L. A. Candy Page 5

  While the three of them were comparing blondes versus redheads versus brunettes, and the DJ was playing “Jungle Love” by the Steve Miller Band, he spotted two girls trying to squeeze in at the bar. Petite, pretty blonde—not the run-of-the-mill Hollywood blonde, but softer, sweeter. She was exactly what he had been looking for. And she came with a tall, strikingly beautiful brunette friend who had a slightly exotic but not too exotic edge. The two of them managed to get the bartender’s attention and were drinking and pretending to have a good time, but his razor-sharp instincts told him that they were nervous—awkward, even—knowing they didn’t fit in, unaware that it may have been a good thing.

  They were perfect.

  He rose from the table. “I’ll be right back,” he said in the general direction of the table. He didn’t wait for their response as he strode toward the bar, nodding and smiling at various people but not stopping to chat. This was not the time. He sidled up next to the brunette and caught the eye of the bartender, who knew without waiting to be told to hustle and pour him a Talisker with a splash of water, neat.

  The two girls were talking, their heads bent close. Trevor leaned over and said, “Hi. Are you enjoying yourselves?”

  The brunette glanced over her shoulder and fixed him with an icy stare. God, her eyes were amazing: intense green, like emeralds. Before she could say anything, the blonde grinned at him and said, “Yeah. It’s our first time here.”

  Trevor nodded. The blonde was exactly as he had guessed her to be: fresh, innocent, vulnerable. Perfect.

  “Do you two live in L.A.?” he asked them.

  “We do!” the blonde said, as if it were the best piece of news ever. “We just moved here from Santa Barbara, actually.”

  “I’ve been there a few times,” he said.

  “It’s beautiful there, huh?” the blonde gushed.

  The brunette still hadn’t said a word. Trevor took a sip of his Scotch, studied the two girls, and said, “So have the two of you ever thought about getting into the entertainment industry? Or maybe you’re in the business already—”

  The brunette cut in with “We’re not really interested in guys who are technically old enough to father us.”

  “You think I’m that old, huh?” Trevor chuckled. “Listen, I’m not trying to hit on you. I promise. I’m a producer. I’m looking for girls to cast in a new TV show I’m putting together.”

  “The Real World: Hollywood?” the brunette said drily.

  He smiled patiently. “I’m casting for a new documentary-style show. We’re going to be following around a group of girls in L.A. Seeing what their days and nights are like. It’s going to be really fun stuff. Kind of a reality version of Sex and the City, but totally PG, of course. Would you girls have any interest?”

  The blonde leaned forward and regarded him curiously. Her eyes were big, blue, expressive. The cameras were going to love them, he thought. “You’re a TV producer? Seriously?” she said.

  “Yes,” he replied. “You girls are exactly what I’m looking for. Why don’t you come in for an interview, and we can talk some more about it?”

  “What, do we look like we’re totally clueless?” the brunette demanded. “We’re really not interested in your low-budget project, or whatever you’re doing.”

  He’d never met a girl who hadn’t immediately softened at the words producer, casting, and interview. “Listen carefully to me,” he said after a moment. “Thousands of girls like you come to L.A. for an opportunity like this, and it never happens. Except it’s happening right now, to you. You can front all the confidence you want, but you don’t fool me. You waited in line to stand at a bar in a place where you don’t belong. I am offering you the chance to fit in at a hundred places like this—places where people would kill to be. Isn’t that why you moved to this city? To take a chance? No one moves here to be a nobody.”

  Now the brunette was staring at him, a little stunned. So was the blonde. Good, good. It was working. The blonde he hadn’t been too worried about. She was an open book. It was the brunette he had to win over.

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out a slim silver case, and placed a business card on the bar. “In case you get tired of waiting in lines for tequila shots,” he said, locking eyes with the brunette.

  And then he turned and made his exit.

  8

  IT’S CALLED POSITIVE VISUALIZATION

  At 6:05 on Tuesday night, Jane pulled out of the parking lot, away from Fiona Chen events. She had survived another day…barely.

  She had accidentally hung up on three more people (she couldn’t quite get the handle of the Call Waiting and Hold and Forward buttons), ordered the wrong kind of sandwich for Fiona, and almost spilled iced tea on a $100,000 wedding dress. (A hundred grand? For a dress that would only be worn once?) The bride—a famous Danish lingerie model named Petra—had been so upset that her therapist, acupuncturist, and psychic all had to be called in for emergency sessions.

  Jane made a right onto Sunset and adjusted her shades. She drove past a row of trendy-looking sidewalk cafés, where pretty people were drinking pretty cocktails, laughing, and having fun. She wished she was one of those people right now.

  She reminded herself that it would get better—it had to. She’d figure out the phones, she’d figure out Fiona…. By next week she’d think it was hilarious that she kept calling Fiona’s favorite color specialist Max instead of Mav (she’d assumed Mav was a typo on the call sheet). Well, if Fiona didn’t fire her before next week.

  Up ahead, the early-evening sky was thick with smog; it was murky and gray, and it reflected Jane’s mood perfectly. For the first time since moving to L.A., Jane felt troubled, uncertain. She had put off college and left the comforts of her home and family back in Santa Barbara to work for Fiona Chen. If Fiona fired her, what would she do?

  Jane drove a few more blocks, wondering if she was going in the right direction. Wasn’t the apartment this way? Or was it the other way? She reminded herself yet again to ask her parents for a GPS for Christmas (although that would leave a lot of months to still get lost). She slowed down at a stop sign and reached into her bag for her cell phone, to call Scarlett for directions. Despite living in L.A. for just over a week, Scarlett could direct a city tour.

  As Jane waited for Scarlett to pick up, a guy crossed in front of her. He looked familiar. Jane took off her shades so she could see him better. It couldn’t be…

  “Braden?” Jane said loudly.

  “Janie, are you lost again?” Scarlett’s voice demanded. Jane forgot that she had her phone pressed to her ear.

  “Call you back, Scar,” she said quickly as she dropped the phone into her lap, thinking about luck or fate or whatever had brought her to this random intersection.

  The guy kept going. Jane stuck her head out the window. “Braden!” she yelled at him.

  He stopped in the middle of the street and turned around. It was definitely Braden. He looked at her for a second before he recognized her. “Hey! Jane!” he called out. He looked pleasantly surprised to see her.

  “What are you doing?” Jane shouted.

  “Just had my audition!” Braden shouted back. “I think I totally sucked!”

  The car behind Jane honked. “You hungry?” she blurted out, before she’d had a chance to think.

  Braden smiled and nodded. “Go left! I’ll meet you around the corner!”

  Jane smiled back. But even as she was smiling, her mind was spinning and racing. Jane, what are you doing? He has a girlfriend. Don’t be that kind of girl!

  “So I had to read this scene where my character mind-melds with an alien species that’s part cyborg, part poodle. I thought I’d play it funny, you know? Because really, there’s something pretty funny about a human mind-melding with a poodle from outer space,” Braden said.

  “Definitely,” Jane said, nodding. She noticed that Braden’s eyes looked more green than hazel today. Or was it the lighting?

  After she had parked her ca
r and given Braden a super-casual hug (she hadn’t noticed the other night that he smelled really yummy, like the beach), he had taken her across the street to Cabo Cantina, which he said was one of his favorite hangouts in L.A. It was a really loud, colorful place with brightly painted chipped walls. (It was basically Fiona Chen’s version of hell.) It reminded Jane of actual restaurants she’d gone to in Cabo during spring break. It also struck her as the exact opposite of the Hollywood glamour scene. To her surprise, she liked it. Or was it because she was there with Braden?

  “But I guess funny wasn’t what they were looking for, because the director just stared at me like I was completely out of my mind,” Braden went on. “I don’t think I’ll be getting a callback.”

  “No, no. You have to think that you will get a callback,” Jane told him, suddenly animated. “It’s called positive visualization. It’s like in that book The Secret. Scar and I do it all the time. Actually, I do it, and Scar just pretends to do it while silently mocking me.” She grinned.

  Braden grinned too. “It’s cool how close you guys are. How long have you known each other?”

  “We’ve been friends forever. We grew up together,” Jane replied. “We’re total opposites, which is why we’re so close, I guess. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense,” she added apologetically.

  “No, no, it does!” Braden said. “I grew up with my best friend, too. Jesse. It’s that same thing. He and I are totally different. He’s really into the whole Hollywood scene and that’s never been my thing. We went to school together, at Crossroads.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Santa Monica. When we were growing up he practically lived at my house. He loved it there because my family’s so…I don’t know, loud. Really close. Normal, most of the time. His parents weren’t around that much.”

  “I know what you mean. Scar says she likes hanging out at my house because my parents aren’t freaks, like hers.”

  “What are your not-freak parents like?”

  “My parents are great,” Jane said affectionately. “They’ve always been supportive of me and my two sisters. They’ve been married for almost twenty-five years, and they still love each other, which is amazing. We still catch them making out and stuff.” She blushed. “I’m sorry…TMI.”

  Braden smiled. “Not at all. That’s sweet. That’s what I want someday. You know, to be married forever to someone I’m madly in love with.”

  “Yeah. It’s just so rare these days,” Jane said softly, wondering how the conversation had turned to marriage.

  She took a long sip of her frozen margarita, keeping her eyes focused on the glass so she wouldn’t do something dumb, like lean over and start making out with Braden right then and there. He was such a great guy. She hadn’t met anyone she felt a connection with since…well, since Caleb, and in a way not even him, because although he was insanely hot and awesome, she had always sensed a distance with him. True, he was the first (and so far, only) guy who told her that he loved her. And true, they had lost their virginity to each other—something she had held out on doing for exactly six months, one week, and three days from when they first met. But despite their emotional and physical connection—their passion—Jane felt deep down that there was something ultimately aloof and untouchable about Caleb. The fact that, when it came time for him to decide on a college, he had chosen Yale over Stanford kind of proved her theory. With Stanford, they could have continued seeing each other, every weekend. But with Yale…Jane had hoped they could stay together and visit each other during vacations and holidays, and he had agreed initially. She was just always so happy to see him when he came home. It wasn’t perfect, but they loved each other, and Jane was willing to deal with the distance. Sadly, Caleb wasn’t. During his last visit he had told her that it would be better if they didn’t “tie each other down like that,” as though being in love was some sort of noose or trap. Or had he found someone else at Yale? Jane had always wondered.

  “Jane? You still there?” Braden’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  Jane glanced up from her drink. Braden’s hazel-green eyes were staring into hers.

  “Still here,” Jane said quickly. “I, um, just remembered that I forgot to eat breakfast. And lunch. It was kind of a hectic day.”

  “What? You’re kidding. Hey, Sarah!” Braden raised his voice and signaled to the waitress. “Can you bring us some chips and salsa? And a couple of menus?”

  “I’m fine,” Jane insisted, although her stomach did feel funny, and the tequila was making her head kind of spinny.

  “No, you’re not fine, crazy. You have to eat something now, before you wither away into one of those celery-sticks-and-bottled-water girls, which you’re totally not,” Braden said firmly. “And I mean that as a compliment. What do you feel like having?”

  “Hmm. I dunno. What’s good? I’ll try anything!” Jane said. God, that sounded slutty, she thought.

  She remembered that her hair was a total mess, and she must have looked so tired. She reached up and began trying to smooth down the loose strands that had escaped her hair clip. She licked her lips and glanced around, wondering where the ladies’ room might be.

  Braden watched her in amusement. “You look fine,” he said, as if knowing exactly what was going through her mind.

  “Thanks,” Jane said, blushing again. Why did Braden make her feel like this? What was she? Ten?

  “So. What kept you so busy today? You start your new job?”

  “Day two,” she said, and then regaled him with tales from her first days at her first real job.

  Braden smiled sympathetically. “Listen,” he said when she had finished. “Don’t stress. It’s early days. I’m sure you’ll be awesome at this job. And if for some reason it doesn’t work out, then it wasn’t meant to be, and you’ll just have to be awesome at something else.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that…but thanks,” Jane said.

  Braden reached across the table and grabbed her hands. “No, no. You have to think that you’re going to have a really happy, successful career doing whatever. It’s called positive visualization.” He grinned.

  Jane laughed and pulled her hands away. She didn’t want him to feel how hot they were from her being nervous. “You’re mocking me right after I tell you I had a bad day. Braden, you’re not a very nice person.”

  “I’m most definitely not mocking you,” Braden reassured her.

  A moment passed, and Jane realized that she was still smiling and staring at him. She looked down at her phone and pretended to check a message. It was funny. She felt so anxious around him and he just seemed so comfortable with himself, like nothing fazed him. The waitress brought a red woven basket of chips and two dog-eared menus. Braden thanked her and handed one to Jane. She was about to tell him about meeting Trevor Lord the night before when someone’s phone beeped. It beeped again.

  “Jane? I think that’s you,” Braden said.

  “What? Oh!”

  Jane glanced at the screen. It was a text from Scarlett.

  HELLO? DID U 4GET ABOUT ME? It said.

  “It’s Scar,” Jane told Braden. She typed: NO. IM @ SOME RESTRAUNT W/BRADEN.

  WHAT!!?? Scarlett’s reply read.

  “How is she?” Braden asked her.

  Probably freaking out and wondering what the hell I’m doing with you, Jane thought. “She’s fine.”

  WILLOW THERE? Scarlett asked.

  Oh, right. Willow. Jane had forgotten about her for a few minutes. On the other hand, Braden hadn’t brought up her name. Not once. What did that mean? That Willow wasn’t his girlfriend after all?

  NO, she typed.

  B CAREFUL, WOMAN, Scarlett responded a few seconds later.

  “What’s she saying?” he asked, leaning forward and playfully pretending to sneak a peek at her phone. Jane glanced up and smiled uncertainly at Braden, pulling her phone closer to her. She knew Scarlett was right. She wished she could ask him about Willow—girlfriend or not?
He wouldn’t have taken her to one of his favorite places if he had a girlfriend, right? He’d have said, “Nice running into you,” and kept walking. Then again, maybe she was being presumptuous and he really had no interest in her at all, aside from being “just friends.” Or maybe he was just hungry. She had no idea.

  “Not much.” And then, because what did she have to lose really, she added, “Did I tell you she’s got this weird theory about actors? She says actors are professional liars.” Maybe she’d subtly get him to fess up about Willow.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I’m an awful actor then,” Braden joked. Then his expression turned somber. “Seriously, though. I really am an awful liar. In fact, I can’t stand liars. That’s why I can’t stand Hollywood. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for…” He paused.

  Jane leaned forward, waiting for him to finish. Her phone beeped with another text from Scarlett, but she ignored it. “What? If it wasn’t for what?” Willow?

  Braden shook his head and drank some beer. “Ya know, my acting and stuff. Come on, let’s order. I’m hungry.”

  Jane took another sip of her margarita and studied him. She could tell that wasn’t his original response. Guess he wasn’t lying about being a bad actor.

  9

  THIS MUST BE THE ENGINEERING QUAD

  Scarlett held out the U.S.C. campus map. Where the hell was she, anyway? Day three and she still couldn’t find anything. She looked around. Rows of trees. A fountain. A building called Olin Hall. A lot of geeky-looking guys with pocket protectors. Some of them—actually, most of them—were staring at her with undisguised lust, as though the closest they’d ever come to a girl like her was on the Internet, alone in their rooms, late at night.

  Ah, this must be the engineering quad. How did she end up here?