Authors: Lauren Conrad
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Performing Arts, #Film, #Social Themes, #Friendship, #Dating & Relationships, #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex
It was just before 5 p.m. on Tuesday when Jane strolled into Sirloin, feeling very put together in a navy skirt and crisp white blouse and with her hair styled in a neat ponytail. Good. Her appearance as she made her grand entrance would be the opposite of “flustered,” which is what Trevor was expecting from her, and at 5:30, no less.
“Hi, Dana!” Jane breezed past the producer and went up to one of the sound guys. “Hey, Jack. I’m ready to be miked. I like your T-shirt!”
“Thanks!” Jack grinned and handed her a pack.
“Jane?” Dana looked totally confused. “We . . . uh . . . we weren’t . . .”
“I know I’m a little early, but I wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly,” Jane said, smiling innocently.
The door opened, and Hannah walked into the restaurant. Her cheeks were flushed as though she’d been rushing. “Hi, Dana, hi, Jack! Jane, you beat me here! Wow, that’s gotta be a first, right?” she joked.
“Ha-ha. Is Fiona here?” Jane asked Dana.
“Uh . . . not yet. She should be here any sec. Uh, why don’t you girls get miked, then we can get a quick scene with you stuffing gift bags?”
“That sounds great!” Jane said eagerly, as though stuffing gift bags was the most thrilling activity, ever.
Dana, Hannah, and Jack all stared at her.
“So
you’re
in a cheerful mood,” Hannah said to Jane as they tucked gift certificates, wine stoppers, and bottles of gourmet steak sauce into small black-and-white totes with the Sirloin logo.
“Yeah, it’s been a good day. I went to the gym, then I had lunch with Aja’s publicist, Wanda, to discuss the Vegas party, then I spent the afternoon doing errands for tonight.”
“I think it’s just you and me on duty this evening. Oliver’s studying for finals, and I guess Madison’s out of town?”
“Apparently.” Jane pretended to search for a missing wine stopper as she tried to keep a straight face. She had to act as though she had no idea she was about to get “ambushed” by Madison, who wasn’t out of town at all. “Soooo. You and Oliver looked pretty cozy at Scarlett’s birthday party.”
Hannah blushed. “Yeah, he’s really sweet. And he loves the same things I do!”
“Like?”
“Like . . . old movies. And cooking. And hiking in Joshua Tree.
And
my parents like him.”
“He’s met your parents? That’s huge!”
“It was totally low-key. They took us out to dinner last week. My dad’s kind of overprotective and asked Oliver about a billion questions. Oliver was cool about it.” She added, “We’re going to San Diego so I can meet his parents, maybe next weekend.”
“Wow.”
Hannah smiled dreamily and stared off into space as she finished up a gift bag. Jane watched her and thought about Caleb. She didn’t feel about him the way Hannah seemed to feel about Oliver. (Or how Scar felt about Liam . . . although Liam had never made it to the birthday party on Saturday, and now the two of them seemed to be fighting, although Jane wasn’t positive because Scar didn’t want to talk about it.) But maybe it was a good thing Jane wasn’t head over heels about Caleb, since they were hanging out and not heading down the aisle. Okay, so she missed the heady wanting-to-make-out-all-the-time chemistry (the way it used to be for them in high school). But she didn’t miss the Jesse-style insanity.
And she really wasn’t into Caleb’s slightly-too-keen interest in being filmed. And photographed by the paparazzi. And in general being a “celebrity.” Jane hoped it was a phase, one that he would outgrow soon. She remembered, he went through a similar phase senior year, when the swim team won the national championship. Being team captain, he was interviewed for a dozen newspaper articles and even appeared on a couple of local news channels. The attention had gone to his head for a while. It had been annoying until he finally got over it and returned to his old self.
Her cell buzzed. It was a text from Dana:
PLZ DISCUSS OPENING TONITE, EVERYTHINGS GOING WELL, ETC. FINISH WITH LINE: WHAT COULD GO WRONG?
Jane smiled serenely at Dana, who was watching her from across the room along with Trevor and Fiona, and tucked her phone back into her pocket. It was pretty awesome, being two steps ahead of the higher-ups, for a change. “So. I’m seating the guests tonight. Can you manage the press line?” she asked Hannah.
“No problem.” Hannah peered at her watch. “People are going to start to arrive soon. I should check in with the chef to make sure the passed hors d’oeuvres are ready to go.”
“Great! Hey, I meant to tell you . . . I love the flowers you picked out. And the menu cards are really cool, too.”
“Thanks!”
Jane glanced around the 1940s-style dining room with its wine-colored leather booths, black and white tiles, silver wall sconces, and framed photos of movie stars. There were votives and flowers on every table, along with place settings and ivory cards engraved with tonight’s special menu. The place looked beautiful and elegant, all ready for its grand opening.
“Everything’s going so well,” Jane recited, as if from a teleprompter. “What could go wrong?”
Hannah gave her a funny look. “Um, nothing? This night’s gonna be perfect! Don’t jinx it, Jane!”
Jane grinned. “I won’t.”
“Hi, Ashley, hi, Scott, it’s so nice to see you both! Follow me . . . right this way.”
Jane led Ashley Pierce and her fiancé to their seats in the center of the room. It was an art, planning the seating chart for an event, especially when there were celebrities involved. Celebrities meant fragile (actually, more like combustible) egos as well as constantly shifting friendships, relationships, alliances. Jane couldn’t seat Ashley at the same table as Leda Phillips, since the two had competed for the same role in an upcoming film. (Leda won.) And Jared Walsh couldn’t be anywhere near Aidan Kline, since Jared had not-so-secretly hooked up with Aidan’s then-girlfriend last year at Cannes. Joe Giardi, one of the most powerful agents in Hollywood, had to have the best table in the house—or should she give it to Carly Henek, who had recently and very publicly cut ties with the A-list rep?
As soon as Jane had seated Ashley and her fiancé, she headed back toward the end of the press line, where more celebrities would be waiting for their tables. On the way, she noticed two PopTV camera guys parked by a side entrance . . . and a third PopTV camera guy nearby, his camera focused on Jane.
This was it. Jane was ready. She stopped in her tracks and pretended to adjust her earpiece. Just then, the door opened, and Madison sauntered in.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw that the first camera was trained on Madison (who was already miked—Jane could just make out the faint outline of a pack under her dress), and the second camera was trained on Jane. The third camera was trained on Fiona, who was hurrying through the dining room toward the two girls.
Madison tossed her hair over her shoulders and smiled smugly at Jane.
“Jane, could you—” Fiona began.
“Hey, Madison! So nice to see you!” Jane said in an extra-friendly voice. “I knew you might be out of town, but I saved you a table just in case. Follow me!”
Madison’s smile disappeared from her face. Fiona looked stunned.
Jane had to resist the urge to laugh. This was too awesome. She couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.
“Hey, can you seat us at Madison’s table, too?”
Jane turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. It couldn’t be . . .
It
was.
Jesse was standing there, looking impossibly handsome in a black tailored shirt and slacks. On his arm was Sophia Parker.
Madison seemed just as surprised as Jane. “Sophia, are you
serious
?” she hissed.
Sophia smirked. “I need a drink. You need a drink, sweetie?” she said, caressing Jesse’s arm.
Jesse kissed Sophia on the lips. “Oh, yeah. Where’s the bar in this place?”
Jane was completely speechless. This was definitely not in the book.
“Can you pass the ketchup?” Gaby asked Madison as she reached for another french fry. “Annabelle wouldn’t let me eat in front of the press, so I’m starving! I mean, what kind of publicist doesn’t let you eat steak at the grand opening of a restaurant called Sirloin?”
“Yeah, that sucks,” Madison agreed, handing her the ketchup bottle. The two girls were sitting in Mel’s Drive-In, which was almost empty at this late hour on a Tuesday night (or was it Wednesday morning now?).
Madison rubbed her temples, which were beginning to throb from one too many martinis at the opening and from the shock of seeing Sophie and Jesse Edwards together. “How’s Annabelle working out for you, anyway? She seems to be getting you a lot of press,” she said, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, she’s really good!” Gaby agreed. “Except . . .”
“Except what?”
“Except . . . she makes me do all this stuff. Like, I have to get my hair and makeup done before every single shoot. And she has me working with this stylist who totally changed the way I dress. At first it was kinda fun, but now I don’t feel like me. I feel like I’m playing a part.” Gaby tugged at her tight black minidress, which made her new cleavage bunch up and practically spill out. “Plus . . . my boobs
hurt.
”
“Yeah, I heard breast surgery can be like that,” Madison said, not revealing the fact that she’d had the procedure done herself, more than once. “But this is Hollywood. If you don’t keep up with all the other skinny, gorgeous double-D girls, you’re out.”
“Yeah. But I’m also sick of the stuff Annabelle’s making me say on the show and in the magazines. She and Trevor have these meetings, and then she tells me that I have to be a bitch to Jane and Scarlett if I want more airtime. I know, I know!” she added quickly when Madison shot her an annoyed look. “You hate their guts. But I’m kinda friends with them
and
with you. I’m sorry, but I’m just being honest. I don’t like taking sides or being mean to anybody. Besides, I thought the whole point of being on a reality show is that you get to be yourself. Well, this isn’t me.”
Madison took a sip of her sparkling water. Unlike Gaby, she was not going to let her bad mood push her to eat french fries and fatty little sliders. So. Gaby’s sleazy new publicist was behind her new look and personality. And it was obviously paying off. Madison had noticed a lot more of Gaby in the magazines and on Season 2 of the show.
Part of her was tempted to tell Gaby to stop whining. She had what she wanted, didn’t she? More fame, more airtime, more boyfriends? (Even though the “boyfriends” were just in it for the media attention.)
Gaby also didn’t have half the problems Madison had. Not nearly. Madison was still reeling from the idea of Sophie hooking up with Jesse. No wonder the little bitch was grilling her on Saturday about him and the other people on
L.A. Candy.
She had obviously been searching for a way to make a big tabloid splash. Showing up at the restaurant opening with Jane’s fresh-out-of-rehab ex definitely qualified. As for Jesse, what better way for him to get back at Jane for dumping him than dating her cute new costar (and Madison’s sister, although frankly, dating Madison herself would have meant
way
higher ratings)? Jane (who had seemed strangely giddy about spending her evening stuffing gift bags and seating celebs) had not been able to mask her shock at seeing the happy new couple. And she had not been able to hide her disgust as she watched them downing vodka shot after vodka shot and showing way too much PDA in front of the A-list crowd.
Madison had wondered briefly if Trevor had arranged for Sophie and Jesse to show up at the party together, for the publicity or just for “drama” on the show. But from the stunned expression on Trevor’s face at their grand entrance, it had been just as much of a surprise for him as everyone else.
Sophie was clearly after the spotlight—and she was succeeding, so far. Which meant that Madison had both Sophie
and
Jane to worry about now. Because there was only room in the spotlight for one of them. Sophie was allowed to be famous, sure—but not more famous than Madison. Not anywhere close.
Gaby’s voice interrupted her worries. “It’s been so long, just us girls hanging out without the cameras. I mean, it’s hard to imagine now, but there once was a time when we all kinda got along. Hey, I know! You wanna come with me when I walk Princess Baby?” she said eagerly.
“That sounds great, but I’m really tired, and I’ve gotta be at the office early,” Madison fibbed. Of course, she had no intention of showing up at Fiona’s in the morning or any time tomorrow, for that matter.
Besides, she was curious to see if Sophie was home—and if so, if she was alone. After tonight, Madison realized that she was going to have to be more vigilant than ever about her baby sister. Sophie was beating Madison at her own game.
Scarlett tried to pay attention to what Professor Friedman was saying about their latest assignment,
Manon Lescaut
by Antoine François Prévost. She had just started reading the eighteenth-century French novel about a nobleman and his girlfriend who had serious relationship problems.
Yeah, join the club,
Scarlett thought with a heavy sigh.
She and Liam had not spoken since her birthday party four days ago. He had texted her later that night, saying that he needed to “take a break,” whatever that meant. In response, she had started about twenty different emails to him, but ended up hitting Delete each time, because she couldn’t seem to express exactly what she was feeling.
Which was that she missed him. And that she was mad at him. And that she was mad at herself.
She was mad at Liam because he wouldn’t meet her halfway that night and just make an
appearance
at Coco de Ville. Of course she knew he couldn’t be filmed. She got that. But he could have avoided the cameras and hung out with their friends at an out-of-the-way table until it was cool for the two of them to slip away . . . at which point they could have driven to that romantic little inn in Malibu and
really
celebrated her birthday.
She was also mad at herself because she couldn’t seem to figure out how to meet
him
halfway. Not just about her birthday, but generally speaking. She knew that dating her was making it hard for him to get work. Since
Gossip
magazine outed them as a couple (and PopTV fired him as a result), producers weren’t sure they could trust him not to try to date the “talent” on their own shows. She also knew how much he hated watching the recent
L.A. Candy
episode where Trevor had somehow managed to make her scenes with Naveen look seriously flirtatious. In one case, he had patched together a shot of Scarlett staring intently at (probably) the wall . . . and a shot of Naveen staring intently at (probably) a hot waitress . . . and set the whole thing to “You and Me” by Lifehouse, resulting in a cliffhanger brimming with romantic tension. Gross.
Of course, Liam, being a former PopTV employee, was well aware of Trevor’s creative use of editing techniques and cheesy soundtracks. But still, it couldn’t be easy for him.
Which left the ball in Scarlett’s court. Could she stand up to Trevor and demand that he stop using her so shamelessly for ratings? She had promised him that she would be more cooperative this season and not take everything so seriously. So far, she’d been successful—hadn’t she? Unfortunately, her “success” had taken its toll on her relationship with Liam. She wasn’t sure how much more he was going to put up with. And now there was Liam’s Evite mysteriously disappearing into the void.
To make things even worse . . . the day after the birthday party, Jane had shown her a little brown notebook belonging to Trevor. She’d found it at Coco de Ville during the setup for the party. Most of the pages were filled with gibberish—Trevor’s handwriting was even worse than Jane’s—but Scarlett had been able to make out enough of it, with Jane’s help, to see how obsessed he was with plotting the girls’ “scenes” on the show. It was as though he were writing a script from scratch, not producing a reality show.
Scarlett hadn’t been surprised to learn that Trevor’s mind worked this way. But she
had
been surprised (and shocked and disturbed) by how much he’d lied to her and the others to get them to do his bidding.
So basically, she had been wrong about what she told Liam over dinner last week: She
was
Trevor’s puppet, which was the last thing she wanted to be. Between that and Liam’s unhappiness with the show . . . Well, one option would be to bail after Season 2. Sure, the money was great, and she loved being financially independent from her parents. But there had to be other gigs out there that paid well and didn’t require her to feel so manipulated and that would allow her to be with a guy who didn’t want to be on TV.
Or maybe she should quit the show but postpone the job hunting. Maybe she should just suck it up and let her parents support her until she graduated from college and started her
real
career, whatever that was. (She’d had some fantasies recently about becoming a journalist—not a faux journalist, like the tabloid idiots who wanted to know what her favorite ice-cream flavor was, but a real journalist.) The question was . . . which college? She’d gotten five more acceptances since Columbia, and she was still waiting to hear from a few others. Pretty soon, she was going to have to make a decision: to transfer or not to transfer? And she was going to have to tell Liam, either way. (And Jane.)
If she transferred, she would have to leave Jane . . . and possibly leave Liam, unless he decided to relocate with her. That could be cool, being in a new city with Liam. But what if he didn’t
want
to relocate—or
couldn’t
because he was on the brink of his dream job right here in L.A.? If their roles were reversed, would she do the same for him? If he told her tomorrow that he had received an amazing opportunity that meant moving far away, would she follow him?
This was all assuming they still had a relationship to negotiate over. Which was questionable, since they weren’t even speaking.
She groaned and dropped her face into her hands, wondering how her life had gotten so complicated.
An IM popped up on her laptop screen. WAKE UP! Chelsea had written.
Scarlett glanced across the room. Chelsea gave her a little wave. Up front, Professor Friedman was scribbling on the chalkboard and talking about the poor nobleman trying to please his girlfriend, who had expensive tastes.
Hmm, sounds like a perfect reality show,
Scarlett thought wryly. She typed, I AM AWAKE. IM JUST TRYING TO FIGURE OUT MY LIFE.
I CAN HELP WITH THAT. DRINK LATER? Chelsea replied.
YES, PLEASE! Scarlett typed.
WELL IF I MANAGE TO FIGURE OUT YOUR LIFE, DRINKS ARE ON YOU :-)
Scarlett smiled to herself. If Chelsea could solve all her problems, she would be happy to buy her whatever the hell she wanted.