Under the Lights

“It’s been one week of filming, and already he’s a royal pain in my butt.” I put the phone on speaker so I can set it on my dresser while I trade the clothes I wore to the Daylight set for the sports bra, tank top, and cropped yoga pants I’ll need for my nighttime Bikram session. “I don’t understand how you dealt with him for a year.”

Ally laughs. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“I know him,” I remind her. “I still don’t like him.”

“That’s what you thought about Brianna, and you seem pretty okay with her now.”

Do I? I hadn’t realized I’d even been talking about her to Ally much. But things with her are definitely better. The e-mails that used to be short and kinda formal are way friendlier now. She’d even sent a few texts that week — things like, It’s only 3 eps!! and I haven’t seen a single news story on the murder of Josh Chester, so I hope that means it’s not so bad! It’s been nice having her support, especially with Ally gone.

“Yeah, she’s cool.”

“Well, given that she’s the spawn of Satan, that’s actually pretty impressive, isn’t it?”

I laugh. It’s pretty amazing to think that she’s Jade’s daughter. Unlike her mother, she’s actually sweet, and thoughtful, and she smiles every now and again, dimples and all. “Very. And she’s a fan of Sherlock. Like, every possible incarnation of it.”

“Aw, that’s cool, Vanny. You guys should hang out. Hey, hang on one sec.” There’s a crackling sound as her hand covers the receiver and then her muffled voice as she yells something to someone. Whoever it is responds, and as their conversation continues, I let my mind wander.

Would it be weird to ask Bri to hang out? Would she even want to?

I could ask her to come over for a Sherlock marathon, maybe. Or go shopping. Ally used to go with me, but now that she’s gone, I haven’t been in, like, forever. Or maybe to Pinkberry…Would that be sacrilege without Ally? Does Bri even like Pinkberry? Will she think that’s dumb?

“Van? Yoohoo! Are you still there?”

Whoops. “Hey, sorry. Didn’t realize you were back.”

She laughs. “I gathered. Sorry — just trying to figure out what movie we’re seeing, but I’ve got another few minutes. Have you been looking at any apartments since I left?”

“Not really,” I admit, feeling a little twinge at the knowledge it’s not the answer she wants. I don’t even know how to explain to myself, let alone to Ally, why I’m dragging my feet on moving out, now that I’m eighteen. It’s not like I have a cute little sister or family movie nights, like she did. But the fact is, I am so, so scared at the prospect of fully leaving my parents. Which I will never, ever admit to another living soul, not even my best friend.

“Did you check out that place in Liam’s complex? It sounded good, and they’ve got such a nice pool.”

“Not yet.” I pull my hair into a ponytail and determine to change the subject. “Speaking of which, how’s your new place? Boys walking around in towels everywhere?”

She laughs. “Not quite. Anyway, kind of hard to get excited at the sight of shirtless men, given my boyfriend. I think he’s ruined me.”

“Pretty sure that’s been his plan all along,” I tease. “How about the roomie? Is she your new bestie?”

“As if. She doesn’t even like The Beatles,” she replies in a mock-whisper.

“Sacrilege!”

“Right? And she insists on going to this fro-yo place that’s not Pinkberry, just because it’s closer. Like, who cares about a couple miles when it’s Pinkberry?”

I know she’s partly kidding to make me feel better, but it works. And at the same time, I sort of hate that she already has a new fro-yo buddy. When she was here, she barely hung out with anyone but me, Liam, and Josh. Now that she’s over there, she’s making friends a whole lot more quickly.

Meanwhile, I’ve got Josh — an actual hemorrhoid in human form — and Liam, who spends every spare moment working out for his stupid new movie role and smells like a walking protein shake at all times. Jamal’s great, but when we’re not on set, he’s with his girlfriend, Theresa, like, a zillion percent of the time. I guess Carly Upton, who plays my best friend on the show, is okay, but she’s a little boring. And needy. And okay maybe I don’t like her that much.

So maybe I should ask Bri if she wants to hang out. Worst that can happen is she says no, right?

“How are classes going?” I ask, because I don’t want to talk about her roommate, or the fact that New York City has Pinkberry too, or Liam, or the apartment I’m not renting.

Apparently that was the right question, because she launches into a whole thing about her core classes and how they will or won’t matter for her eventual law school applications. I do my best to listen while I put on my bare makeup minimum — essential in case of a paparazzi run-in on the way to yoga, but not enough to turn my face into a melting mess in the sweltering heat of the Bikram Yoga studio.