Holly Hearts Headlines (Holly Hearts Hollywood Book 2) (21 page)

And then I felt guilty. She only looked that way because I was at that party with her, and I definitely didn’t do anything to help her. In fact, I’ve been working very hard to make
sure
that she’s like this. Who else but me could’ve given the media these “insider reports?” I’ve just been taking the things Grayson tells me and selling them for my own satisfaction. And yeah, it’s been nice to see Lacey getting taken apart by the media, but that’s not fair to her. And I did this. I did all of this to her. I think I’m going to be sick.

Later, 9:15pm—Home

I stared at the TV, feeling like the scum of the Earth, and didn’t move for a solid forty minutes. Have you ever done something terrible? You know that the thing you’re doing is terrible, you’re totally aware of the awfulness of your actions, but in that moment it’s like you’re wearing blinders, and you trick yourself into thinking that it’s not that bad. Suddenly, the blinders get ripped off your face, and you’re stuck with the awful reality of what you’ve done.

I always thought I was a good person. Not perfect, of course, but not a
bad
person. Have I really changed that much? Since I’ve been out here I’ve become so self-absorbed. So much, in fact, that I threw a girl who was once my friend under the paparazzi bus for my own interests.

I eventually regained the ability to move, and I called Serena. I just needed to talk to somebody, and she was the only friend who I knew would answer her phone since Meredith and Amanda have gone MIA.

“Holly,” Serena answered on the first ring. “Do you want to go see the latest Jake Gyllenhaal movie tonight? I heard you can see his butt and the shadow of his you-know-what in this one,” she said.

While the idea of seeing half of Jake Gyllenhaal’s penis was intriguing, I wasn’t really in the mood for partial male nudity. Besides, everyone knows that he probably just hired a double anyway so I don’t want to look at an anonymous stranger’s wanna-be Gyllenhaal butt.

“You’re almost a legal adult and you can’t bring yourself to say the word ‘penis’?” I replied to her.

She laughed and then shouted the word “penis” several times like Zooey Deschannel does in
500 Days of Summer
. “Happy?” she asked.

“Very. I need to talk to you about something.” I said this all very quickly, just so I wouldn’t turn into a goopy wimp.

I spilled my guts about Lacey. I told her everything. I told her that I was so consumed with becoming Grayson’s official girlfriend and destroying Lacey that I was feeding the media stories about her. I literally left no stone unturned. I wanted to make sure that Serena knew everything.

“And I know that I’m terrible,” I ranted. “Even when I try to do something good I still mess it all up. I took Grayson to see a Broadway show for his birthday, since he loves Broadway so much and wants to be on it someday, but I couldn’t even do
that
right.”

“Holly,” Serena said in a strained voice. She paused for a long moment. “Do you have any idea what it is like on a day-to-day basis to have your entire life monitored and followed by reporters and cameras?”

“No,” I admitted. I had been around the paparazzi of course, but it wasn’t a part of my everyday life.

“You obviously don’t, because if you did then you never would have done that to Lacey. In this industry it is so difficult to maintain a positive attitude and not get overwhelmed in negativity. I understand that Lacey is not always a nice girl, but you
deliberately
caused harm to her, Holly.”

This wasn’t the response I was expecting. It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I knew, of course, that Serena wasn’t being unreasonable. She was a hundred percent right. But it was just really hard to come to the realization that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

“What do I do to make it better?” I asked, my voice cracked. I was about to cry, but I held my tears back like a champ.

Serena sighed. “I don’t know, Holly. I really just need some time to think. I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk to you.” And then she hung up.

I hate myself sometimes. But I think I hate myself the absolute most today.

Later, 9:50pm—Home

How do I make this right without
telling
Lacey what I did? I know that probably isn’t the right way to look at it. I probably should be like Lindsay Lohan’s character in
Mean Girls
and just admit my wrongs and bring Regina George flowers and join the Mathletes.

But Lacey would kill me. We would never have any chance of healing our relationship if she knew what I did.

Later, 10:15pm—Home

AND
WHY
DID
I
DO
THIS? Why? Am I so deranged that I feel the uncontrollable need to destroy another girl’s life for no good reason other than jealousy? And jealousy over what? Grayson likes
me
, not her. I had nothing to be jealous about.

I’m probably certifiable. I’m most likely a psychopath or a sociopath. The differences between the two are very confusing, so I could easily be a combination of both.

Later, 10:30pm—Home

Mom says that she will absolutely not drive me to the local mental hospital for voluntary admittance. This seems very unfair. If I had a teenage daughter who came to me and said, “Mom I think I made a huge mistake and that I might be mentally ill. I should go to an institution to be examined,” I would listen to her.

Later, 10:40pm—Home

Mom just came into my room and wanted to know
why
I wanted to be admitted to a mental hospital. I knew that if I told Mom the truth she’d be really disappointed in me, but I didn’t see what choice I had. I’ve been texting Serena and she’s completely ignoring me. I don’t blame her for being mad at me, but I really needed some advice. So I told my mom everything.

“Well, to say that I am disappointed in you would really be an understatement,” Mom said when I had finished.

“I figured you would be,” I said glumly.

“What are you planning to do?”

“I don’t know!” I wailed. “If I tell Lacey what I did our friendship is over forever. I don’t know how I can fix this without causing more damage at the same time.”

“Can’t you just call those reporters you talked to and tell them you made it all up?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I could, but it doesn’t mean they would listen to me.”

Mom thought for a moment and looked at me sadly. “I know this has all been new and hard for you, Holly. Your life has changed so suddenly and you have to deal with more than most girls your age. You aren’t in trouble for doing this, but I just hope that you realize that what you did, throwing a fellow girl under the bus like that, is very harmful behavior. Lacey was a good friend to you and you were a good friend to her. I hate that you’ve lost this friendship because of a boy.”

I nodded. My head felt like it weighed ten tons. “What do I do?”

“Just start with reaching out to the reporters. Tell them the truth and see what happens.”

Yeah, like that will work. Oh well. It probably wouldn’t hurt to try anyway.

From:
Holly Hart

Date:
Wednesday, April 23rd, at 10:50 PM

To:
“Colleen MacIntire”

Subject:
The Truth About Lacey Bennett

Hi Colleen, it is Holly. I have to admit to you that the stories I’ve been telling you about Lacey haven’t been 100% true. I’m sure that you want to avoid a lawsuit if Lacey decides she wants to sue for defamation of character. Although, I’m sure if you’re willing to interview me for a nice piece on Lacey she probably won’t feel like bringing up a lawsuit. We can call it an exclusive one-on-one. Let me know.

--Holly

Later, 11:10pm—Home

This just came in:

From:
Colleen MacIntire

Date:
Wednesday, April 23rd, at 11:08 PM

To:
“Holly Hart” [email protected]

Subject:
RE: The Truth About Lacey Bennett

When can you meet me?

Looks like I might be able to fix this after all.

April 24
^th
, 11:30am—Pinkberry

This isn’t my ideal meeting place when I’m planning on having an exclusive one-on-one with
US Weekly’s
premiere celebrity gossip columnist, yet here I am. I’ve never met Colleen in person before so I had no idea what to expect. She writes celebrity gossip so I was sort of expecting a middle-aged woman with a distinct “wanna-be” vibe of desperation, and instead I met this hip, beautiful, well-dressed woman in her mid-twenties. I guess you can’t make quick judgments about people.

I’ve told Colleen a lot about Lacey, and all of it has been good. I told her that Lacey has a heart of gold and that she even crotched a baby blanket for a cousin of hers once. I tried to make Lacey sound like the complicated woman that she is: difficult, but kind-hearted and warm.

“I don’t understand,” Colleen said to me at one point. “You’re the one who fed me all of these stories about Lacey. Now you are saying you made them all up. How do I know you aren’t making this up?”

I rolled my eyes. “Colleen, please. You’ve been doing this job long enough. Don’t you think that
most
of your sources probably lie to you somehow? It is simple. I was mad at Lacey and I wanted to get back at her, but I didn’t think it through. Now, you can’t publish my name, right?”

Colleen sighed. “No, you said you wanted to remain anonymous, and so you will. I just don’t know how I’m going to spin this. Every article I’ve written about Lacey hasn’t been flattering. Why would people believe that I’ve changed my tune?”

“I’m sure you can sell it, Colleen. Besides, people may love to read stories about people making mistakes, but they also love stories about people who change for the better as well.”

I think I have her convinced. She had to walk off and talk to her editor to see how fast they can get this story in print. I’ve tried to call Serena a total of seven times. She is officially ignoring me. I don’t blame her. I would ignore me too.

So, now I have wronged Lacey, Meredith, Amanda, and my grandparents. How will I ever make it up to
all
of them?

Wait a second. I think I have an idea.

Later, 12:00pm—Home

I really hope my mom goes for this. I mean she has to, right? Why wouldn’t she want me to help my friends fix their relationship
and
save the family farm while I’m at it? My logic is foolproof.

Later, 1:00pm—Home

The FBI needs to hire me immediately because I am a
great
negotiator. I managed, not only to convince my mom to let me go through with my plan, but I managed to calm down Ivy who nearly had a full on nuclear meltdown.

“What do you mean you can’t be here for the fashion show?” she shrieked. I know that I say that Ivy shrieks a lot, and that’s true, but this was on a whole new level.

“I can’t, Ivy,” I said quietly, hoping that my tone would calm her down. “I told you, I need to do this to help the family.”

Ivy threw her hands up in the air. “Helping me with the fashion show
is helping the family
,” she said furiously.

I rolled my eyes at her. “Ivy, you know that there’s a big difference between the show and what I need to do.”

Ivy pouted. “Well, duh. I know this other thing is more important, but I just wish you could see the show. We worked so hard,” she said sadly.

“I know. I want to see it too. But if this works, it will all be worth it.”

Ivy nodded in agreement and promised to have someone record the show for me to see later.

I managed to talk my mom AND sister into this. The universe is on my side.

Later, 2:00pm—Los Angeles International Airport

I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is like that climax in a movie where the heroine pulls everyone together in a super awesome 80’s music montage scene just in time to save the day. Except I’m alone in an airport and there’s definitely no 80’s music playing.

How does anyone travel by themselves? This is so overwhelming. The security guards had to pat me down in case I was hiding knives in my fat folds or whatever. I’m sitting in the gate waiting for the plane, but I’m super paranoid that I’m at the wrong gate, even though I’ve checked my ticket a hundred times and asked everyone around me where they are going, just to confirm.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Later, 3:00pm—On the plane

Oh my God, I’m actually doing this. They’re doing the whole “what to do if we get in a plane crash” speech and I’m trying to actively ignore them because talking about the life vests and turbulence makes me want to throw up.

And they’re making me put the journal away. Again. Seriously, will the pilot’s ability to take off be seriously impaired if I’m writing in a two ounce journal? REALLY?