Will the Real Abi Sanders Please Stand Up? (13 page)

”I’ll wait for you.” He grins, and my heart skips a beat.

“Won’t Tilly mind?” I ask.

“Didn’t I say? I thought I did. Tilly’s not going. She’s not feeling well. She’s going back to the hotel, so you could stand in for her and be my partner. I promise to get you to the party later. I’ll come with you, if you’d like.”

If I like? Of course I freakin’ well like. This is beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. How can I say no? Liv’s got to understand, I’ll text her and say I’m definitely coming, just a bit later than I thought. Actually, no I won’t. If I just turn up, she might not realize how late it really is. Especially if Jon’s with me—and some of the other actors too, with a bit of luck.

“Okay, you’ve persuaded me. You’ll wait for me to get changed, won’t you?”

“I already said I would. Off you go, and I’ll go find the others and call a cab. Meet us in the parking lot.”

He leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. I give a huge, dozy smile and run off, hoping he doesn’t notice I’ve gone bright red.

…

“Dance?” Jon whispers in my ear, sending shivers shooting up and down my spine.

“Sure.” I take a long slurp of my drink through the straw and get up. Then promptly fall back down again. “Ooops.” I giggle.

Jon takes my hand and guides me up from my chair. “Allow me,” he says.

He keeps hold of my hand as we head towards the dance floor, and it’s so exciting because, as we walk, the crowds of people part to let us through. They know we’re part of the movie crowd.

This club is insane. And I got in without being carded. There are low round tables with stools around them, and there’s actually a waterfall beside the bar. Liv will be so jealous when I tell her. The owner of the club has been sending over cocktails for us all night—free. I think he’s angling for a visit to the set so he can meet Tilly. He certainly keeps talking about her enough, asking where she is and if she’ll be coming by later. Jon’s being all noncommittal, saying that he’s not sure, but she could be. I guess he doesn’t want to stop the drinks from coming.

“Hey,” calls a voice next to me. “Want to come home with me tonight?”

“Sorry,” drawls Jon. “She’s with me.”

My heart pounds in my chest. It’s like I’m in the best fantasy ever.

“No problem,” says the guy who, judging by his appearance, wouldn’t look twice at me under normal circumstances. “What about an autograph instead?”

The people he’s with laugh, and so does Jon. I’m in too much of a daze to do anything other than grin inanely.

“Later,” Jon says.

We float to the dance floor. Okay, I’m the one doing the floating, but what do you expect? I just hope this doesn’t turn out to be a dream.

Someone’s looking out for me tonight, because after we’ve been dancing for a very short while they play a slow song, and Jon wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close. The smell of his cologne invades my senses. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll remember the smell for as long as I live.

“Having fun?” Jon asks.

What a question. How could I not be?

“Mmmm,” I say.

“Better than some boring party?”

Oh, no. The party. I haven’t been paying attention to the time since… What time is it? My arms are linked around Jon’s neck, but I manage to press the light on my watch so I can see. Crap. It can’t be.

It’s past one.

Guilt shoots through me. I have to go. But Jon’s the first guy I’ve really liked who’s liked me back. Not counting relegated-to-the-Friend-Zone Matt, so I’m not thinking about him. Everything is so magical that I can’t spoil it. But I have to. It’s Liv’s party, and I can’t let her down.

“I have to go,” I say softly, and he pulls his head back a little and gazes into my eyes.

Whoa. He’s going to kiss me. I know he’s going to kiss me—I’ve seen that look before. Only this time he’ll be kissing me intentionally and not by mistake. What if he thinks I’m the most awful kisser he’s ever known? I close my eyes and prepare myself for a memorable experience.

Suddenly, an elbow in my back makes me stumble, and I fall forward. Jon’s grip tightens, keeping me from losing my balance.

I jerk my head around and a flash of light blinds me. My hands instinctively shield my eyes. What the…

“Get out of here,” Jon growls. He pushes the guy with the camera aside, pulls me by the arm, and marches off the dance floor. I wish he wouldn’t squeeze my arm so hard. It’s really hurting.

We get back to our table, and Jon sort of gently pushes me down on the seat. I slide along to make room for him to sit, but he just stands there a frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing. I’m just going to talk to someone, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“But the party. I have to…”

“I won’t be long,” he says, interrupting me and leaning down and resting his arm on my shoulder. “I’ll stop at the bar and ask them to send over another cocktail for you. Okay?” He walks away before I have time to answer.

I lean back and close my eyes, but quickly open them again since having them closed makes me feel sick. What’s so important that he has to leave me on my own? I wonder where Vince is. I haven’t seen him, or the others, for a long time. We all sat together at first, but one by one they all disappeared. He might be with the girl from craft services. They always seem to be together these days. She’s really nice. I hope something happens between them.

“Hey, Abi. You okay?”

Well, how spooky is that? I think about Vince, and he appears. “Sure. Seat?” I pat the bench beside me.

Just as he’s sitting the bartender arrives with my cocktail, which he places in front of me. I pick it up and take a long drink.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Vince asks.

Excuse me. Who does he think he is, my mother? “I can handle my liquor, you know.” I glare at him.

“You could have fooled me. I saw you staggering all over the dance floor.”

“That’s not true. Some photographer guy blinded me with his flash, and I lost my balance.”

“Yeah, right. Come on, Abi. Don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“With Jon. You might be Tilly on the set, but you’re not her. Remember that.”

“Look, if all you’re going to do is lecture me, then go away
,
thank you very much.” I pointedly pick up my glass and drink the rest of it straight down.

Ooops. I don’t think that was such a good idea. I can feel it bubbling in the pit of my stomach. Oh, God, please don’t let me vomit. Not here, it would spoil everything.

I draw in a long deep breath, which stems the feeling a little.

“I’m not trying to be your mother. But I do care about you. You’re a good kid, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Kid. He’s calling me a kid. Is that what they all think of me? Is that how Jon sees me?

I’m not a kid. I’m eighteen. I’m not much younger than Tilly. How come they don’t think of her as a kid? You’d think it would have been harder for her to be taken seriously as an adult since she grew up in the entertainment industry. Maybe that’s why she’s so prickly all of the time. Right now, I can hardly blame her.

“I won’t get hurt, and I’m not naïve either. I know things.” I cross my arms and scowl at him.

“Yes, I can see that.” Vince shakes his head. “Come on, why don’t I get you home?”

“Move it, Vince.” Jon’s voice makes me start. “I want to sit next to Abi.”

“Abi and I were just leaving. She’s ready to go.”

I am? I didn’t say that. And I wouldn’t. Why would I spoil such an awesome night by going home? Ridiculous.

Jon looks from Vince to me. “You are?”

Sorry, Vince, but opportunities like this don’t come along very often. If at all. “Of course not. The evening’s barely begun.” I fix my eyes firmly on Jon, not daring to look at Vince.

“But…” says Vince.

“Don’t worry about me, Vince. I’ll be fine. You go.” I give a dismissive wave.

“What about your friend’s party?” He arches an eyebrow.

“First you want me to go home. Now you want to go to the party. What is it with you?” I’m getting fed up of him interfering. I can look after myself.

“Forget it.” Vince holds up both his hands. “Do what you want, I’m off. See you Monday.” He gets up and walks away without even looking back.

Now I feel like crap. But I’ll get over it now that Jon’s back, and we can be together.

“Was that your phone?” Jon says interrupting my thoughts.

“What? I don’t know. I didn’t hear anything. I’ll check.” I reach into my purse and pull it out. It’s a text from Liv:
How could you? I hope it’s worth it. DON’T reply. EVER.

Chapter Fourteen

My head really hurts. As in, there’s-a-herd-of-elephants-charging-through-my-brain really hurts. If I never see a pink cocktail again, it will be way too soon.

I pull the pillow over my face to shield myself from the light shining through the gap at the bottom of the drapes, which is making me feel even worse. If that’s possible.

I’ve never been so wasted in my whole life. Not that I make a habit of drinking excessively. Not ever, really. Usually a couple of beers at a party and that’s about it. I always have to think about my training and keeping fit, so I can’t go crazy. Not that Matt or Liv would let me get in that state, even if I wanted to.

What’s even scarier is I don’t remember coming home last night. Well, that’s not altogether true. I do have a vague recollection of Jon putting me in a cab, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, and giving the driver some money. The rest is sort of a mystery.

Mom’s going to freak. I can only hope she was in bed when I got back and that I used the key under the flowerpot around the back of the house to let myself in and that I was quiet.

Oh, God. Liv.

Her party. Her text. Oh, no.

I felt bad before, but suddenly it’s reaching new lows.

Why didn’t I go to the party last night?

Why did I allow myself to be persuaded to go to The Tavern?

Why did I spend such a wonderful evening with Jon?

That’s the only question I can answer. Jon definitely would have full on kissed me if we hadn’t been interrupted by that freakin’ photographer. I’ve never been this crazy this quickly about a guy before. We get along so well. He’s so kind and thoughtful, and look how he stayed with me all evening. He’s never said anything about my stutter. Not that I’ve really stuttered that much in front of him. I seem to save that up for when I’m with Tilly. And what a nice guy he is for putting me in a cab home. He didn’t try and take advantage of me being wasted. That says a lot about him.

I know I keep saying this, but why can’t Jon be with me instead of Tilly? It’s not like she really wants him. It’s all for publicity. That’s what Vince said. To promote her image. So all her fans think she’s a nice girl and not some slut. I wish he could see her as she really is, and then he might try to do something about it. He just doesn’t deserve to be treated the way she treats him. He should be with someone who’ll be there when he needs them. Someone who won’t put themselves first all the time. Someone like me.

Liv will understand. She’s got to. It’s not like I’m the life and soul of the party, so she couldn’t have really missed me. She probably sent that text after she’d had a few. She might not even remember. I’ll call her later, once I’ve gotten up. Maybe go over to her place. She hasn’t even seen my present yet. Thanks to earning all this money, I was able to get her this beautiful silver bangle, and I had it engraved on the back so she always thinks of me when she wears it.

A loud knock on the door sets off the pounding in my head again, which had subsided a little.

“Abi, sweetheart. Are you awake?”

It’s Mom. She doesn’t sound angry, which is definitely promising. “Yeah,” I mutter, from under the pillow.

I hear the door open and the sound of her footsteps as she pads across my floor. The bed bounces when she sits down beside me, and I feel decidedly nauseous. She better keep still, or I’ll be in serious need of a huge bucket.

“I didn’t realize you were coming home last night,” she says, way too loud for my liking. Doesn’t she know how to whisper? “I was very surprised to see your shoes and purse in the hall when I got up this morning. How was Liv’s party?”

At least I didn’t wake her. That’s good. Now let’s see how she takes what I’m about to say next.

“I didn’t go to the party,” I say, lifting up the pillow slightly and speaking from under it.

“You didn’t go to the party?” Mom says, her voice about an octave higher. “But you phoned and said you were going straight from work. What do you mean you didn’t go to the party? Where did you go?” She grabs hold of the pillow and yanks it off my head.

I cover my eyes with my arm. “I’m sorry. I meant to, but it got late. I went out with the guys from work to a club, and they brought me home in a cab.” That sounds so lame. Because it is.

“And missed your best friend’s party? Oh, Abi. How could you?” She glares at me, her eyes tiny, disappointed slits.

You’d think I’d committed a heinous crime. It’s only a party, for heaven’s sake. She’s just trying to make me feel guilty. And it’s working. Guilt floods through me, spoiling my memories of last night.

“Liv will understand,” I say without conviction. Because I’m not really sure she will.

“Are you sure about that?” My eyes are now closed, but I can feel her stony gaze penetrating my arm, which is resting across my head. “And of course, if she did the same thing to you, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I’ve got the message. I’m the worst friend in history.

Why doesn’t she go downstairs and do some cooking, or cleaning, or some other motherly thing she does with her time? Anything, just leave me alone.

“Don’t start, Mom. I don’t feel well.”

“Well, don’t expect me to be sympathetic. You shouldn’t even be drinking at your age, and especially not drinking so much you have a hangover.”

“Whatever.” The word is out my mouth before I have time to check it. I know what the reaction’s going to be.