Chapter 21

Lilly had intended to approach Miley and try to work things out between them. She truly had. The other day, Lilly was on her way back from the stables after petting Roam-Man when Miley passed her with a bag of oats. When Miley walked into the kitchen yesterday morning for breakfast, Lilly was clattering her sticky maple syrup-covered plate in the sink. This went on for days. It felt as if a higher power was keeping them out of each other's way.

Miley had been knocking on her bedroom door on and off all week. Every time she asked Lilly if she wanted to play (she had actually used that word), Lilly refused. Lilly had spent most of her time in her room, reading comic books and drowning in boredom. There was clearly something wrong with her.

She gathered the last few items of clothing from her bedroom floor and stuffed them into her suitcase. Was that all? Her gaze landed on her portable CD player on the nightstand. Hannah Montana's print on the CD grinned at her upside down through the clear lid. She had planned to throw it away, but she could still do so at home in Malibu, right? She tossed the CD player on top of the clothes in her suitcase. Her crutches leaned against the wall behind the door. She hadn't used them at school for the first time today. When she stepped on the wound, she only felt a slight twinge.

Miley had given her fingerless leather gloves to hide the unsightly scabs on her palms. Looking closer, they appeared to be Hannah Montana's. In the past, just thinking about owning something that once belonged to Hannah would have made Lilly all light-headed and goosebumpy but now… She stroked the soft rhinestone-beaded leather with an index finger, lifted one glove-covered hand to her nose, and sniffed. Earthy and sweet. Like Hannah? Or Miley? Or was it just the leather?

Mr. Stewart's voice echoed upstairs. "Miley, Lilly, supper is ready."

If Lilly didn't want to starve, she had no choice but to sit at the table with the Stewarts, as she had done the previous days. The kitchen smelled of candle wax and frying grease. Above the table hung a golden fairy light. A fir-branch advent wreath, the kind only seen at church, sat next to the steaming pot, and three of its four candles were lit.

Lilly tilted her head at Miley's empty seat. She had been absent from school today. The radio played quiet Christmas songs in the background. Mr. Stewart topped Lilly's corn with deep-fried onions. Only when Mr. Stewart asked how her family celebrated Christmas did she look up from her plate. "Non-Christian."

Jackson mentioned the Lakers, but Lilly had lost interest in them.

The beats of Sleigh Ride faded out. Broadcasting life from Nashville. This is Davis Dawson. Serving you the hottest news of the day. The Tennessee killer was arrested by police after a tip from an alert citizen…

At least some good news.

Mr. Stewart stood up, turned off the radio that stood on the counter, and slumped back into his seat. He rubbed his knitted brows.

Or not? Lilly's gaze returned to Miley's empty seat. Where the hell was she?

Jackson grinned smugly. "If I hadn't called nine-one-one after he followed Miley into the woods, they'd still be lookin' for him."

Mr. Stewart patted him on the shoulder a little too hard to confuse it with pride. "The right thin' to do would've been to go after him to protect your sister, but ya did well."

Lilly clattered her fork onto her plate. Did she get that right?

Jackson waved a dismissive hand. "I'm famous."

"Yes, you are."

"As much as Hannah Montana."

"Now, let's not go too far."

What were they on about? The Tennessee Killer? Did he have anything to do with Miley's disappearance today? Lilly's brows rose before they drew together. "What happened to Miley?"

Mr. Stewart pressed his lips together. "I brought some food up to her."

"So she's in her room?"

"Yes."

"Is she okay?"

"I reckon not. She hasn't eaten anythin' all day."

"Is it-is it because of the killer?"

"It's Mikayla." Jackson spooned corn into his mouth.

Mr. Stewart threw him a sharp glance.

Jackson raised and then dropped his shoulders. "What?"

"Did she hurt Miley?"

Mr. Stewart picked at the wax streaks that had solidified on the sides of a candle and sighed. "It's nothin' like that."

"Mikalya tried to commit suicide," Jackson mumbled between bites of fried chicken.

"Are you for real?"

Mr. Stewart gave Jackson another pointed look, and Jackson ducked his head. Mr. Stewart rested his elbows on the table and frowned at Lilly over steepled fingers. "We shouldn't discuss it without Miley present. I hope you understand."

Lilly cast a questioning glance at Jackson, who dropped his gaze to his plate. "Yeah, okay." It wasn't like it was any of her business. At least not anymore. She would be back in Malibu in less than two days.

"Ya can, of course, ask Miley. I'm sure she'd appreciate it if ya talked to her."

Yeah, she probably would. Did Lilly want to talk to her, though? She listened to the voice within her. Yes. The answer was clearly yes. But right now? As usual, her inner voice gave her a conflicted response.

Lilly had finished one fried onion and two spoonfuls of corn when she excused herself and went upstairs. She had intended to return to her room, but her gaze fell to the tray of untouched food on the floor one door down. Had Mikayla tried to kill herself because of the scar Miley had given her? If that was the case, Lilly didn't want to feel even a fraction of what Miley was going through right now. Maybe she could make her feel better. She walked over to the door and knocked.

"I'm not hungry."

"Can we talk?"

A bed squeaked, and Miley's voice rose a few octaves above normal. "Just a second."

Footsteps patted across carpet, a drawer scraped open, and it rustled before the door swung open. An oversized rose-pink cardigan with embroidered white cats hung on Miley's slim frame. One side of her hair fell in matted strands over her shoulder, while the other side appeared to be freshly combed.

"I haven't seen you all day. Are you okay?"

Miley shrugged and stepped to the side to let Lilly in. She clacked a hairbrush on the desk and braced herself against it.

A pearl ivory couch draped with stuffed animals stood in place of Lilly's bed. Pill bottles littered Miley's nightstand.

Lilly rubbed her arm. "What are those for?" Maybe she should have asked sooner, but, after all, it was none of her business. Miley had been a complete stranger, and in some ways, she still was.

Miley's mouth opened and then closed. She responded with yet another shrug.

"Can I take a look?"

Miley nodded.

Fluoxetine. That sounded familiar. Lilly chewed the inside of her cheek. Oh, her father had taken them when he lost his job. Lilly had been in middle school at the time. To make him smile again, her mother had said when Lilly had found the pill bottle in the medicine cabinet. So, something for sad people? Depressed people? With Ambien, Lilly was familiar. It was a sleep aid. Lilly shook the bottle. It was half empty. She turned to face Miley, who smoothed down her cardigan with long, shaky strokes. "You said you wanted to show me the old mill down the street a few days ago."

Miley blinked her dull eyes at Lilly.

"The one where you wanted to play hide and seek? That sounds legit like fun."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then-then how about… " Miley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "How about we go the day after tomorrow?"

Lilly perched on the edge of Miley's couch and a stuffed duck toppled to the floor. "I can't." She picked up the duck and fiddled with it. "My flight back home leaves before noon."

Miley's face fell the slightest bit, and she turned to face the window.

"Why not tomorrow?"

"I-I have a Hannah photoshoot in the morning and a birthday party in the evening."

Lilly's lips formed an o and then a smile. "You've been invited to a birthday party?"

"Not me. Hannah Montana."

"Oh." Lilly's smile faded.

"He is throwin' a party for a friend who is a huge Hannah Montana fan. That's why he invited me."

"Who? A celebrity?"

"Orlando."

"Orlando as in Bloom?"

"Yes."

"Wow." Lilly leaned forward, her forearms resting on her knees. "You two are friends?"

"He is twice my age." Miley fell silent as if that was a sufficient answer.

"Who cares? I'd be hella stoked."

Miley walked over to the couch, sat down next to Lilly, and smoothed down her pajama pants. "If you want to… if you don't have anythin' better to do, I'd love for you to come with me."

"What?"

"Of course, you'll need a disguise, too."

"Are you for real?" Lilly faced Miley, and their knees touched.

"Only if you want to. If-if you don't, you—"

"—Hell yeah, I'm coming." How could Miley possibly think she would pass up this opportunity? A tingle vibrated through her body. She would really go to a celebrity party and meet the Orlando Bloom, huh? And she would almost certainly meet other cool celebrities…

Miley dipped her head down, and a smile played around the corners of her lips.

… like Hannah Montana…

Lilly sensed movement through her closed eyelids and blinked them open.

Miley's furrowed face hovered over her. "I didn't mean to wake you up." She leaned back and pushed her white cowboy hat back on her head. She drew one side of her white fur vest over the large red stain on her denim shirt.

Lilly rose to a sitting position atop the haystack and rubbed her eyes. "You didn't. I was just chilling."

The rain drummed on the barn's tin roof above her. Somewhere in the back, a chicken cackled.

"I'm stocked for Hannah's death metal album."

"Death metal?"

"The bloody outfit?"

Miley yanked at the stained fabric on her stomach and grimaced. "It's only ketchup."

"Who would've guessed Hannah Montana was so cheap?"

"It's not supposed to be blood. It's from the hotdog I ate during the break. It was a real beautiful photoshoot with lots of cute horses not far from here."

"A wet one too, I bet."

"That's what they were goin' for." Miley held her vest closed with crossed arms. "I-I've been thinkin' a lot lately, and I don't want us to keep secrets any longer."

No secrets? As in, not a single one? How about just no more lies? "I'll wait here until you return with your diary."

"I-I don't write one, but if there's anythin' else you'd like to know… ?"

Lilly studied the horizontal wooden beams that ran across the ceiling. Her mind went blank. Yesterday Miley had told her about her fucked up encounter with Mikayla in the woods and right then and there, Lilly had felt an overwhelming desire to wrap her arm around Miley's shoulder, but she had stopped short, instead simply saying, I'm sorry. "I was joking."

"Oh." Miley twisted the silver bracelet around her wrist. "But if you want to come to the party tonight, I have somethin' else I need to show you."

Lilly followed Miley out of the barn. Raindrops needled her face and glued her hair to her scalp. They came to a halt in front of the hen house's colorful plank door. The same hen house Miley had refused to show her all along, the hen house from which Lilly had heard a girl scream. She took a step back. "I heard a scream from inside not long ago."

Miley reached for the doorknob and stopped, her back to Lilly, and jangled the keys in her hand. "I-I come here to vent when I'm feelin' down."

So it had been Miley. God, if she had just talked about her feelings openly, she probably wouldn't have felt the need to vent her frustration in other ways. But why would she choose to vent in the hen house, of all places, and scare the chickens? Except… "Have you disinfected it yet?"

Miley shook her head.

"This has never been a hen house, has it?"

"No." Miley's tone was gentle.

"The story about the dangerous hens?"

"I'm sorry."

Pfft. Dangerous hens. What a pile of crap she had believed. Lilly's cheeks burned from a combination of anger and resurfacing shame. Miley had made a real fool of her.

Miley pushed open the door and revealed a dressing room decorated with purple wallpaper with a silver baroque pattern that shimmered in the light of the chandelier. Golden curtains draped the windows. A white baroque-style dressing table stood against the far wall, and clothing racks lined both sides of the long walls. A ceiling air conditioner blew hot air into the room.

"Is this… ?"

"Hannah's secret dressing room?" Miley pulled the Hannah wig from her shoulder bag and placed it on a dresser. "Yes. After all, who'd break into a garden shed?"

"I thought this was supposed to look like a hen house."

"It's a little too big for that."

Lilly took off her shoes and stepped onto the fluffy carpet. She grabbed a hanger from the clothing rack that held a pair of white knee-length Bermuda shorts and a black top. "This is Hannah's favorite outfit."

"It's my least favorite."

"No, it's not."

"New Southern Dimension chose my outfits. Of course, I have to gush about them in interviews. Publicity and all that jazz."

"You might not like this outfit," Lilly's eyebrows pressed together, "But Hannah loves it."

"That don't make any sense."

God, Lilly knew. She needed to get a hold of herself. It wasn't like the world was ending. She had just discovered that her favorite celebrity wasn't real. So what? Jack Sparrow wasn't real either, and and she made no fuss about it.

"The only difference between me and Hannah is our hair color."

"Not really."

"Please do not believe everythin' you read in magazines. My record label gave me a script to follow."

"Hmm."

Miley's forehead furrowed. "Is it really that important whether my favorite color is purple or pink, or whether I prefer high-end fashion or printed shirts? That's all superficial. It don't change who I am as a person."

Lilly's gaze landed on the blonde wig on the dresser. It was more than that. Miley and Hannah had different accents and speech patterns, and one was more confident than the other. It was like Hannah was a fictional character, and Miley was the actress portraying her.

"Are you ready to look for a cool outfit?" Miley turned away from Lilly and scraped hangers back and forth on the clothes rack.

Even if Hannah Montana, Jack Sparrow, and Will Turner weren't real, Orlando Bloom was, and tonight was her one and only chance to meet him. "Yeah."

Lilly chose a black tiered skirt, purple and black striped over-knees, and a studded vest. Miley retouched her makeup and helped Lilly in applying eyeshadow. Just when Lilly thought she needed a wig to top her disguise, because the outfit she had chosen resembled her style too much, albeit way girlier, Miley pulled out a bright red curly bob wig from the dresser and showed it to Lilly with a triumphant smile.

"Are you sure you want to go to the party with Ronald McDonald?"

"Why not? I'm sure I have the matching nose somewhere." Miley giggled and took out a second wig. It was shoulder-length, straight, and lilac.

"That's more like it."

Miley threw her blonde wig over her wig-cap-covered head and put on her trademark toothy smile.

Lilly's stomach fluttered and her cheeks turned hot. Damn it. How could she still be so star-struck by Hannah when she knew she was just Miley in a wig? Maybe she should bum some pills from her before returning to Malibu. She was definitely in need of some herbs.

Mr. Stewart dropped Lilly and Hannah off at Nashville International Airport. Lilly had never flown first class before. They were the first to board the plane to New York via a VIP security line. The seats were gigantic, she was served caviar, and she hated it all. This was exactly how she imagined Hannah's life to be, but she felt out of place. If the birthday party was this classy, she was not going to have a good time.

It was pitch black outside the plane's window. Lilly kept catching herself peering sideways at Hannah, and each time she caught Hannah staring back at her. Unlike Miley, Hannah kept her gaze fixed on her with a smile on her lips. Lilly was the first to give in and look away.

As they flew over New York, roads cut through the darkness like glowing lava, and the Hudson River crept like a black snake through the light-dotted landscape. They took a limousine from John F. Kennedy International Airport to Brooklyn and got out in front of a red-brick building. The beats of a rock song boomed through the open double doors. A group of men showed their tickets to a sturdy bouncer. Golden pirate earrings peeked out from beneath his shoulder-length hair. He stroked his gray beard and waved them in.

Lilly's lips parted in a grin. "This is the party?"

"Yes." Hannah rummaged through her purse.

"Sick." All Lilly needed now was pizza instead of caviar, and she would have the best day of her life.

A bright light flashed next to her, accompanied by a click, and when she turned around, she stared directly into the lens of a camera. Six paparazzi surrounded them. More cameras clicked and Ka-chicked and Lilly raised a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding flashes. Hannah flashed back with a pearly smile and alternated between different poses. Just as Lilly thought this was going to turn into a full-fledged photoshoot, Hannah grabbed her hand and led her to the bouncer. Before Hannah could dig her invitation from her shoulder bag, the bouncer was already waving them in.

They left their coats in the cloakroom and ascended the wide, winding staircase a floor higher, where a high-ceilinged, dimly lit room opened up before them. Yellow and magenta spotlights swung above a crowd dancing to the beat of a Green Day song. Beneath the smell of beer and fruity cocktails lay a lighter scent of leather and wood. Lilly's heart throbbed in sync with the song. She had never been to a nightclub before. The ones in Malibu demanded to see her ID. Her gaze darted around the crowd. There had to be several celebrities among them.

"Hey, girl friend." The nasal voice drifted from the right, and Lilly turned to face a woman in her late twenties. "

"Traci." Hannah's face lit up.

They exchanged air kisses on their cheeks, each accompanied by a loud mwah.

Traci shifted her gaze to the far end of the club. "I'm thrilled to see you here."

"Me too." Hannah's smile widened. "I just need to go find Orlando and congratulate his friend, and then we can join you."

"Oh." Traci returned her gaze to Hannah. "I'm afraid we won't be able to fit any more people in our seating area. I'm sorry."

Hannah's smile dropped. "It's-it's fine. I mean, you had no idea I was going to show up."

"Yeah." Traci drew the word out in a nasal tone. "I'm sure there's still room for you among your other friends."

Hannah forced another smile. "Right."

Traci vanished among the writhing bodies, her cocktail glass held above her head to avoid spilling the contents.

What a bitch.

Hannah turned to Lilly with a frozen toothy smile. "How about you get us a drink while I go look for Orlando and his friend?"

No way in hell would she pass up the chance to meet Orlando. "I'm coming with you."

"I was going to save you the trouble of searching… "

Save her the trouble? Meeting other celebrities had apparently become normal for Hannah. If Lilly knew Orlando Bloom was somewhere in New York, she would search the entire city for him.

They found him in a dark red velvet-covered booth at the back of the club with a group of friends. Empty beer bottles and cocktail glasses littered the worn wood table in front of them. Hannah introduced Lilly to the group as Lola. When Orlando shook Lilly's hand, she only managed a stuttering "Nice to meet you." His smile was charming, and his grip firm yet gentle, and Lilly decided never to wash her hands again. While Hannah was talking to Orlando and his friend, Lilly's gaze shifted from his soft brown eyes to Hannah's toothy smile. She would probably never see either of them again. Orlando offered them a glass of champagne, but Lilly declined. Hannah had already wrapped her lips around the rim of the glass when Lilly grabbed her arm and pulled her aside.

"What are you doing?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Hannah stared at the fizzing amber-colored liquid for a long moment. She sighed and clacked the glass on the table.

Orlando finished his toast to his friend and threw back his shot glass. Three other men followed suit. He was probably uninterested in having teenagers join the group. Lilly watched him for a little longer, but when their eyes met and Orlando raised an eyebrow at her, Lilly jerked her gaze away. "I'm in the mood for Coke."

Hannah led Lilly to the rustic wooden counter that stood on wine barrels, squeezed through a small gap between two occupied barstools, and called out to the bartender and waved at him. "One Mountain Dew and… ?" She gave Lilly a questioning look.

"Coke—the real deal," Lilly added, recalling Aunt Dolly's explanation.

"And a glass of milk for my friend."

Lilly's eyes widened, and Hannah laughed her smoky laugh.

"A Mountain Dew and a Dr. Pepper."

A blonde woman danced among the writhing bodies on the dancefloor, throwing her hands in the air. Was that Kelly Clarkson? Lilly resisted the urge to rush over and check. "Are you friends with Kelly?"

Hannah handed Lilly the glass of coffee-colored liquid. "I've only seen her a couple of times."

"Which celebrities are you friends with?"

"I've met quite a lot."

"Yeah, but who are your friends?"

Hannah raised her glass to her lips and mumbled into her drink, "A few."

Why wouldn't Hannah tell her?

They took a seat near the dance floor. Hannah sipped her drink while Lilly gulped hers. She was itching to get up and dance. Before Hannah's glass was even halfway empty, Lilly shouted over the table, "Let's hit the dancefloor."

Hannah smiled. She reached over the table, took Lilly's hand in hers, and lead her onto the dance floor.

The spotlights' light reflected off the spinning Disco Ball above Lilly, creating colorful dots that flitted across the crowd below. The bass of the rock song throbbed through her body, and her heart pounded to the beat. She rocked her head and played the air guitar. Her cheeks burned hot. A tap on the shoulder snapped her back to reality.

Hannah leaned forward and yelled into her ear, "I'm going to get another drink."

When she returned, she held a cocktail glass filled with a clear liquid.

"What is it?"

Hannah pointed to her ear, indicating that she didn't understand, and held the glass out to Lilly, the straw facing her.

Lilly took a sip. The cool liquid slipped down her throat, leaving an aftertaste of ginger and lime on her tongue. Not bad. Definitely no alcohol. Why did she even feel the need to look after Hannah? It wasn't like she was her babysitter.

Hannah pushed the glass into Lilly's hand, and pointed at her as if to say, It's yours. Hannah vanished again and returned with a glass of transparent orange-red liquid. Another time, she came back with a glass of tea-colored liquid and floating lemon halves.

Lilly's legs grew heavy, and her movements slowed. She needed a break from all the headbanging and jumping. Hannah, on the other hand, appeared to be just getting started. The spotlight flitted across her flushed cheeks. Her movements became wilder as if she were a shaman dancing into trance to the sound of drums. She raised both of her hands in the air. Her drink overflowed the rim of the glass and ran down her arm. She reached for Lilly's hand and intertwined their fingers. Lilly closed her eyes as adrenaline rushed through her veins. Light spots flitted across her closed eyelids, and she couldn't tell if it was due to exhaustion or the spotlights moving across her face.

Hannah's grip on her hand loosened. Lilly stepped on jagged ground. She twisted her foot, slipped, and caught herself on Hannah's shoulders. Hannah's shattered cocktail glass lay on the floor between them. Their gazes locked for a second before Hannah stumbled forward and landed headfirst on Lilly's shoulder.

Jeez, she must have spent all her energy on that crazy witch-doctor dance of hers.

Lilly pushed Hannah upright, and Hannah let out a long-stretched giggle. The sharp smell of alcohol hit Lilly's nose.

Or not?

Dazed eyes blinked back at her. She was drunk. Hannah was freaking drunk. Why hadn't she been paying attention to what Hannah was drinking? Damn. Lilly had seen it far too often. Tabloids were quick to pick up on stories that could tarnish Hannah's spotless reputation. She couldn't let that happen; she couldn't let anyone see Hannah in this condition, especially not the paparazzi. Lilly grabbed Hannah's wrist and shoved her way through the writhing bodies to one of the red velvet couches, where she pushed Hannah down. She squeezed between her and a fat woman dressed in a glittering miniskirt and high heels.

The woman wrinkled her nose, slid to the side, and adjusted her chocker, which was half buried beneath her double chin.

Sheesh, it wasn't Lilly's fault that Double-Chin's friend needed two seats to accommodate her muffin top, which protruded beyond the hem of her skirt. Lilly sank deeper into the soft fabric and leaned over to Hannah. "Are you drunk?" She made little effort to speak more quietly. Even the two women next to her would struggle to hear her over the bass of the music.

Hannah giggled. "I'm only sixteen. I'm not allowed to drink, Silly."

Miley's return to her southern drawl set Lilly off in a flash of irritation. "But did you?"

"Just iced tea." Hannah snuggled closer and wrapped both of her arms around Lilly.

Lilly's muscles tensed. She had been waiting for this moment since her encounter with Hannah in the limousine, but now that it was here… Hannah was only Miley. As much as she wished she wasn't, it was a fact. But couldn't she just forget about it? If only for tonight? Lilly gulped. She relaxed into Hannah's warm embrace and their eyes locked in a deep gaze. Her mind went blank.

A shrill cackle from the side ripped her back into reality. Leave it to Double-Chin to ruin her moment with Hannah. "Iced tea?" Lilly rasped.

Hannah nodded, her cheek brushing against Lilly's arm.

"You don't mean Long Island Iced Tea, do you?"

"And Cosmopolitan an' Bloody Mary," she slurred.

"All of these—alc."

"I know."

"You can't be for real."

"I've got it." Hannah pouted. "Sweet plus colorful equals forbidden."

"How could you?"

"Don't be upset. I don't like it when you're upset with me." Hannah added a furrowed brow to her pout. "It's the only thin' that gives me a good feelin'."

"I'm not upset." Lilly's stomach trembled. No, she definitely wasn't. "But what if a paparazzo or journalist sees you drunk?" Lilly's gaze swept over the dancing crowd. There were probably a few bad apples among Orlando's friends who were willing to destroy Hannah's career for a few bucks or fifteen minutes of fame. They couldn't stay any longer. Lilly needed to figure out how to get Hannah back home.

Hannah groaned, curved her lips down, and closed her eyes. "I'm feelin' sick."

"Let me go get you a glass of water."

Hannah shook her head.

"A bucket?"

Another head shake.

"A barrel? I mean, what level of sickness are we talking about here?"

Hannah rested her chin on Lilly's upper arm and gazed up at her through dense eyelashes.

A voice in Lilly's head whispered to her. She couldn't grasp the meaning, but the underlying emotion left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

"Please just stay here." Flushed cheekbones sat below pleading eyes that burned with the intensity of a thousand burning fires.

Something stirred in the back of Lilly's mind. She didn't want to know. She pushed it away from her. "Are you sure?"

Hannah giggled and buried her face in Lilly's arm, and the realization hit Lilly like an oncoming skateboarder racing down the halfpipe. She yanked her gaze away from Hannah. How? And why Hannah of all people? An illusion. Just Miley wearing a wig. It simply couldn't be true. Lilly clenched her hands into fists and tried to will her hammering heart to calm down. But maybe it wasn't. Yeah, it was probably just a lingering celebrity obsession. Lilly dared to give Hannah a sidelong glance.

The pout was back.

Oh God, she was adorable. There was no way in hell she was only star-struck. Lilly lowered her gaze. Combat boots, stilettos, and sneakers stomped and twirled on the steel-plated dancefloor in a hazy blur of colors and lights. She should have noticed it sooner. It was obvious. The euphoria of seeing Hannah again at the farm, followed by the pain of discovering Hannah didn't exist and it had all been Miley all along. If Hannah had not broken her cocktail glass, Lilly would have downed it in one go.

"You asked if I wanted a glass of water… " Hannah's suddenly pasty face was back buried in Lilly's arm.

"I'll-I'll snag you one. Stay right here." Lilly plucked Hannah's hands from around her shoulders and leaped up from the couch. Hannah sank face-first into the cushions and remained motionless. Good. Lilly drew in a shaky breath. She didn't seem to be in a state to do anything stupid while she was gone.

… ?

But where?

Lilly remained paralyzed in place, her mind racing with jumbled thoughts and emotions. Right. The water.

She almost got lost on her way back from the bar, and when she arrived at what she thought was the correct sitting area, the two fat women in crop tops stood in front of the couch, their backs turned to her.

Hannah was gone. Was she back on the dance floor? She didn't appear to be able to walk in a straight line, though. Oh no, she had been kidnapped. Lilly did a double-take.

Double-Chin pointed her cell phone down. Silver wedge heels dangled from the couch behind her legs. Muffin-Top held up a strand of blonde hair. Lilly's trembling hands grew wet. They took pictures or videos that would inevitably end up on a celebrity website or in the newspaper. She charged forward.

The women's snickerings reached her over the music as she cracked the glass on the table. "What the heck are you doing?"

Double-Chin cast an indifferent glance at Lilly before returning her attention to her phone. A few flashes illuminated Hannah's pale features. She flipped her phone shut and turned to face Lilly. "We're done here anyway."

They pushed past her, and all Lilly could do was blink after them. She had to stop them. Now. Lilly lunged forward and seized Muffin-Top's flabby pudding arm.

She spun around, her lip curled. "Let go!"

"No, not until you delete the pictures."

"I'm going to call security."

Hell, what should Lilly be afraid of? She had the right to defend her friend, right? Her hand grew more sweaty as she tightened her grip. Pff, Muffin-Top's arm had to deal with it. "Delete the pictures."

Muffin-Top pulled her arm back, sending Lilly tumbling forward, right in front of Double-Chin, who still held the phone in her hand. Lilly snatched it from her grasp and spun around.

"Give it back!" The shrill voice of Double-Chin drowned out the high-octave vocals of the metal song playing.

Lilly's fingers raced across the keypad. Erase all pictures? She pressed the continue button and handed the phone back to Double-Chin.

"I'm suing you!"

Lilly's gaze glided down her body. "Why don't you pose for the camera yourself if you want to photograph something rad?"

Both women exchanged blinking glances.

"There are plenty of magazines that would fight to buy your photos, especially fashion magazines… "

Lopsided smirks flickered across the women's faces.

Lilly's grin widened. "… for whales."

Double-Chin puffed out her cheeks until her head resembled an inflated puffer fish. "You-You—" She made wild hand gestures. "You'll regret this."

"Oh, shut up."

Muffin-Top leaned over, yelled something over the music into Double-Chin's ear, and led her away. Lilly took a deep breath and raised a hand to her heart. She had actually managed to stand up to two adult women.

She knelt in front of Hannah and took her hand in her own. Jesus, it was so soft. She could get used to holding it. Hannah blinked her eyes open, her gaze shifted to Lilly, and her lips quirked up.

"Did they hurt you?"

"Hmm?"

"The two whales with the cell phone?"

Hannah shook her head.

"Can you walk?"

"I… reckon… "

Lilly stood up, grabbed both of Hannah's hands, and hoisted her off the couch. She slung Hannah's arm around her shoulder and supported her with an arm around her waist as she led her down the winding staircase to the coat room. Hannah leaned against the wall as Lilly helped her zip up her coat. Lilly tugged Hannah's hood deep into her face. The paparazzi were most likely still waiting outside the door.

A white limousine bounced past them over the uneven cobbled street in front of the club. Blazing lights flashed from camera lenses like bullets from gun barrels. Lilly's grip on Hannah's waist tightened. She steered her in a straight line past the limousines and sports cars parked along the sidewalk until they reached the black sedan. Hannah crawled into the back seat and slumped her head against the window. Lilly told the driver to take them to the airport.

"Do these celebrity parties always end this way?" Lilly yanked the car door shut.

Miley gave Lilly a sidelong glance. "Drunk?"

The engine howled as the limousine pulled out of the parking lane.

"Gloomy. Are there always people like Traci and the two women with the cell phone?"

"I don't know," Hannah slurred. "Most of the time, it's just a bunch of old people with me in the middle."

"Old?"

"Well, older than me. I wouldn't go unless my record label forced me to." Hannah breathed against the glass and traced a tangled pattern with her index finger through the drops of condensed water. "It's all about exposure."

"You don't have any celebrity friends, do you?"

Hannah's finger stopped its movement before it fell away. She gazed out the window in silence.

Weird. Didn't anyone want to be friends with America's most famous girl? "What about Taylor?"

"We get along great, but we don't get to see each other that often."

"You and Demi Lovato seemed to be pretty close at the Kids Choice Awards."

"I reckon we would be if I saw her more often."

"Why don't you just meet up then?"

"Because of our busy work schedules, and I still have school to study for."

So the problem was time and different work schedules. Stupid.

Hannah peeled her cheek from the window and straightened up before she slumped forward, hands against her face. "Daddy can't find out I've been drinkin'."

"We won't be in Nashville for another three hours. Maybe you'll be able to walk in a straight line by then, and if not," Lilly grinned, " I'll tell him it was a swimming pool party and they accidentally filled the pool with vodka instead of water."

"It's not funny. He'll be real mad." Hannah lowered her hood. "How do I look?" Drooping eyes set under a frown.

Cute. "Drunk."

"I should sleep it off."

"Bad idea. According to my mom, it'll cause a hangov—"

Hannah let herself fall to the side, her head landing on Lilly's lap.

"Tired," she mumbled. She rolled onto her back, snatched Lilly's arm, and hugged it to her chest like a stuffed animal.

God, Hannah was precious.

Hannah closed her eyes with a content sigh, and after a minute, her chest moved in a slow, steady rhythm under Lilly's arm.

Lilly licked her lips. Maybe it would have been better if she had remained oblivious to her feelings. She may have suffered for a few months without knowing why, but life would be much simpler after that. How was this supposed to continue? Her flight to California would leave tomorrow.

Hannah let out a groan. "Can't sleep with this thin' on." She let go of Lilly's arm and scratched her head through her wig before ripping it off.

Miley looked ridiculous with her hair hidden beneath the wig cap. The driver! Lilly jerked her head up to the window that separated them from the driver's cabin. The privacy shades were drawn down. Regardless, Miley should put her wig back on. It wouldn't be long before they arrived at the airport.

Miley wiggled, and when Lilly's gaze returned to her, she pulled her wig cap off her head. Brown hair fanned out on Lilly's lap. Miley took Lilly's hand in hers, pressed it to her chest, and closed her eyes. For each of Miley's heartbeats, Lilly's beat twice. She found herself stroking Miley's soft hair. Miley puffed out another sigh. Tires whirred beneath Lilly's feet, while New York's skyline—a wave of skyscrapers and apartments in front of a starry sky—passed her by behind the car's tinted window. Just a day before, Lilly couldn't have imagined being this close to Miley. But now she was here, with Miley's head on her lap and a hammering heart in her chest.