Sugar and Spice Page 15

  Sophie swiped her hand across her chocolate-stained lips. “Soooo. What’s Jane’s story, anyway? You guys used to be best friends, right?” she mumbled.

  “That girl needs therapy. Sophie, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “Who’s that guy she dated? Justin?”

  “Jesse. Yeah, she really screwed it up with him. I mean, he’s super-cute and rich. He’s the son of two of the most famous actors in Hollywood, and he’s a total paparazzi magnet. If he’d been my boyfriend, I would have done it right. You don’t fall in love with a guy like that. You think with your head, not with your heart. You date him, get the press, then end it, preferably with a scandal. And you move on,” Madison said.

  “Yeah, makes sense,” Sophie said, nodding. She seemed to be considering something. “What about Gaby? She’s your friend, right?” she asked.

  “Gaby’s okay. She’s seems to be in major makeover mode. It’s probably because she got a publicist and thinks she’s super-famous now.”

  “What’s a publicist?”

  “Someone who gets you into magazines and stuff.”

  Sophie frowned. “But . . . my picture’s all over the internet. And I don’t have a publicist.”

  “Yeah, well, a publicist can do a lot more of that.”

  “Do you have a publicist?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Hmm, maybe I should get one, too.” Sophie picked up her BlackBerry and punched some keys. “So do you just Google ‘publicist,’ or—”

  “Sophie, it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to get a publicist,” Madison cut in.

  “Why not?”

  “It just wouldn’t.”

  Sophie cocked her head, her eyes inscrutable behind the dark glasses. Madison had the sudden, sinking feeling that she had just misplayed her hand. Telling Sophie not to do something almost always had the opposite effect. Like that time when they were kids and Madison told Sophie she could play with any of her dolls except for her special ballerina Barbie (and Madison never saw that Barbie again) . . . Anyway, Sophie was likely to go out and get herself a publicist now, which would not only triple the obnoxious amount of press coverage she was already getting (for being a new face on the show? BFD), but might increase both their risks of exposure, especially since Sophie seemed to have a very, very hard time keeping her damned mouth shut.

  Madison glanced impatiently at her watch. Where was the PopTV van, anyway? She had to get home and get ready for the party. She really wasn’t looking forward to the night ahead, but there was no escaping it . . . and besides, if she was going to play the bad-girl-slash-social-pariah (again), she might as well do it wearing her hot D&G strapless and her new black satin Loubs.

  Just then, a well-dressed young guy approached their table. Madison sat up a little straighter. She knew the drill; she turned down men as a hobby.

  But his eyes weren’t on her . . . they were on Sophie. And Sophie was eating it up, smiling coyly and playing with her hair. Madison slid down in her chair and pretended to check her watch again. Ugh. The girl really was an attention whore.

  On the other hand . . . maybe Madison was looking at this all wrong? Maybe Sophie reaping so much attention (from men, Trevor, the media) was actually a good thing? Up until now, Sophie held all the cards because Madison had everything to lose. But now . . . Sophie had everything to lose, too. She was starting to get a taste of fame and fortune and the perks that came with them: nice clothes, fancy cars, guys with money, VIP access. She wasn’t an idiot. There was no way she was going to bring Madison down. Because if she did, she was going down, too. In flames.

  Madison smiled—not a fake smile, but a real smile, her first one in days.

  Chapter 23

  Birthday Girl

  Scarlett studied the contents of her closet, wondering what she should bring for her mystery overnight with Liam. She had packed jeans, shorts, T-shirts, a bathing suit, pretty lingerie, and toiletries. Just to be safe, she added a simple black tank dress, a cashmere sweater, and a pair of nice sandals. And the silver and turquoise necklace Jane had given her for her birthday last year.

  She glanced at her watch. Ugh. She had to be at Coco de Ville at 6 p.m. for a “super-short pickup scene” (as Dana had described it). Scarlett would have said no, but Dana had insisted that it was a “production emergency”; apparently they had lost half the audio from the night they had filmed there (Oops! Someone just got fired.) and required a quick scene between her and Jane in order to make sense of the evening. She promised Scarlett it wouldn’t take more than an hour. Scarlett had texted Liam and told him to pick her up at the club at 7 p.m. instead of at her apartment.

  Scarlett wondered if Jane was already at the club. She hadn’t seen her all day. She had woken up early to go to the gym, and by the time she got back, Jane was gone. It was Saturday, which was not a typical workday, although Jane often put in weekend hours, and Scarlett knew she had been busy with an upcoming restaurant opening, not to mention Aja’s engagement party, which was happening in a couple of weeks.

  Jane hadn’t forgotten about her birthday, though. She had left a sweet note with smiley faces all over it and the message: Happy Birthday, Scar!!!! Let’s go out for birthday drinks as soon as we have a free night, okay? Love you, Jane.

  Tucker trotted into Scarlett’s room and plopped down at her feet. She bent down to pet him, and he licked her face excitedly. “Aw. Thanks for my birthday kisses! Yeah, I’m turning twenty today. Isn’t that crazy?”

  Scarlett picked up her bag and glanced at the time on her phone: 5:35. She’d better go, or she would be late for the stupid PopTV shoot. She was dressed in the same outfit she’d worn to Coco de Ville for the original scene, so PopTV could create the illusion that this new scene wasn’t being shot out of sequence. Dana had emailed her scene shots so she could match her hair, makeup, and jewelry as well. Yeah, reality.

  But Scarlett didn’t care. And as soon as the shoot was over . . . well, Liam would be pulling up in front of the club to pick her up. She couldn’t wait to see him. She planned to throw her arms around him and kiss him for a really, really, really long time. . . .

  “Surprrrrrrise!”

  Scarlett stood inside Coco de Ville, staring dumbfounded at all the people shouting and waving and blowing noisemakers at her. A surprise party?

  “Happy birthday, Scar!” Jane ran up to her and gave her a big hug. “Were you surprised? You were, weren’t you?”

  “Scarlett, let’s get you miked right away so we can get you greeting everyone.” Matt handed her a mike pack, which Scarlett automatically tucked under her blouse and clipped to the back of her skirt. At the moment, she was too numb and at a loss for words to question anything. “Oh, and happy birthday!” he added.

  People began coming up to her in a flurry of hugs and kisses. “Miss Scarlett!” D screeched. “I got you the most amazing present! No, I won’t give you a hint! Okay, I will. It’s the most adorable little Prada bag!”

  “Happy birthday, Harp. You don’t look too bad for an old lady,” Caleb teased her.

  Naveen kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just mad cuz you beat him in arm-wrestling last week.”

  “That’s because of yours truly, her awesome personal trainer,” Deb spoke up.

  “This party had better be good, because I have a twenty-page paper due for linguistics on Monday,” Chelsea joked.

  Scarlett!

  Happy birthday!

  Hey, birthday girl!

  Scarlett blinked, dazed and bewildered. More people came up to her and talked at her . . . a waitress handed her a glass of champagne . . . someone else put a party hat on her head . . . and all the while, flashbulbs popped in her face and the PopTV cameras zoomed in on her and Dana gestured frantically at her to do—what?

  “A super-short pickup scene.” Right. Scarlett couldn’t believe she had fallen for Dana’s dumb ruse.

  Hannah from Jane’s office wished her a happy birthday, as did some cute
red-haired guy who had his arm around her. Peering around, Scarlett saw that the room had been decorated with balloons, streamers, and vases of yellow tulips, her favorite. A DJ was playing Kings of Leon, also her favorite. Nearby, an easel held a large collage of photos with the heading: THE SCARLETT WE KNOW AND LOVE! God, was that a picture of her sitting in a high chair, covered in spaghetti sauce? And there she was taking her first steps . . . and hugging Mickey at Disney . . . and playing Dorothy in the sixth-grade musical . . . and in braces . . . and at the prom.

  I need a drink, Scarlett thought grimly, downing the glass of champagne and reaching for another, just as an elderly woman with a cane cut a path through the crowd toward her. She looked like . . .

  “Grandma Harp?” Scarlett exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Honey Bunny,” her grandmother said warmly.

  “Honey Bunny?” Deb whispered in Scarlett’s ear.

  “She’s eighty-five,” Scarlett whispered back.

  “No, it’s cute. I’m gonna start calling you that during our workouts.”

  Behind Grandma Harp were Scarlett’s parents. “Hello, sweetheart,” her mother said, handing her a perfectly gift-wrapped box. “It’s a sweater from Saks. Tangerine. You really need to start wearing more color.”

  “Happy birthday, Princess,” her father added. “So glad we could be here to share your big moment! Oh, and I met your new friend Naveen. We had a very nice talk about plastic surgery!”

  Jane’s parents and little sisters were also there. “Can I help you open your presents, Scarlett?” Nora begged.

  “Yeah, and if there’s anything you don’t like, can I have it? Puh-lease?” Lacie added.

  Jane leaned into Scarlett and whispered, “Don’t worry. Family’s only staying for the first hour. Then we can have a little more fun.”

  Gaby—or the girl who used to be Gaby, anyway—walked up to her, dragging some new faux boyfriend behind her. Scarlett had called her yesterday and tried to talk to her about her recent bizarre behavior. Gaby had replied that she had no idea what Scarlett was talking about, then ended the call, saying she was late for an appointment. Lame.

  “Happy birthday, Scarlett!” Gaby said, air-kissing. “This is Roberto. He’s a baseball player.”

  “Uh, it’s hockey, actually,” Roberto corrected her.

  “Does your boyfriend know you’re here with Dr. Hottie?” Gaby asked Scarlett, winking. “Don’t worry, you’re the birthday girl! You’re allowed to hook up with anyone you want tonight!”

  Scarlett gulped. Boyfriend? Oh, no!

  “Janie!” Scarlett waved her over. “Were you in charge of this party?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, Trevor asked me to organize it. I hope you don’t mind!” Jane whispered back.

  “It was really sweet of you. Thanks! It’s just that . . . um, well, you invited Liam, right?”

  “Of course I invited him! I mean, I didn’t personally invite him—PopTV handled the invites.” Jane looked puzzled. “But you said he was out of town this week, right? I assumed he wasn’t coming.”

  “No. He was flying in, like, an hour ago. The thing is . . . well, never mind, I’ll tell you later. I’ve gotta make a call.”

  Excusing herself, Scarlett managed to escape through the crowd and find her way to the ladies’ room. It was empty. Good. She reached under her blouse and turned off the microphone (the crew would figure she wanted privacy), then pulled out her phone and dialed Liam’s number. She covered her other ear with her hand, trying to drown out the loud pop music pouring over the speakers.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

  “Liam! Where are you?”

  “Where am I? My flight was delayed. We just landed, though, so as long as the traffic cooperates, I should be at the club on time.”

  “You knew about the party, right?”

  “Party? What are you talking about?”

  “My surprise birthday party.” But hearing Liam’s confusion made Scarlett realize it was a surprise for him, too.

  Silence. “Your . . . surprise birthday party?” Liam said finally.

  “You didn’t know about my party, did you?”

  “No, Scarlett, I didn’t know about your party.”

  “Jane said you were on the guest list.”

  “Well, my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail, then.”

  “Oh, God! So your birthday plans for me were real? Telling me to pack an overnight bag and stuff? You didn’t just make that up so I wouldn’t suspect about the party?”

  “We have a dinner reservation in Malibu. And I got us a room with an ocean view at this amazing inn.”

  “You did?” Scarlett’s heart melted. “That’s so sweet!”

  “Yeah, well . . . if we leave the club right at seven, we should be able to make our reservation.”

  “But, Liam, I can’t just leave! They rented out the club for the night. Everyone’s here. My eighty-five-year-old grandmother came all the way from Montecito. And the PopTV cameras are here, filming.” Scarlett thought for a moment. “Why don’t you come by here for a while, and we can leave for Malibu in, like, an hour or two? I don’t mind eating late. I know you can’t be filmed, but we can just keep you away from the cameras.”

  More silence.

  “Liam? Are you still there?”

  “You’re seriously standing me up for some lame L.A. Candy party?”

  “I am not standing you up! Jane organized this, and she’d be really upset if I just took off, and . . . well, besides, we can do both! I know we can! We can hang out here for a bit, then we can head up the coast and have our romantic date.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Liam said. “Your priorities are completely screwed up.”

  “My priorities? What are you talking about? I’m dying to see you. I haven’t seen you all week! But my family and friends are all here. I can’t just walk out on my own party.”

  “Yeah, you can. You just don’t want to.”

  “Liam, that’s not—”

  “Good night, Scarlett. I hope you have a nice birthday.”

  Click.

  Scarlett stared at the dead phone in her hand. Had Liam just hung up on her? What the hell? How could he not understand the predicament she was in? Maybe she hadn’t explained things clearly enough. . . .

  She started to redial his number when Dana rushed into the ladies’ room. “Scarlett! There you are! We need you out here right this second!” she said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Cuz they’re about to bring out your cake. Come on, come on!”

  “Fine! I’m coming!”

  Sighing, Scarlett tucked her phone back in her pocket and switched her mike back on. As she followed Dana out of the ladies’ room, she caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror. Her face looked tense and unhappy. She hated fighting with Liam. An hour ago, she had been packing her bag, wondering what amazing surprise he had in store for her birthday.

  Malibu. A little inn by the sea. It was just like Liam to dream up something like that.

  And now, she was stuck at this party . . . and he was mad at her. How had everything gotten so twisted around?

  Walking out of the ladies’ room, Scarlett saw the crowd—her crowd—having fun, drinking champagne, dancing to the Black Eyed Peas. She took a deep breath and plastered a big smile on her face. It was time to play the birthday girl, at least for a little while longer, until she could slip away and go find Liam and make up. If it wasn’t too late.

  Then Jane rushed to her side, her face as tense and unhappy as Scarlett’s had been in the ladies’ room mirror before. “Hey. What’s up?” Scarlett asked her curiously.

  Jane nodded toward the doorway. “Guess what just walked in?”

  Scarlett followed Jane’s gaze. Madison and Sophia were standing there, wearing variations on the same strapless metallic Spandex dress, smiling and waving as though they were on the red carpet. Gaby was walk
ing up to them, air-kissing and clinging to her hockey-player “boyfriend.”

  “I’m assuming you didn’t invite them,” Scarlett whispered to Jane.

  “Uh, no. Gaby told me she invited them. But honestly? I think Trevor messed with the guest list when the Evites were getting sent out.”

  Yeah, Trevor messed with the guest list all right, Scarlett thought, thinking of Liam. It all made sense now. Trevor would not have wanted Liam at the party—not just because Liam couldn’t be filmed, but because it would interfere with whatever trumped-up “flirtation” scenes Trevor had in mind for Scarlett and Naveen.

  Could this birthday get any worse?

  Chapter 24

  Two Steps Ahead

  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.