FanGirl (18 page)

See, now you’re being plain mean. Ruby might have boyish, skinny-fat arms like Twiggy, but who needs arm muscles to save the human race? Not this gal. Ruby can just bore those zombies to death with the girl-next-door aw-shucks thing she won us over with in her second-rate, made-in-the-basement fan video. Duh.

Even more appalling is that our Zource so easily gained access to the script written by Zocopalypse creator Gabe Foster himself. We were very concerned by this since it’s so SEWPER SEEKRIT and all. They were probably worried about someone posting it on the web and mocking it mercilessly or something. WHO WOULD DO SUCH A MEAN THING?

Oh, right. (That’d be us.)

Gabe pushes the laptop away and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m assuming this is out there?”

“Oh, yeah. Like wildfire.”

“Any idea who lost their script?”

“I don’t know, it looks like they managed to de-tag it,” Iris says, pulling the computer onto her lap and clicking on the image to make it larger. Each script has our name tagged across the front.

“Who do you think wrote this?” he asks.

Iris and I glance at each other. We know every major player in the
Zocopalypse
online community. I can’t see any of them behind something this horrible. She shakes her head. “I’ll look into it, but right now I have no idea.”

Gabe stands, picking up his trash from lunch. “I guess I better start some damage control.”

“Let us know if we can do anything to help,” I say.

Iris nods. “Yeah, I can try to hack into the account if you want.”

“No! Don’t do anything illegal. Let me talk to Nick and he’ll call the lawyers. If they do have photos of the entire script, they may take legal action — assuming we can locate whoever posted this crap.”

“Whatever you say.”

At the bottom of the step, he stops. “Thanks for the movie.”

“Thanks for bringing me lunch.”

“No problem. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sure.” He jogs up the steps with James Brown on his heels.

“So, you and Gabe?” Iris says once the front door shuts.

“There’s no me and Gabe. He’s a genius, but also a geek. He just likes talking nerd talk with me,” I say. I hold my arm up and push my sleeve to my shoulder. “Tell me the truth. Do I have arms like Twiggy?”

g

“
Come in,” I say
from my spot on the dressing room couch. The room isn’t large, but we all share the space during down time on set to change, nap, eat or lounge between scenes. I learned the hard way it’s best to knock in case someone is in mid-nakedness. Some images you can’t forget.

I’ve just found a particularly nasty @ on Twitter accusing me of “famewhoring” off Gabe and Andrew’s coattails. #awesome. The harassment has become worse since ZWankHard decided to make me their punching bag. #jerks. And if one more gossip site mentions my skinny arms, I may crawl in a box and hide. Forever.

The loud knock provides a welcome relief, not to mention a potential career saver since I’m one thumb stroke away from replying to the tweeter in a not-so-professional manner. Instead, I toss the phone on the couch, sick of the drama.

Andrew walks in with a short, older guy who I’ve seen around set. His manager? Agent? Donald? Whichever. He’s bald, intentionally so, and wearing an expensive outfit. Business attire, I suppose. This is more noticeable because Andrew is dressed in his Wyatt costume and looks like, well, he survived the zombie apocalypse. “Ruby,” Andrew says, looking a bit flushed, “this is my agent, Derek.”

I stand and offer my hand. “Nice to meet you, officially.”

“You too, Ruby. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you.”

“Oh. Great.”

Derek gestures to the couch and sits next to me while Andrew hops in a makeup chair near the mirror. He checks himself out
[2]
and then gives me a quick smile. Why do I feel like a piece of raw meat dropped in a lion’s den?

“So, Andrew tells me he confided in you about his personal life.”

I glance at Andrew. “Yeah, we talked about it. I haven’t told anyone. Promise.”

Derek smiles. “Thank you for that. Andrew trusts you. This relationship is important to him and he — we — would rather keep things quiet for now.”

“Sure, no problem,” I say
[3]
.

Derek is still smiling, which is creepy weird. When I look at Andrew, he smiles also. I do one of those eyebrow lifts that says, what’s up, and he looks back at Derek, so I do, too. “We have a question for you.”

“A favor,” Andrew adds.

“A proposition,” Derek says and Andrew nods in agreement.

“Okay, sure, what kind of favor?”

Derek drops the smile and frowns, a wide crease forming in his forehead. “Normally, I would go to your manager or agent for this but, as far as I can tell, you don’t have one, right?”

“Nope. I don’t think I’m quite agent-worthy yet.”

“No, I guess not,” Derek says. “Anyway, as you know, the media and fans have run with this idea that you and Andrew are in a relationship together.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy. I mean, it’s obvious we’re just friends and co-workers. Like we would even date.”

“Yes, it is ridiculous, but we’ve been thinking about it and how this could be an excellent opportunity for the both of you.”

“Opportunity? What kind of opportunity?”

“Well, in our industry, it’s all about the image — what’s being presented. You understand now that Andrew portrays a bachelor, currently dating a young star, when in reality he’s in a committed relationship.”

“Uh huh.”

“Because that is what fans want to see. They want him available, to follow his movements in the press, fantasize about being with him one day — which I won’t deny, can be lucrative. But lately we’ve gotten the impression that fans would like to see Andrew settle down a little bit. Perhaps take on a steady girlfriend.”

“Oh,” I say, smiling at Andrew. “So you can come out then?”
“What?” Andrew says, his eyes bulging. He takes a giant gulp of water from his ever-present bottle. “No, no. Not exactly.”

“No?”

“Ruby,” Derek says, “We would like you to consider pretending to be Andrew’s girlfriend for the next couple of months. Through the duration of filming and maybe through the premiere.”

“Wait. What? Me? You want Andrew to date me?”

“Yes. You. The fans like you
[4]
, and every actor can use some good publicity. Plus, the movie needs a push — it’s win-win for everyone.”

I hold up both hands. “Wait. I don’t know about the fans liking me so much. Some of them downright hate me.” I shoot a look at Andrew. “Why aren’t you being honest? I think people can handle it.”

Andrew opens his mouth, but Derek interrupts. “Sure, the fans can handle it, but the idea is for this to last as long as the promotional push of
Zocopalypse
. After that, you two will have an amicable break-up and go on your own way. We can reassess the fans’ position from there and how Andrew should proceed. You, on the other hand, will only benefit from such an arrangement.” I must look skeptical because he adds, “Dating Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor will increase your marketability 100 percent.”

“Um, yeah, I don’t know. I mean…” I shake my head. This doesn’t sound like a good idea — at all.

“Derek, give me and Ruby a second to talk, okay?”

“Sure, sure.” He slips out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Andrew stands in front of me and says, “I need your help. Like, really, need your help.”

“Andrew, knock it off, you don’t need me for this. Ask Vanessa or Rochelle. Hell, ask Taylor Lyn, she’ll do anything to get a leg up.”

“I need someone I can trust and you’re all I’ve got. And believe me, you weren’t their first choice. They wanted me to ask Vanessa.” He shudders. “One way or the other, I’m getting a new girlfriend. I refuse to go out with random starlets. They freaked out when I suggested you.”

“They’re probably right.”

He takes my hands and says, “This won’t be horrible. I’ll treat you like a princess and won’t try anything funny. Swear. I’ll hire security and keep you safe if necessary. Once the movie airs, you’re free. I promise.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“No. An opportunity.” I get the feeling Andrew spends too much time with Derek.

“If I do this, I can’t tell anyone, right?”

“Right.”

“Gabe?”

“No.”

“Iris? Because Iris will want details. A lot of them. Maybe even diagrams.”

He shakes his head, “Definitely not Iris.”

His answers make me feel a little sick to my stomach, but then I realize something. “So, we’ll go out or be ‘seen’ around, like at dinner and things.”

“Yeah, clubs or concerts or maybe some charity things.”

“Does this mean you have to hold my hand?”

“I guess.”

“Or hug me?”

His eyebrow raises. “Yes, I suppose.”

“What about kisses? Do I get to make out with you in public?” I feel my ears burn as I say it, but what the heck? If I make a deal with the devil, I may as well get paid. “You know, to make it look legit and everything.”

“I imagine this would be something we would do — if it would be okay with you.” He’s smiling as he says this, knowing I’m too chicken to go for it.

I take a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

The door swings open and we both turn our heads to see Derek standing there with a wide grin on his face. He pumps a fist and says, “Excellent.”

g

Cole and Alexandra are
in the basement of an abandoned house filling bottles from the hot water heater. The crew stayed in an unsecure home for several days on their way to Fort Benning south of Atlanta. Wyatt and Chloe are outside preparing the truck.

Alexandra:
Whose idea was it to go to Fort Benning? Yours or Wyatt’s?

Cole:
His, but Chloe and I lived there for three years with our dad. Nothing got in or out. The entire compound is fenced and secure.

Alexandra:
What if they won’t let us in?

Cole:
My dad did two tours in Afghanistan and two more in Iraq. They sure as hell better let us in.

Alexandra:
Is that who taught you how to do all of this? The survival skills? Uncontaminated water from hot water heaters, the hunting?

Cole:
I hated it at the time. I would have rather stayed at home watching TV or playing video games. He dragged us out to the woods as often as possible, which wasn’t much since he was gone a lot. But yeah, some of it stuck.

Alexandra:
Well, maybe they’ll let you and Chloe on the base, but I have no military connections and I don’t think Wyatt does either. Although, who knows with him?

Cole:
Man’s a mystery, that’s for sure.

Alexandra:
I think Chloe would rather ditch me anyway.

Cole:
First of all, it’s the end of the freaking world, Alex. I think the military will take all the warm bodies they can find. Second, who would Chloe torture if you weren’t here? Other than me, but I’m her brother. After 18 years, I think she needs a new victim.

Alexandra:
Great, and along came the zombie apocalypse, tossing me at her feet.

Alexandra stashes the bottles in the backpack she’s carrying and throws it over her shoulder. She picks up another one off the floor. Cole does the same thing, plus another one filled with weapons. They move toward the door and Cole stops her before they get outside.

Cole:
She doesn’t hate you. She’s scared and you’re the easiest target.

Alexandra’s eyes flash to her reflection in the window.

Alexandra:
Whatever. Let’s go. I hope the plan the two of you have set up works and we get to the base in one piece.

With their supplies in tow, they walk outside. There they find Wyatt and Chloe kissing. Cole chuckles, unsurprised, but Alexandra stares at the two, stunned.

Cole:
What? You didn’t see that coming?

Alexandra says nothing, but passes by the now untangled pair and tosses the bags in the back of the truck. Chloe walks back to the house with Cole.

Wyatt:
Hey. That was…

Alexandra:
None of my business.

Andrew steps between me and the truck, his jaw tight. “She just…”

“Forget it, like I said, none of my business,” I say, pushing past him, but instead of hitting him on the shoulder, I misjudge and ram square into his rock hard chest. This literally makes me bounce backwards. A loud “Oof” pops out of my mouth since I’ve knocked myself breathless. I attempt to recover, but a quirky smile tugs at the corner of Andrew’s mouth and I bite my lip. We hold it in for a beat, but within seconds we both double over trying to catch our breath.