Hanna pretended to be fascinated with the giant Whole Foods out the window. If only she could covertly hint that, perhaps, Hank had a point. But she had no idea how to say that without sounding mean.
Hailey sighed dramatically after Hanna didn’t reply. “I just wish they’d fire him and find someone new. Between you and me, I wasn’t sure if he and I would mesh from the start. I took the film, though, because I thought it would be a good opportunity. Working with some of the actors, doing a more serious role—it seemed like the right thing to do. That’s my whole philosophy in life, really—never pass up an opportunity. You never know where it’s going to take you.” She leaned back in the leather seat. “It’s how I got my big break, you know. A talent scout spotted me in the mall and asked if I wanted to do a commercial for Barbies. I was like, Uh, I’m ten! Barbies were for babies. But I did it anyway, and look where it got me.”
“Totally,” Hanna agreed, then squeezed Hailey’s hand. Maybe Hailey’s performances would improve as the movie went on. They had to.
Then she thought about the weird situation at the set the other day, after everyone had gone home. Okay, maybe BreAk a leg hadn’t been intended for her, but Daniel had definitely been spooky. She was about to ask Hailey what she knew about Daniel when her friend rose up in her seat and squealed, “We’re here!”
The limo pulled along the curb on an unassuming block on the Lower East Side. Low-slung buildings hunched around them, the Williamsburg Bridge twinkled in the distance, and the street was strangely light on traffic, but bass thundered from somewhere nearby, and the scent of Asian spices wafted through the air. A spotlight shone on a line in front of a velvet rope; hipsters, drag queens, divas, and statuesque model-types waited on the sidewalk. Hanna looked around for a sign that said this was, indeed, the Kill or Be Killed after-party, but then she figured no event as exclusive would have to announce itself like that.
Hailey blew a kiss to the limo driver and swung out of the car, careful to keep her long, thin legs pinned together. She pulled Hanna out with her, and the two tumbled up to the bouncer, an intimidating-looking guy with squinty eyes, pale blond hair, and a black patterned tattoo near his left eye.
“Sven, my boy!” Hailey bleated, throwing her arms around his burly neck.
The bouncer grinned and lifted the rope. “For you and your gorgeous friend.”
Hailey flounced in, and Hanna followed her, feeling everyone in the line glaring. “Who is that with Hailey?” came the whispers. “Where do I know her from?” “She’s got to be famous.”
Hanna grinned.
They walked into a room whose walls were covered in mosaics and whose glossy tables held explosions of fresh flowers in large, bulbous vases. Plushy booths packed with fabulously dressed people lined the walls, and bartenders scurried behind a bar that looked as if it was made entirely of gold. Everyone Hanna passed was more beautiful than the last. They all turned to Hailey with huge, welcoming smiles.
“You’re back, girl!” said a guy who Hanna was almost positive was the model for Armani. He leaned toward Hailey and gave her air kisses.
“Come to our table!” cried a girl with big, beautiful doe eyes and the most gorgeous, long black hair Hanna had ever seen. After a moment, Hanna realized she was a Victoria’s Secret model named BiBi. Mike totally had a crush on her.
BiBi yanked Hailey toward a banquette, but Hailey planted her feet. “Maybe in a bit, Beebs. I want to spend some quality time with my bestie here,” she said, squeezing Hanna’s arm. “This is Hanna, my costar—and the most awesome girl in the world.”
“Great to meet you, sweetie,” BiBi said in her French accent, kissing Hanna lightly on the cheek. Hanna wanted to respond—maybe something about how Mike was her biggest fan, or what it was like to wear those Victoria’s Secret angel’s wings—but Hailey yanked her toward a small, cordoned-off area marked VIP, at the back of the club. Inside, people who were somehow even more beautiful mingled around a horseshoe-shaped, platinum-colored bar.
Hanna tried to remain cool, but her stomach was swooping. She’d never been in a VIP section before. There had better be a celebrity blogger in there, or maybe someone from Us Weekly. She needed people to know about this.
Hailey winked at the bouncer, and he lifted the VIP rope for both of them. She sauntered toward an empty banquette, and Hanna followed. On the way, Hailey snatched a bottle of champagne from a waiter’s tray. She pulled at the cork with her fingers, and it eventually gave way with a festive pop. Foam spilled from the lip and onto the floor. Hailey tipped up the bottle into her mouth, then passed it to Hanna. Hanna looked around, feeling a little foolish, but took a swig, too.
Then they fell into the velvet seats. At each place setting was a small, quilted gift bag. Hanna eagerly looked inside. There was a (big!) bottle of Bond No. 9 High Line perfume, a small box of Godiva chocolates, an advance DVD copy of Kill or Be Killed, and a gift card to Bliss Spa. Hanna squealed with delight.
Hailey examined her gift bag, too, then regarded Hanna eagerly. “So? Is this okay?”
Hanna almost coughed up a swallow of champagne. “Are you kidding me?” She gestured around. “I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Good.” Hailey looked relieved. “I hope this is the start of a whole bunch of fun girls’ nights.”
Once again, Hanna was touched. It was so sweet that Hailey wanted to do all this for her.
A waiter appeared, and Hailey ordered everything on the menu in tasting portions. More champagne was poured, and every few minutes, someone Hanna recognized—a famous magazine editor from Project Runway, a breakout fashion designer, a guest host from American Idol, that guy who’d won a bunch of gold medals in swimming in the last Olympics, and, of course, a bunch of the Kill or Be Killed actors—stopped by to give Hailey props. Hailey introduced Hanna to each of them, and the more champagne Hanna drank, the more outgoing she felt. Soon enough, she was chatting with this season’s It Model about the beauty of T-straps. When a hot, up-and-coming singer-songwriter asked Hanna to dance, she got up and whirled around for three blissful minutes, her cheeks hot and her head light.