“What secret?” Pandy scoffed.
“About the Little Chicken House. I knew it. I knew I never should have told you about that. I knew you’d use it against me someday.”
“That?” Pandy said. “That has nothing to do with this.”
And then due, no doubt, to the pot, Pandy looked at SondraBeth and had a terrible vision. SondraBeth’s head split open and out shot a serpent, green and scaly, mouth open, teeth dripping spittle like something out of a cheesy horror movie. Up, up, up the serpent rose, until the tip of its snout nearly touched the ceiling. And then down it came, like an arrow, swooping toward Pandy; then—pooft—it disappeared back into the top of SondraBeth’s head like it had never even happened.
The whole thing took less than a nanosecond. Pandy knew the vision wasn’t real, but that didn’t stop her from seeing it. Indeed, as she took a step back, she realized it was an image she could never forget. It was like a warning from the devil himself.
She took a deep breath and drew herself up. “So that’s the kind of person you think I am? A person who would use someone’s secret against them?” Pandy shook her head in disdain. “You, sista, are sick.”
And with that, she marched off to her room and began packing.
SondraBeth tried to stop her, of course, but Pandy wouldn’t hear of it. As she threw her bags into the golf cart, SondraBeth followed after her.
“Don’t you dare leave, PJ Wallis!” SondraBeth shouted as Pandy jumped in the golf cart. “What about PandaBeth?”
“PandaBeth is dead!” Pandy roared over her shoulder as she spun out of the driveway.
Even then, she probably would have wound up staying and they probably would have made up—if it hadn’t turned out that when Pandy arrived at the airstrip, a small plane was about to leave for Providenciales.
Pandy got on it.
She was too angry to be deterred. When she reached the airport in Providenciales and the only ticket available was one-way first class, she bought it anyway, still determined to escape.
Sitting stiffly in her seat, she didn’t think about the trip. She didn’t think about Doug or SondraBeth. She didn’t think about anything. When the flight attendant placed a Bloody Mary on her tray, she nearly threw up. She managed to get it down, nevertheless.
And then she must have slept, because when she woke up, the plane was making its descent. Outside, it was raining, the water creating rivulets like endless tears. Pandy put her hand on the window. Run, Doug, run, she thought sadly.
And then: PandaBeth. Ugh. She hoped she’d never see SondraBeth Schnowzer or Doug Stone ever again.
* * *
One month after that terrible incident on the island, it was announced in the tabloids that Doug Stone and SondraBeth Schnowzer had fallen in love and were now soul mates.
As if in confirmation of this fact, three months later, SondraBeth threw an over-the-top birthday party for him at a venue specially constructed on the Hudson River piers. It was so excessive, Pandy figured the studio must have paid for it. A barge shot off a volley of fireworks, including a heart-shaped display that contained the initials of the happy couple. The West Side Highway was shut down for three hours in order to give them and two hundred of their closest A-list friends “privacy.” Nevertheless, a dozen helicopters hovered overhead, and long-lens cameras were pointed at the event from every angle, including New Jersey.
Both the press and the fans were thrilled. It was all so very Monica.
No one seemed to notice that the actual creator of Monica—the real Monica, PJ Wallis—was not invited.
Pandy told herself that it didn’t matter. By that point, she was too deeply involved with Jonny Balaga to let it bother her.
A short time after the birthday party, Pandy ran into Doug at a charity dinner for a theater group. She was seated at his table, and he moved the place cards to sit next to her. His hair was long and unkempt, his beard was scruffy, and he had that telltale whiff of perspiration that suggested he’d spent a couple of days partying. This was confirmed by his candid volubility.
“I wanted to invite you to my birthday party,” he confided. “But I couldn’t.”
Pandy smiled at him reassuringly. She’d already vowed not to react to anything he—or anyone else—might say about him and SondraBeth. She shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d be invited anyway.”
He shook his head vehemently, as if refusing to take her at her word. “I wanted you to be there. I mean, I consider you a friend, ri
ght?”
“Sure,” Pandy agreed, although she couldn’t understand how he could possibly make this declaration, given the fact that she hadn’t seen or heard from him since that awful trip. It must be the actor’s way, she decided, to make statements simply because they vaguely suited the occasion.
“But I couldn’t, you see?” he said.
“Couldn’t what?”