Will the Real Abi Sanders Please Stand Up? (18 page)

“So, how do you think she’s doing? It’s uncanny how like Tilly she is.” I recognize Bryan’s voice.

He’s talking about me. At least he thinks I’m doing okay. Maybe it’s not as bad as I think it is. I wait, anxious, for the response.

“I know. I didn’t think she’d be able to step up to the mark so well.”

A shiver of excitement runs down my spine. It’s Jon, and he’s talking about me to Bryan. The girls in the bathroom were just being catty. I knew Jon wouldn’t let me make a fool of myself.

“I didn’t either,” says Bryan. “And she’s so easy to be with, not at all demanding, like Tilly. It’s been a real pleasure working with her.”

I wrap my arms around me and lean against the stair rail, smiling to myself. Heat radiates through my chest, and I feel so happy and content.

“Yes, she certainly takes direction well and never utters a word when Zac starts hollering,” says Jon.

Liv will never believe this when I tell her. Me being talked up by celebrities.

“And she’s so easy to manipulate,” Bryan says.

His words land like a ball of lead in my stomach. Manipulate? What does he mean by that?

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon says.

See, Jon doesn’t get what he means either. So screw you, Bryan.

“Of course, it helps that she’s got the hots for you.” Bryan laughs, a lot louder this time.

“Yes, it definitely helps.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Would you date her?”

Beads of perspiration form on my brow. I don’t care what they said about being able to manipulate me. It’s Jon’s answer to this question that’s most important. Please let him say yes. Please.

“Nah. She’s a sweet kid. But not my type. I’ve never gone for the sweet and innocent.” He pauses.

But I can be different. I don’t have to be
sweet and innocent.
I can be more like Tilly if he would just give me a chance. I ignore the voice in my head that’s recoiling at my wanting to change for a boy.

“She did me a huge favor, though, coming here,” he continues. “Getting ‘Tilly’ to this premiere was guaranteed publicity for the movie.”

“Let her down gently, then. We might need her to stand in for Tilly again.”

“As long as she doesn’t open her mouth.” Jon says. “With her st-st-stutter, Hicksville accent, and ragdoll personality, it would be a disaster.”

Chapter Twenty

My body tenses, and it’s all I can do to stop my legs from giving way. I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole. To take me somewhere safe. I’d give anything to discover that Jon hadn’t really said what I just heard. That I ate or drank something that’s giving me hallucinations. Anything. Except I know that’s not true. I know that I’m here, and Jon’s there with Bryan, and they’re talking about me. ME.

My pulse is speeding, and my jaw’s set so hard my teeth are aching. I’ve got to get away from here before anyone sees me. Especially Jon.

Somehow, I manage to force my legs into action, turn and half run, half stumble back up the steps, and all the time Jon’s words are echoing over and over in my head.
Sweet. Innocent. Hicksville. Ragdoll. Sweet. Innocent. Hicksville. Ragdoll.

And then Matt’s words ring in my head. “They’re so fake. Especially that Jon.”

I’ve been such an idiot.

Reaching the top of the steps, I push open the door and then stop. Where should I go? No way am I going back into the party. How could I possibly face everyone knowing what they all think of me?

So where then?

I force myself to focus, except my mind’s a total blank, until I suddenly remember the bathroom. I can go back there and be out of the way. And then think about what to do next.

Like I want to think.

Like I want to do anything other than crawl into a hole in the ground and stay there forever.

When I get to the bathroom, I go back into the stall I just vacated, sit down, place my head in my hands, and let out a long groan. I feel sick to my stomach. Never in my whole life has anyone been so awful to me.

Never. Never. NEVER.

All this time I thought Jon felt something for me, and that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He only ever thought of me as sweet.
Sweet.
Who wants to be sweet? Or easy to manipulate? He was just using me. Even if it would be a
disaster
to have me open my mouth with my
stutter
and
Hicksville accent
. And I fell for it. God, I’m such an idiot. Liv and Matt were both right about him, but I chose to ignore all the signs.

Plus, it didn’t just affect me. Look at all the times I have let my friends down. Not returning calls or texts. Not going to the dojo. Missing the party. Choosing the movie crowd over them. How would I feel if Liv and Matt gave me the brush off so often? I’d have been devastated. But they’re better friends to me than I am to them, because they’ve never done anything like that to me. Okay, so maybe they’ve taken me for granted a bit in the past. But that’s what being a friend is all about. It’s definitely not about how I’ve been toward them.

And I’ve lied to Mom and Dad about who I’m here with, because I knew what they’d say if they found out the truth. I’ve been the biggest jerk on the planet. In the universe, even.

A low moan escapes my lips, and then the floodgates open. Tears pour down my cheeks, and I’m helpless to stop them. I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, and black smudges appear all over them. Running mascara. The least of my problems.

Why did I ever think Tilly’s lifestyle was one to wish for? Even after seeing firsthand how it affects her. How it’s destroying her. How she’s hounded by the media, trashed by the public, and dumped on by her mom. Yet, I still wanted to be her. Wanted her
awesome
life. Wanted Jon.

Oh, God.

How stupid was I, thinking I’d have a chance with Jon? All those times when he put his arm around me and kissed me. Well, not
kissed
me, as in full-on, apart from the time he thought I was Tilly, but on the cheek. It was just a game to him. One big ego-boosting game. He knew I liked him, and he used it to his advantage. He probably went back and told Tilly how stupid I was being over him. Yeah. What fun they would’ve had at my expense. Their very own floor show.

Crap, crap, and a million, trillion times crap.

“Tilly, are you in there?” The sound of Jon’s voice cuts into my thoughts.

He’s outside. What should I do?

I can’t face him. I just can’t. Apart from the fact that my face must look disgusting with makeup smeared all over it, what would I say to him?

“I’m coming in.”

NO. This is like…

I hear the door open and quickly jump on the seat so he can’t see my feet if he looks under the door. I keep absolutely still for what seems like forever, praying he doesn’t climb up and look over.

“She’s not in here, Bryan,” he says a few moments later, the frustration showing in his voice. “Where the hell’s she gone now? She can’t just disappear when we…” His voice fades away as the door closes behind him.

I can’t believe what’s happened. I’m so embarrassed about everything. And I never want to see Jon again.

Well, I’m not hanging around here, I’m going back to the hotel and then home. I come out of the stall and double check to make sure Jon really isn’t here. I wouldn’t put it past him to have pretended to have left to get me to come out.

He isn’t here. No one is. Hopefully he’s just gone back to the party and forgotten all about me. Though I guess that is hardly likely, knowing my luck. I check my face in the mirror and wipe away some of the black smudges with the back of my hand, but it doesn’t make much difference. I don’t care though, because all I’m going to do is go outside and flag down a cab to take me back to the hotel. Thank goodness I decided to bring some cash with me. I don’t know why I did, because Jon had said I wouldn’t need any.

I leave the bathroom and walk toward the entrance, keeping my head down. As I get to the door, I reach out and take hold of the big brass S-shaped handle.

“Abi. Tilly. Wait.” I stop in my tracks and swallow hard, as my stomach plummets to the floor. So much for managing to avoid Jon.

“What are you doing?” Jon says, from behind me. “Everyone is wondering where you are. Quick, get…” I turn my head. “What the hell have you done to your face? You’re spoiling everything, you silly girl.”

Silly girl? How dare he? Suddenly, I’m fueled with such anger, it’s like it’s going to burst out of my whole body. “Me?” I shout. “Me spoiling everything? What about you?” I glare at him.

“What are you doing? Shut up, people will hear you.” He grabs hold of my arm and squeezes it.

“I-I-I don’t care if the whole world hears me!” I yank my arm away from him and rub it. “I’ve had it with you and all this.” I sweep my arm back to indicate the gaudy lobby.

“Abi, please.” His tone is softer, but I know it’s fake. He’s only trying to persuade me to do what he wants.

“Lay off the charm, Jon.” Is that my voice? I’ve never sounded so sarcastic and in control before in my life. I must have learned more from Tilly than I realized.

“But…”

“Forget the
buts
. I know what you think of me.”

“What are you talking about? You mean the world to me. Tell me why you’re being like this. Come on, we’ve still got time to get you cleaned up and back inside.” He rests his arm across my shoulder, and I pull away.

“I’m not going back there. Not now. Not ever.
Sweet ragdoll Abi
won’t be
manipulated
anymore.”

It’s like watching a slow-motion picture as my words penetrate. He goes from having a look of concern on his face, to a blank look, to one of shock. All in the space of a few seconds.

“You heard,” he states quietly.

“Yes.”

“We didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah, right. And if you didn’t mean it, I’m actually Tilly Watson. Look.” I grab hold of my wig, pull it off, and wave it about furiously. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going, and don’t try to stop me.” I take a step toward the door but stop when Jon’s hand rests on my arm.

“Abi, please. We need you.”

“Yes, to boost your reputation. Because it makes you seem special if you have Tilly on your arm. Or me pretending to be her, as long as I don’t open my mouth, of course. And why should I care about that?” I fold my arms and assume Liv’s I-am-a-wall-and-you’re-not-getting-anything-past-me goalie stance. And it feels good.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I need you. You’ve no idea what I stand to lose if I screw this up.”

Foolishly, I allow my eyes to lock with his, and my heart lurches. It must be hard for him, always living in Tilly’s shadow. Really, she manipulates him as much as he’s manipulated me. “Well…” I hesitate.

“I knew you’d understand. I’m relying on Tilly to pull a few strings and get me a part in her next movie. I can’t jeopardize that now. Come on, let’s fix you back up.” His too-slick tone jolts me out of my Jon-induced trance. He has a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and it takes all my resolve not to smack it off. He’s manipulating me again. I don’t believe it. And to think I nearly fell for it.

Before I have time to reply, I’m blinded by a flash.

Jon swings round to face a man with a camera. “Stop now. Or you’ll get more than a photo.”

“Really?” The guy takes another shot. “Hey, Tilly…or whoever you are…look this way.”

Jon lunges at him and tries to grab the camera, but the paparazzo steps to the side. Jon moves again, making a fist and drawing back his arm. But he’s not quick enough. The guy gets out of the way, and Jon is left swinging his arm in mid-air.

Without thinking further, I lunge forward until I’m standing between them, easily deflecting Jon’s ridiculous attempt at punching the other guy.

“Stop it,” I snap, glaring from one to the other.

Don’t ask me why, but they actually listen to me, and both remain glued to the spot. Probably shock more than anything. It’s not every day someone my size tries to tackle two guys.

“You don’t understand,” Jon pleads with me. “If this goes viral, Tilly will be finished.”

And he expects me to believe that’s all he cares about? Hmmm? This is more to do with how he’s going to look. Which, from where I’m standing, isn’t good. Anyway, after all the other things Tilly’s done, surely this will just be something else for her huge PR team to handle. I can’t see it making any difference from her perspective.

“And I’m supposed to care? After what you did to me?” I say. “I hope
you’re
finished. Tilly doesn’t have it easy, and she deserves better than you.”

“You tell him,” the paparazzo says. “You know, doll, I don’t know what’s going on here, but TMZ would pay good money for your story.”

“And you can shut up, too. You’re no better than Jon,” I reply glaring at him. “Tell TMZ they can cram it.”

I turn to leave, and Jon makes a grab for me. But as soon as his hand touches my arm, I step to the side, transfer my weight onto my back leg, lift the other, and roundhouse-kick him in the chest. He loses his balance and his grip, and falls to the floor, and the paparazzo doesn’t waste a second snapping shot after shot.

“That’s how you take your opponent out,” I say, looking down at his face and wondering what on earth I ever saw in him. “And it’s also the last kickboxing lesson you’ll ever get from me.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can even get the words out, I turn on my heels, go outside, and flag down a cab. All I want to do is go home.

Chapter Twenty-one

I run through the hotel reception and through the double doors to the stairs, hoping that no one catches sight of me. When I get to my level, I race along the corridor and then use my keycard to open the door to my hotel room. Then I slam the door behind me and lean against it. I’m screwed. There’s no way I can go back home on the private plane, I’ll have to get there another way.

How can everything be so good one minute and the next minute it all comes crashing down around me? It’s just not fair.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know how I feel.