THE PAVILION
HALF MOON THEATER
NOVEMBER 4TH
7:15 P.M.
“Don’t forget to pack all my Alphas clothes from the closet marked Allie A!” Allie yelled to the departing backs of her parents. Felicia and Fred Abbott had spent fifteen minutes gushing to Allie about her newfound acting talent, then another ten telling her how amazed they were that the Wilderness Girls made a nature warrior out of their little germaphobe. Now they were headed to Jackie O to pack up her stuff, and she promised to meet them in front of the Pavilion after she said goodbye to the O’s.
Allie stood at the edge of the stage, wondering if the Purell corporation would make her their official spokesperson after all the free advertising she’d given them, when she saw Mel’s face break through the crowd.
A familiar flutter of butterflies shot through her stomach the way it always did when she saw Mel’s lantern jaw, intense green eyes, and thatch of floppy white-blond hair, but when he put his arms around her, the flutter suddenly died out. Allie felt… nothing. Nothing but an intense urge to get away from him.
Mel smiled. “I missed you.”
Allie tried to think of something sweet to say back, but no words came. She smile-nodded, buying time as she tried to figure out how her heart could be in direct opposition to her eyes. Mel was so cute. He dressed so well. And they’d been through so much together, especially since the PAP crash.
But the disappointing facts were suddenly all too obvious: No matter how cute Mel might be, Allie just didn’t respect him anymore. Not after what he did on the plateau.
She pursed her rosebud lips, and gave her heart one last chance to embrace the handsome Brazille boy in front of her. But no matter how much her head knew the harmony to this love song, Allie’s heart refused to sing the Mel-ody.
Finally, she opened her mouth to inform Mel that her feelings had changed. But just as she was about to utter the words, her navy blue eyes caught sight of Fletcher making his way toward them. Running, actually. Still wearing his dumb TEAM ALLIE A. T-shirt.
Oops. Allie jumped from one foot to the other, not relishing the idea of these two meeting each other. She’d been so busy trying to dump Mel that she’d momentarily forgotten Fletcher was here with his own Allie-related agenda.
“What’s he doing here?” Fletcher panted when he finally reached them, his model-perfect hazel eyes jumping from Allie to Mel and back again.
“I’m her boyfriend. Where else would I be?” Mel said, speaking as though talking to a child. He moved closer to Allie, encircling her shoulders with one arm as always, then turned to glare at Fletcher. “And you are?”
Allie shook Mel off and took a step away, not wanting the cameras to get the wrong idea. Wouldn’t want the world thinking I’m still Mel’s girlfriend when nothing could be further from the truth. If only she could get around to telling him that.
“I was sort of hoping I could be your boyfriend again,” Fletcher said, his neck reddening as he boxed Mel out by stepping between him and Allie. “Your desert adventure aired last night. I saw the way he just left you there, Allie. Not cool. Not cool at all.”
Fletcher’s hazel eyes widened as he shook his head, silently communicating the obvious next line in his train of thought: Not as cool as me. Allie gaped in stunned silence. She was more floored than parquet.
Fletcher’s chin-dimple was as cute as ever. His teeth were so white they were practically blue. And those eyes. As Allie gazed into them, she was almost transported back to the months she’d spent praying his gaze would return to her, instead of looking into the far less vibrant eyes of her former best friend.
And now here he was, giving Allie his full attention. Wearing the dorky fan-shirt they were selling in the stands. Stepping up to tabloid sensation Mel Brazille to reclaim his title as Allie’s boyfriend. The whole situation was so ridiculous, Allie couldn’t help but laugh. As she shook with giggles, laugh-tears formed in the corners of her eyes and dripped down the sides of her sunburned face.
Finally, she wiped away a couple of tears and cleared her throat. “Fletch, wow. What about Trina? When I left, you two were inseparable.”
“Trina?” Fletcher looked surprised and confused, as if he had to struggle to remember who Allie was talking about.
“Yeah, remember? You locked lips on the Finding Nemo ride with my former best friend? It was kind of the reason we broke up?” Allie asked impatiently. Mel was getting antsy, looking at his watch and then back at Allie, waiting for her to fire Fletcher.
“Right.” Fletcher looked a bit embarrassed. “Trina and I broke up. I became sort of obsessed with watching the show. Allie, you were so… amazing! I didn’t know you had so much in you. The acting, the AJ impersonations, the tight uniforms. All of it. I was hooked. I mean, I know it’s been a while, but I thought…” He grinned at her hopefully, flashing a row of those perfect teeth.
Allie nodded on the outside but cringed on the inside. Fletcher’s words just seemed empty and hollow. He was right about one thing: She did have a lot inside of her. Too much to waste on Fletcher, the boy who had once confessed that gelling his hair took him thirty-five minutes every morning. Allie opened her mouth to tell him, but just then she noticed a group of men and women in expensive-looking suits, each one typing on a smartphone and periodically glancing over at her. They were huddled in a cluster, and seemed to be inching nearer. When she looked over at them, they waved eagerly, beckoning her their way.
Great, what next? Was this the FBI, ready to prosecute her for identity theft? Or maybe it was AJ’s publicity team, preparing to sue Allie for slander or defamation. Allie smiled nervously at them and held up her index finger to indicate she’d be over in a minute.
“Al, come on, haven’t you wasted long enough listening to this pathetic ex of yours?” Mel piped up, reaching out to grab Allie’s arm.
The three of them stood facing one another, a love triangle waiting to explode.
Allie stared from one boy to the other. Mel was the taller and blonder of the two, while Fletcher had more toned abs and smaller pores. But neither one held the slightest appeal for the new, post-desert version of Allie A. Abbott.
She sigh-groaned in frustration, realizing she would actually prefer be talking to the FBI and moving on with her life than standing here looking at these two for another minute. They had more in common with each other than they did with her. They could discuss the Clinique men’s skincare line, the latest Banana Republic catalogue, and their modeling careers.
Two of the prettiest boys on the planet, and I don’t want either one. It was like walking through the aisles of a Whole Foods when you’d just finished Thanksgiving dinner. The produce was beautiful, but you couldn’t possibly imagine eating it.
Two sets of expectant eyes stared at her impatiently. Allie had to tell them.
“Actually,” she said, her navy blue eyes bouncing from one handsome face to the other like a metronome, “neither of you are my boyfriend.”
“You can’t be serious,” Mel cried. “Look, I’m sorry about the plane. I was about to go back for you, I swear—”
Fletcher cut Mel off. “Al, we have so much history. I get you. I know where you come from. Come on, babe, we look so perfect together. Remember how people used to ask us if we were cousins?”
Allie backed away from the metrosexual duo. “I just need to be single right now. Maybe you can help each other heal. I smell a bro-mance brewing!”
“It’s my new signature scent,” Fletcher admitted. “I made it myself at a kiosk in the mall. You like it?”
Allie whirled on her heel and walked away without another word. She was free! At least free for the moment, until these lawyer/undercover cops/publicity managers sank their hooks into her. She took a deep breath, relieved not to have Fletcher’s manufactured musk or Mel’s scented Aveda pomade flooding her nostrils. The smell of funky Wilderness Girl outfit, dust, river mud, and independence was all she needed.
She took out her bottle of Purell and squirted it on her hands, just as a helmet-haired woman approached her. “I’m Lucinda Saint John. I represent actors and entertainers, including Anne Hathaway, Kristen Stewart, Lea Michele, and both Taylors—Swift and Lautner.”
“Hi,” Allie said, avoiding her germy extended hand. Who knew where those celebrities had been?
“I want to represent you. You don’t know this yet, but you’re the It Girl, Allie, and you’re about to receive dozens of offers from directors who want to work with you.”
Ohmuhgod. Allie pinched the inside of her arm just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“You want to be my agent,” Allie breathed. Suddenly, the room began to spin. So this is what it’s like to have your dreams start coming true, she thought. “I think I need to sit down.” Actually, I think I might pass out.
Helmet-Hair nodded kindly, dragging a folding chair over to Allie. “Please, sit down. You look a little pale. Can I offer you a Luna bar? Yesterday in the desert you were jonesing for one.”
Allie gave the woman a stunned smile and accepted the bar.
As Allie devoured the chocolate caramel Luna, she closed her eyes and tried to absorb this moment. She’d thrown away two model-perfect boyfriends and gained a potential acting career. Not bad for a girl who lied her way onto the show. Not bad at all.
Catching sight of her parents drifting back over, dragging two huge suitcases behind them, she turned to Lucinda Saint John and smiled, her mouth full of Luna and her heart full of hope. “Where do I sign?”
Life was starting to taste as sweet as the caramel on her tongue.