HDU (45 page)

“Ah, okay… I’m sorry about that, Patrick,” he
apologized genuinely.
 
“I’m needed
downstairs then, aren’t I?”

Patrick didn’t look at Dylan, his eyes instead
turning coldly to Amanda.
 
It was
at that point that she noticed the dramatic quiet that had fallen over the
museum – no faint echo of violins, not even a low buzz of
conversation.
 
Patrick’s jaw was
tight as he spoke.

“Your friend is looking for you again.”

Instantly, her heart dropped.
 
Dylan furrowed his brows, in need of
clarification, but Amanda didn’t need to even think before flying to the corner
of the wall and the railing.
 
She
leaned over and looked down the six levels to the rotunda floor.

And there was Ian.
 
Everyone looked like tiny figurines from where she was, but
it wasn’t hard for her to spot him standing in the middle of the floor, his leather
jacket and jeans amid a sea of tuxedos.
 
Her body registered the scene before her mind did, and the next thing
she knew, her feet were flying and already halfway down the spiral ramp.
 
Shit
.
 
Soon, all kinds of shouting were
audible, among it Ian’s raving voice repeating her name.
 
He sounded scratchy, hoarse – as
if he were in desperate need of water.
 
Worse, she could hear the sound of chairs scraping and tumbling on the
floor.
 
Fuck!
She slowed only to remove her heels so she could sprint the
rest of the way down.

Upon reaching the floor, the eyes of the room slowly turned
to her – the single guest who could subdue their intruder.
 
Half the stares were concerned, the
other half irritated, accusing.
 
Amanda ignored them all to gape at Ian.
 
He had yet to even spot her in his hysteria.
 
Veins bulged from his neck as he
shouted toward the ceiling, restrained yet again but possessing a new
adrenaline this time – one that made him a difficult task for three large
security guards.
 
They could hardly
keep him from thrashing, but they didn’t have to try much longer, because when Ian’s
eyes finally landed on Amanda, his limbs dropped and his mouth snapped
shut.
 
He blinked, his expression
bewildered and childlike – as if he had never truly expected her to show.

And suddenly, his face crumpled and burst into tears.
 
His knees buckled and his body went
limp in the arms of the guards.
 
Suddenly, they went from containing his rage to supporting his weight.
 
Amanda felt her own knees weaken, as if
worn down by the sudden weight of her heart.

“Ian,” she said quietly when she reached him, lightly
tapping his hand so he’d stop hanging his neck.
 
He swallowed his sobs, slowly lifting his tear-streaked face
though his eyes took a few seconds to follow.
 
When they met hers, more tears streamed down.

“Pretty.
 
I’m sorry.”
 
He could barely
enunciate his words.
 
“I can
explain – ” he hiccupped.
 
“
– everything.
 
But nobody
will listen.”

Amanda swallowed the knot in her throat.
 
“I will,” she said, nodding when he
looked at her with surprise.
 
She
hadn’t forgotten her agreement with Thea, but she was quickly realizing that
she couldn’t ignore Ian in his state.
 
This was the type of rock bottom that preceded a final, tragic one.
 
Whatever his explanation, he deserved her
ear.
 
She’d had his during her own
lowest point, which she’d escaped thanks only to him.
 
Amanda nodded once more, with
conviction.
 
“We’ll go now.
 
Just stand up, Ian, and take a few deep
breaths,” she said gently.
 
“And hold
tight for a second.”

Amanda ignored the looks of shock and outrage as she
split the crowd to approach Dylan.
 
He stood behind the ring of onlookers, watching her from afar in a
stunned fog.
 
But before she could
reach him, Patrick slid in front of Amanda to stop her.

“You have to leave now,” he said, his eyes wide and
his face red as he held her wrist.
 
It wasn’t until then that Dylan awoke from his haze, starting forward in
protest.
 
Sensing this, Patrick
signaled for help and suddenly, several friends were gently pushing Dylan
back.
 
“If he likes you,” Patrick started,
his nostrils flaring.
 
“You must be
a nice girl.
 
And if you are, you
won’t embarrass him further by making him come to you in front of all these
guests.
 
You’ll leave now.”

With her adrenaline waning to make room for her
guilt, Amanda nodded.
 
She
swallowed, glancing up one last time to give Dylan a silent apology that she
knew he’d decode.
 
And with that,
she obliged and quietly left the party alongside Ian.

IAN MARSH
DOES IT AGAIN

March 4, 12:25AM

Posted by derpityderp

HDU via Celeb-o-Matic

Details are still coming in, but according to various
reports and tweets, D-lister Ian Marsh has struck the A-list yet again by
crashing tonight’s charity dinner for the Dylan Hardy Foundation.
 
Marsh allegedly showed up towards the
end of the event in a rage, shouting the name of former friend Amanda Nathan,
who was in attendance.
 
Nathan and Hardy
arrived to the chaotic scene last (no word on what the previously rumored
couple were off doing) and Nathan was eventually forced to calm Marsh by
leaving with him.

No parties have commented on the fiasco thus far.

TOP
COMMENTS

zaaren1990

YESSS HAAHHA. I TOTALLY CALLED THIS!

minizmercury

ugh this is sad for everyone. and for you people
laughing at ian marsh, you obviously have no experience with loved ones who
have a sickness. ew at you.

swiffly208

goddamnit amanda nathan stop cursing everyone you
hang out with!!!!!

Amanda stared down at her chipped cell phone as she
sat on a bench outside the medical center.
 
After twenty-four hours of delay caused by Wendy, Thea had
finally called to notify Amanda of her termination from June Magazine.
 
She remembered to be apologetic and
gracious on the phone, despite feeling still numb from shock over what Ian had
revealed about Casey.

After leaving Dylan’s gala, they had returned
directly to his apartment.
 
Exhausted, Ian fell asleep in his bed while Amanda packed a bag for him,
filling it with pajamas, slippers, toiletries and books.
 
After making sure that it held his
driver’s license and insurance card, she tossed his wallet into the bag as
well.
 
They hadn’t been able to
discuss much through his drowsy crying in the cab, but she had at least gotten out
his most important admission: that he needed help, and that he was willing to
stay somewhere to receive proper treatment.

The rest of that night was spent gathering necessary
records from Ian’s drawers and researching mental health facilities in
Manhattan, so once morning came, Amanda knew which numbers to call and how to
inquire.
 
By evening, she had
finalized Ian’s self-admittance to a prestigious hospital in the Upper East
Side near the river.

It wasn’t until the morning’s car ride over that he began
to speak.

“What did people think I did to get arrested?” he
asked, his hands folded in his lap.
 
Amanda turned to him.

“No one thinks you got arrested.
 
The news said your parents called the
cops and there was nothing to arrest you for, so they just had you leave.”

He nodded while looking down at his hands.

Amanda hesitated.
 
“Why… did they call the cops?” she asked.
 
“Why didn’t they just tell you to go?”

“They did and I said no.
 
Twice.
 
And I
guess it offended them.
 
They don’t
like having to deal with me.”
 
He
ran his finger along the window to make a line in the fog.
 
“It used to not be like that.
 
We used to spend time together when I
was younger,” he said, his voice light.
 
“It just got less and less after awhile.
 
Especially after boarding school.”

“Oh.”

“And I guess less became nothing when eight years
later, I turned out so different from their friends’ kids.”
 
He let out a bitter laugh.
 
“They’re not exactly proud.
 
The way they see it, they pay for me to
stay out of their hair.
 
Just pretend
I don’t exist.”

Amanda couldn’t think of what to say in
response.
 
She couldn’t imagine
parents like that.
 
But she could
imagine why Ian, having been raised by such loveless people, might have grown
so attached to his first real girlfriend – or rather, her affection.

“Is that what you wanted to explain to me?” Amanda
asked softly.
 
Ian blinked at her
before shaking his head.

“No.
 
I
wanted to finally tell you why I made that film about Casey.”

“Oh… why did you?”

Ian looked back down at his hands.
 
“She asked me to.”

“
What
? What
are you talking about?”

His explanation proceeded to floor her.
 
While Amanda was shocked, she wasn’t actually
surprised.
 
There had always been
something odd about how such a meticulous person had so carelessly unraveled.
 
As it turned out, Amanda’s vague but nagging
suspicions of Casey had been correct all along.

Her manipulation had begun early – when she’d
“run into” Ian on Wooster Street, just days after Jaime’s birthday party at
Roué.
 
At some lonely, downtown
café, she’d heaped praise upon his filmmaking before making her proposal: In
exchange for his confidentiality, she would give Ian star-making movie material
– her tragic confession to addiction.
 
She didn’t specify why she wanted it – she just
did.
 
And she wanted a voyeuristic
effect.
 
It would feel more real,
more newsworthy if the on-camera revelation appeared accidental, the result of
her depressed and drunken honesty.
 
It would benefit them both, so the fact that it was all premeditated had
to stay a highly guarded secret.
 
From
everyone.
 
It was the only way to
preserve her believability as well as his seeming raw talent and eye for
beauty.
 
He’d have to take on the
role of bad guy for a little, but Casey promised it would be worth it.
 
Her false outrage over the mini-documentary
would draw attention, and her removal of it from the Internet would create curiosity
and demand, especially if Ian’s work was truly done well.
 
He could stand to become a household
name.

“I thought it was all worth it for that kind of opportunity,
even though it was kind of scary– being this horrible guy for the world
to hate.
 
But it wasn’t hard to
pretend, I just,” he pushed his lower lip up in a frown and shrugged.
 
“Partied more to get into
character.
 
It was funny for a few
days.
 
It was only supposed to last
that long.”

Evidently, Casey had assured Ian a way out with her
public forgiveness.
 
She had promised
to quickly release an official statement on her addiction – admitting to
it, claiming that Ian’s film helped her realize the need for help, and that she
now considered him a friend.
 
Everything would fall back into place.

“But she stopped talking to me after the video happened.
 
Completely.
 
Kind of just… left me in the dust.
 
Like I went undercover and the only person who knew my real
identity disappeared.
 
I was freaking
out.
 
And no one was going to
believe anything I said at that point, not even you, ‘cause I fucked it up with
how I act when I’m high.”
 
He
flashed Amanda a look of shamefaced apology between sentences.
 
“I… guess I tried to embrace it after
awhile because I had nothing else.
 
And because at least having fans was nice.
 
I mean, they were hilarious, the things they said to defend
me.
 
And at least the more I went
out, the less upset I was about the whole thing.”
 
He shook his head at himself, eyes unblinking as he bit the
skin around his thumbnail.
 
“I
don’t even remember making the second video,” he exhaled in a laugh of disgust.
 
“But after that the fans kinda…
you know.
 
Dropped off.
 
And there was no one to go out with
anymore.
 
Which really wasn’t a surprise.
 
The friends I pick based on…” he made a
jeering face at himself.
 
“How cool
they look.
 
They never last.
 
And I never learn.”