“Hey, bitch! Over here!”
Hanna’s head swiveled to the left. A white stretch limo was parked behind a pretzel cart. Hailey, her blond hair streaming, waved wildly out the back window. “Stop acting like a lost tourist and get in here, crazy girl!”
Hanna jogged over, her heart doing a flip. It was still hard to believe that the Hailey Blake had sent her a text last night that said, Hey, I’m in NYC tomorrow doing press interviews—wanna come up after your scenes and meet me? We can hit the kill or be killed premiere party! Hanna was never going to delete that text as long as she lived. Kill or Be Killed was only the most hyped movie out that summer—she couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to be there.
But then again, maybe Hanna shouldn’t think of it as luck. She was fabulous and cool, too. After all, ever since the news had broken that Hanna was part of the Burn It Down cast, her phone had been ringing off the hook. The local news wanted to do a profile on her life. Main Line Living magazine wanted to feature her closet in an article about fashionistas in the Philadelphia area. She had a ton of new friends on Twitter, and the owner of Otter, Hanna’s favorite boutique, had contacted her asking if she wanted to be in the runway show for the fall line. Hanna, a model. Maybe she totally deserved to be hobnobbing with Hailey.
And clubbing tonight was the perfect way to forget about Ali. After hitting a dead end at the Turkey Hill, Hanna and the others had decided to revisit the case this weekend, as they all had exciting plans tonight they couldn’t postpone. Not that Hanna was sure there was anything to revisit. It wasn’t like Fuji had gotten back to them with DNA results. And though Spencer had shared the Freudian slip by the woman behind the convenience store counter, Hanna wasn’t sure it was actually a clue that she knew anything. Maybe she assumed all blond teenage girls bought water at gas stations.
And the chalked A message at the studio? It had probably been all her imagination. That Ali Cat sign she’d just seen? Whatever.
She slid into the back of the limo next to Hailey, who was wearing a similarly short dress and high heels. Her eyes were heavily made-up with a winged, cat-eye effect, and her lips glimmered with shiny pink gloss.
“Hanna, this is my driver, Georgio,” she said, gesturing to the limo driver behind the wheel. “He’s an up-and-coming male model. This is just his side job.”
“She flatters me,” said the man behind the wheel in a sexy Italian accent. He wasn’t much older than Hanna, with wavy dark hair and seductive eyes. Hanna bet he had great abs, too.
The limo pulled away from the street, and Hailey gave Hanna a mock-slap. “So thanks for meeting me!” she gushed. “When I sent you that text about coming up, I didn’t know if you’d be into it.”
“Are you kidding?” Hanna said as the limo halted at a stoplight. “I never miss a chance to come to the city. And a premiere party sounds great.”
“I figured we’d have more fun here than boring old Philly,” Hailey said, rolling her eyes. “I mean, what is there to do there except look at the Liberty Bell?” She snorted and undid the latch of a compartment in the center console, unveiling two mini bottles of champagne and two small crystal flutes. “C’mon! We gotta pregame!”
Hanna grabbed a glass and took a sip. Hailey offered another glass to Georgio, but he refused, reminding her he was driving. “Party pooper!” she bellowed, and she and Hanna laughed.
Streets whizzed past as the car descended downtown. Hanna stared out the window, taking in the lighted stores and crowded streets. As the fizzy champagne bubbles played on her tongue, her phone buzzed inside her clutch. Hanna checked the screen; the first text was from her mom. Did you get into New York okay?
Hanna leaned back into the leather seat. Last night, after she’d received Hailey’s invite, she’d regaled her mom with stories about the actress, painting Hailey as a sweet girl who had good, clean fun. Ms. Marin had allowed Hanna to come to New York for a few hours.
In limo right now, drinking Perrier, Hanna wrote back. It wasn’t like her mom would ever know the truth.
The next text was from Aria. At gallery, freaking out. I wish you could be here.
Hanna’s new friend regarded her curiously. “Who are you texting?”
“My friend Aria.” Hanna beamed. “She has an art opening tonight. We’re all really proud of her.” She wished she could make a brief stop at the gallery, but Aria had told her the guest list was überstrict—she’d had to pull strings even to get her parents on it.
Hanna began to type a reply text, but Hailey made a face. “Don’t you, like, talk to Aria all the time?” Her voice was high and thin. “This is our night together, isn’t it?”
Hanna dropped her phone to her lap, surprised. She’d figured she’d be part of a huge Hailey entourage. How special was it that Hailey wanted her all to herself, though?
“You’re totally right,” she said, tapping a quick Good luck! You’ll be great! text to Aria and then slipping her phone back into her Lauren Merkin clutch.
Hailey opened a compact and applied red lipstick to her lips. “I am so excited to blow off some steam,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but the movie we’re working on is a total grind.”
Hanna stared down at her nails. She found the experience amazing, even the boring parts where they had to sit around while the camera people got the lighting right. “Is anything bothering you in particular?” she asked.
“Hank and his minions, obviously,” Hailey groaned. “That dude has had it out for me since day one. He’s, like, always insulting my performance. Haven’t you noticed?”