Hanna’s head shot up. Hailey’s eyes were wide and she looked distraught, but not at Hanna. “I was dreadful, Hanna. I used this stupid voice, and I was chewing gum all the time—I’m not even sure why I did that. My movements were all over the place. My agent was, like, Thank God you got out of that thing. You were a train wreck.”
“No, you weren’t!” Hanna cried automatically.
Hailey lowered her chin. “Don’t lie to me again, Hanna. I was terrible. Hank was right to get rid of me. And you know what? I kind of knew I was terrible, deep down. I never felt right playing you.”
Hanna awkwardly twisted her hands. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” It was all she could think to say.
“Oh, whatever.” Hailey waved her hand. “You know who I do think would be good at playing Hanna Marin? You.”
Hanna laughed nervously. Hailey didn’t look like she was kidding, though. In fact, she was kind of . . . smiling.
“Actually, I don’t think I want the part,” Hanna said. “Not anymore.”
“Are you kidding?” Hailey burst out. “You’ll be amazing in this movie, Hanna—in a way that I wasn’t. So do it for me. Please.”
Hanna blinked hard, astonished this was happening. “I’m sorry I went behind your back and asked Hank. But I really thought you didn’t want the part anymore. I wasn’t trying to be mean, or—”
“I know.” Hailey leaned against Hanna’s trailer. “We’re all good.” She looked contemplative for a moment, then added, “And I’m sorry I sent in that photo to TMZ. That was pretty bitchy of me. I hope Mike isn’t too upset.”
Hanna looked away, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Actually . . . I think it ruined my relationship with Mike forever.”
One corner of Hailey’s mouth inched up slightly. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
Then she turned. The trailer door opened. Mike stood in the doorway, dressed in a lacrosse sweatshirt and jeans and with a sheepish look on his face. Hanna’s mouth dropped open.
“Hey,” he said shyly to Hanna.
“H-hey,” she stammered just as shyly back.
Hailey beamed at both of them. “I called Mike this morning and explained everything, especially about how that kiss with Jared was completely initiated by him and totally harmless.” She smiled broadly. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, Hanna. I wish I were so lucky.”
“Thanks,” Hanna said tentatively. Then she peeked at Mike. He was still smiling. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that kiss.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain,” Mike said. Then he grinned mischievously. “Although, now that you’re a big-shot movie star, do you think you can maybe get that Jared guy fired? I mean, not only do I not want him thinking he can go around kissing you on the reg, but he really doesn’t have my vibe at all.”
Hanna burst out laughing. “Only if you volunteer to play yourself.”
“Done,” Mike said. “Now, come here and hug me so we can make up for the few hours I have until I have to catch a train back to soccer camp.”
Hanna ran up to him and fell into his arms, squeezing him as tightly as she could. It was incredible. In one fell swoop, everything was right again. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if things would just . . . stay this way?
A new sensation blossomed inside her. Hanna basked in the unfamiliar feeling. It was so unknown that at first she couldn’t even put a name to it.
But then she realized what it was. Hope.
33
NO PRESS IS BAD PRESS
Aria parked on a side street in Old Hollis and looked around. The same beat-up Mercedes, vintage Jaguar, and bright orange VW bus surrounded her at the curb. The same potted plants sat on the front stoop of the large Victorian across from the gallery, and the same rainbow gay pride flag waved over the front porch of the Tudor-style house next door. The neighborhood was unchanged. . . . It was only Aria who was different.
An older couple walked out of the gallery hand in hand. Aria crouched down behind a bush, not quite wanting anyone inside to see her yet. She wasn’t ready to do this.
She looked at her phone again. PRETTY LITTLE FRAUD, read the front page of the New York Post. Frank Brenner, the reporter who had called her yesterday, had written about the fake transaction using John Carruthers’s name as a publicity stunt of Aria’s. “‘My mother took the call, so I had to disguise my voice,’” Brenner quoted Aria as saying. He’d also said that Aria had seemed very “distraught” on the phone when he’d called her, clearly because “she was horrified that she’d actually gotten caught.”