Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood(57)
Author: Abby McDonald

Kay gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did.” Hallie glared at them. “And if anything I said to you ever comes up in print, my family will sue you so fast, you . . . you . . .” She tried to think of something suitably threatening, but her mind was still fuzzy. “You’ll be sorry, that’s all I can say.”

She pushed past, and this time, they didn’t follow. Hallie could hear them arguing furiously as she waited for the elevator.

“How could you let her take the recording?”

“What about you? You said she was drunk. Easy money, you said!”

Hallie grinned as the doors closed behind her. There! She wasn’t just waiting around anymore, while other people made the big decisions. She was back in control, she was independent, she was —

Broke.

Hallie rifled through her purse as she stepped out into the lobby, but all she had was three dollars and a fetching shade of lip gloss. She groaned. It was way too late to call Grace, and she’d told Amber and her mom that she was sleeping over at Ana Lucia’s. Even if she got a cab to take her back, would she even be able to dig up the cash once she got home?

Hallie pulled out her cell phone, and dialed.

Brandon arrived in a half hour, his Jeep looking out of place in the line of Porsches and BMWs that slowly rolled through the valet stand. Hallie hopped up in the passenger side. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she told him fervently. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know who else to call.”

Brandon shrugged. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed: gray sweatpants, and a dark zip-up hoodie open over a Disney T. “It’s OK, I couldn’t sleep.”

He passed her a bottle of water, then popped the cap on a pack of Advil, handing Hallie two pills. “It’s better to take them now, before the hangover kicks in tomorrow,” he advised with a wry smile, shifting the car back into drive and easing out of the exit.

“How could you tell?” Hallie gulped them back. The wooziness had worn off waiting for him to come, now she just felt empty; a metallic edge to her nerves.

“Four in the morning, scraping you off the floor at some club?” Brandon looked amused. “Sure, you’ve been hanging out drinking hot cocoa and knitting.”

Hallie managed a smile. She curled up in the seat and took a long breath as they turned back onto Sunset Boulevard, bright with billboards and headlights. It felt like she’d been in that club for a lifetime, bouncing between insincere smiles and vicious bitchy showdowns, and now, now, her head was finally clear. She rested her cheek against the cool glass, watching the city slip by.

“I didn’t say welcome back.” Brandon glanced over as they paused at a red light. “Did you have a good time in New York?”

“Not at all.” Hallie sighed. “Dakota . . .” She paused, embarrassed. “We kind of —”

“It’s OK.” Brandon cut her off. “Amber came over to gossip with my mom. I kind of overheard. . . .”

“Oh.” Hallie flushed. “Yeah, it didn’t really go the way I planned.”

“Sorry,” Brandon offered, with another awkward smile. “I know you wanted to make it work.”

“Understatement,” Hallie agreed. “But, maybe it was for the best, to have it thrown in my face like that. I mean, at least I know it’s over now. For real, this time.” She gazed out of the window — they were heading down into Beverly Hills now, but Hallie felt something pull her in the other direction, back up into the hills.

“Would you mind if we made a detour?” she asked suddenly. “I know it’s late —”

“You mean, early.”

“Sorry,” Hallie said again. She knew she should just head home, and not test Brandon’s chivalry any further, but there was a restlessness still in her veins; a sharp itch she needed to set to rest. “It won’t take long, I promise. It’s just, that way.” She pointed behind them.

Brandon looked at her for a moment, then sighed. “You’re lucky I’m an insomniac,” he told her, pulling a U-turn in the middle of the street.

They parked off the side of the road, up on Mulholland where Dakota had taken Hallie that first night, a lifetime ago. She left Brandon by the car and made her way out to the edge of the cliff, shucking off her shoes so she was barefoot on the gravel and rocks.

Hallie gazed down at the snaking lights of the freeway and felt an unexpected calm. It was all still here. The sprawling, glittering grid; the dark horizon. Dakota may be gone, but all of this — the world — was still right there like it had always been.

Just because she’d built all her dreams with him beside her, it didn’t mean she couldn’t go on and make them come true on her own.

“Hey.” Brandon’s hand was tight on her arm. “Watch the edge.”

“Why?” Hallie laughed. “You think I’m going to throw myself off or something?”

There was a pause.

“I don’t know,” Brandon replied, his expression even. “Would you?”

“No!” Hallie spluttered. “I would never . . .” Her protest died as she took in the calm set of his face. “I wouldn’t!” She tried again to reassure him. “Really!”

Brandon nodded slowly, but the grip on her arm didn’t loosen until Hallie drew back from the cliff edge.

She stood there, shaken, suddenly remembering every time she’d claimed she’d die without Dakota; every desperate sob that life wasn’t worth living without him. Hallie was horrified. When had she become the girl who talked like that?

And, worse still, when had she become a girl who would even consider it?

“It’s late,” Brandon told her. He slipped off his hoodie and draped it over her shoulders. “We should get back.”

Brandon headed for the Jeep, but Hallie lingered a moment, thinking back over the last months of listless wallowing with fresh shame. All the time that had slipped past; all the agony Hallie had clung to — holding on for dear life, as if her misery were somehow noble. As if weeping for hours in a dark room were the only way to make her wretched love mean anything at all.

She hadn’t been the brave heroine, in the play of her life. She’d been the fool.

Hallie finally joined Brandon back in the car. “I need you to know, I wouldn’t do anything like that,” she told him. “I know I said some stuff . . . but I was just being dramatic. I didn’t mean it. I promise.”