HDU

by India Lee

  “You’re a pretty far walk from the subway, so maybe take cabs at night, because Avenue C can get shady after like, 10pm,” she had said before handing over the keys. “Also, the guy who lives downstairs is psychotic – he’s going to pound on the door at 1am if he hears you walking around ‘cause the floors are super creaky, so you should try to tip-toe or just go to sleep by the time he does. Which is around ten-thirty. But sometimes earlier.”

  It wasn’t extremely inspiring, but for the price, the place was the best deal Amanda could find in the shortest amount of time, and she’d been determined to be on her own. The concierge at the hotel had informed her that her suite was still being paid for, but it didn’t feel right to stay if the perk was no longer part of a working contract. And of course, the room made her think of Liam and she needed badly to forget about him. It wasn’t as if she could resort to calling him for further explanation or writing him emotional emails in order to find closure. It was business.

  So after a few days of sheepish tears and Craigslist perusing, Amanda moved out. Liam wasn’t out of her head yet – not even close – but she was determined not to let him define New York for her the way Megan and Brandt did St. Louis. So she threw herself into an array of distractions as she had with her last breakup. Then, she’d eaten a lot of Oreos and read tons of celebrity news articles for comfort. This time, since she was in those articles, it was a different routine.

  During her first day on her own, she researched how to best sell the cashmere coat that Liam had bought for her from Barneys. By the second day, the media had begun calling to ask if they were still together, so she distracted herself by turning off her phone and dedicating her time to finding Ian, who’d been MIA since the L.A debacle. But his apartment was empty, his phone went unanswered and his social media accounts were inactive. The futile search had twisted Amanda’s stomach with guilt and worry – though some of the wrenching was probably also thanks to hunger. By the third day on her own, Amanda had resolved to subsisting on Cup Noodles, what with no job and half her savings tied down to a few months of rent.

  At least by day four, she seemed to be thinking slightly less about Liam. But then of course, he texted.

  On the plane to Omaha and just wanted to thank you for everything, Amanda. I obviously couldn’t have done this without you. Take care.

  She’d reacted to the message with a face as if she’d smelled something putrid. He was back to that stupid cordial tone, which she found insulting despite the fact that though they no longer shared any sort of relationship. But she simply missed the real Liam. Which is pathetic, she told herself. Being heartbroken over a breakup was normal, but this hadn’t been a real relationship, so she couldn’t let herself indulge in those feelings. The idea of getting hung up over a fake boyfriend made Amanda actually shiver with embarrassment. Don’t be a freakshow, she scolded herself. It was one month and it meant nothing to him. He’s Liam Brody for God’s sake, he’s probably already forgotten about you. Do the same to him.

  It seemed an impossible task during the first week of the breakup, but oddly, once the news of their split was confirmed, Amanda’s feelings of dejection promptly vanished. She no longer had time for them, what with the sudden tornado of media attention.

  “Where we goin’ dressed all nice today?” the spiky-haired paparazzo asked as he and the others followed her down the subway station, through the turnstile and along the platform. “What’s this big meeting at Yorke Tower, I heard about?” he asked, surprising Amanda. But before she could wonder how he had found out about her day’s schedule, she rolled her eyes to herself. Of course he had – the paparazzi had been positively stalking her every move in the past few days.

  Rather than fall straight into obscurity once the breakup was announced, Amanda had found herself catapulted into high demand, and the paparazzi presence was the least of it. Her inbox and voicemail had been suddenly flooded with offers from celebrity news sites, all naming their prices in exchange for details of her shattered romance. The world was clamoring for a juicier explanation and since the tabloids surely wouldn’t get one out of Liam, who never once commented on his breakups, they turned to Amanda for the scoop. While most magazines maintained Liam’s changed ways, the tabloids were spinning the story of how he had just cheated on his most innocent victim yet. After all, nasty headlines sold better than nice ones. And the only thing better than a nasty headline was one validated by the scorned ex. Those kinds of exclusives could easily make millions.

  That was probably why Pop Dinner had offered Amanda fifteen thousand dollars for an interview. “We can do it by phone if you want, but we’ll add incentives if you come for a meeting at our offices. We’ll ask just a few of the main things that people are curious about. You’re welcome to answer ‘no comment’ if you feel uncomfortable. It won’t go longer than ten minutes,” they had written in an email. Amanda had stared at it for five minutes straight, unable to help her awe over the chance at such quick and easy money. It wasn’t as if Liam’s contract prohibited her from making up some sappy quotes for an interview. “No, I am quite sure he didn’t cheat! Yes, we’ve both learned a great deal from this relationship!” Something like that. She needed the cash. Fifteen thousand dollars was about eight times more than any amount of money she’d ever saved up in her life. The offer had actually made her weak in the knees when she read it.

  But she declined.

  By simply lending her name to Pop Dinner, she’d be legitimizing the exclusive that they’d sell under some completely twisted headline like “LIAM’S SEX ADDICTION: AMANDA TELLS ALL.” She trusted that they’d be so shameless – after all, they’d already slandered both her and Liam in the past, so despite her high price, she’d only feel cheap for giving them an exclusive. And desperate, considering the only types of “celebrities” who actually sat down with Pop Dinner were the drunk, estranged fathers of B-listers or former reality stars promoting their completely auto-tuned debut singles. From years of moderating HDU, Amanda knew that those kinds were regarded as the lowest of the low, the types who eventually had to convince themselves that being hated meant being envied. Amanda could never survive that kind of life – she was too self-conscious to be delusional. She would much rather work another administrative job than live off easy money for six months but spend the rest of her life with a shot reputation. It wasn’t the logic of someone aiming to be “famous for being famous,” but Amanda was beginning to realize that “famous for being famous” wasn’t what she wanted after all.

  Apparently, the realization proved all she needed to land a real job and legitimate claim to fame. It was still hard to believe as she reported for her meeting in Midtown’s iconic Yorke Tower, home to Yorke Publications.

  “I’ve adored you since the day I met you, but I couldn’t convince everyone here that you were a hidden talent and not some… famewhore.” Wendy cringed at the word as she sat across Amanda in her forty-fifth floor office. She leaned back in her Herman Miller desk chair. “I mean, anyone can be in the headlines these days, it’s just a matter of what kind they want to lend their name to. People don’t seem to care anymore that there’s a difference between respect and attention. But at least there are still some with an ounce of shame left – who’ll turn down Pop Dinner no matter what the price,” she said with a smile. “Those are the only types of people we employ here at June Magazine.”

  It had yet to sink in for Amanda that she was within that “type” of employable people. After news leaked that she had turned down the offer from Pop Dinner, she received a call from Wendy Krentz and proposal on behalf of June Magazine. To her amazement, what they wanted from her was an advice column.

  “‘Ordinary Girl in the Extraordinary World,” Wendy exhaled. “‘Think something’s out of your league? Afraid you can’t rise up to the occasion? Tell it to Amanda Nathan and she might just prove you wrong.’”

  Wendy set a heavy Tiffany pen next to the contract that sat before Amanda on the desk. Amanda blinked at it, st
ill stunned. After all the things that had gone wrong since arriving in New York, had the moment she and Ian been planning for all along really, finally just happened? Her blog – her two-entry blog – had actually earned her a job, and one for a company as legendary as Yorke Publications. Amanda’s foot jiggled with the urge to run out of the room and call Ian to break the good news – perhaps if she texted it to him first, he’d finally pick up her call. It had to be too incredible for him to ignore.

  “We’re going to start your column as online content for our website and pending its popularity, we’ll take it to print,” explained the pointy-nosed woman in her forties who stood behind Wendy’s chair. She had been introduced to Amanda as Thea Zeigler, the blonde editor-in-chief of June Magazine who had been entirely quiet thus far and, Amanda assumed, one of the people who had previously mistaken her for a famewhore. Having been the replacement for the magazine’s last, infamous editor-in-chief, she was no doubt on constant alert for anything potentially harmful to the magazine’s image. Her red lips had been pursed with skepticism throughout the meeting, but she was at least trying to twist them into some sort of smile as she addressed Amanda. “I do see great potential in a column like this, though of course, I’m judging from a small sample size of your writing.” She shrugged one shoulder and raised her eyebrows. “At the same time, I do find it impressive that you’ve managed to capture so many women across the country with just a few little posts. So I’m more than happy to give this venture a try.”

  “Thank you,” Amanda breathed, remembering to speak. She reminded herself to stop bouncing her knee with excitement, especially as Thea began to outline the terms of her employment. Quite simply, she was under contract with June Magazine for a year, required to write monthly advice columns and partake in whatever roundtable discussions they conducted (“June’s Writers Discuss Their Personal Detox Secrets!” or “Staff Picks: Beach Reads That Won’t Make You Fall Asleep and Get Sunburned”). The salary was worth slightly less than Pop Dinner’s offer, but that didn’t matter to Amanda considering the benefits and prestige of working for June Magazine. Besides, Wendy mentioned opportunities to be assigned stories that were paid by the word. It was really too good to be true.

  “And it can all be done from the comfort of your home or, if you prefer, here at the office – since you might concentrate better in an actual work environment,” Wendy beamed. Amanda tried not to nod too eagerly, but the idea of actually reporting to work at Yorke Tower was too overwhelmingly exciting. Aside from the fact that she’d seen the iconic building in famous photography and films, it was home to nearly a dozen other magazines and bustled daily with interesting activity. It was the perfect place to meet people and start her new life in the city.

  “And finally, the catch,” Thea cleared her throat. Shit. Amanda froze and blinked, staring intently. Of course there’s a catch. Why didn’t you think there’d be a catch? Thea laughed at her expression. “It’s nothing big, you’re just under a bit of a ‘good behavior’ clause. Do you know what that is?”

  Amanda nodded slowly. She had moderated HDU for long enough to know that good behavior clauses were sometimes implemented by studios into an actor’s contract, generally to keep any personal drama or outside controversy from marring the film or show’s image. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard of them being used for writers.

  “We obviously have a reputation to uphold here with who we bring onto our staff, and it’s a bit funny, Amanda – you’re currently walking a fine line between solid B-list and complete D-list,” Thea said, still planted behind Wendy’s chair. Amanda raised her eyebrows, sneaking a glance at Wendy, who could only give an apologetic look as Thea continued. “People like you so far because you haven’t made any missteps. Yet. Obviously, turning down Pop Dinner for June Magazine keeps your streak alive. But the public hasn’t known you long, so the first questionable thing you do can turn them against you. And since you don’t have a manager or publicist, I’ll just give you some very easy and simple advice that’ll be your key to keeping a good image. Are you ready to take it?” Thea’s lips returned to a purse that suggested there was only one answer to her question.

  “Yes,” Amanda said. “Of course.”

  “Good.” Thea clasped her skinny hands together. “Part one is to keep Casey Mulreed and Dylan Hardy close to you.”

  Amanda flinched but nodded eagerly to disguise it. She wasn’t sure if it was the mention of Casey or Dylan that caused her nervous reaction, but she could tell that Wendy thought it was the latter as she winked at her knowingly. Right, she thinks I’m still in love with him, Amanda remembered. She’d almost forgotten that Wendy had been the one to tip off Casey to her crush on Dylan, totally oblivious to the damage she’d be doing.

  “Now, those two – June Magazine adores working with them,” Thea said. “In fact…” she trailed off, rolling her eyes at Wendy teasingly. “Would you like to tell her?”

  Amanda cocked an eyebrow as Wendy turned to her with half her coy smile bitten back. “This was my idea and I hope you’ll forgive me, but your first assignment is to interview Dylan tomorrow.”

  Amanda stared blankly. “What?”

  “At the Thierry Marc luncheon. Just get a few words about his arts foundation that’s launching next week. It’ll be a pleasant little surprise for him.”

  Amanda blinked. Holy shit. She had no idea how to interview, nor did she know who Thierry Marc was, or even what the difference between the words “lunch” and “luncheon” were. Wendy seemed to read her mind.

  “Don’t worry. I’m attending as well so it’s not all on you. And in case you don’t know, Thierry Marc is the fashion designer they’re honoring tomorrow. Dylan will be there because he actually started his career modeling for him.”

  I knew that, Amanda realized. As a teenager, she had tracked his old modeling photos online and printed them out, using them to wallpaper her bedroom. She hadn’t known then who the designer was because that wasn’t what mattered to her. All she cared about was the fact that Dylan was gorgeous. Is gorgeous, Amanda corrected herself. Suddenly, it was her turn to bite her lip back as she smiled. Wendy grinned.

  “I had a feeling you’d be pleased! I mean, what better way to get over a breakup, right?”

  Amanda blushed. “Oh no, I’m not…”

  Wendy waved her hand. “No need to explain, just tell me that you’re excited and ready to go. We’ll messenger you a few Thierry dresses to pick from today and I’ll have a car waiting outside your apartment by tomorrow morning. How’s that sound to you?”

  Amanda was speechless. How could it sound anything but amazing? It was intimidating, sure, but attending the giant event was now her job so there was no declining the invitation. Amanda could only answer Wendy with a laugh of disbelief. She was being paid to wear designer clothing, attend some glamorous luncheon and interview a celebrity. It was a nerve-racking assignment, but at least it was with Dylan, someone Amanda already knew and liked. After reminiscing about her teenaged bedroom wallpapered with his pictures, she was actually kind of looking forward to see him again, despite how they’d left off in L.A. And unless his feelings had changed since then, he’d be looking forward to seeing her too. She was single now, after all. And I’ll make sure I look good.

  Suddenly, Amanda couldn’t wait to go. Wendy wasn’t wrong – Dylan was a good distraction from the breakup. And as she’d been telling herself, she needed to move on.

  “Now for part two of my advice,” Thea said, rounding over to the front of the desk. She leaned against it and tried that smile again. “I know you’re not a party girl, so I’m not concerned about you getting arrested or caught doing coke or anything. Your biggest risk is being associated with those sloppy types, since they tend to wreak general havoc for the people around them. So if you work with June Magazine, Amanda, you have a responsibility to steer clear of that kind of drama.” Gemma watched as Thea plucked up the Tiffany pen to place it into her hand. “More specifically, by signing, yo
u promise that you wouldn’t ever let yourself be seen again near your old friend Ian Marsh.”

  - Chapter 13 -

  BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WILL ASK: WHO DID LIAM CHEAT ON AMANDA WITH?

  Pop Dinner

  February 20

  Sorry to break it to you, but your fairy tale couple was a sham. Let’s be honest here – any romance that involves an unremarkable size 8 and a faithful Liam Brody exists in the same universe as fairies and unicorns. Hate to say it, but we told you so!

  Now, onto the pressing question: with whom did Liam Brody cheat on poor, unsuspecting Amanda Nathan? It had to have happened. Was it a past co-star? A present co-star? The new Victoria’s Secret Angel? All of the above? Realistically, it could very well be the last option, but we at Pop Dinner are working on a special story for you, as we’ve recently come across an interesting tip that could explain the unraveling of Liamanda. We’ll give you a hint: It comes from a very sexy source, and we’ve spoken of her before.

  Dying of suspense? Be patient, gossip lovers – details are soon to come.

  Amanda stared out the window as her town car cruised up along the East River. She kept her bejeweled fingers pressed against her borrowed clutch so she could feel if her cell vibrated. She preferred to hold it in her hand in case Ian called back, but for the luncheon, the chipped Samsung flip phone had to be concealed, hidden away from her otherwise pristine designer outfit.

  Underneath her borrowed tweed jacket was the dress she had picked from the three that Wendy sent. It was tight and white, two terrifying elements she normally avoided in fashion – but this dress was different. Its peplum waist hid her not-quite-flat tummy and gave her a remarkable hourglass silhouette. Paired with her onyx rings and black pumps – also courtesy of June Magazine – Amanda actually felt stylish enough for the high fashion luncheon.