“You guys were so perfect together!” a random blond girl Hallie didn’t even recognize cooed to her in the elevators.
“And to find out like that!” A cluster of tight-shirted men rolled their eyes knowingly by the bar. “Drinks on us, sweetie.”
“You need it,” another guy added, in that faux-sympathetic tone she’d come to know so well. “You poor, poor thing!”
“No, I’m fine!” Hallie’s cheeks already ached from forcing her ‘I’m so much better off without him’ smile. She winked at them. “But if you insist, make mine a margarita!”
At least that was a perk of being the latest object of Hollywood gossip: free drinks. By the time midnight rolled around, Hallie was on her third cocktail of the night, but even the hazy glow of alcohol couldn’t soothe the furious burn of righteous indignation in her chest, or shake the image of him emerging from the stage door, and how goddamn happy he looked, strutting around for all those cameras.
“He never wanted to be famous!” Hallie cried, collapsed on a crushed-velvet couch beside Meredith. She gestured wildly, almost spilling their latest round of sympathy margaritas. “He agreed with me, so many times. Celebrity is meaningless, his music is what matters!”
Meredith made a supportive noise, dabbing at the skirt of her lacy maxi dress.
“All that talk about artistic integrity, and now he’s nothing but a big freaking sellout.” Hallie laughed bitterly. “I mean, how desperate: faking a relationship with Talia just for the sake of some tabloid headlines. Talia!” she said again, voice scornful. “That girl couldn’t play a serious role to save her life. She’s showed her tits in, like, three different movies!”
“Shh!” Meredith hissed, looking over her shoulder. “You want to get us kicked out? That’s her best friend over there!”
Hallie shrugged, pulling herself to her feet. She wobbled a moment, unsteady in those borrowed heels. “I could take her. Bet she hasn’t eaten all week!”
Meredith checked the other girl again. “Just, try not to start any catfights on your way to the bathroom, OK?”
Hallie threw her arms out. “Anyone wants trouble, they can just try!”
She tottered across the lounge floor, glad to see heads turn her way. The girls’ favorite hangout wasn’t a lounge, or regular bar, but a private members’ club, set on the top two floors of a swanky building on Sunset Boulevard. You had to be signed in to even step foot in the elevator, and once upstairs, there was a luxurious spread of lounge rooms, restaurant, even a 24-hour gym — not that the girls had ever used it. They were too busy staking out prime couches in the lounge area to watch the various celebrity makeups and breakups that took place away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi.
Hallie slipped into the bathroom and found Ana Lucia and Brie propped up by the sink. “There you are!” Hallie cried happily. “You disappeared, forever ago. Where have you been?”
“Around.” Ana Lucia wiped her nose. “How are you holding up?”
“Fabulous,” Hallie declared. “But I swear, if another bobblehead blonde asks me how I’m doing, I’m going to snap her oversize head right off her tiny body.” She laughed loudly. “You guys excluded, of course.”
“Uh-huh.”
Hallie fumbled with her clutch to find her lipstick. “I’m serious, Dakota can go screw himself. Or that bitch. I don’t care!” She caught Ana Lucia exchanging a look with Brie. “I don’t!” Hallie insisted. “It’s so over. I mean, I deserve a guy who’s not going to sell me out for the sake of some stupid magazine covers.”
“Right,” Ana Lucia murmured. “You already said that. Like, five times.”
“Well, it’s true!” Hallie focused on reapplying her lipstick. “So, what do you think: you want to hang here some more? Or come back to my place? Ooh, slumber party!”
Ana Lucia shrugged vaguely. “I think we’re going to bail soon. Keisha is having some people over.”
“Who’s that?” Hallie frowned, trying to remember a face from the blur of new introductions.
“Just a friend of mine.”
Brie piped up. “She’s the girl from that new sitcom, you know, with the three party girls in the city who inherit the baby twins?”
Hallie lit up. “But that’s perfect! I need to get my head back in the acting game, now that I don’t have any distractions. Where does she live — up in the hills?”
There was a pause.
“It’s more of a private party,” Ana Lucia replied at last. “And you should probably be heading home. But take care of yourself, OK, doll?”
They were out the door of the bathroom before Hallie could even process the brush-off. She stopped, gloss wand halfway to her lips, as Ana Lucia’s dismissive tone sank in.
Wait, what was that?
Hallie hurried out of the bathroom after the girls. “Ana Lucia? Hey, hold up!” she called, catching up to them in the middle of the main lounge area. “What’s going on?”
Ana Lucia and Brie exchanged another look. “Like I said, it’s a private party,” Ana Lucia said with a shrug. “No offense.”
Meredith arrived with an armful of their jackets. “Ready to roll?” she asked Hallie, oblivious. Brie jabbed her in the ribs. Meredith looked around. “Huh? What did I miss?”
“I wish I knew.” Even through the margarita haze, Hallie was getting a very bad feeling — one that only got worse when Ana Lucia took a step closer, and gave Hallie a faux-awkward look, all rueful and apologetic.
“I didn’t want to say anything, but, well, the thing is, it’s getting kind of uncomfortable.” Ana Lucia blinked at her, the very model of regret. “You know,” she added, with another tiny grimace, “the way you act around my famous friends.”
Hallie gaped. “What? I don’t understand. How do I act?” She turned to the other girls for support, but Meredith just stood looking uncomfortable, while Brie tapped away delightedly at her cell phone.
“The way you bug them about their agents, and auditions,” Ana Lucia explained, with a smug smile. “It’s just, tacky. Especially when we’re all just hanging out.”
Hallie stared back, horrified. The way Ana Lucia was looking at her . . . she knew it way too well: it was the look Ana Lucia gave to wannabes, and hangers-on, and those poor souls with the misfortune of wearing last year’s wet-look leather leggings.