Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood(52)
Author: Abby McDonald

“You’re sure it’s not too late to talk you out of this?” Grace asked, following Hallie around to the back of the club. There were two dozen fans waiting there already, and the line out front of the show had stretched around the block, easily their biggest audience to date. Hallie couldn’t help feeling a glow of pride on Dakota’s behalf. They were doing it: the band was really breaking out!

“We could go back to the hotel and splurge on room service,” Grace continued, bundled up and blowing on her hands like she was deep in Arctic Russia. “The warm, toasty hotel. With heated towels and an adjustable thermostat.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Hallie told her. She was shaking too, but her tremors were from pure nervous excitement. “A little cold never hurt anyone!”

“Except for all those people who die from hypothermia!”

Hallie ignored her protests, cutting ruthlessly right to the front of the crowd. She quickly scoped out her competition for the band’s attention. Underage fangirls, she decided: clutching posters for the band to sign, their cameras at the ready. Dakota wouldn’t give them a second glance.

Grace ducked in behind her, apologizing as she went. “What are you going to do if this doesn’t work out?”

“It will!”

“No,” Grace said, “I mean it.” She put her hands on Hallie’s shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes. “What will you do?”

Hallie blinked. For a moment, something inside her slipped — icy cold and fearful — but then a sudden excited cry went up, and the crowd pressed forward. They were coming out! Hallie broke away from Grace, breathlessly straining for the first glimpse of him.

And there he was.

Dakota came sauntering out behind AJ and Reed; hair damp with sweat, that Sex Pistols shirt Hallie picked out peeking from under a jacket, and looking every bit as beautiful as Hallie remembered him. She felt her body wilt with pure relief. He was there, right in front of her! Everything was going to be OK!

“Dakota!” she called, but her voice was lost in the din. The crowd swelled, filling the small space in the alley, and the band was quickly surrounded.

“Whoa!” The guys laughed, clearly reveling in their moment of glory. “Back up!” A couple of club bouncers hurried out, trying to fend off the adoring masses.

Hallie struggled against the surge. “Dakota!” she yelled, louder. “Over here!”

He didn’t hear her, busy scribbling autographs on T-shirts, tickets, even random limbs girls thrust his way. He looked completely happy, Hallie realized, not even fazed by the crush of people screaming out for his attention. This was what he wanted, after all: to be seen, recognized.

A black limo arrived, driving slowly through the alley. The crowd began to scatter, happily clutching their autographs and camera phones. “Wait up,” Dakota called ahead, over the noise of the crowd. “We can’t go without her.”

Hallie brightened. He’d seen her. He’d —

The stage door opened again, and security ushered a girl out. Face obscured by huge sunglasses, she was dressed in tight black jeans and leather boots, long blond hair spilling in a glossy wave over a silky shirt.

Hallie blinked in recognition at the same time as an audible gasp went up from the crowd.

“Is that . . . omigod! Talia!”

Talia Talbot: Hollywood starlet, tabloid staple. And . . . the girl Hallie had seen in Bergdorf’s the other day, she suddenly realized.

The tide of people pressed Hallie forward again as they grabbed for the star. Dakota reached Talia first: throwing one protective arm around her shoulder and blocking their faces from the dizzying flash of cameras. Talia sank against him, resting her head against his chest as if she hadn’t been stalked by the paparazzi since the day she’d “accidentally” torn her dress and flashed the entire Emmy Awards her perfect derriere.

Hallie froze, staring at the pair in bewilderment. They were just ten feet away from her: Dakota’s arm around Talia’s slim body; her hand clutching at his jacket. His brand-new, designer tuxedo jacket.

And then, as if Hallie were trapped in some cruel nightmare, Dakota leaned down and kissed Talia. A long, slow kiss that left the crowd screaming, and turned Hallie’s body to ice.

How was this possible?

The couple broke apart, smiling. Talia climbed into the limo, but Dakota turned back to give the crowd one last wave. That’s when he saw her.

Their eyes locked. His smile slipped.

Hallie finally unfroze. She ducked under the arm of one of the security guys and closed the distance between them, unsteady on her heels. “Dakota?”

“H-Hallie?” Dakota stuttered, glancing anxiously toward the car. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Hallie stared back at him. Everything she’d imagined telling him was gone from her mind: wiped blank by the sight of his lips on someone else’s. “I don’t understand,” she managed, ignoring the sound of the overexcited crowd. “Why won’t you talk to me? I’ve been calling you for weeks!”

“I, um, I got a new phone.”

Hallie gasped. All this time, he hadn’t even listened to her pain? “But you still know my number. Why didn’t you call?” she demanded. “You just disappeared. I didn’t know what to think!”

Dakota shifted, not meeting her eyes. “I told you, things got crazy. I needed some time.”

“For what?” Hallie cried. “Her?”

He stiffened, and pulled her to the side. The bouncers closed around them, forming a solid wall of muscle between them and the crowd. “Look, it’s not like that,” Dakota hissed. “The label, they’ve sunk a ton of money into us, but without publicity . . .” He jammed his hands in his jacket pockets — the jacket she’d seen some other girl pick out, just the day before — and looked at her plaintively. “Please, try to understand!”

But she did understand. That was the problem. For the first time in months, Hallie understood perfectly, and the truth was so simple, it took her breath away. The reason he’d stopped calling? The reason he hadn’t invited her out, or visited, or done anything to assuage the terrible misery and heartache she’d been going through?

He didn’t want to.

Not enough to do something about it, anyway. Not enough to send her even a simple note explaining that he couldn’t see her anymore — give her some kind of closure, or power to put him behind her for good. Hallie had spent the last weeks making so many excuses to herself for the way he was acting, but finally standing there in front of him, she realized: there was none.