Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood

by Abby McDonald

  “Hallie!” Grace yelled from downstairs. “Brandon’s here!”

  “Just a minute!” Hallie called back. It was Friday night, the band’s big show, and Hallie was venturing up into Hollywood to go see him play. Without a driver’s license, or money for a cab, she’d found the perfect solution: Brandon, and his Jeep. Hallie quickly pulled on her boots and Dakota’s leather jacket, then smudged on another layer of dark eyeliner. Grace’s footsteps thundered on the staircase, and a moment later, she was in the doorway.

  “What do you think?” Hallie twirled around, breathless. “Will he like it?”

  “Brandon?”

  “Ugh, no! Dakota!”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “You look fine. You always look fine — when you’re not dolled up like you traveled here from nineteen fifty-two, I mean.”

  Hallie gave her a look, collecting a tiny cross-body bag and her lip balm. “I just want to be perfect for him.”

  Grace bit her lip.

  “What?” Hallie sighed.

  “Nothing,” Grace said, still reluctant. “It’s just . . . You shouldn’t rush into anything. I mean, you’ve only known him four days.”

  “Five,” Hallie corrected quickly. “And time doesn’t matter. We transcend time!”

  Grace didn’t seem impressed. “Just . . . don’t rush into anything. You haven’t seen a single other person since we got here: all you do is sit around waiting on him, and go on those walks.”

  “Because I’ve been in recovery, after my near-death experience, or are you forgetting that?” Hallie protested. “And, hello, you aren’t exactly a social butterfly either!” She didn’t add that her friend requests and super-casual texts to Ana Lucia and Meredith had gone unanswered; their breezy party friendship failing to materialize into anything more solid. “I know plenty about him,” she argued, focusing on the real thing that mattered. The only thing. “We have talked, you know. What else do you think we’ve been doing all this time?”

  There was a pause. Grace looked awkward. “But, you will be careful, right?”

  It took Hallie a moment to realize what she meant. “Grace!”

  Her sister looked equally disturbed. “He’s older, OK! And you’ve been glued together all week. I’m just saying . . .”

  “Well, don’t!” Hallie pushed past her. “Never say anything about my sex life ever again!”

  Hallie hurried downstairs. She’d never admit it to her sister, but the truth was, she and Dakota hadn’t even kissed, let alone . . . anything else. They’d talked for hours, exchanged a lifetime’s worth of deep, intense looks, and even, on one occasion, his hand had brushed against hers and stayed touching for a full three seconds. But beyond that? Nothing.

  It was romantic. It was courtly. It was driving Hallie insane. And she was determined for it to end, tonight.

  Brandon found parking along Sunset Boulevard, and walked with Hallie toward the club entrance, already marked with a snaking line of insouciant hipsters in plaid shirts and gaggles of eager teenage girls. “Thanks for the ride, but are you sure you want to stay?” Hallie checked. He’d been his usual introverted self on the drive over — all awkward abrupt statements, and nervous tapping — and somehow, he didn’t strike her as the über-cool rock-show type.

  “I can check out a couple of songs.” Brandon jammed his hands into the pockets of his bulky khaki jacket. His Unabomber jacket, Hallie had secretly christened it. “Anyway, won’t you need a ride home after?”

  “Dakota will take me,” Hallie told him, smoothing back her hair. “He would have given me the ride here too, but he had to be here early to do the sound check, and set up with the guys.”

  “Oh.” Brandon paused. “I mean, sure, that makes sense. Listen”— he paused again —“I was thinking . . .”

  “Uh-huh?” Hallie was already distracted, scanning the crowd. The club was tucked away between a neon-fronted hotel and a grimy liquor store, the lights glowing all the way down the block.

  “You were talking earlier about trying to be an actress —”

  “I am an actress,” Hallie corrected.

  “Right, anyway, I was thinking you’ll need new headshots, and all of that stuff, and, well, I’ve been doing some photography . . .” Brandon trailed off. “I could help you out. If you want.”

  Hallie turned and assessed him quickly. He didn’t look like a star photographer, but who knew — perhaps there was a visual genius lurking beneath that scraggly beard. “Maybe. Drop by with a portfolio or something, and I’ll take a look.”

  “Great, I could come by tomorrow, or —”

  “Ana Lucia!” Hallie called, spotting a familiar cascade of dark hair. She turned to Brandon. “See you later!” she told him quickly, then hurried over to where Ana Lucia was waiting with Meredith and Brie, the trio outfitted in an array of skinny denim and perfectly draped tank tops. “Hey!” she cried, excited to see familiar faces. “How are you guys?”

  “Don’t even ask.” Ana Lucia scowled. She crossed her arms, metallic bracelets jangling against her chest.

  “They’re saying the show’s sold out,” Meredith added, giving Hallie air-kisses on each cheek. Brie looked up from her phone, flickered a wave in Hallie’s direction, then resumed her tapping.

  “The idiot on the door won’t even call the manager to get me in!” Ana Lucia exclaimed. “And I promised Reed I’d come. He’ll think I blew him off!” She craned her neck to see ahead of them in line, standing on the tiptoes of her dangerous-looking studded boots.

  “Why don’t you guys just come in with me?” Hallie suggested. “I’m on the list.”

  Three heads whipped around in unison. “What? You? How?” Ana Lucia exclaimed. “Sorry, I mean, I thought you just got into town?”

  “I met Dakota at that party last week,” Hallie replied. “And, well . . .” She couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her face. Ana Lucia gasped.

  “No!”

  “Yes.” Hallie gave a shrug, the perfect kind of nonchalant “sure, I’m dating the gorgeous rock star, no big deal” shrug that she figured this kind of situation demanded.

  “You don’t wait around!” Meredith grinned, and even Brie looked up from her phone again to offer Hallie a nod of approval.

  “This is perfect!” Ana Lucia linked arms with Hallie and marched them toward the head of the line. “I was going to call you to hang out anyway, but now we can get to know each other some more. You with Dakota, and me with Reed!” Ana Lucia’s face suddenly brightened with a new thought. “You can get us backstage, right?”

  The band was great, but with Dakota up there, how could they not be? Jagged chords, wild, infectious melodies — the crowd adored them, yelling along to the lyrics as the guys attacked their instruments and struck their rock-star poses. They were ramshackle, sure, but all the more irresistible for it — an unpolished, wild fervor behind every song.

  “Aren’t they beyond?” Ana Lucia yelled as the audience whooped and hollered. Hallie nodded, wordless. There was no “they” to her, only him, because as far as she was concerned, Dakota was alone on that stage.

  “We’re going to take it down a moment,” he said, gesturing for quiet. His shirt was wet through with sweat, hair plastered against his scalp, but there was an undeniable energy radiating from him; a shimmering aura of confidence in the way he swaggered across the tiny stage. “This one is new. We hope you like it.”

  Reed strummed out a few chords, and then the beat kicked in — slower, seductive. Dakota stepped back to the microphone, and began.

  “I saw you in my dreams, so many years before . . .”

  Hallie forgot how to breathe.

  It was a ballad, plaintive and heartfelt. Dakota stood, lit by a single spotlight; guitar slung across his chest. He seemed larger-than-life, somehow; not entirely real. To Hallie, it was as if there were a great distance between them, a huge divide between him — up there — and her, lost in the mass of people below.

  And then his eyes caught hers in the
crowd.

  “It was you, only you, everything I waited for . . .”

  The distance disappeared; it was only her, and him, and nobody else. She could have sworn he sang the rest of the song to her, and her alone. She was so lost in the sight of him that she barely even noticed when the song was done, and the band sauntered offstage to the plaintive cries of every girl in the audience.

  “Oh, my God.” Ana Lucia clutched Hallie’s arm, wide-eyed. “He totally sang that to you.”

  Hallie tried to maintain her nonchalance, but failed. She let out an excited squeal. “Wasn’t he amazing?”

  “And did you see how hot Reed looks?” Ana Lucia matched her glee. “Come on, let’s go say hi!”

  They headed for the grimy back hallway, fighting through the crowd of adoring teen girls already clustered by the dressing room door.

  “Sorry, off-limits.” A burly guy blocked their way.

  “We’re with the band,” Ana Lucia insisted. The man didn’t move. “Hallie?” she turned.

  “Just a second.” Hallie quickly texted Dakota, and, moments later, he appeared.

  “They’re good, Al,” he told the bouncer, who stood aside to let them through. The girls sashayed past with a chorus of greeting, heading back to the dressing room, but Hallie held back, suddenly shy.

  “That was incredible,” she told Dakota softly.

  “You think?” Dakota was still sweaty and glowing, practically vibrating with energy. He grinned at her, pushing back a swoop of hair. “I can’t tell. It’s like, I come offstage, and get instant amnesia. It’s all a blank to me.”

  “You were great,” she insisted. “Everyone was going crazy. I can’t believe you haven’t been signed yet.”

  Dakota made a “what can you do?” gesture. “Come and meet the guys,” he said, and led her down the hallway to the tiny, graffiti-covered dressing room where the guys were enthusiastically recapping the show, surrounded by a jumble of speakers, instruments, and power cords.

  “Dude, you screwed me on the count for ‘Liar’s Game’!”

  “No, you screwed me with that solo, you went three beats too long!”

  Ana Lucia, Brie, and Meredith were squeezed onto an ancient, peeling couch in the corner, and another couple of girls loitered nearby, trying to look as if they didn’t care they had nowhere to sit.

  “Reed, McCoy, and AJ.” Dakota pointed to each in turn. “Guys, this is Hallie.”

  “So this is the girl.” Reed gave Hallie a long look. He was dirty blond in a leather vest and jeans, tattoos creeping down his arms. “Tell us the truth, he didn’t really pull you out of the ocean, right?”

  “No, that happened.” Hallie and Dakota exchanged a private look.

  Reed groaned. “He hasn’t shut up about it all week. The grand rescue!”

  Hallie tried not to show her excitement. He was talking about her! He was thinking about her!

  Dakota shoved the stocky drummer, McCoy, aside to make room for them on the couch, and soon, the guys were loudly arguing about the set list again, and whether their song order needed switching. “I’m just saying,” AJ argued, from behind a curtain of dark hair, “if they’re dancing, we don’t want to bring them down!”

  Dakota shifted closer to Hallie. “I’m really glad you came,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and Hallie could have sworn her heart leaped right out of her chest.

  “Me too,” she whispered back.

  The conversation meandered, but Hallie only noticed the warmth of Dakota’s body against hers, until Ana Lucia cleared her throat and fixed Reed with a dazzling smile. “Who’s up for an after-party? I can get us into Soho House. Some of us,” she added, glancing at the other girls.

  “Sure, sounds good.” There was a chorus of nonchalant agreement from the band. They headed outside, but once they were all on the sidewalk, Dakota hung back.

  “Maybe I should get this one home. Since you’re still in recovery.” He squeezed Hallie’s hand, and although she was dying to discover the classy members-only club she’d read about in all the magazines, she was dying to spend some time alone with Dakota even more.

  “He’s right!” Hallie exclaimed. She tucked her arm through Dakota’s, and leaned against him, adopting a tired expression. “You guys go ahead, have fun.”

  “Call tomorrow?” Ana Lucia gave her an extravagant hug. “We’ll do brunch.”

  “Fab!”

  Hallie watched them pile into a pair of cabs and drive away. “So, where to now?” she asked.

  Dakota grinned. “I said I was taking you home.”

  “Sure, that’s what you said . . .” Hallie grinned back. The sidewalk was bathed in neon; billboards and streetlights glowing above them. It was beautiful: the buzz of the city vibrating, and she was there, in the heart of it all. With him.

  Dakota paused, twisting his fingers through hers. “There is this one place I want to show you. . . .”

  Dakota took her up to Mulholland; driving the narrow, twisted road through the canyon, until they crested the top of the Hollywood Hills, the valley sprawling out below them. He parked off the side of the road, and helped Hallie up beside him on the hood of his car.

  “This is my favorite place in the whole city,” he told her, gazing out at the blanket of lights: a sprawl of city blocks, the rush of red and white on the freeway, snaking out into the distance. It seemed to Hallie like the whole world was spread before them.

  “So many people,” she said softly, trying to imagine the individual lives marked by each tiny flicker of light.

  “Sometimes it’s daunting, you know — like, everyone down there has their dreams, and I’m just another kid. Insignificant.” Dakota’s expression was open, almost hungry. Hallie watched him, watching the world. “But then, I think, I’m up here; I made it this far. I can be that one, in a hundred — a million. We both can,” he added with a smile. “Together.”

  Hallie’s breath caught as Dakota turned to her; reached to gently touch her cheek. The moment stretched: eyes locked, the very air between them alive with electricity. And then he was leaning in, breath soft on her lips. Closer. Closer.

  There.

  She closed her eyes, falling into his kiss like it was gravity, like she was drowning all over again. And this time, again, he was the one to hold her up. A hand pressed against the back of her head; her fingers clutching his shirt. Hallie held on as if for dear life, but she knew, it was too late.

  She was falling in love with him, and there was no saving her now.

  She should have kissed him.

  It had been four months now since Grace had shared that almost kiss with Theo on the dark street overlooking San Francisco; four long months in a new town with little else to do but go to school, work weekends at a fancy macaroon store in Beverly Hills, and pull that night apart in her mind to ponder every tiny detail. The streetlights bathing them in neon, his lips so close to hers. She could remember that flutter of possibility in her veins, the invisible force that had seemed to draw her closer, closer . . .

  But whatever angle she studied it from, no matter what excuses and justifications she designed — Grace came up with exactly the same answer:

  She should have kissed him.

  It had been her one shot, her parting Hail Mary pass. And who knew? Maybe if she’d been impulsive, or reckless, or bold, then she would have done it: just blocked out all the reasons why she couldn’t, and kept reaching for him, the way she longed to. But the moment had passed — no, not passed, she’d fled from it! — leaving Grace to face the miserable truth: she wasn’t that girl. She didn’t kiss boys, let alone ones who had never indicated anything more than platonic (or, worse still, perhaps even brotherly) concern. She couldn’t throw herself at someone, never minding the potential ruin to their friendship. She couldn’t be so brave.

  Now, when Grace thought back to that night — whenever she caught a glimpse of the photo Theo had taken of them, now pinned above her dresser; or s
aw Hallie and Dakota snuggling together; or felt her phone vibrate with what might be a text from him — her regret wasn’t so much that she hadn’t kissed him; more, that she wasn’t the kind of girl who ever would. Aside from the fact that he was older, and disarmingly cute, and technically related to her (even if by marriage, not birth), he was, well, Theo. The idea of having the right to press her lips to his, or slip her fingers through his tufts of brown hair, or simply slide her arm around his waist and nestle in the crook of his arm . . . it was ludicrous. She may as well decide to kiss the Hollywood superstar who lined up ahead of her in Whole Foods, for all the chance she had.

  No, the whole thing had been madness; a fever-dream. And, as far as Grace was concerned, madness was no excuse for very nearly humiliating herself and wrecking a valuable friendship.

  It was clear, there was only one path open to her now: complete and utter denial.

  There had been no swooning eye contact, no leaning in, and certainly no awkward fleeing into the house — in her official version of events, those ten seconds no longer existed and to her relief, Theo seemed to be doing the same. He sent her casual e-mail updates throughout the summer, and the occasional text, and continued their ongoing library of adorable animal video links, but not once did he ever refer to Those Ten Seconds. Hell, for all she knew, he wasn’t even pretending. To him, nothing might have actually happened at all, and Grace was spending her time analyzing a moment that never even existed!

  Still, a rebellious voice kept whispering in her mind: she should have kissed him.

  “Grace. Earth to Grace?”

  She looked up from her blank notebook. Her lab partner, Harry, was looking at her with a puzzled expression.

  “What’s up?” She gave an absent smile. “Do you need more iodine?”

  “We’re done. Didn’t you hear the bell?”

  Grace glanced around. The lab was emptying fast, students rushing to be done for the day, and outside, she could hear the babble and chatter of kids spilling out onto the front quad. She blushed. “Sorry. Thanks.”

  She started packing up, but Harry lingered, tugging at the strap of his messenger bag. It was covered in Wite-Out and marker scribbles: tiny cartoons marching across the flap. “I was thinking we should get together, to go over chapter six,” he suggested as Grace pulled on her backpack and headed for the door. “McLaren said there would be a quiz Monday.”