Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood (21 page)

He grinned, rinsing her out a glass. “It’s not a problem. I have a professional cleaning crew coming tomorrow. Nobody will ever know!”

“Oh. Right.” Grace had forgotten for a moment: she was in Beverly Hills. Why race around trying to scrub vomit stains off hardwood floors when you could pay somebody else to do it?

Harry passed her the glass, giving her a shy smile. “I’m really glad you made it. I didn’t think you were going to come.”

Grace felt awkward under the hope in his gaze. “I needed to get out. Family stuff,” she added, taking a tiny sip. Alcohol burned down the back of her throat, but she managed not to cough and splutter.

Harry nodded toward the living room: lights dimmed, seething with bodies. “You want to dance?” he asked. “Or, we could go back outside, where it’s quieter. You know, talk.”

Grace hesitated.

This was what she was supposed to do now, she knew: get drunk on mystery punch, dance wildly with inappropriate boys, and wind up making out with one of them in an upstairs bedroom somewhere, all in the name of “getting over Theo” and “moving on.” It was expected; obligatory, even. She was supposed to cut loose, and go crazy, and all those other spring-break-worthy sentiments that people insisted on to bury their inner pain.

“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly, putting her glass down. “I have to go.”

Harry’s face fell. “But —”

“Tell Palmer I’ll call her, OK?” Grace was already backing away. “And I’ll see you in school. Thanks for having me!”

She hurried toward the front door, pushing blindly through the crowd and not slowing until she was out of the house; sneakers crunching on the gravel driveway.

Grace gasped for breath, the night air cool in her lungs. What had she been thinking, coming here tonight? She didn’t want Harry — she’d known that all along. She didn’t want distraction, or drunken, crazy escapades, or whatever it was that the books and movies said she should be doing right now.

She wanted to go home.

To her surprise, Grace felt tears sting in her throat, and a hollow sadness well up from somewhere deep inside. She wanted to go home, to the house where her father still lived, and her mom still baked gingersnap cookies every fall, and her sister didn’t weep for hours and threaten to throw herself off a tall building and mean it, even a little.

Grace wanted to be back there, up in the shaded tree house with her telescope, where everything had been so simple; before she’d even known what it was like to long for someone the way she longed for Theo.

Before she knew what it was like to have a broken heart.

But even as the sadness threatened to overwhelm her, Grace pulled back. She held tight. Crying wouldn’t get her back there, she reminded herself firmly. It wouldn’t change a thing. This was her world now: empty streets lined with palm trees, the quiet hum of money, a neat grid of city lights blanketing the valley below. This was her world, and she had to live in it. No father, no tree house, no weekend plays with Hallie, and no oven-warm gingersnap cookies.

No Theo.

Grace put her sadness away, pulled out her cell phone, and began to walk.

It had been a month.

Only four weeks since Hallie’s world was ripped apart; thirty days since her heart had shattered into a million anguished pieces. Lost in her sea of misery, she couldn’t believe it. She felt as if she’d been broken forever, like years — decades, even; a lifetime! — had dragged past since the awful night Dakota had told her he was leaving.

“We’re going to New York.”

Hallie hadn’t understood at first. She’d thought the “we” was them: her and Dakota, the way he’d always meant.

“Yes!” she’d gasped, already imagining the cool Brooklyn loft, and nights spent crawling dive bars on the Lower East Side. Bagels. Central Park. Ice-skating under holiday lights, her hands warm in mittens and Dakota’s sure grasp. He would make his music, she’d find some off-off-off-Broadway play to launch her career. It would be perfect. Them against the world, the way they’d been planning.

“When do we go?” She slid around the diner table, so she was snuggled up against him in the red leather booth.

That’s when his eyes drifted away from hers, face cloaked in a guarded look she’d never seen before. “No. I meant . . . the band.” Dakota didn’t meet her eyes, instead staring intently at the bottle of hot sauce on the table. “And I was thinking . . .” He paused, and Hallie felt a terrible shiver of dread. “Maybe this is a good thing for us, to take some time.”

Hallie stared dumbly.

“You know . . . apart. Figure out . . . where this is going. I mean, we’ve been moving so fast . . .” Dakota trailed off, looking back at the hot sauce again. “It’ll only be a few months.”

Hallie couldn’t speak a word the whole ride home. Dakota tried to fill the empty air between them, rambling about how busy he’d be in the studio, how he couldn’t drag her across the country; her career, and his bandmates. “We just need to hit pause,” he said, more than once, as if she were a movie screening in Uncle Auggie’s den, and he needed to run out for pizza. “We’ll make this work. When I get settled, we’ll figure something out. It’ll be OK.”

But it wasn’t.

Because despite all his reassurance and tender promises to call her every day, Dakota drifted out of reach, disappearing into the new, exciting life he was leading in New York City. Without Hallie. Her phone calls started going to voice mail, her texts were left, unreplied. Even though Hallie filled his voice mail and in-box with plaintive messages until they were too full for more, Dakota barely answered, only checking in with messages that seemed more routine than heartfelt. And then there were the days that passed without a single word. Hallie found herself searching online for news of a tragic car accident, or random gang crime: anything to explain why he’d suddenly dropped out of contact. Maybe he was in a coma somewhere, unidentified; or stumbling around with amnesia, not even remembering his own name!

Except amnesiacs wouldn’t pose for photos in their shiny new recording studio. Coma victims wouldn’t be posting updates on the official band website about all their upcoming shows.

Hallie sank into a listless daze. To just leave, to ignore her pain like it meant nothing to him . . . ? This wasn’t Dakota. It
couldn’t
be. The boy who swore he couldn’t sleep unless Hallie was nestled in the crook of his arms would never be so cruel and merciless. He at least would write back. Call. Check to make sure she hadn’t drowned herself in Uncle Auggie’s pool, the way she’d threatened in a moment of desperate rage.

But now it had been two weeks since she’d last heard from him, and Hallie couldn’t dream up any more excuses. He was just gone.

“Hallie!” Grace burst into her bedroom, rudely interrupting Hallie’s mental replay of the diner scene. “The dogs need walking. I can’t keep taking them out.”

“I’m napping.” Hallie sank lower in her pillows; curtains still half-drawn to block out the hatefully cheerful sun.

“It’s your job.”

Hallie groaned. “So tell Amber to hire the old kid back.”

“If you’re going to quit, you need to do it yourself.”

“Whatever.” Hallie sighed, not caring. She was about to roll over, back to her mournful daydreams, when her phone buzzed, vibrating on the polished nightstand. Hallie bolted upright.

“Dakota!” She grabbed the phone to check the screen, heart racing. She knew it! He missed her, he was sorry for everything, he still loved her!

But it was only Ana Lucia.

Hallie let out a whimper. She hit decline call and slumped back, pulling the covers over her head. Why was the cruel world taunting her with the promise of his call? Wasn’t it enough that he was gone?

A moment later, the covers were yanked away. “Call her back.” Grace grabbed her phone.

“No,” Hallie replied, but before she could stop Grace, her sister hit redial.

“Ana Lucia, hi. Hallie’s right here, sorry about that.” She thrust the phone at Hallie with a pointed glare and then stalked out.

Hallie lifted the phone to her ear reluctantly. “Hey.” She exhaled, already exhausted.

“Hallie, where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for, like, years!” There was a steely note beneath Ana Lucia’s syrupy concern. She clearly wasn’t used to being ignored.

“Sorry, I’ve been . . . sick,” Hallie managed. Heartsick.

“Aww, I bet you’re missing Dakota,” Ana Lucia cooed. “Long distance is the worst! I told the girls, you’re probably calling each other twenty-four seven.”

“Mmmm,” Hallie murmured, the words like a dagger in her soul.

Ana Lucia chattered on, oblivious. “Want to grab brunch and tell us all about it? We’re dying to hear how New York is working out.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“Come on,” Ana Lucia insisted. “Girl time is exactly what you need. You’ll feel tons better, I promise.”

Hallie wavered. She hadn’t left the house yet, and celebrity spotting at Urth Caffé never failed to lift her mood. . . .

“OK,” she finally agreed. She had to reemerge from hiding sometime, and it may as well be with cheesecake. “Give me half an hour.” Hallie paused. It had been a while since she’d picked up the loofah. “Better make that an hour.”

The girls were clustered around a sidewalk table, already picking at their salads when Hallie arrived. “Sweetie!” Ana Lucia leaped up, leaning to drop air-kisses on each cheek. “You poor thing, look at you, you look wrecked!”

Hallie’s smile slipped. She’d done her best to polish up, but weeks moping around in abject misery had clearly taken their toll on her skin tone. “Don’t worry, herbal tea is awesome for a detox,” Ana Lucia added helpfully, gesturing to the staff to drag over another chair. “By the time the band is back in town, you’ll look awesome again.”

“Or are you going out to visit?” Brie looked up from her phone. Ana Lucia brightened.

“We could all go! Like a group vacation.”

“No!” Hallie said quickly. “I mean, Dakota says they’re really focused on the music,” she explained, dismayed to find herself parroting the same weak excuses Dakota had given her. “Their manager doesn’t want them to have any distractions,” she added. “He wanted me to come out, but they laid down the law. No girlfriends. So . . .”

She trailed off, wondering if maybe there was some truth in her lie. Perhaps it was his bandmates urging Dakota to shun her; knowing his loyalties were split. Hallie frowned at the thought of it. She never had liked that AJ, with his Victorian gentleman hairstyle and suspenders — what grown man wore pomade?

“I’m sorry.” Meredith squeezed her hand, giving Hallie a sympathetic smile. “That’s the worst. You must miss him like crazy.”

“I do.” Hallie felt it, aching in every limb of her body. “I can’t bear being away from him. It feels like part of me is missing.”

The girls awwwed in unison. “So cute,” Brie murmured.

“Has Reed said anything about me?” Ana Lucia interrupted. “I mean, to Dakota. We were going to get together before they left, but things were so busy. . . .”

“I don’t think so,” Hallie said carefully. Ana Lucia’s lips tightened. “But, you know what Reed is like,” she added quickly. “He doesn’t really talk about his feelings.”

“The strong, silent type,” Meredith agreed. Ana Lucia relaxed again.

“You’re right. He wouldn’t talk about it, he’s not that kind of guy — all sappy and emotional.” She sipped her boba tea, confidence restored. “Anyway, it’s not like we’re dating or anything. You know I don’t like to be tied down.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Brie smirked.

Ana Lucia gave a tiny, satisfied shrug. “What can I say? He was older.”

They all laughed, and for a moment at least, Hallie felt her ache ease. Maybe she should just come clean. They were her friends, right? Telling the truth could even help; let her wallow in sympathy and understanding, as warm as Amber’s borrowed cashmere comforter.

Then Brie turned back to her with an expectant look. “So, tell us, how’s recording? Are the guys writing any new songs?” And Hallie knew, she couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth, and see that envy in their expressions turn to pity. Dakota was the one thing she had that these girls didn’t. And, boy, did they have everything.

“Sure.” She forced a smile — the nonchalant smile of a girl whose boyfriend loved her, and couldn’t bear to be apart — and began to tell them all about the amazing sessions the band had been recording, and how Dakota had written three new love songs, just for her. She was an actress through and through, she could play this part as long as it took, before Dakota came back to her, and the lies became real.