Toxic

21 I’LL BE YOUR BEST FRIEND. . . .

“And that’s why we’re not friends anymore, Hanna Marin,” Hanna said harshly, eyeing Hailey under the hot set lights. Her Naomi Zeigler wig tickled her scalp, but she resisted scratching it. “Because you’re crazy. And you’re a liar. And there’s only so much a girl can take.”

Instead of Hailey looking shocked, as the script dictated, she stared glassily at the wall, almost asleep. A beat too late, she snapped to attention. “But, Naomi,” she whined. “You don’t, like, know the whole story.”

“Cut!” Hank bellowed. “The lighting is all wrong.”

The bell rang. Everyone snapped out of character, and Hailey fell gratefully into a raffia couch. “Oh my God,” she murmured, slinging a hand over her eyes. “I feel like death.”

“Late night?” Hanna asked cautiously. Hailey did look exhausted. Despite hours in hair and makeup, her hair was limp and her face was sallow and puffy. And even when she smiled, she seemed pissed off, like she was ready to lose it.

“Yeah, but super fun.” Hailey pulled her hand away from her eyes and peered at Hanna. “I was going to invite you, too, but you never texted me back.”

She sounded hurt. Hanna suddenly remembered Hailey’s “can you talk” text that had come in just as she’d pulled into Turkey Hill yesterday. She had completely forgotten to call Hailey, though maybe that was a good thing. Right now the last thing she needed was to get in more trouble. Every time she talked to Mike on the phone during his breaks at soccer camp, that horrible image of her and Jared kissing swirled in her head.

Hank made his adjustments, then ducked behind the wall again. “I need you to reply more quickly this time, Hailey,” he shouted out. “You missed your cue.”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “What does he know?” she murmured to Hanna under her breath. “I’m the one who’s been in twelve major motion pictures and two hit TV shows.”

Hanna stuck her tongue into her cheek. How much longer could she watch Hailey butcher her character? She said nothing as she walked back to her first marker.

Hank called action, and they started the scene again. This time, Hailey not only missed her cue, she completely bungled most of her lines or else breezed through them tonelessly. Hank yelled cut again. Hailey fell onto the couch once more. “How long is this going to take?”

Hank ran out from behind the wall and walked right up to Hailey, towering over her. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

Hailey’s eyes narrowed. “Huh?”

“You missed your cue.” Hank placed his hands on his hips. “Again. And I couldn’t even make out most of your lines. You had no inflection. And your eyes were completely dead.”

Daniel, Hank’s assistant, rushed up behind him with the scene’s script fastened to a clipboard. Hanna took a small step away from him—he still creeped her out—but he was paying no attention to her. His long finger searched down the page, finding the line. “Halfway through, you were supposed to say, ‘Naomi, there’s something you need to know,’ not just ‘Hey, Naomi.’”

Hailey made a face. “So?”

Hank looked at the cameraman. “Okay, we’re going to have to retake that. Again.” He rolled his eyes and started back to his chair, muttering something under his breath. It sounded like, “And this time, Hailey, try not to show the world you’re hungover.”

Hailey straightened up. “Excuse me?”

Hank trundled on, still muttering.

“Hey!” Hailey called after him. “I asked you a question!”

Hank still didn’t answer. “Uh, may I remind you that I’m the star here?” Hailey bellowed. “And you’re just the overweight, washed-up director!”

Her words rang out through the room. Hanna gasped. She was pretty sure everyone else on set did, too.

Hank wheeled around, eyes blazing. “You’re out of line, Hailey.”

Hailey raised her chin. “That’s what you get for talking behind my back.”

Hank gritted his teeth. “Maybe you deserved it. Your head isn’t in this. Your behavior is unacceptable. You’re always late, you’re always hungover, and your bad performance after bad performance is bringing down the quality of this whole production.”

His voice rang out through the high-ceilinged room, and after he finished talking, there was dead silence. Hailey blinked hard, as if Hank had just punched her in the stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it fast, tears welling in her big blue eyes.

Hanna’s stomach swirled around and around. She’d prayed for Hank to finally get through to Hailey, but hated that it was going down like this. This was so public. So embarrassing.

Hank sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and seemed to center himself. “Either you straighten up and actually listen to me, or you’re gone,” he said in a calmer voice. “You understand?”

Hailey turned away slightly. “You can’t fire me.”

“Hailey . . . ,” Hank warned.

Hailey raised her hand to cut him off. “Because I quit.”

Then she wheeled around, shoved Daniel out of the way, and stormed to her dressing room, slamming the door so hard some of the high overhead lights shook. In seconds, Hanna could hear her on the phone with someone—her agent, maybe. Hailey sounded furious.

Hanna dared to look around the set. Every single actor stood stock-still, awkward looks on their faces. The cameraman gripped the sides of the camera, his jaw slack. The hairstylist’s mouth was a perfect O. The production assistants nudged each other, and one of the guys in catering was already typing away on his phone.

It suddenly felt so hot inside the room. Hanna turned and fled for the side door, needing some air. She exited into the same alley that had spooked her the other day, though it was now bright, airy, and completely unthreatening. She peered down at the pavement. The BreAk a leg, Hanna message was gone.

“Ouch,” said a voice. Hanna turned around. Jared had stepped out onto the ramp next to her.

Hanna nodded, gesturing to the building. “Should I go to Hailey’s dressing room and see if she’s okay?”

Jared shook his head. “Let her cool down. Call her tomorrow.” He ran his hands over his thick hair. “It sucks, though. They’ll have to replace her on such short notice.”

Hanna rolled her jaw. She hadn’t thought about that. “Who do you think they’ll get?”

“I don’t know, but hopefully someone way better.”

Hanna’s thoughts began to churn. Maybe that was a good thing. Hanna’s character would be redeemed. No one would make fun of her once the film came out. And Hailey would find something else, wouldn’t she? She was a huge star. Her agent probably had something lined up already.

“Like Lucy Hale,” she suggested, suddenly excited. “Or maybe that cute girl on that Netflix series?”

“Actually, I think you should go for it.”

Hanna blinked hard. Jared was staring at her with a completely serious expression. “Excuse me?” she blurted.

Jared sidled closer. “I’m serious,” he murmured. “You’re good—really good. Hank can’t stop talking about you. And we both already know you make a better Hanna Marin than Hailey. . . .”

He smiled leadingly, one eyebrow raised. Hanna lowered her eyes, feeling guilty about what she’d said to Jared about Hailey’s performance—and about the kiss.

But it was true. Hanna thought about how Hank had done nothing but praise her after every scene. Sure, the Hanna role was more demanding and time-consuming than the Naomi part, but Hanna could handle it. Anyway, why hire another actress when the real Hanna was right here, ready and waiting?

Was Hanna ready and waiting? Could she ask for the role? She thought of something Hailey had said in New York: Never pass up an opportunity. You never know where it’s going to take you.

Jared shifted his weight. When Hanna looked up, he was studying her closely, a whisper of a smile on his face as if he knew what Hanna was thinking. “Talk to Hank,” he urged. “All he can say is no.” And then, patting her arm, he turned on his heel and went back to the soundstage.