On Friday afternoon, Hanna sat in her trailer on the movie set, taking deep breath after deep breath. Her phone buzzed. MIKE, said the caller ID. When she answered, Mike sounded happy and relaxed.
“The Amtrak café worker let me order a beer!” he whispered on the staticky line.
Hanna giggled. “So you’re going to be drunk for the party tonight, huh?” He had boarded a train from soccer camp and was due in Rosewood shortly after four, which gave him enough time to get ready for the Rosewood Rallies fund-raiser.
“Nah, only buzzed.” Mike sighed wistfully. “I can’t wait to see you, Han. What are you doing right now? Primping? Getting beautiful?”
Hanna stared at her silver dress, which hung in dry cleaner’s plastic on a hook on the closet door. She’d picked it up just before coming to the set, but she wasn’t quite ready to put it on yet. “Um, I’m about to start getting ready,” she said, feeling too jittery and superstitious to tell Mike about what she was really about to do. “I’ll call you in a little bit, okay?” She made a kissing sound and hung up.
Then she stared at herself in the mirror, pushing her auburn hair behind her shoulders. “You can talk to Hank,” Hanna whispered to her reflection. “You deserve to be the next Hanna.”
Shortly after Jared put the bug in her ear about taking over Hailey’s role, Hanna had crept up the stairs to Hailey’s dressing room and knocked lightly on the door. Hailey had let her in, and she’d immediately started railing about what a stupid movie Burn It Down was. “The plot is dumb,” she said, tossing her possessions into a bunch of cardboard boxes she’d dragged out of the small closet. “The characters are dumb. It won’t go anywhere at the box office.” She peeked at Hanna. “No offense.”
Hanna had shrugged, letting the comment roll off her back. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing this happened, then,” she’d tried. “You seemed really unhappy.”
Hailey nodded vehemently. “Damn right,” she said. “I was miserable. This the best career move in a while. I’m so happy this is done.”
“And you’ll find something else,” Hanna added.
“Naturally!” Hailey crowed, raising a fist in the air. “I’m just sorry I’m leaving you behind, sweetie.” Then she told Hanna that she was going to get on the phone with her manager the very next day and have him arrange to fly Hanna out to LA for a visit as soon as possible. “We are going to have so much fun,” Hailey whooped, tossing a bunch of dresses into an open suitcase. “The clubs in LA are a zillion times better than the lame-ass ones in New York. And the shopping? To die for!”
Hanna had left Hailey’s dressing room with a sense of accomplishment. Hailey was out—and was happy to be out. Chances were, she’d have a new film offer by tomorrow.
And Hanna? Well, maybe, just maybe, she could be in. She just had to ask Hank first.
But before she could move, her phone buzzed again. This time, Emily was calling. Hanna hit the green ANSWER button and cleared her throat. “What’s going on?”
Emily took a shaky breath. “Jordan’s murderer is dead.”
Hanna frowned. “Is that good?”
“Of course it’s not good!” Emily screeched. “Hanna, Ali killed her! She recruits these crazy minions to work for her, and then she disposes of them like Kleenexes!”
Hanna chewed on her thumbnail. Every time she heard Emily’s twitchy, unhinged tone lately, her stomach hurt a little bit worse. “Are you sure Ali did it?” she asked tentatively. “Is there any evidence?”
Emily sighed. “That would be too easy. You just don’t understand.” With a groan, she hung up.
Hanna stared at her phone. Then she dialed Emily’s number again, but it rang and rang and rang. Was Emily actually mad at her? Should Hanna have just agreed without asking questions? Thank goodness Emily had already agreed to go to the Rosewood Rallies tonight—at least there they could keep an eye on her.
Then she glanced at herself in the mirror once more, trying her best to push her worry aside. Rolling her shoulders, she stepped out of the trailer, teetered down the steps in her high, strappy sandals, and walked into an adjacent trailer that served as Hank’s office—Hanna had chosen to visit him that afternoon because she knew they had a break in shooting and he wouldn’t be busy.
She took another deep breath and knocked on the door. There was a cough, and Hank opened it, the smell of cigarette smoke swirling out of the small, cramped space. “Hanna!” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Come in, come in.”