peepholes and see her beautiful dress.

  Her self-assurance had been considerable going into the Lincoln Center luncheon, but the feeling tonight was something different – heightened. She didn’t need the flattering words of a random tourist for a boost. She truly felt unstoppable. Less than three weeks removed from her breakup with Liam, she’d found her own apartment, landed a job and gotten a date. Not only that, after days of rehearsing, she’d perfected Thea’s etiquette training, certain she carried a grace not too far below any Upper East Side heiress. And as a bonus, she was convinced her appearance was at least ten times better than it had been at the luncheon, when she was sure she hadn’t looked better in her lifetime. Topping herself had never been so pleasing. Amanda grinned as she pushed through the front doors of her building. Better late than never, she thought as she realized that for the first time, she possessed confidence, which was apparently a more significant asset than she would ever have imagined.

  Her smile remained as the paparazzi cameras flashed around her, following her as she crossed the sidewalk to her town car, opening the door for herself before her driver could.

  CASEY MULREED: WORKING ON TOP SECRET TELEVISION PILOT?

  The Pop Source

  March 3

  Will 24-year-old Casey Mulreed soon be adding writer, producer and director to her impressive resume?

  Sources report that Mulreed has spent over a year silently shopping a semi-autobiographical pilot about growing up in Hollywood to premium cable networks like ZINC and Cinereel. There were no takers for the rookie writer’s script for a reported multitude of reasons, the biggest one being its similarity in content to a long awaited project by TV giant Tom Vogel, which is also set in New York and about life as a celebrity. However, sources say that just last month, a premium cable network finally took the bait and has since been working with Mulreed to cast and produce a full season.

  Mulreed, whose spotless image recently took a hit thanks to a viral video in which she describes herself as a substance abuser, has been lying below the radar in the past few weeks. Sources claim that the Hollywood princess has been spending most of her time in Manhattan’s Midtown, finalizing the deal on her one-hour drama at the offices of her new network.

  No word on the plot yet, or whether Mulreed plans on starring, but we look forward to whatever project this starlet has been passionately fighting to produce for so long!

  - Chapter 14 -

  “You’re already smiling, Amanda! Do you know something we don’t know?”

  Keeping her posture despite leaning into the microphone, Amanda was lively as she answered the silly question. She was still bubbling with excitement from seeing the Guggenheim Museum for the first time, and from walking the red carpet alone but with such an apparent cheer that some women around her felt compelled to smile and pose alongside her, their arms all locked around each other’s waists. The spirit of the event already had her beaming.

  “Um… you know, technically I might,” Amanda laughed as she stood at the end of the long carpet.

  “Ooh, what is it that you know?” the reporter cocked her eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eye. She gave a playful look. “Does… it have to do with your,” she cleared her throat. “Somewhat closer than usual relationship to the man of the hour, Dylan Hardy?”

  Amanda burst out laughing. She hadn’t anticipated being asked that kind of question on a red carpet at the Guggenheim, but at least the wording of it fit the scene somewhat. The reporter laughed with her, albeit a bit nervously.

  “It has to do with the interview I had the pleasure of doing with Dylan. He actually glows when he talks about this,” Amanda answered, trying not glow herself as she thought about his breathless and never-ending stories Dylan had told her on the day of the luncheon. No one made run-on sentences completely delectable the way he did. “I got to know a few great stories about why this foundation is close to his heart. Like how he never saw Shakespeare on any stage until he was sixteen, which seems late because he was in Romeo and Juliet when he was seventeen. But according to him, that one year in between was spent completely fixated and nonstop rereading all the Shakespeare he skipped through in school.”

  “That is too cute!” the reporter cooed. “Give me some other fun facts.”

  Amanda thought for a moment then smiled. “You’ll just have to look for them in June Magazine next month!”

  Walking alongside her chattering picture buddies from the red carpet, she headed into the event, onto the Guggenheim’s vast rotunda floor at the bottom of its spiral walkway, which wound up the circular outer walls of the room till it reached the domed skylight ceiling nearly a hundred feet from the ground. She wanted to spend another second admiring it, but it was hard to take her eyes off of the woodland scene before her. She reminded herself that she was indoors as she stared out at the space encircled with 20-foot white wisteria trees, the twenty circular tables centered with candles and slender glass vases two feet in height, boasting stalks of towering green flowers and leaves. The dreamy lighting made her feel as if she were in a high exposure photograph. It was all so distracting that it took awhile to notice that her friends from the red carpet had suddenly fallen silent. She turned to see them huddling over one iPhone. From a yard away, she could recognize the website on the browser as HDU. Her heart stopped, convinced whatever they were reading somehow had to do with her.

  Joining their huddle, she realized that she wasn’t quite wrong. The article wasn’t about her, but might as well have been.

  COPS CALLED ON IAN MARSH IN SCARSDALE, NY

  March 3, 7:13PM

  Posted by derpityderp

  HDU via Celeb-o-Matic

  The parents of 24-year-old indie filmmaker Ian Marsh called authorities on their son Thursday morning when they returned from vacation to discover him in their Scarsdale, New York home. According to reports, poli
ce arrived to a peaceful scene and searched a cooperating Marsh, whom they found in his childhood bedroom. Marsh’s parents, Elliott and Diane, both 52, admitted that there had been no disturbance aside from their son’s presence in the house. Marsh was not carrying any illegal substances and had only his wallet on him.

  “I thought they knew he was there. I’ve seen him go in and out for groceries for weeks. We even said ‘hi,’” commented a neighbor who wished to remain anonymous. When asked for a history of the family, and why Marsh’s parents may have called the cops, the neighbor replied, “They’ve always been the type to govern from afar. Maybe he just wasn’t welcome here.”

  Authorities claim Marsh left his parents’ home willingly and has already been spotted back in Manhattan.

  TOP COMMENTS:

  zaaren1990

  LMAO. someone’s about to be even more depressed and unstable

  beeler4ever

  wait a second he was arrested for GOING HOME? guy’s a douche but this is sad

  mrstylerchase

  hope this dude has some good friends because his parents are dicks

  ckellyphi

  yeah he’s a dick too tho

  Knowing the women’s eyes were now on her, Amanda tried not to give a visible reaction.

  “Serves me right for checking my email during a party. Someone sent me a website that already had our pictures up. This story was below it,” one of them explained with a tiny grimace. Amanda wasn’t sure if she was rueful because she’d been caught on a gossip site or because she knew of Amanda’s recent history with Ian.

  Amanda stretched her closed lips into a smile, brushing it off. “Sorry for what?” she asked breezily despite the absolute churning in the pit of her stomach.

  Ian had been home in Scarsdale for the past two weeks, buying groceries, hanging out in his bedroom, treating the place like home again. She would have understood his absence and been happy to know he’d gotten a much-needed break from the city – were it not for the fact that he’d been so shamefully kicked out by his own parents. It made her heart hurt. What had he done to deserve being removed from his own home by police?

  “Here, sweetheart,” one of the women handed over a timely flute of champagne before going on about Amanda’s dress. Amanda fielded the questions about the designer, the clutch, her shoes, all the while trying to subdue the now sinking feeling in her stomach. There was something more about Ian’s story that was bothering her.

  She nearly broke the stem of her glass when she remembered. Oh shit. The police reports had said that Ian was carrying only his wallet – no cell. That would explain why his phone had gone from unanswered to dead, straight to voicemail after a few days of calling. It had drained of battery somewhere, probably in his apartment. He’d likely left it behind to avoid reminders of the city as he fled for his hometown, hoping for sanctuary but instead finding himself searched by cops at the request of his parents, proving himself clean though only to get kicked out. He had to be utterly broken.

  And he hadn’t even heard her voicemail yet.

  As she smiled and nodded along with the women’s conversation, Amanda felt her heartbeat give the occasional lurch. She had just joined the list growing of people who no longer welcomed Ian Marsh in their lives, and she suspected her exclusion would hurt most considering its dubious timing. Her skin tingled knowing that Ian was already back in the city, possibly heading to his apartment or already in it. She hoped he would wait to charge his phone until tomorrow and give her the time to find him, to somehow lose the paparazzi and visit him secretly. Thea would never have to know, and it would give her a chance to explain everything in person, to better pacify the situation and say that she could obviously still see him in private.

  Of course, that all depended on whether or not he charged his cell phone. Amanda felt an actual bead of sweat forming at her hairline as she hoped darkly that Ian might’ve taken his phone and hurled it against a wall, smashing it in some sort of frustration before getting to her message.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course,” Amanda answered, looking up at the women. They only stared past her shyly, and only then did she snap from her trance to realize that none of them had asked the question. She turned her head.

  “Hello. I’ve been standing here for about a minute now,” Dylan laughed. He nodded towards her new friends. “These ladies can attest to that.” As he politely greeted or introduced himself to them, Amanda blinked the rest of her daze away. She wiped the drop of perspiration from her temple and felt immediately calmer. Was that really all she needed to relax? Nope, that wasn’t it. She looked down to see Dylan’s hand holding her waist from behind as he kept chatting with the women. Her body warm, she realized her back was leaning against his chest. She wasn’t sure whose subconscious action came first – his hand on her or her back against him. Whichever it was, she enjoyed the thoroughly, though she knew they shouldn’t be so blatant. The media had caught onto their flirtation but they agreed to still keep everything as quiet as possible, which was why they’d decided on drinks at a tucked away, almost hidden bar in the quieter Yorkville neighborhood just a few avenues over. Amanda couldn’t wait for that part of the night – for just being alone with Dylan. She hadn’t realized how much she was anticipating it until feeling his hand on her.

  “Well, we’ll just leave you two alone!”

  Amanda blinked to see the women saying goodbye, slowly backing away with knowing, tight-lipped smiles at her.

  “I guess we were a little obvious.” Amanda turned to face Dylan, giving them both their first looks of each other from the front. It was her first time seeing him in a tuxedo and she was beyond charmed. He looked to her like an actual prince.

  “I hadn’t even noticed,” he said as his eyes traveled the length of her gown. They crinkled in a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, that was… I usually don’t do that so obviously.”

  Amanda narrowed her eyes playfully. “What, checking people out?”

  “Uh,” he stalled with a short chuckle. “Checking you out.”

  She laughed as she reached to straighten his bowtie. “Be as obvious as you want.” He raised his eyebrows. She eyed his look of surprise with a hint of mischief. “Too much of a gentleman though, right?”

  He watched her continue to fix his tie. “Perhaps not tonight,” he answered, prompting her to peer back up at him. They shared an impish smile just before a anxious, stout man who was hastily introduced as a co-chair of the foundation came to whisk Dylan away.

  Amanda didn’t mind as she floated around the cocktail hour, chatting with other guests – because whenever she peered up, Dylan’s eye was on her, wherever he was in the room. The multitasking she had mastered before was making its mark again as she fielded questions from different people about June Magazine, all the while sneaking swift glances upward at Dylan. By the end of the cocktail hour, they’d created their own silent language through their eyes, and through little twitches in their brows or lips. She knew from these signals which guests he’d had a lovely conversation with, and which ones had probably drunk a little bit too much champagne.

  The wordless communication came in handy later during the actual dinner, which had Amanda and Dylan seated at the same table but directly across from each other, five seats separating either side of them. While Dylan became immersed in conversation with his jittery co-chair, Amanda listened to the tales of travel from the renowned playwright beside her, though she kept her peripheral vision on alert for whenever Dylan reached for his wine. Somehow, that had become his appointed time to check on her, stealing a glance above the rim of his glass while taking a drink. Once she caught on, she joined him each time with a smile in her gaze, as if they were silently drinking to each other throughout the night. By the time the Mont Blanc trays came out for dessert, they’d changed the rules of their little game, switching out sips of wine for bites of chestnut cream and meringue. Amanda had initially pouted as if to say, Stop watching me while I eat! But that only w
orked to charm Dylan. By the time dessert was over, he seemed to have reached his limit of being unable to speak to her.

  “We’ve got ten minutes,” Dylan whispered with a thrill. His hand clasped tight around Amanda’s as they sped up the spiral ramp, ducking so no one on the floor could spot them. With the hundreds of guests focused on two violinists taking stage, Dylan and Amanda managed to sneak away. Amanda stifled her giggles as they did their crouching speed-walk together, her free hand holding her gown so she could quicker ascend the winding path.

  The sound of the violins gradually faded as they laughed and panted their way up, Dylan catching her whenever she tripped, which was every time she released her gown to wipe perspiration from her brow. I’m sweating in front of Dylan Hardy, Amanda bemoaned herself. But the reward for their climb was worth it. The final ramp was six levels above the rotunda floor, and they stood about as close as they could below the gigantic domed skylight.

  Using the walls to stand upright, they watched each other as they caught their breath. She leaned back, her chest heaving as Dylan stood before her, steadying himself with a hand on the wall above her shoulder. Amanda watched his bright stare slowly wander from her eyes, his lids growing heavy as his gaze drifted down to her mouth. She was sure she was imagining the closing gap between them, but the next thing she knew, his forearm was flattened against the wall, her hands were gripping his shoulders, and their lips were locked in a kiss. He let out a low mm sound that reverberated from his mouth into hers, his own hands dropping down to her waist and squeezing so tight that he nearly lifted her off the ground. But when Amanda gasped with surprise, he released her quickly and apologetically. She jerked away from him.