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  Amanda observed him as he drank his champagne pick-me-up in his yellow-framed Ray Bans. She couldn’t tell if people were staring because they recognized him or because he was wearing sunglasses indoors. She decided it was a mix of both. On Monday, he and Casey had run into each other on Wooster Street and gone to grab coffee afterwards, prompting rumors of their romantic attachment from less reliable websites. Though the stories didn’t catch on with mainstream gossip news, they were enough to provide a significant boost in Ian’s web traffic and Twitter following. One blog had even identified him as “filmmaker” Ian Marsh, no doubt because they’d seen the label on his own website. Though rather than be ecstatic about his slight gain in fame, Ian acted blasé about it all. Amanda figured it was a part of the new persona he had adopted since Monday to impress Casey. It included posting philosophical quotes on Twitter, acting totally unfazed by paparazzi, and apparently, wearing sunglasses inside restaurants.

  “So was it only coffee that you got on Monday?” Amanda teased, sipping her mocha. Ian snorted.

  “Sadly. She had to run,” he said, referring to Casey. “But I did get an invitation to the What Was Left premiere, so if you’re going on Friday, we can head over together. Unless you’re going with Liam. I’m not about to third-wheel.”

  “You won’t have to,” Amanda laughed. “He isn’t coming.”

  She had asked Liam if he would want to make an appearance with her at the premiere, especially since their appearances had been scant the past week, but he declined. His audition for A Soldier was scheduled on the day of the premiere, and he had spent a week in solitude to prepare for the reading. Amanda had seen him but once in the period of time, and only for a twenty-minute coffee break so they could share a peck on the lips in front of paparazzi. His grown-out facial hair tickled her to the point of nearly sneezing, which was good for a few genuine laughs. The brief moment was all that was needed to provide the gossip world some new material to analyze. According to the blogosphere, their relationship was still going strong and full of joy in its second public week, and it was something to be impressed with considering the alleged models that still threw themselves at Liam on a daily basis.

  “So,” Ian dropped his voice to a hush. “Do you know if he’s been sleeping with anyone since you came to New York?”

  Amanda snorted. “I don’t know, probably,” she said, tossing her spoon into her soup bowl and pushing it aside. “He wouldn’t be able to last two weeks without some… you know.”

  “Poon.”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  Ian laughed. “Are you jealous?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Then why do you look all sad right now?” he asked. “Or angry? I can’t tell.”

  “I don’t know. Because,” Amanda griped. “Because he gets to have sex with other girls on the low while we’re ‘dating,’ but I’m not allowed to, to…” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

  “To spank Dylan Hardy’s famous arse.”

  “Shh!” she hissed, nearly choking on her drink. “And that’s not it, I don’t want to… spank him, ew, I just want to… talk to him more. It really felt like there was a…” she exhaled sheepishly. “A connection.”

  “Then talk to him. You’ll see him at the premiere on Monday and Liam won’t be there to cockblock,” Ian pointed out. “You can plant the seeds with Dylan now and once your contract is over… you can harvest.”

  “Wow, okay. Interesting metaphor.”

  “It’s true.”

  Amanda quietly considered it.

  “You know I’m right. And I know you’re lying,” Ian smirked. “Because if given the chance, you would spank that British arse till the end of days.”

  A HISTORY OF CASEY MULREED (AND WHY AMERICA LOVES HER)

  Posted by FilmFreak

  HDU via The Pop Source

  January 24th 1:01:PM

  We first saw her walk the red carpet at the age of four, bright-eyed with chubby cheeks as she accompanied her famous grandfather to the Academy Awards. We then watched her grow up on the big screen and nab an Oscar nomination at the mere age of sixteen. Already, young Casey was pegged as the next Mulreed to become a Hollywood legend.

  But her life was no dream – as a child, Casey dealt with her parents’ ugly public divorce, which ended in split custody and a split family, with her younger brother opting to reside in Missouri with their mother. After moving back to New York from Missouri, Casey spent her youth living with various guardians as her father and aunt were constantly in and out of rehab. While famous for their many Oscars, the Mulreeds were also notorious for alcoholism and drug use – problems that America feared young and bright-eyed Casey would no doubt inherit.

  But she was determined to relieve us of our worries. Over time, Casey has shown us incredible grace, poise and maturity beyond her years. She has rejected her family’s Hollywood lifestyle and steered clear of rehab, scandal and celebrity cliques. She has shown us that she can go out and have fun but stay in control of her life. Once upon a time, Americans heard the name “Mulreed” and thought of fame but dysfunction. Now, thanks to Casey, they think of fame, pride and beating the odds.

  But tomorrow, as her latest film What Was Left premieres in New York, America will get a chance to see what would have happened had Casey let the pressures of Hollywood get to her. In the movie, we follow Casey as Lucy Holt, a former addict in her first twenty-four hours post-rehab. Knowing Casey, it will be a phenomenal performance, an Oscar-worthy show – a fine act that we, as longtime fans, will be happy to know is just an act.

  TOP COMMENTS

  J_SH_L7

  tl;dr. what’s the name of the guy she’s supposedly dating? that hipster that’s always hanging out with amanda nathan? or is that rumor already dead?

  FilmFreak (Moderator)

  Ian Marsh, he’s a filmmaker. And how is he a hipster?

  mrstylerchase

  casey is the definition of flawless and it was so sweet of her to take amanda nathan under her wing. i love that they’re all bff it warms my heart.

  ROX1E

  so annoying that I can never think of anything bad to say about her.

  - Chapter 8 -

  Since Saturday, Amanda had been scouring the city for an outfit to wear to Casey’s premiere. So far, her search had come up empty. Her standards were a little higher now, and it had mostly to do with Dylan Hardy. Gone were the days where she bought the first decent-looking dress priced below fifty dollars. Now, she was out to actually look good. She could still be Liam’s Plain Jane, just a more put-together one – as long as the New York prices didn’t get in her way.

  “Why is it that everything cute is so crazy expensive?” she groaned while sifting through the rack of dresses at a Lower East Side boutique.

  “Because life is unfair. But I told you it doesn’t matter when I’ll buy you whatever you want,” Ian said, helping her look around as he drank his Starbucks. The salesgirl had told him that beverages were strictly prohibited inside, but he had managed to sweet talk her into letting him keep it. Lately, he seemed to be getting away with most things – Amanda suspected because people were thrown off by the anomaly of his boyish cuteness but surprising suaveness. His new act, she decided, was useful but only a little more impressive than it was annoying.

  “And I told you that that’s very sweet, but no,” she said. “I’m my own woman, I’ll buy my own stuff.”

  “But you can’t afford the nice things.”

  “I know, you turd, but I’m working on it,” Amanda frowned. Her second blog entry, being much more structured, deliberate and candid, had been another hit. Dozens of blogs linked to it and Wendy at June Magazine even sent her a personal message about how much she’d loved it. Her Twitter followers increased hourly and her site was still seeing a good amount of traffic as well as a steady stream of comments. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t enough to attract any ads or sponsors. Despite her continued popularity, she was earning no mone
y outside of her contract with Liam.

  “Hey, you’d look good in this,” Ian said, plucking a dress off the rack. Amanda turned around, preparing to hate the choice considering his somewhat peculiar taste – he had an affinity for strange colors and bold patterns, and it was only growing as the paparazzi cameras followed him – but Amanda raised her eyebrows and smiled, pleasantly surprised when she set her eyes on his pick.

  “That is pretty,” she breathed, reaching for the ivory silk dress printed with different shades of blue petals. Belted at the middle, it had sheer butterfly sleeves and an asymmetrical hemline ending mid-calf in the back and at the knee in the front. But before she could get too attached, Amanda turned over the price tag. Her smile faltered. “Uh, yeah, it’s two hundred dollars. That’s not going to happen.”

  “Just do it. You raised your budget to a hundred-fifty, didn’t you?” Ian asked. “I think you’ve been penny-pinching for long enough to splurge just once.”

  “But this dress is still over budget and I haven’t bought makeup yet,” Amanda reasoned as her phone began to ring. She jumped, practically dropping the dress to rummage through her purse for it. “Hold on, it might be Liam. His audition was today.”

  Ian raised his eyebrows at her eagerness. “Wow, you’re being such a girlfriend,” he snorted.

  Amanda eyed the eavesdropping salesgirls. “Well, I am one,” she said, though she had surprised even herself with how much she was hoping to hear from Liam. She hadn’t realized how nervous she had been for his audition until waking up that morning, vaguely stressed out from a dream in which he hadn’t landed the part. After all, whether or not he was casted depended at least partially on her.

  “Oh, it’s just Casey,” she said upon locating her phone.

  “It’s ‘just Casey,’” Ian repeated with a snort.

  “You know what I meant,” Amanda mouthed to him as she answered the call. “Hey, Case!”

  “Hi, doll. What are you up to?”

  “Shopping for your premiere with Ian,” she answered, tickled by her unintentionally glamorous words. “He’s trying to convince me to buy a dress that’s out of my budget.”

  “Buy it. I’ll reimburse you.”

  “No!”

  Casey gave a little chuckle. “Well then how about this? Buy the dress and come get your hair and makeup done at my apartment so you can save money and feel better about splurging. And then we can ride to the premiere together.”

  Amanda froze, stunned. “You… want me to get ready for the premiere with you? At your apartment?” she repeated. Ian’s eyes widened as he listened. He nodded and adamantly mouthed “yes” while also gesturing madly to himself. She laughed. “Oh, but I was supposed to go with Ian...”

  “Bring him too,” Casey said without hesitation. “I just need company tonight,” she explained, her voice sounding a little odd and strained. Amanda paused, certain she had also heard the slightest sniffle.

  “Alright,” she responded before lowering her voice. “Is everything okay?” There was a three or four second silence.

  “Mm-hm!” Casey finally responded unconvincingly. “Just get your butts over here as soon as you can.”

  ~

  After being let up by a doorman, Amanda and Ian rode up to the fourth floor of the Lafayette Street building in which Casey lived. They had swung by Ian’s apartment beforehand so he could pick up his camera and a change of clothes. Amanda had been quite skeptical of the slim-fit maroon suit he had chosen, but once he tried it on, she had to admit that he looked quite daringly dapper. Paired with his newfound jadedness, he appeared every bit the celebrity.

  When the elevator arrived at Casey’s floor, Amanda heard just the hum of fifties music. She had expected an entourage of voices and conversation, but there was none. The doors finally opened to an eerily empty, white room.

  “Hello?” she called over the Connie Francis tunes blaring on the speakers. “Casey?”

  It took a few seconds for Casey to appear at the top of the steps, wrapped in a silk robe, her blonde hair freshly curled. “Hi, dolls,” she said placidly, her dainty frame gliding like a feather down the stairs. She greeted Amanda with a kiss on the cheek and Ian with an even longer one.

  They followed her up the stairs and down a hallway to the master bedroom. Having expected every celebrity to get ready for premieres with an army of stylists, Amanda was surprised to see just two people at the dresser littered with makeup and hair tools. As if reading her mind, Casey gave a little laugh. “I’m keeping it simple today,” she said. “I need to be surrounded by good vibes only.”

  “Of course,” Amanda nodded, though she had no idea what that meant. She was quickly distracted though, as a stylist seated her in a chair and promptly went to work over her, clucking and making “tsk” noises as if her face were a truly tough assignment. But in just a few efficient minutes, Amanda’s eyebrows were plucked and her skin prepped for the first professional makeup session of her life.

  “This is so much fun,” she giggled, closing her eyes so false lashes could be applied. “Feel free to make me look as different as possible,” she joked to the stylist. Casey heaved a sigh through her lips.

  “Me too. Make me look nothing like Lucy Holt, please, thanks.”

  Amanda frowned as she thought about Casey’s tortured addict of a character in What Was Left. “But you don’t look like Lucy. I saw the trailer for the movie and they made you look really different.”

  “Well, I still feel like her,” Casey exhaled. “But when don’t I?” she asked before hastily adding, “Just kidding.”

  There was a bit of silence before Ian spoke up from the bed. “You’re saying that jokingly, but you mean it.”

  Amanda paused with shock. “Ian.” She yanked her face from the stylist to turn to him. “That’s so rude and not true,” she scolded, embarrassed. To make matters worse, he had his camera trained on her mortified face. “What are you – have you been recording?” she asked. “Dude, that is supremely creepy of you!” She turned to look at Casey, who only gave an empty laugh.

  “It’s okay. It’s like having a home movie,” she said wistfully. “I don’t have any of those. Though that was probably for the better.” She stared blankly at the ceiling as her stylist brushed mascara onto her lower lashes. “It just would’ve been What Was Left, but real,” she laughed, though Amanda suspected she didn’t find anything funny at all, especially as her laugh wound down to a sigh. “Wow, went right into the subject I was trying to avoid,” she muttered to herself. “Next topic, please.”

  Casey and Ian swiftly moved on to another conversation, though Amanda was distracted. She recalled the first conversation she had ever shared with Casey, in the bathroom at the June Magazine party. It suddenly dawned on her why she might think so often of Missouri. She idealized it. Had she stayed, she might’ve had something closer to family with her mother and brother. More than likely, there would’ve existed a home video or two.

  Despite the thought, Casey appeared to be fine. Or at least fine enough – like Ian, after his drunken call to Natalie. By the time they reached The Strathorne for the premiere, it was back to smiling and laughing and acting as if no beat of normalcy had ever been missed. Casey disappeared to do interviews and take cast portraits while Amanda and Ian stood before the press, most of them satisfied with just a few minutes of photos because of the swarming A-listers. While Ian took offense, Amanda was relieved. Considering his bluntness with Casey, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what his new persona would say to an interviewer. His edgy, new act was finally becoming a bit off-putting to her. Thankfully, she had something wonderful to distract herself with – the prospect of once again running into Dylan Hardy. With confidence at an all time high thanks to her gorgeous new dress and professional hair and makeup, Amanda felt she was actually ready to carry a normal, non-humiliating conversation with him.

  But she didn’t spot him until everyone reached the theater. Right behind Casey, his chair was a few rows up
from her own. How does he manage to look better and better every time? She asked herself the question seriously while watching Dylan help the women around him get seated. He wore a light blue shirt under a slim, navy suit with a charcoal tie just touching the top of his brown leather belt. Amanda rearranged the big curls that the stylist had given her as she tried to will Dylan’s eyes towards her. But it was to no avail and the lights soon dimmed for the movie to start.

  Though Casey and the film were no doubt brilliant and Oscar-worthy, Amanda could only think of Dylan. She watched him watch the film, his silhouette illuminated in the darkness. He tilted his head or touched his lips during sad parts and held his stomach to laugh at the one comedic part. It was a scene in which a hefty patient stripped naked to streak rebelliously around the facilities. The entire theater had laughed, but ten minutes later when the film had returned to tragedy, Amanda spotted Dylan still amused, shaking his head at himself and trying to bite back his giggles. She wondered if like herself, he had been thinking about his own splendid posterior and its far superior nude scene.

  By the film’s end, the audience was buzzing and teary-eyed as they made their way to the event room. Despite shedding no tears, Amanda decided to make a quick dash for the bathroom mirror. She had never been one to require freshening up, but since someone had taken so much care in preparing her look for the night, she figured it was important to at least keep it fresh. And of course, she wouldn’t mind looking her best for Dylan.

  Her smile was something of disbelief as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. It was surreal that she had looked in the same mirror two weeks ago, when the June Magazine party had been held in the same space, and then been grateful just to look remotely passable. Now, she thought that she looked actually quite nice by any standard. The silk dress was flattering, belting at the thinnest part of her waist and layering at the bottom to show just the right amount of leg. Her auburn tresses had been straightened and then curled again for a Rita Hayworth look. To offset the dramatic hairstyle was simple makeup – false lashes, mascara, and a single coat of red lipstick. Amanda had never felt prettier in her life.