Andie melted like butterscotch in Oliver's arms, enjoying the hug way too much. The truth was, he could not be hers. He had to marry vile Talia. To save Andie from some idiotic alien law about who people are allowed to love. It was bad enough earthlings hadn't figured out that it's impossible to adjudicate love, but the Amu were supposed to be an advanced species. Capable of interstellar travel. Honestly, why did anyone try to fight biology? A lump formed in her throat. Being in his arms was so intoxicating it bordered on torture. If she didn't stop now, she never would.

"A few seconds more," Bad Andie begged in a throaty tone.

"Why?"

"To remember."

"As if I could forget. And stop being all profound. It's unnerving," said Andie, stepping out of his embrace and immediately feeling the loss of him. Of his warmth. Of his comfort. He reached for her.

Andie shook her head. "I better get back," she said, voice raspy and full of emotion. "It's Sterling's big night. Donations from this event will fund Ban Plastic Surgery Now! for the next year."

Oliver took Andie's hands. "Let's go far away."

"Far" for an alien could be Wormholing to Pasadena, or it could mean the next galaxy over for all she knew.

"Does it matter?" Bad Andie said. "As long as there's nudity and maybe some 1000 thread-count sheets?" Another naked image of Oliver popped into Andie's mind, courtesy of Bad Andie

"Thanks a lot," Andie grumbled.

"Any time," Bad Andie said. "I have an endless supply of those." A succession of Oliver in romance-cover-worthy poses flashed across Andie's consciousness. The one of him straddling a rocket zooming past Venus lacked all subtlety.

"Everyone's a critic," piped Bad Andie.

"Just stop. You're making me dizzy."

"Now you know what my life is like."

"You don't have a life. We've been over this. You are a figment of my imagination."

"Go ahead. Believe that."

Andie shook her head, willing Bad Andie to go "far far away" herself. After successfully banishing her alter-ego, she squeezed Oliver's hands. "Like you'll "fly me to the moon?" Andie quipped, hoping humor would keep her from falling into an abyss. She needed to keep it together. For Sterling. For her own sanity.

"If you want, we could visit earth's moon. However, it's not that enjoyable. The low gravity is fun, but the lack of atmosphere is an issue." Of course, he'd been to the moon. The Amu probably had a secret base on the far side. Hopefully, there were no Ewoks. "I had somewhere else in mind."

His blue eyes sparkled—not with amusement, but with something else. Lust? Hope? "There's a little planet I know. Tropical. White sand beaches. Two-and-a-half suns."

"Two-and-a-half?"

"Yes. One sun has a strange orbit. But the sunsets are incredible We can take the Priority One to the Magnificent, obtain a small spacecraft, and be on the beach in a couple of hours."

"I'd love to, Oliver, but you know that's impossible."

He raised an eyebrow and gazed at her. "Why?"

"Because I can't leave Sterling. On earth. With your mother. The only reason she stays away from Sterling is that I work for the Star Enquirer."

"She can come too," Oliver offered.

"Sterling would never come. Trust me. And then what would happen to Ernest and Rosalie and Cash and the other Zuts? Your mother threatened to do scientific experiments on them. And she said she'd hurt my mom."

"My mother knows how to get her way," Oliver said with a faraway look in his eyes. As if recalling years of enduring Cyra's demands. Andie realized her decision not to leave with him meant Oliver would have to follow through on marrying Talia. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. "I'm sorry for you. For what your mother has done. But Sterling and my mom are innocents. I have to do what I can to keep them safe."

"I understand," he said, kissing each of Andie's hands before releasing them.

"We should get back to the banquet now. Talia might show up and zap me into oblivion. I can't believe she let you leave her sight."

"I think she's preoccupied with the glitz and glamor. But you're right. She will soon come after me." Oliver sighed.

Something had nagged at the edge of her awareness ever since Cyra arrived. Suddenly she remembered what it was. "What did your mother mean earlier about a surprise?"

"I have no idea," he said. "But since it's Cyra, I can assure you it won't be pleasant. We must remain alert."

Andie clenched her fists. "You go first," Andie said. "I'll be right behind you."

"All right." Oliver left the bathroom, broken glass crunching beneath his shoes.

Andie washed her hands, squinting at her shattered, Picasso-esque reflection in the broken mirror. Mascara had run down her cheeks. Sterling's hair and makeup retinue would not be amused. Andie did the best she could to reassemble her appearance, but the trouble was, the inside couldn't be so easily repaired.

In the relatively dim light, Andie couldn't see her table but assumed it must be toward the front, closest to the stage. Hollywood's gorgeous and powerful looked up from their roasted red and yellow beet and herbed goat cheese Napoleons as Andie passed through the marquee. The back of her neck prickled at their collective gaze.

She hoped Oliver's table would be far-removed from hers. Andie could possibly make it through the evening as long as she didn't have to watch Talia gloating all night.

Andie caught sight of Sterling at the table closest to the stage sitting with Rachel, Pilot, Chris Pine, the two men from STARZ, and her heart sunk, Cyra, Talia, and Oliver. There were two empty chairs. Presumably one for her and one for the banished Gigi. Andie would've turned on her heels and marched over the side of the Santa Monica Mountains, rather than sit with her alien coworkers, but she could not in good conscience abandon her alien-ignorant family to an evening with such powerful forces. Perhaps the seating arrangements had been Cyra's 'surprise.'

"So you glad you could join us," Cyra purred. She impaled a beet with her fork and chewed, slowly and delicately. Pilot pierced Cyra with a steely glare, bared his teeth, and growled.

Andie glared at each Amu in turn—a silent threat not to mess with her or anyone she cared about. Cyra snorted, patting her beet-stained lips with her starched linen napkin. Talia glowered back, smearing her beets on the white plate, leaving a finger-paint-like trail of red.

"Hey, Mom, Sterling," said Andie.

"Hello, darling," said Rachel. "Sit down. Try the organic beets. They're cosmic. Not yet, Pilot," Rachel warned, all enigmatically "Don't be ridiculous. It's Sterling's big night."

"I'm sorry, Andie," said Sterling. "I ..."

The pain was clear in Sterling's eyes, the tautness of her mouth, the slump of her shoulders instead of her normally plumb line posture. "For what?" said Andie. "You didn't do the seating assignments, right?"

"No, but ..."

"Come, sit," said Chris Pine, patting the chair next to him. The STARZ executives nodded at Andie. "You are ravishing." Chris stood and pulled Andie's chair from the table. Andie sat, no mean feat in the faux-leather straight jacket. Feet throbbing from the five-inch stilettos of torture, Andie removed them beneath the table skirt.

"Thanks, Mr. Pine." She stared at her beets, but her stomach churned.

"Chris, please. I can't stop thinking about you," he whispered, his citrusy breath soft and warm behind her ear. No denying it. Chris Pine had so many positive attributes—a handsome face, a charitable heart, human DNA. Poor Oliver looked miserable next to Talia.

"Thinking what?" Andie said.

"This isn't the time. But maybe after the banquet, you could come over to my place, and I can enlighten you."

Sterling shook her head and shot a warning glance at Chris, who responded with his patented Hollywood leading-man grin, and his perfect teeth, as white as a strand of imitation pearls.

Across the table, Oliver pulled away as Talia tried to tame a cowlick in his hair.

Andie sipped her water, just wishing the night would end. "I don't think I can. But thanks for the offer, Chris."

"Are you all right?" Sterling whispered, real concern in her eyes.

Andie shifted in the chair. "Other than the lack of circulation in my legs?" she said, not mentioning her splintered heart.

Sterling smiled. The room instantly brightened. "Andie, you know everyone here except Ross Bentley and Lurgin Zang from STARZ."

"Nice to meet you," Andie said. Lurgin looked fairly normal, in a slender designer tuxedo and skinny black tie. But Ross, whose lumpy torso resembled a russet potato, had blubbery lips that looked like they had been coated with butter. Also, he affected a navy-blue silk ascot, which was plain inexcusable.

"Mr. Bentley, Mr. Zang, and I are talking about a new series," said Sterling.

"We are," said Mr. Bentley. "Sterling will be brilliant."

"That's terrific, Sterling. Is it the one with Elvis and Michael Jackson?" said Andie. Maybe this was the show she saw on Oliver's TV. Though she didn't really believe that. Cyra choked on her champagne. Sadly, she didn't choke all the way and lose consciousness.

"Uh ... Andie ... you know they're no longer ... uh, with us?" said Chris delicately.

"You know that could work," said Mr. Bentley, spreading butter on his roll. "Come to think of it, the opportunities are endless. We could digitally insert anyone into the show. Why has no one thought of this before?" He turned to Zang. "This is why I get the big bucks. It's a sure hit. Sometimes I blind myself with my own brilliance."

Zang nodded.

"Or maybe it is time for Sterling to hurtle herself into her new career at the Home Shopping Network?" offered Talia, wrapping her arm around Oliver's neck.

"Talia, I do not think ..." said Oliver as he tried unwrapping himself, Houdini-style, from Talia's grip. "That you ought to disparage the guest of honor." Talia only clutched tighter. Oliver freed himself.

"Oh, you know a lot about the infomercial world?" said Andie, baring her teeth. "Must be where you bought your sparkling personality."

"You are just saying that because you know it is true. Sterling is washed up. And after tonight, she will know it. You all will," Talia said.

Andie had a terrible feeling. A malignant fear coiled around her throat. Did Talia's threat about "everyone knowing tonight that Sterling was washed up" Cyra's "surprise?" And if it was, how would it happen? What form would it take? With aliens, it could be almost anything. Andie's fingertips buzzed. She shoved her sparking hands under the tablecloth. She didn't want anyone knowing about her sparking issues—especially Cyra and Talia. Andie had images of being strapped down to an operating table and being painfully probed by Amu mad scientists searching for the reason a human might be sparking.

"Ignore her," whispered Sterling. "She's trying to get a rise out of us."

Andie fumed, her fingertips still buzzing. The table vibrated and shook as if there was an earthquake. Silverware clinked against fine china. Cyra's crystal goblet toppled, spilling champagne across the table.

"Earthquake!" shouted Mr. Bentley.

The banquet murmur ceased as all eyes turned to their table. "Enough, Talia," Cyra said from behind clenched teeth.

"I am not doing anything," Talia whispered. The table shook harder.

Cyra righted her empty glass and laughed. "Sorry, everyone," she announced, with a royal flick of her hand. "Nothing to worry about." She turned to Talia. "You will stop this tantrum. Now."

"I said I am not doing it. It is her," Talia pointed at Andie. "It is her fault."

"Go, now," Cyra said. "Out."

"No," Talia said. "I will not leave him here with her." She glared at Andie.

"You will do as you are told. And you will do it now. I am already reconsidering your prospects."

"It is too late. The preparations are nearly complete."

"Ladies, why don't you take it outside?" Chris said. It's time for me to go on, and I will not be upstaged by ..." At a loss for words, he spread his arms in an all-encompassing gesture.

No, please, Cyra. I cannot miss the ... uh ... proceedings. I will stop."

Cyra fixed a glower of death onto Talia.

"I will get you for this, Andromeda," Talia seethed. "Come, Oliver. Let us go."

"He stays," said Cyra, pinning Oliver's arm against the table.

Talia rose and stomped down the center aisle of the marquee where she was met by two of the Vin Diesels, who escorted her out.

"The show must go on," Chris said, standing and adjusting his tie. "Wish me luck." He kissed her cheek. Oliver flinched.

Chris hopped to the stage, taking hold of the mic. "I hope you all enjoyed the show. Only in Hollywood, huh?" said Chris, adding a lighthearted laugh. The audience seemed to accept this non-explanation of the strangeness at the head table. It was true, after all. Nothing in this town could shock people. Hollywood was its own universe with its own set of laws.

Andie tuned out Chris's speech, focused as she was on the back of Oliver's neck. Her breathing turned ragged as she remembered the feel of the soft hair at the nape, the smell of cinnamon, the taste, so sweet—almost like caramelized sugar. As if he discerned her thoughts, looked at her over his shoulder. Andie's stomach lurched. Would he always have this effect on her?

She shook off her pathetic musings and forced herself to pay attention to Chris.

"... invite you all to see for yourselves the magnitude of her dedication to improving the mental and emotional health of girls around the globe. So sit back and enjoy the rest of your meal while you watch this short video of the life story of our wonderful patroness—Miss Sterling Champagne." Chris gestured at the screen to thunderous applause. Sterling squirmed. Pilot would not settle. He paced behind Rachel's chair. The fairy lights blinked off. The candles flickered and danced as if to a mournful tune.

The film opened with baby pictures of Sterling Champagne. Even as a newborn, one could see how she would be different. She had star quality, even clad in a diaper. Sterling's mother, Faith, held the infant, and though the baby stared at her mother's beautiful face—red lips, hazel bedroom eyes fringed with dark lashes long as spiders' legs—Faith had eyes only for the camera. Then Faith's L.A. Times obituary flickered on the screen: Adult film star dies having breast augmentation surgery. Leaves behind a daughter, twelve.

Sterling's fists clenched in her lap. Andie squeezed her friend's hand, as she secretly planned to clobber whoever put together this video.

The story continued to Sarah McLachlan's I Will Remember You with photographs and home movies of her new family—Rachel, Andie, and Andie's dad, who was already stealing from his company but not yet caught. Andie felt the familiar stab in her gut whenever she saw images of her father.

Then came Sterling's early career—Honda spokesmodel, Pizza Hut girl, the face of Revlon, all the way to her meteoric rise in The Last Story films.

Crashing cymbals and valiant horn music accompanied the next part about Sterling's involvement with Ban Plastic Surgery Now! But the tune changed into something you might hear in a political ad about people who don't care about the treatment of farm animals or global warming.

And there it was. Cyra's surprise. It was as if a knife stabbed through Andie's heart.

No!

How was it possible?

Footage of Sterling in Rio. Pictures of Sterling in front of the plastic surgeon's office. Of her leaving with her face covered in bandages, being escorted away by a chauffeur. Audience members shifted nervously in their seats. Starlets tittered. The air sucked out of the room as if it were a planet with no atmosphere. As the credits rolled. Sterling stood as rigid as a corpse, beads of sweat forming across her brow, then sprinted.

Andie, still in bare feet, followed her friend past a sea of cell phones raised to record tonight's events and fill the Twitterverse. For one moment, satiating the public taste for celebrity bloodlust.

"I'm so sorry," Andie said, catching up as they approached Sterling's limo at the front of the line.

Sterling spun. "I deserved it. I'm a hypocrite. I'll die of shame."

"Don't be ridicu ..."

"Hello, Andie. Sterling." Talia emerged from behind the Astronomers' Monument, a Cannon pointed at Sterling. Andie didn't know the range of the weapon, but she had a feeling the distance was within its capability. In any case, she didn't want to take the chance. Never taking her eyes from Talia, Andie opened the door and pushed Sterling into the back seat of the limo.

"Hey," Sterling shouted.

"What is it with you, Talia? What do you want?" Andie said.

"Sterling, of course. She will come with me."

"No way. She's not going anywhere," said Andie.

"Oh, I think she will," said Talia. "And when we are gone, Andromeda, you can live with the fact that it is all your fault."

"What?"

"Cyra is threatening to stop the Joining ceremony. But it is too late. The birds are painted! We have the Crown Jewels! Why can she not see this?" Talia babbled.

"You're making no sense." Andie's fingertips sparked. There was no hiding it now. She held up her hands. "Back off! I am totally powerful, like with the Force, and I will take you down."

For a split second, Talia wrinkled her brow in concern. Then she cackled. "I would like to see you try." Talia vanished and reappeared inside the limo. Andie dove in just as Talia grabbed Sterling, who, in a valiant attempt at staving off her assailant, inadvertently kicked Andie in the mouth. As she lost consciousness, Sterling and Talia disappeared in a cloud of silver smoke.