by India Lee
“I thought you weren’t going to be such a gentleman tonight,” she whispered. His breathing ragged, he watched her as she took his hands and put them back where they were, squeezing them so they tightened around her.
Within seconds, his fingers were on her hips, grabbing handfuls of her dress to jerk her into him. Amanda took in a sharp breath before smiling with a thrill. Greed and impatience on Dylan made her dizzy with excitement. So she teased him, backing away from his kiss, forcing him to lean in to catch her. Her giggle was a vibrating hum against his lips, which could barely just touch hers. It frustrated him to the point of releasing his handfuls of her dress and instead grabbing her backside to pull her closer. When it was to no avail besides further amusing her, Dylan let go of Amanda’s body, freeing his hands to cup her jaw and part her mouth for his tongue, his midsection keeping her pressed against the wall.
“Ahem.”
But suddenly, of course, an interruption.
Amanda and Dylan tore away from each other to turn and once again see his perpetually high-strung co-chair, this time pale-faced as he stood before them. Hastily, they smoothed their hair and clothing down, muttering sheepishly while doing so. When that part was over with, Dylan pressed his fist to his mouth. A giggle escaped Amanda’s throat when she realized he was trying desperately to suppress laughter.
“Ah, okay… I’m sorry about that, Patrick,” he apologized genuinely. “I’m needed downstairs then, aren’t I?”
Patrick didn’t look at Dylan, his eyes instead turning coldly to Amanda. It was at that point that she noticed the dramatic quiet that had fallen over the museum – no faint echo of violins, not even a low buzz of conversation. Patrick’s jaw was tight as he spoke.
“Your friend is looking for you again.”
Instantly, her heart dropped. Dylan furrowed his brows, in need of clarification, but Amanda didn’t need to even think before flying to the corner of the wall and the railing. She leaned over and looked down the six levels to the rotunda floor.
And there was Ian. Everyone looked like tiny figurines from where she was, but it wasn’t hard for her to spot him standing in the middle of the floor, his leather jacket and jeans amid a sea of tuxedos. Her body registered the scene before her mind did, and the next thing she knew, her feet were flying and already halfway down the spiral ramp. Shit. Soon, all kinds of shouting were audible, among it Ian’s raving voice repeating her name. He sounded scratchy, hoarse – as if he were in desperate need of water. Worse, she could hear the sound of chairs scraping and tumbling on the floor. Fuck! She slowed only to remove her heels so she could sprint the rest of the way down.
Upon reaching the floor, the eyes of the room slowly turned to her – the single guest who could subdue their intruder. Half the stares were concerned, the other half irritated, accusing. Amanda ignored them all to gape at Ian. He had yet to even spot her in his hysteria. Veins bulged from his neck as he shouted toward the ceiling, restrained yet again but possessing a new adrenaline this time – one that made him a difficult task for three large security guards. They could hardly keep him from thrashing, but they didn’t have to try much longer, because when Ian’s eyes finally landed on Amanda, his limbs dropped and his mouth snapped shut. He blinked, his expression bewildered and childlike – as if he had never truly expected her to show.
And suddenly, his face crumpled and burst into tears. His knees buckled and his body went limp in the arms of the guards. Suddenly, they went from containing his rage to supporting his weight. Amanda felt her own knees weaken, as if worn down by the sudden weight of her heart.
“Ian,” she said quietly when she reached him, lightly tapping his hand so he’d stop hanging his neck. He swallowed his sobs, slowly lifting his tear-streaked face though his eyes took a few seconds to follow. When they met hers, more tears streamed down.
“Pretty. I’m sorry.” He could barely enunciate his words. “I can explain – ” he hiccupped. “ – everything. But nobody will listen.”
Amanda swallowed the knot in her throat. “I will,” she said, nodding when he looked at her with surprise. She hadn’t forgotten her agreement with Thea, but she was quickly realizing that she couldn’t ignore Ian in his state. This was the type of rock bottom that preceded a final, tragic one. Whatever his explanation, he deserved her ear. She’d had his during her own lowest point, which she’d escaped thanks only to him. Amanda nodded once more, with conviction. “We’ll go now. Just stand up, Ian, and take a few deep breaths,” she said gently. “And hold tight for a second.”
Amanda ignored the looks of shock and outrage as she split the crowd to approach Dylan. He stood behind the ring of onlookers, watching her from afar in a stunned fog. But before she could reach him, Patrick slid in front of Amanda to stop her.
“You have to leave now,” he said, his eyes wide and his face red as he held her wrist. It wasn’t until then that Dylan awoke from his haze, starting forward in protest. Sensing this, Patrick signaled for help and suddenly, several friends were gently pushing Dylan back. “If he likes you,” Patrick started, his nostrils flaring. “You must be a nice girl. And if you are, you won’t embarrass him further by making him come to you in front of all these guests. You’ll leave now.”
With her adrenaline waning to make room for her guilt, Amanda nodded. She swallowed, glancing up one last time to give Dylan a silent apology that she knew he’d decode. And with that, she obliged and quietly left the party alongside Ian.
IAN MARSH DOES IT AGAIN
March 4, 12:25AM
Posted by derpityderp
HDU via Celeb-o-Matic
Details are still coming in, but according to various reports and tweets, D-lister Ian Marsh has struck the A-list yet again by crashing tonight’s charity dinner for the Dylan Hardy Foundation. Marsh allegedly showed up towards the end of the event in a rage, shouting the name of former friend Amanda Nathan, who was in attendance. Nathan and Hardy arrived to the chaotic scene last (no word on what the previously rumored couple were off doing) and Nathan was eventually forced to calm Marsh by leaving with him.
No parties have commented on the fiasco thus far.
TOP COMMENTS
zaaren1990
YESSS HAAHHA. I TOTALLY CALLED THIS!
minizmercury
ugh this is sad for everyone. and for you people laughing at ian marsh, you obviously have no experience with loved ones who have a sickness. ew at you.
swiffly208
goddamnit amanda nathan stop cursing everyone you hang out with!!!!!
Amanda stared down at her chipped cell phone as she sat on a bench outside the medical center. After twenty-four hours of delay caused by Wendy, Thea had finally called to notify Amanda of her termination from June Magazine. She remembered to be apologetic and gracious on the phone, despite feeling still numb from shock over what Ian had revealed about Casey.
After leaving Dylan’s gala, they had returned directly to his apartment. Exhausted, Ian fell asleep in his bed while Amanda packed a bag for him, filling it with pajamas, slippers, toiletries and books. After making sure that it held his driver’s license and insurance card, she tossed his wallet into the bag as well. They hadn’t been able to discuss much through his drowsy crying in the cab, but she had at least gotten out his most important admission: that he needed help, and that he was willing to stay somewhere to receive proper treatment.
The rest of that night was spent gathering necessary records from Ian’s drawers and researching mental health facilities in Manhattan, so once morning came, Amanda knew which numbers to call and how to inquire. By evening, she had finalized Ian’s self-admittance to a prestigious hospital in the Upper East Side near the river.
It wasn’t until the morning’s car ride over that he began to speak.
“What did people think I did to get arrested?” he asked, his hands folded in his lap. Amanda turned to him.
“No one thinks you got arrested. The news said your parents called the cops and there was nothi
ng to arrest you for, so they just had you leave.”
He nodded while looking down at his hands.
Amanda hesitated. “Why… did they call the cops?” she asked. “Why didn’t they just tell you to go?”
“They did and I said no. Twice. And I guess it offended them. They don’t like having to deal with me.” He ran his finger along the window to make a line in the fog. “It used to not be like that. We used to spend time together when I was younger,” he said, his voice light. “It just got less and less after awhile. Especially after boarding school.”
“Oh.”
“And I guess less became nothing when eight years later, I turned out so different from their friends’ kids.” He let out a bitter laugh. “They’re not exactly proud. The way they see it, they pay for me to stay out of their hair. Just pretend I don’t exist.”
Amanda couldn’t think of what to say in response. She couldn’t imagine parents like that. But she could imagine why Ian, having been raised by such loveless people, might have grown so attached to his first real girlfriend – or rather, her affection.
“Is that what you wanted to explain to me?” Amanda asked softly. Ian blinked at her before shaking his head.
“No. I wanted to finally tell you why I made that film about Casey.”
“Oh… why did you?”
Ian looked back down at his hands. “She asked me to.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
His explanation proceeded to floor her. While Amanda was shocked, she wasn’t actually surprised. There had always been something odd about how such a meticulous person had so carelessly unraveled. As it turned out, Amanda’s vague but nagging suspicions of Casey had been correct all along.
Her manipulation had begun early – when she’d “run into” Ian on Wooster Street, just days after Jaime’s birthday party at Roué. At some lonely, downtown café, she’d heaped praise upon his filmmaking before making her proposal: In exchange for his confidentiality, she would give Ian star-making movie material – her tragic confession to addiction. She didn’t specify why she wanted it – she just did. And she wanted a voyeuristic effect. It would feel more real, more newsworthy if the on-camera revelation appeared accidental, the result of her depressed and drunken honesty. It would benefit them both, so the fact that it was all premeditated had to stay a highly guarded secret. From everyone. It was the only way to preserve her believability as well as his seeming raw talent and eye for beauty. He’d have to take on the role of bad guy for a little, but Casey promised it would be worth it. Her false outrage over the mini-documentary would draw attention, and her removal of it from the Internet would create curiosity and demand, especially if Ian’s work was truly done well. He could stand to become a household name.
“I thought it was all worth it for that kind of opportunity, even though it was kind of scary– being this horrible guy for the world to hate. But it wasn’t hard to pretend, I just,” he pushed his lower lip up in a frown and shrugged. “Partied more to get into character. It was funny for a few days. It was only supposed to last that long.”
Evidently, Casey had assured Ian a way out with her public forgiveness. She had promised to quickly release an official statement on her addiction – admitting to it, claiming that Ian’s film helped her realize the need for help, and that she now considered him a friend. Everything would fall back into place.
“But she stopped talking to me after the video happened. Completely. Kind of just… left me in the dust. Like I went undercover and the only person who knew my real identity disappeared. I was freaking out. And no one was going to believe anything I said at that point, not even you, ‘cause I fucked it up with how I act when I’m high.” He flashed Amanda a look of shamefaced apology between sentences. “I… guess I tried to embrace it after awhile because I had nothing else. And because at least having fans was nice. I mean, they were hilarious, the things they said to defend me. And at least the more I went out, the less upset I was about the whole thing.” He shook his head at himself, eyes unblinking as he bit the skin around his thumbnail. “I don’t even remember making the second video,” he exhaled in a laugh of disgust. “But after that the fans kinda… you know. Dropped off. And there was no one to go out with anymore. Which really wasn’t a surprise. The friends I pick based on…” he made a jeering face at himself. “How cool they look. They never last. And I never learn.”
Amanda put her fingers to her forehead, trying to unscramble her racing thoughts as she attempted to piece everything together. “So that’s why you came looking for me at the Critic’s Choice party?”
Ian winced as he nodded. “I thought Casey might use her speech at the awards to make the statement. About her addiction, since it was so appropriate and stuff. Considering the movie. I thought the after party could be my coming back out to the world, to show them, like… the real me. I don’t know.” He was quiet for a second, smirking at himself. “But she didn’t say anything about the video when she won, so I knew that was it. She wasn’t going to.”
Amanda peered over at him. His face covered in shame, she reached out to pat his shoulder, as if to tell him he could stop his story there. Now was not the time to elicit an apology from him about nearly giving Liam stitches. She could wait on that. But of course, he couldn’t. He exhaled with a frown between his eyebrows.
“I’m sorry about him. Liam. I wish I could tell him to his face.” The creases between his brows deepened as he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know why my anger came out at him the most when I was all fucked up. I mean, he’s obviously a good guy underneath it all, or you wouldn’t have cared about each other, and I could tell you did. I just think I… visualized him as the enemy. From things Casey said. Like to be extra careful about him because he’s… what did she say… he’s perceptive. He can sense lies.”
Amanda didn’t doubt it, though of course he hadn’t sensed that she wanted him more than Dylan before breaking off their contract. And suddenly, her heart twisted. She missed Liam again. She wanted nothing more than to tell him he’d been right all along. But she couldn’t let herself think about him for long as the car slowed to a stop and she and Ian got out, beginning the process of admitting him into the hospital and making sure that everything was set before parting ways. His head was bowed next to her ear as they hugged, his forehead resting on his arms, which were folded limply around her neck.
“Thank God for you,” was all he said when he pulled away from her hug and they said goodbye.
And as she sat on the bench outside the hospital, washed with relief over Ian, she couldn’t help also boiling in fury.
Directly after hanging up with Thea, Amanda flipped her phone open once again, her shaking fingers barely able to punch the buttons on the keypad as she dialed Casey.
AMANDA NATHAN FIRED FROM JUNE MAGAZINE!
Pop Dinner
March 5
A spokesperson for June Magazine confirmed today that Amanda Nathan no longer works for the company. “To clarify, Miss Nathan was never a member of the staff. She was hired for short term, freelance work that may or may not have made the cut as content for the website or magazine.”
Hmm. Nice try, but sources report that Nathan actually did sign a full-year contract with the women’s glossy to work as an online contributor. Of course, the fine print prohibited the blogger from ever shaming the June name by acting like an embarrassing D-lister, which she of course did Thursday night. So badly that her employers are pretending they never even hired her in the first place! Ouch.
And that’s how the cookie crumbles. Looks like June Magazine is joining the list of people trying to forget that they ever knew Messy Mandy!
- Chapter 15 -
The merry music coming from Casey’s loft worked to further enrage Amanda as she rode up the elevator. Before taking the train to Casey’s apartment, she had gone home to quickly peruse the latest news pieces about her, to see if they offered any clues as to why she’d planned her own downfall.
And there it was – in a simple article that she’d actually seen the headline of a few days ago but never read. It quickly made Casey’s actions so transparent, so crystal clear – though only to people who knew what Amanda knew, and the only other one of those people was Ian.
CASEY MULREED: WORKING ON A TOP SECRET TELEVISION PILOT?
Some show of hers had finally been picked up. The fact that it was semi-autobiographical, along with the fact it had failed to garner any network’s interest for years gave Amanda a clue as to why Casey planted scandal around her addiction. She needed to pique interest, to legitimize whatever Hollywood hardships she’d be portraying in her based-on-a-true-story TV drama. She needed to prove that her show would be just as if not more riveting than the similar show Wendy’s husband, Tom Vogel, had been planning for a year. Essentially, as HDUers would say, she needed to be less boringly perfect. Releasing a simple statement about her problem would have been too predictable, too much of a waste. She needed to shock, to generate hype. It didn’t matter at what cost.
“And look who finally showed up.”
Casey’s cooing condescension snapped Amanda from her thoughts as the elevator doors opened. She stood right before them, blithely stirring a mug of coffee in a silk robe and harem pants.
“Come in, doll.”
Her jaw tight, Amanda stepped into the stark white apartment.
“Can I get you something to – ”
“Stop it.” Amanda held her hand in the air. “Stop pretending you’re some nice, normal person. I know everything.”
Casey smirked, rolling her eyes as she returned to the kitchen. “Uh yeah, I figured, considering how you sounded on the phone. Honestly, kind of shocked your crackhead friend really kept our secret for so long.” She set her mug on the counter, casually looking through her cupboards. Amanda fumed at her flippant mention of Ian.
