The Truth About Hollywood

I didn't know how much time had passed, since I wasn't keeping track. "Claire?" Danny's voice called, snapping through the silence that was filling my head.

The simple sound of my name made me swim back to the surface of sanity. Rushed, I stood and wiped my face harshly, trying to get rid of any makeup that had run down my face. I wasn't sure that it would do anything, but it was better than nothing.

About a minute later, Danny found me and walked over. He hesitated before saying, "Wow, you look like hell."

"Thanks. Just what every girl wants to hear," I muttered, wiping my face again.

"What happened?" he questioned.

As the answer rushed into my head, my eyes started to tear up again. I didn't need to spell out for him what happened. Whispering an, "Oh,", he pulled me close to him. Burying my face into his chest, I cried a little more.

He was on the lookout for paparazzi (I could feel his head moving back and forth), but I didn't care about them at that point. If they had wanted pictures of me, they would have gotten them when I was alone, on the floor, crying.

"So I guess this means no after-party, huh?" Danny joked.

I shot him an annoyed look. "Not helping."

"Sorry."

The sounds of loud laughter and talking filled the lobby as the celebrities were let out of the viewing room. I leaned back and wiped my face some more, but I knew it wasn't going to do anything.

"Oh my God," Stella scoffed in an annoyed voice. "What's wrong with you now?"

"Stella, this really isn't the best time," I hissed. Adrenaline spawning from anger started flowing through my veins, and my jaw instantly tightened.

"No, it is. You always need everything to be about you! I'm filming a scene, and you're fooling around with Danny on the sidelines. I'm doing an interview, and you cut in!"

"When in the world has that happened?" I shot back. People were starting to stare, and I could feel my face start to heat up. Just what I needed: more attention.

"It always happens!" Bitchy liar. "It's just all about you. Now, we're at our first movie premiere, and you're out here crying turtle tears so that everyone will pay attention to you."

"It's crocodile tears," I corrected. "And you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, I do! You've always been jealous of me!"

"STELLA!" I screamed, drawing everyone's attention toward me. "My mom just died from cancer. A brain tumor." A look of recognition crossed her face. She must have remembered that crack that she made so long ago. "So thanks, thanks so much, for making me feel even shittier about myself, time and time again. I hope that-" I stopped talking before I said something I regretted and walked away.

A few seconds later, I could hear feet coming after me, and I knew without looking that it was Danny.

"Are you sure you should have done that? You know that she's going to tell the press."

"I don't care," I lied. "It was going to get out anyway. Might as well have her leak it to the press. What does it matter anyway? I'm not staying on the show."

"Claire, you don't mean that."

"Don't I?" I took deep breaths, keeping my emotions in check.

"No because your mom wouldn't have wanted you to. More than anything, she wanted you to keep up with what you were doing, no matter what happened to her."

I stared off into the distance, not saying anything. Of course, he was right, but I didn't want to accept it.

More than anything, I was just pissed at everyone. At Stella for causing a scene and making me admit the words that I didn't want to. At Danny for being right and just being there. At myself for leaving my home in the first place. At Mom for making me go. At Dad for not stopping me.

The tears started coming again, and that made everything worse. I just wanted to punch something as hard as I could, no matter the consequences.

My anger built as we got into the limo without Annabelle and Stella and went back to the hotel. I ran around my room, tossing everything into my suitcase, and hurried down the stairs.

Right when I was almost out the door, my phone vibrated in the front pocket of my purse, hanging on my shoulder. Sighing loudly, I threw my bag down on the ground and ripped out the phone.

wait 4 me, Danny had texted.

I sighed, but sat down in some seats that were offered. I knew I looked flustered and, frankly, crazy, dictated by the looks that various people gave me as they passed by. My eyes stayed glued to the floor, making sure that they didn't make contact with anyone else's eyes.

After what seemed like forever (but it was probably only fifteen minutes), Danny came out of the elevator, rolling his suitcase behind him. "Alright, let's get back."

"Are you sure that you want to go? You can stay here. You don't have to come back with me. She wasn't your mom, after all."

"I know, but I'm going to go." From the way he said it, I knew that he meant that he wanted to be there for me. I let out the smallest, briefest of smiles before we made our ways back to the limo.

The plane ride was quiet. I spent the entire time staring out the window, remembering all the good things that had happened with Mom. A couple of times, I heard Danny take a breath, like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself. It was pretty apparent that I wasn't in the mood for chatting.

When we landed, Danny and I got into his car. Immediately, I dialed Dad's number and tapped my finger on the car window as I heard every ring pass without an answer.

"Hello?" he answered after three more tries. His voice was strained, and I felt a pang in my chest.

"I'm on my way home," I informed him. "Danny and I are on our way." Right as the words left my mouth, I realized that I was repeating myself.

"Okay. I'll see you when you get here." He hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

Sighing loudly, I put my forehead against the cold glass. "How was he?" Danny whispered, as if he was afraid that any sudden noises would make me die of a heart attack.

"Horribly," I replied honestly. "I'm kind of worried about how he's going to take this."

"Only time will tell." He put a hand on my shoulder reassuringly, and I tried to suck up all the pain I was feeling.

It was clear that I was going to have to be strong for Dad. It didn't matter how I felt because I needed to make sure that he was taken care of, make sure that he got through this unscathed.