Sweet Little Lies (15 page)

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because, Nancy Drew, you sound like a crazy person right now.”

Scarlett knotted her fists. She felt like punching a wall. Shehad to calm down. “Yeah? So what does your boyfriend think of your new best friend?” she said sarcastically.

“She is not my new best friend. Although my old best friend is never around anymore, so it’s good I’ve got new friends to hang out with.”

“What do you mean,I’m never around anymore?” Scarlett burst out. “You’rethe one who left the country!”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Jane ignored her. “And to answer your question, Madison was just saying tonight that she wants to get to know Jesse better. You know, like a fresh start. Which is something we couldall use,” she added pointedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean I’m sick of all your negativity about Madison—and Jesse, too. You need to learn how to be nice to them. Or, if youcan’t be nice to them, at least stop being such a bitch all the time.”

“No! I’mnot going to be nice to them, and I’mnot going to stop being bitchy about them. Someone’s gotta look out for you, because you’re being really, really stupid about those two. I don’t know why, but you are.”

“What iswrong with you?” Jane cried out. “I can’t believe you’re saying these things. Seriously, I don’t even know you anymore!”

“That makes two of us, because I don’t know you anymore, either!”

Jane got up and paced around the room. After a moment, she stopped and turned around. “Well, maybe we should take a break from living together,” she said in a trembling voice.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Jane looked as though she was about to say something else. But instead, she turned and ran down the hall toward her room. A second later, Scarlett heard a door slamming.

And another second later, Scarlett did something she never, ever did.

She burst into tears.

22

MOVING DAY

“It’s the last door on the right,” Madison told the movers. “And be careful going around corners and through doorways. I don’t want any scratches or marks on my walls. Got it?” As she spoke, she turned ever so slightly toward the soft light filtering through the paper-covered windows. She wanted to make sure that the PopTV camera crew captured her at the most flattering angle possible.

“Yes, miss,” one of the guys in the bright orangeMOVE IT! INC . tee said. He wiped his brow as he and another guy maneuvered Jane’s queen-size mattress past one of Madison’s lipstick-red chairs.

“What about the fish? Which room does he live in?”

“Penny’s a she! Bedroom, please!” Jane called out. She was carrying a potted ficus tree strung with tiny lights. She set it on the living room floor and sat down next to it, swigging from a sports bottle. The
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

cameras pivoted toward her.

Madison hoped Jane didn’t plan on leaving her sorry Wal-Mart plant in that spot, so close to the ten-thousand-dollar Italian leather couch. Seriously, she was beginning to have second thoughts about letting her move in. The girl had so much crap. Madison believed in what one of her old (and older) boyfriends called “one percent decor”: that is, furniture and artwork that only the top 1 percent income bracket could afford. She had been very careful about what items to choose for her prized penthouse—or rather, what items to let Derek, her current (and older) boyfriend, choose forhis prized penthouse, which he was kind enough to share with her.

Not that he was around often. Mostly, he was at his other home in Pacific Palisades with his wife (who didn’t know about the penthouse) and their new baby.

Still, he was going to be a problem. Or rather, Jane was going to be a problem where he was concerned. When the call came from Jane four days ago, saying that she’d had a fight with Scarlett and needed to find a new place to live ASAP, Madison had immediately invited her to move in with her—for a week, for a month, for a year—however long she needed. And Jane had accepted gratefully. Madison couldn’t have planned it better herself, and she wondered if her remark that day at the spa had actually set this in motion.

Madison had called Derek right away, telling him that the network was forcing her to let Jane move in temporarily for a certain story line they had in mind. He hadn’t been happy at first, but she had convinced him that it would be okay to meet elsewhere for a while—maybe their old suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel?—and he had agreed. Men. They could never say no to her.

But this little lie was bound to catch up to her if Jane stayed longer than a few weeks or months…or if Derek (who watchedL.A. Candy , or rather, whose wife watchedL.A. Candy , and he watched with her, because it gave him a stupid, secret thrill to do so) eventually figured out that therewas no “certain story line” having to do with Madison and Jane being roommates. Although Jane moving into her apartment would make an awesome season finale—wouldn’t it?

One crisis at a time,Madison thought.I’ll figure it out later. I always do.

She moved over to the Italian couch and perched on the armrest, making sure to push her shoulders back in a way that made her cleavage look…telegenic. She was glad she had worn her formfitting pink tank top today. “You doing okay, sweetie?” she said to Jane, who was still sitting on the floor.

Jane took another swig from her sports bottle, then put it down next to her sad little plant. She rose to her feet and joined Madison on the couch. “I feel like Ijust moved,” she complained good-naturedly. “I did just move. Twice. In August, Scar and I moved from Santa Barbara to our first apartment by the 101. And in September, we moved from there to the Palazzo.”

“Moving day is always super-stressful,” Madison agreed.

“When’d you move into this place? It belongs to your parents, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve been here for, like, a year?”

“It’s soooo amazing!”

“Thanks!”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Jane glanced around. “How come there aren’t any pictures of them?”

“Of who?”

“Your parents.”

Madison forced a smile, mostly to buy herself the split second she needed to craft a plausible story. She hadn’t been prepared for this question. “I have them on my laptop,” she improvised. “I’m soooo bad about ordering prints and putting them in frames and stuff. Plus, to tell you the truth, my parents are kinda camera-shy. Theyhate people seeing pictures of them.”

“Guess you didn’t inherit that from them,” Jane teased her.

Bitch,Madison thought.

Jane sat up abruptly as one of the movers passed by, carrying a coffee table. “Hey, that’s Scar’s!” she said to Madison. “That’s my roommate’s!” she said to the guy, then corrected herself. “I mean, myex

-roommate’s.”

“Sorry about that! We’ll return it to your old apartment once we’re done here,” the guy apologized.

“No problem.” Jane turned back to Madison. “I didn’t even say good-bye to her before I left.”

“Whatever. You shouldn’t be worried about her, after the way she treated you,” Madison said.

“Seriously, that girl needs therapy.”

“I don’t know.”

“Sweetie, you’re way too understanding. You’ve gotta stop letting people walk all over you.”

“Scar didn’t walk all over me.”

“She did! You’re just too nice a person to see it.”

Understanding. Nice.The words caught in her throat and practically made her gag. Still, Madison didn’t want Jane doubting this new arrangement, even though she and her ficus and all the rest of her crap were cramping Madison’s style. Besides, Trevor had called her yesterday and told her that she shouldn’t hold back on expressing her opinions about Scarlett to Jane, if that was what she felt “compelled to do.”

Translation: Trevor was ecstatic that Scarlett and Jane were fighting, and he wanted to keep the tense friendship triangle going for as long as possible. Madison knew that he and the other producers had been struggling to find story lines for the totally unfilmable Scarlett. Her rift with Jane was actually good news for the show. And Madison was happy to cooperate.

Jane sighed. “I feel bad about the way we left things. Maybe I should call her?”

Jane was acting like she was having second thoughts about moving. Madison had to distract her from those thoughts. “No! You wait forher to callyou. She owes you a huge apology,” she said quickly.

“Besides, I wanna talk to you about something. It’s important.”

“What?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“I’ve been thinking. Now that you’re living here, maybe we could think about getting a pet? Like a puppy?”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Whaaaat?No way! I’ve always wanted a puppy! Ohmigod, Madison, are you serious?”

Madison grinned as she took in the sight of Jane’s happy face.Wow. Jane had mentioned to her once how she couldn’t have a dog growing up because of her mom’s allergies. Madison knew the puppy idea would win her points with Jane. She had no idea that she would basically be hitting the jackpot.

“Yeah, I’m serious. What are you doing tomorrow? You wanna go dog shopping?”

“Yes! Madison, I love you!” Jane leaned over and gave Madison a big hug.

“Love you, too, sweetie!” As Madison hugged her back, she shifted a few inches to the right—just enough so that the cameras hadher profile in their sights, and not Jane’s. Monopolizing the frame was hard work, almost as hard as coming up with clever lies.

Fortunately for Madison, she was really good at both.

23

REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST

“Let us explore the significance of the madeleine in Proust’s novel,” Professor Friedman said.

Scarlett slunk down in her seat and pulled her long black hair across her face, obscuring it. She knew that she would get a text from Dana any second now, telling her to sit up and push her hair back and act alive for the cameras. And normally she would be happy to engage in some spirited class participation, not for the sake of the show, but because she had actually started enjoyingRemembrance of Things Past and discussing it with the very tough but very smart Professor Friedman (who looked like an older Kristen Stewart, and who seemed to favor cool black vintage dresses).

But not today. Scarlett was in a foul mood—for two very good reasons.

Jane had moved out of their apartment.

And Jane had moved into Madison’s apartment.

Her cell buzzed. “Ugh,” Scarlett muttered under her breath, ignoring it. It was no doubt Dana, begging her to behave.

As if that strategy ever worked.

The lit seminar on French novels was on the small side, around fifteen people. Scarlett didn’t know most of the students, except for the girl with the elaborate tats on her arms (Vivian?), who had passed her a note at the beginning of the class saying,Reality TV is for whores . Nice. There was also the guy sitting
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

next to her, whom she had mentally labeled Surfer Boy, who kept leaning in her direction for no good reason and trying to get into the shot. He had confessed to her last week that he wanted to be an actor, and could she introduce him to the PopTV producers? And maybe her agent, too?

There was another student in the class who kind of intrigued her, named Chelsea. Chelsea seemed super-smart, always making insightful comments and asking interesting questions. She and Scarlett had talked a few times, away from the cameras, and Chelsea had suggested that they hang out sometime, also away from the cameras. Scarlett planned to take Chelsea up on her invitation one of these days, when she had gotten over her bad mood about Jane and Madison. Which, at this rate, might be never.

Liam and another camera guy were wedged in opposite corners of the room, which seemed barely bigger than someone’s kitchen. Dana was hovering in the hall, listening in on her headset. Liam had caught Scarlett’s eye a couple of times, looking concerned, but she had tried to ignore him. She didn’t want sympathy. Actually, she never wanted sympathy. Sympathy was for losers who couldn’t deal, and she was most definitely not one of those.

“First of all, can anyone tell me what a madeleine is? More important, can one find it at Starbucks?”

Professor Friedman said. A few students laughed politely. “How does Proust use it as a literary device?”

If Scarlett didn’t feel so crappy, she would answer the professor’s questions about the madeleine, which was a little shell-shaped cookie or cake, depending on your view. InRemembrance of Things Past , the narrator ate a madeleine with some tea, and the smell and taste of it unlocked all kinds of long-buried, wonderful, interesting memories.

Scarlett loved the idea of sensory experiences invoking memories. Like how hearing some song from the summer of 2005 could suddenly take you right back there. Or how smelling a certain cologne could make you think of an old boyfriend. There were all kinds of sensory experiences that Scarlett associated with her and Jane’s life back in Santa Barbara. The coconutty scent of sunscreen. (Beach, checking out guys, commiserating about the previous night’s bad dates.) The taste of blueberry pancakes. (Jane’s dad made them really well, and the two girls used to eat way too many of them on Sunday mornings, after sleepovers.) Seeing constellations in the night sky. (When they were eight, Scarlett taught Jane the names of the constellations, including her favorite, Orion the Hunter.) And now…she and Jane weren’t even speaking to each other.

How could their friendship go from so great to so…not there?

Scarlett listened but didn’t speak for the rest of the class, occasionally typing notes on her laptop and continuing to disregard Dana’s increasingly insistent texts. When it was time to go, she scooped up her belongings, stuffed them into her backpack, and made a beeline for the door. As she passed Liam packing up equipment, he reached out his hand as if to intercept her, but then jerked it back as he noticed Dana approaching.