Holly Hearts Hollywood (9 page)

“Um, are you okay?”

Mom looked at me. “Oh, Holly. I didn’t notice you.”

Her eyes were red, and I began to panic. My mom may be a little emotional, but she’s never let it show like that before.

“Do you want some green tea ice cream?” She thinks we don’t notice, but Mom always devours green tea ice cream when she’s upset.

Mom smiled. “No, honey. I’m trying to balance the books before the shop opens.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Would you be angry at me if I borrowed from your college fund?”

My college fund is a source of great pride for Mom. When Dad died, Mom put the life insurance check straight into college funds for Ivy and me and hasn’t touched it since. That was when I knew things were bad. If Mom needs money from those accounts, we must be broke.

“What about my paycheck from the record company? Wouldn’t that help?”

Mom smiled sweetly. “Your paychecks are helping us so much right now; but until the album drops, it isn’t a lot.”

I don’t know why I was so hesitant. I’ve been dreading any mention of college. I felt so selfish. But that college fund has always felt like Dad’s last gift to me. It was his guarantee that I’d have opportunities he never had.

I thought about everything Mom had given up for me. She left Cedar Junction, where she was born, and a job she loved to allow me to have some weird, backward attempt at a music career I never wanted in the first place.

“Use the money, Mom,” I said. “Hopefully the album will sell well, and we won’t have to worry anymore.”

Mom stood up and hugged me. She smelled like wet soil, like always. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Dad would’ve wanted you to use the money for something you wanted.” I was halfway lying. Dad would’ve paid for the shop, but he hated what he called “hippy-dippy places.” I still don’t understand how my parents ended up together.

Mom tends to keep details about their relationship a secret. I guess it makes her sad to talk about. I think she keeps these memories to herself, because somehow it makes them special and more memorable.

“Your dad always was a penny pincher.”

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me feel sad. I couldn’t relate with Mom about this. My memories of Dad are limited to Christmas and summer trips to swim in the lake.

“Do whatever you need to do, Mom,” I said, suddenly feeling weirdly emotional. “If you want a flower shop, make it the best in town.”

I guess a part of family is making sacrifices. Compared to what my mom has done for Ivy and me, I can’t help feeling like I’ll always owe her. I need to go watch
Doctor Who
or
Teen Wolf
and get this off my mind.

I’m seventeen; I’m not supposed to worry about family expenses. I’m supposed to worry about boys and eyeliner.

February 24
^th
, 7:15pm—Lacey’s Limo

I hate not being able to write every day, especially when I go a
week
without it! There’s no physical way I can catch you up on everything; but long story short, the album is finished—at least my part anyway. Mr. Salazar was super-impressed with how quickly I got it done. To be honest, all I did was stand in a padded room and sing about the boyfriends I never had who did me wrong. Remind me to never date a songwriter. One day after our eventual, disastrous breakup, I’d probably hear some upbeat song on the radio about how I broke his heart and never returned his phone calls. Will anyone care about my side of the story? No. They’ll talk about how much Holly Hart sucks for breaking this guy’s heart.

Serena swung by earlier with a rack of dresses. I’m totally serious; it was a
rack
of dresses like it came right from the store. There were even totes full of shoes and handbags.

“Where on Earth did you get these?” I asked as I fiddled with an unfortunate suede skirt that was fringed with tassels. “My size isn’t easy to find.”

“I made a phone call to my favorite boutique.” Serena smiled. I looked over at her. She had tied her brightly-colored dreadlocks into a thick ponytail. “They let you take all of this stuff?” I asked.

“I max out my credit card there on a regular basis,” Serena said with a wide smile. I wonder what it’s like to be the kind of girl who can get people to do almost anything for them just by asking.

“Sorry about the sparse choices; it was somewhat last minute,” Serena said as she flung handbags at me.

“Well, thanks for calling in the favor.” I grimaced as Serena held a tangerine-colored angora trench coat up for consideration.

“You gotta look hot for your first Shell Shocked party. I’m not letting you go in that polka-dot dress you always wear. Besides, these things can be raging. So, what’s your poison?” Serena asked as she pushed through the dresses. “Chanel? Valentino? Givenchy?”

“Are those bands?” I asked nervously.

Serena’s eyes slowly turned toward me. She stared me down as if she wanted to dismember me. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She snatched a hot-pink dress with a poufy skirt off the rack. “Try Alexander Wang, and no complaining.”

Until recently, I’ve never worn anything that cost more than a hundred dollars or so. This dress
felt
expensive—cool and crisp against my skin. I totally fell in love.

“Yes!” Serena shouted when I walked back into the living room. “We have a winner. Take the Jimmy Choos, quickly,” she ordered as she hustled a pair of nondescript silver kitten heels over to me.

“And for a handbag…” she said thoughtfully, “Let’s do a clutch, the Prada one.”

And just like that, my fairy godmother had me all ready for the ball. I even think Lacey noticed! When I came outside to get into the limo, Lacey actually gave me a brief nod of approval before she thrust her Mentos into my clutch.

“Stay nearby but
don’t
hover,” Lacey said while swiping on sparkly lip-gloss.

“Okay,” I nodded. I wasn’t sure if I should be taking notes.

Lacey looked at me, her eyelids covered in glitter. “So, what’s up with you? Where did they dig you up?”

Everything about Lacey seemed strange. She paid for me to get my hair done the other day, but only decided to ask me about myself afterward? The girl makes no sense. Sometimes it feels like I’m meeting her out of order. Maybe she’s a time-traveler, and she’s getting our timeline mixed up like Eric Bana in
The Time Traveler’s Wife.

I took a deep breath. I feel like I’ve told my life story to a hundred people since I’ve arrived here, and I’ve told people more about me then I’ve ever told anyone else! I told Serena about Grayson, something I usually keep to myself since it usually sounds whiny and like I’m looking for pity.

“Oh, they found my YouTube videos and thought I was the girl for the job.”

Lacey raised her eyebrows. “Why am I not surprised?” she mumbled. “What
can’t
you get on the Internet these days?”

I’m not exactly sure what she meant by that, but it didn’t
sound
like a compliment.

We’re here. Oh, big surprise. The Salazars live in a sprawling, Beverly Hills mansion.

Later, 8:15pm—Mr. Salazar’s House

This is worse than I imagined. Mr. Salazar has some kind of stainless-steel addiction. I feel like I’m inside an appliance. I don’t know how Serena lives here—it seems so cold in comparison to Serena’s fun and warm personality. Everyone here is so beautiful, and they’re all drinking neon-colored cocktails with paper umbrellas. If I could legally drink, I’d probably end up putting out an eye with one of those things. The cast of
Glee
is downstairs performing some of Grayson’s songs a cappella.

Lacey was so high-strung when we arrived at the party, I thought she might transform into a Versace-wearing Godzilla. Her long golden-blonde hair was pulled up in a sleek ponytail. Her super-short dress was metallic and shiny. She was like a futuristic mermaid. When we pulled up to the house, I could feel the ground shaking from the bass.

“Okay, listen,” Lacey said as she coated her full lips in yet another layer of Urban Decay lip-gloss. “Don’t talk to me while we’re in there unless I specifically ask you for something.”

I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d asked me to walk five paces behind her and toss grapes into her mouth. Why’d I agree to come in the first place? This is definitely not in my job description. Not that anyone knows my real job description.

“Okay, no problem.”

Lacey blew a chunk of hair out of her eyes in exasperation. “You’re
talking
to me.”

As if all of that wasn’t demeaning enough, guess who walked through the door the same time we did? Oh yeah: Grayson. Which is why I’m upstairs hiding. That, and if the
Glee
cast sings “Don’t Stop Believing” one more time, I think I’m going to scream. Everyone seems to have gotten the metallic dress code memo. Even Grayson was wearing these tight shiny-looking jeans. Of course, the moment he walked in, Lacey and the rest of the females in attendance ran after him. I don’t know if she was successful this time. She disappeared in a crowd of body glitter and mini-dresses.

I think I’m in Mr. Salazar’s study or something. There are a lot of awards in here. Serena and I hung out for a while when I first got here, but then she got caught up talking with the girl from Florence + the Machine.

Oh wait, someone’s coming. Darn it. Why does everyone always interrupt me when I’m trying to write? That’s it. I’m going to tell them to leave. I’m going to be assertive. No more letting people walk all over me.

Later, 12:50am—Limo Ride Home

In movies, all of the important things happen at parties. That was totally tonight, and not just for me but everyone else, too. The intruder ended up being Serena who forced me to come join the party. I’m glad I did. When I finally went downstairs, I saw that Keller had arrived. He was looking incredibly dashing in a moss-green cashmere sweater and fitted dark blue jeans. He smiled when he saw me.

Also, since when did I start labeling colors with weird specifications?
Moss-green
? What’s wrong with just green? I’m becoming a color snob.

“Hello, Holly. You look nice tonight.”

I was
so
thankful for Serena’s fashion advice. “Thanks. Um, so do you.”

By this point, we were standing mere inches apart, practically shouting over the music. I could smell his breath; it was minty and delicious.

“Is your hair different?” he asked.

I touched it self-consciously. I’m still not entirely sure how to style it. For all I know, I undo all of Wendell’s work every morning when I get ready. “Yeah, I got it done the other day.”

“It looks nice,” he said. “Are you having a good time?”

“I am now.” What was it with my sudden ability to flirt? I’m diseased.

“Would you like a drink?” he said rather loudly into my ear. I felt his breath on my neck! It felt like a blizzard raging against my heated skin.

“Um, maybe a pop? Since I’m not twenty-one.”

Keller looked at me strangely. “Do you mean a soda?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said awkwardly. “Do you not call it pop in LA?”

He shook his head. “No, but don’t worry about it, country girl. I’ll be right back.” His hand rested on my lower back as he passed, and I could feel the warmth of it through the thin fabric of my dress. I think I almost had a seizure. Serena then ran up to me, her face red from her frantic dancing.

“Was that
Keller
?”

I nodded dumbly.

“And did I see him touching you and winking at you?” I couldn’t tell her the truth since I wasn’t entirely confident I was interpreting everything right. With all of the lies I’ve been telling, I might as well become an actress or a politician.

“No, he wasn’t.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

I could tell Serena wanted to press me further, but she let it go. I don’t know why I wanted her to drop it; it’s kind of fun to pretend Keller and I are having some kind of secret relationship. Although, the relationship is
very
secret, since it’s still only happening in my mind. Keller returned with a can of Dr. Pepper and Serena scampered off, giving me a wink over her shoulder. Keller and I spent the rest of the night talking in the corner.

While I was having a good time, I couldn’t help but feel I wasn’t good enough for him. Keller is a totally gorgeous and smart guy, and he could get a way better girl than me. I’m so weird. Awkwardness oozes out of me. I could write a list a mile long of my weirdness.

1.
I’m a compulsive liar. The other day, I told the guy at a cafe I was allergic to tomatoes after they messed up my sandwich twice. I don’t have a tomato allergy! I’m allergic to cinnamon, but I really, really hate tomatoes.

2.
Last week at Victoria’s Secret, a saleswoman offered to give me a bra fitting, and I panicked and ran away. I’m definitely wearing the wrong size, but I’m too embarrassed to be fitted for the right one, especially since I’m pretty sure I’m bigger than the biggest size at Victoria’s Secret. How mortifying is that?

3.
I’m more than happy to stand in the background instead of the limelight. Surely that’s unusual. Who wouldn’t want to be a star? I
don’t
!

4.
I haven’t talked to my grandparents
OR
Meredith and Amanda in almost two weeks.

5.
Oh, and speaking of family, I’ve been horrible to mine lately. My sister is driving me crazy, and my mom spends all of her time at her new store instead of looking for a real home. All of my things are packed in boxes. My poor refrigerator magnet collection hasn’t seen the light of day in weeks. I’m taking all of my frustration out on them.

When it was time for us to leave the party, the crap really hit the fan. The first issue was actually leaving Keller’s side.