Sara Shepard - Toxic

“And really pretty eyes, too,” Trixie added, her breath smelling like violet candies.

Hanna giggled. “Do you work on commission or something?”

“Nah.” There was a sharp click sound as Trixie closed a compact. “I just tell it like it is.”

It was Wednesday, and Hanna was sitting in the very same soundstage in West Rosewood where she and her father had filmed the drunk-driving PSA. Now the place was bustling with different interior sets, a million lights, cables, and microphones, and tons of writers, directors, and crew members. It was day three of Burn It Down production, and they were filming a scene where Spencer and Aria received a creepy postcard from New A about Jamaica. Hanna’s big scene as Naomi Zeigler was coming up soon.

The director, a portly man named Hank Ross who was apparently the guy in the movie business—Hanna hadn’t seen his latest conspiracy thriller, but she was definitely going to check it out—stood. “Cut!” he yelled. “I think we got it!”

Hanna watched on a video screen as Amanda, the girl who played Spencer, and Bridget, the girl who played Aria, relaxed. Hanna agreed with the director: The girls had nailed it, perfectly embodying her best friends’ personalities and mannerisms and expertly conveying how scary the situation with Ali had been without resorting to camp or melodrama. All the actresses in this movie were awesome, in fact. The woman who played Spencer’s mom had even won a Golden Globe.

Then Hank noticed Hanna behind him and gave her a big smile. “Doing okay?”

“Great.” Hanna smiled, adjusting her short blond wig. It was styled to look exactly like Naomi’s pixie cut, and it actually looked amazing on Hanna. That wasn’t the only amazing thing. When Hanna had arrived on the set, Hank had given her a script of a few lines, stuck a camera in her face, and asked her to “be natural.” If it had been a test, Hanna knew she’d aced it when she saw Hank’s toothy grin after she said her lines. “Yep, the camera loves you,” he’d said generously.

Then she’d been shown her trailer—her own movie-star trailer, complete with a small bed for naps, a vanity with three types of flattering lighting options, and a refrigerator for the two coconut waters she’d brought after reading in Us Weekly that Angelina Jolie drank coconut water, too. A production assistant had whisked her off to wardrobe, where a talkative costume designer put her in a fabulous patchwork dress and studded booties. The outfit was way too cool for the real Naomi, but Hanna looked so good she wasn’t going to quibble.

She’d barely had time to memorize her lines for the first scene—a quick one where she and Jared Diaz, the admittedly gorgeous boy who played Mike, gave each other suspicious looks across the cruise deck. But she’d sailed through that, too. Maybe it was easy to get into Naomi’s character since she’d known her for so long.

Or maybe it was because she was a natural and her next stop was definitely Hollywood.

Hank slid off his chair and went to talk to the actresses on the other side of the wall. Hanna reached for her fringed leather bag hanging from the back of one of the chairs and removed her cell phone, eager to send some updates. First, she checked Twitter: Two hundred people had retweeted her post about how awesome the craft services spread was. Her stepsister, Kate, reposted the tweet with a series of exclamation points. The real Naomi Zeigler, whom Hanna had made sure had seen the news that she was playing her part in the movie, replied dislike in all caps.

Hanna composed a new text to Spencer, Aria, and Emily. You guys really should be down here, she wrote. You could so score a part.

Spencer replied after a beat. I don’t think I’m ready to reenact my worst nightmare, she wrote. But I’m glad you’re having a good time. Break a leg!

Aria sent a congratulatory note as well, and Emily said there was no way she was getting in front of a camera—she’d break out in hives. But hey, did I tell you Jordan wrote me from prison? Emily added at the end of her text. I’m going to visit her in a few days!

Hanna grinned. She was glad Emily had something amazing going on in her life, too. They all deserved good things.

She wrote Mike next. A star is born!

He pinged back an answer. Are there any hot girls there? Take pics!

Hanna snickered and looked around. There were tons of hot girls in the cast, on the crew, and even in catering. Suddenly, she clapped eyes with the only person in the cast she hadn’t met yet. Her long, dark hair was unmistakable. It was Hailey Blake. The Hailey Blake.

Hailey’s eyes widened when she saw Hanna across the room. “Oh my God. Oh my God ,” she said, pushing her stylists aside and rushing over. “It’s you! Hanna Marin!”

Hanna tried to answer, but Hailey grabbed her hands and rushed on. “I have been dying to meet you all day, but I had this thing this morning that I couldn’t get out of.” She rolled her eyes and mouthed the word overslept . “Anyway, it is so awesome that you’re here! Are you loving it? Has everyone been nice to you? If anyone’s mean, I’ll kick their ass.”

Hanna’s mouth fell open. Hailey’s public persona was a sugary-sweet girl next door, but in person, she was whip-thin, her dark hair was cut in funky layers, and she wore a pair of over-the-thigh boots Hanna could never pull off without looking slutty. And what was this about ass-kicking?

Hailey turned to one of Hank’s assistants, a pale, vampire-esque guy named Daniel. “Hey. Does Hanna have a few minutes to hang before our next scene?”

“Well, I’m still working on her.” Trixie rushed forward with her makeup kit. “I needed to get a different blush color.” She held up a compact full of pink powder.

Hailey sniffed. “That new color is hideous. She looks fantastic already.” She linked elbows with Hanna. “Come on.”

Daniel gave Hanna a strange look. “I’d be careful, if I were you,” he said, his sunken eyes wide.

“Oh, please .” Hailey rolled her eyes and yanked Hanna around the set. “I swear everyone who works with Hank has a vagina,” she whispered loudly to Hanna before they were out of earshot. Hanna glanced apologetically back at Daniel, hoping he didn’t think she’d said it.

They crossed the soundstage, climbed a set of stairs, and walked down a narrow hallway that overlooked a few cruise ship sets. Halfway down the hall, Hailey opened a door with her name on the front. Inside was a room with furry pink wallpaper, a couch in the shape of pursed red lips, a mini-fridge, a SoulCycle spinning bike, and a bookcase filled with trashy magazines. Hanna glanced at a vanity, where pictures of three different guys were arranged. Each one was cuter than the last. She was pretty sure she’d seen one of them in the latest Jake Gyllenhaal blockbuster.

Hailey noticed her looking. “My three boyfriends. Adorable, aren’t they?”

Hanna frowned. “You’re dating them all at the same time?”

“Uh, yeah ,” Hailey said. She dug out a pack of Parliaments from a corduroy pouch atop the fridge. Lighting one up, she flopped onto the lip-shaped couch and exhaled blue smoke. Then she extended the pack to Hanna. “Want one?”

Hanna hesitated, not having smoked since she was best friends with Mona Vanderwaal. She took one but didn’t light it.

Then Hailey’s phone bleated the ominous, two-note theme from Jaws . “Ugh, sorry,” she said, looking at the screen. “What do you want now , Mom?” she screamed into the phone. She paused, then sighed. “I told you they were lying about that. Who are you going to believe, me or him?”