Sweet Little Lies Page 9

  “No, I’m good. Thanks, but I’ve gotta go. I’m really, really late for this thing I forgot I had to do today. They’re expecting me. Bye!”

  Scarlett didn’t even wait for his reply as she scooped up her sandals from the floor and bolted out of the room.

  It was almost noon when Scarlett walked through the front door of the apartment. She found Jane curled up on the couch, watching TV in her sweats and drinking a glass of OJ.

  “Hey,” Jane called out. “Where’ve you been?”

  Scarlett threw her keys on the front hall table and sat down next to Jane. “What? I went to this party at a friend’s house and I fell asleep on the couch.” No reason to tell Jane which friend, or that by “couch” she meant “bed.”

  Jane gave her a strange look. “You know we were shooting at h.wood last night, right? Dana tried to call you, like, a hundred times. I tried to call you, too. Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

  “Battery died,” Scarlett said, feeling increasingly uncomfortable piling lie upon lie with her best friend. “Ohmigod, I totally forgot about the shoot. I’d better call Dana and apologize. How was the party?”

  “Soooo weird,” Jane replied. She picked up the remote and began clicking through channels. “Jesse showed up.”

  “The man-whore? Again? He was at that party at STK, too. What, is he stalking you?”

  “Hardly. But we talked. I apologized to him for, you know, for everything.”

  Scarlett, who didn’t think Jane had anything to apologize for, since Jesse had screwed up first, arched her eyebrows. “And?”

  “He started out really mad. But then he kinda…I don’t know. I think that he came around.”

  An image of a couple kissing flashed across the TV screen. Scarlett winced. Déjà vu. It was a scene from one of the movies she and Liam had watched last night on cable: Casablanca. Jane was watching the television with a wistful half smile.

  Scarlett was starting to get a bad feeling. “Janie? Be honest. You’re not seriously thinking about getting back together with Jesse, are you? I don’t care how hot or charming or rich he is; you and I both know that deep down, he’s a mess, and—”

  “Scar!” Jane snapped. “Stop it! And stop saying mean things about him! He’s my…he was my boyfriend, and I care about him, and it’s really, really obnoxious of you to keep saying this stuff.” She added, “Seriously, I’m so sick of your negativity lately. It’s extreme, even for you. You need to lighten up.”

  Scarlett folded her arms across her chest, trying to resist the impulse to shake some sense into Jane. They’d argued about Jesse throughout much of his and Jane’s (brief) relationship. No matter how hard Scarlett had tried to convince Jane of the very obvious fact that Jesse was a C-list celebuspawn who loved girls, drinking, drugs, and his own press more than he could possibly love Jane, her BFF had steadfastly defended him. She was still defending him now. “Okay, whatever. Sorry.”

  Jane sipped her OJ in silence and clicked to some random game show on TV. Scarlett could tell that she was still pissed. “So…how was the rest of your evening?” she said, trying to change the subject.

  “Good,” Jane replied, staring at the screen.

  “What’d you do?”

  Jane shrugged. “Madison and Gaby and I stayed at the party till, like, two thirty, and then we all went back to Madison’s. And then a bunch of us went to Toast for breakfast. It was Madison’s idea, even though she barely ate anything. Like two blueberries or something. She says she’s on a diet, which is insane, since she’s, like, a size negative two.”

  Madison, Madison, Madison. Scarlett wasn’t sure whose name she hated hearing more—Jesse’s or Madison’s. Probably Madison’s. Actually, definitely Madison’s. Jesse might be a man-whore, but Madison was a sabotaging bitch who was out to ruin Jane’s life.

  Jane began clicking through channels again. “So tell me about your party. Who was throwing it?”

  “Um, this girl from my English class last semester and a couple of her roommates,” Scarlett said quickly. Ugh. More lies.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  “You know, I did.” At least that part was the truth. “Just a bunch of us literature geeks debating about British novelists between vodka shots.”

  “Hmm, sounds pretty wild,” Jane joked. At least she was smiling now.

  “Yeah, things got a little out of control,” Scarlett joked back.

  “Any cute guys?”

  Scarlett thought about Liam. Her breath caught in her throat. “Nah.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  For a brief second, Scarlett was tempted to tell Jane everything. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. For one thing, there was nothing to tell. Big deal, so Scarlett liked Liam. She accidentally spent the night with him. It wasn’t like they were dating or in a relationship or anything like that. Last night was a onetime thing. She had no intention of repeating it.

  The other thing was bigger: Scarlett felt strangely uncomfortable confiding in Jane. It was like she was watching their relationship change and she couldn’t do anything about it. It used to be that they never kept secrets from each other.

  And now they did.

  16

  FIFTEEN MINUTES

  Veronica Bliss leaned back in her chair and gazed pensively through the glass-paned wall of her office, looking out onto her employees’ cubicles. She’d had it mirrored on one side so that she could see them, but no one could see in, which helped to achieve the balance of privacy (for her) and lack of privacy (for her staff) that made Gossip the well-oiled machine that it was.

  She glanced at her laptop screen and saw that Madison Parker had sent another email. Veronica opened it with a heavy sigh, guessing that Madison was throwing a tantrum about the latest issue of Gossip.

  She was.

  TO: VERONICA BLISS

  FROM: MADISON PARKER

  SUBJECT: WTF???

  You promised me that if I got you pictures of Jane, you would publish an article about me. You call the tiny mentions of the grooming habits of “Jane Roberts’s friend and confidante” an article about me???? WE HAD A DEAL.

  Veronica rolled her eyes, annoyed that she had to waste even thirty seconds of her valuable time dealing with this. Quickly, she typed:

  TO: MADISON PARKER

  FROM: VERONICA BLISS

  SUBJECT: RE: WTF???

  That was your article. If you want another one, you need to get me more info ASAP. What is Jane up to? Is she dating anyone new?

  What was Madison complaining about, anyway? The latest issue of Gossip featured a cover story about Jane’s postscandal escape to Cabo: L.A. CANDY STAR HIDES IN MEXICO AFTER TWO-TIMING BF. The photographer had gotten pictures of Jane on the beach: downing a margarita, covering her face with her hands (probably to shield her eyes from the sun, although the readers didn’t need to know that—better they believed she was sobbing in shame). And talking to Madison (whom the photo caption described as the “tan, skinny shoulder Jane cried on”).

  And now Madison was throwing a fit because…why? Because she wasn’t the cover story? She was lucky to have gotten into the magazine at all.

  A movement on the other side of the one-way window caught Veronica’s eye. It was her assistant, Diego, hovering. Ugh. What was his problem? He was really getting on her nerves lately.

  The reply email from Madison came almost immediately. The girl must be sitting at her computer or staring at her BlackBerry, waiting. Obviously, she didn’t have a life.

  TO: VERONICA BLISS

  FROM: MADISON PARKER

  SUBJECT: RE: RE: WTF???

  Nothing new on Jane at the moment. She’s back at work and she’s not seeing anyone as far as I know.

  Veronica exhaled sharply. Was Madison an idiot or what?

  TO: MADISON PARKER

  FROM: VERONICA BLISS

  SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: WTF???

  FYI, “Nothing new,” “back at work,” and “no
t seeing anyone” isn’t news. You can’t get something for nothing.

  Veronica swore under her breath. If Madison couldn’t deliver, then she would have to cultivate other sources. Through the window, she saw Diego talking to himself. Honestly! She was surrounded by idiots. Did she have to do everything herself?

  A small ding! from her laptop indicated a new email. She glanced at her mailbox quickly, guessing that it was another whiny response from Madison.

  It wasn’t. Veronica didn’t recognize the sender’s address, and there was no name attached. But the subject line intrigued her, and it was kind of a bizarre coincidence, considering.

  TO: VERONICA BLISS

  RE: MADISON PARKER

  Madison isn’t who she says she is. Interested?

  Veronica read the message again. She rubbed her eyes, calculating. Reply or not reply? Not reply, she decided after a moment, slamming her laptop shut. It was probably just Madison pretending to have dirt on herself. Or some other nutcase, fishing for attention. It seemed that everyone wanted their fifteen minutes these days.

  17

  HOW TO ACT FOR THE CAMERAS

  It was a beautiful night in Los Angeles—stars glittered in the sky and a warm breeze carried the scent of jasmine and eucalyptus. But Jane had no time to enjoy any of it as she hurried into Beso, trying to avoid the photographers whose flashbulbs popped like firecrackers as they shouted questions at her:

  “Jane, how ’bout a smile?”

  “Jane, are you and Jesse getting back together?”

  “Jane, can I get an over-the-shoulder?”

  Jane wished, fleetingly, that Sam were with her—Sam the publicist, whom Jane had decided to sign with (along with R.J. the agent) after discussing it with her parents over the weekend. Jane still wasn’t 100 percent sure that she needed a publicist, but she got the feeling that if Sam were with her right now, she would usher Jane through this gauntlet of paparazzi like a pro.

  As Jane entered the restaurant and greeted the hostess, she spotted several PopTV camera guys in the dining room, ready to film. She wondered if Jesse was already there, or if she was the first to arrive. Deep breaths, she told herself. So you’re having dinner with your ex-boyfriend. On-camera. The same ex-boyfriend you cheated on, a mistake that millions of people know about. No big deal.

  After Jane had been miked in the alley behind the restaurant, Matt, the director, had rushed up to her and given her instructions on how she should walk to the table. (Apparently, he had a great shot from the second floor.) Jane saw Jesse sitting at a table surrounded by bright lights in the center of the massive room. He saw her, too. His face lit up, and he gave her a small wave. He actually seemed glad to see her, which was a relief.

  When he’d texted her yesterday, asking if they could get together for dinner tonight, she hadn’t known why or what to expect; she just knew she had to see him. She’d already had a shoot scheduled—just her and Scar at the apartment. Unfortunately, the rest of Jane’s week was equally jam-packed. So she’d called Trevor and asked if they could postpone the shoot, explaining the reason. He’d immediately suggested that they shoot Jane and Jesse’s dinner out instead, even naming Beso as a location, saying that he liked the lighting and the cooperative management there. Jane had said no at first—she wanted to have some privacy, and she figured Jesse would, too. But Trevor had been so convincing, insisting that it would be a way for PopTV viewers to see that Jane and Jesse had moved on. Jane had finally agreed, and Jesse had agreed as well.

  As for Scar…well, she had been less than happy about this change in plans (although normally she would have welcomed any excuse to get out of shooting), and made her usual negative remarks about Jesse, which Jane had basically tuned out—actually, literally tuned out, with her iPod headphones and Death Cab for Cutie.

  A moment later, Matt told Jane they were ready for her. She took a breath, then wove her way through the room per Matt’s instructions.

  When she reached the table, Jesse rose to his feet. He looked…gorgeous. There was no other word for it. His charcoal gray button-down shirt complemented his light brown wavy hair, and his tailored black slacks accentuated his muscular build. Even his black Gucci loafers and silver TAG Heuer watch were perfect.

  He smiled at her. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Jane slid into the seat across from him, quickly, because she wanted to avoid an awkward should we hug or kiss each other on the cheek or what? moment. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Late? It’s only five after eight. That’s early for you.”

  “Ha, ha. True.”

  Jesse’s gaze traveled the length of her, from her beige silk one-shoulder dress to her Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps. “You look nice.”

  “Thanks. So do you.” Jane shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

  They looked at each other; then Jane dropped her eyes, fumbling with her napkin. She noticed that the glass in front of him contained mostly melted ice cubes. Obviously he had already polished off a drink.

  The waitress came by. “Can I get you a cocktail to start?” she asked Jane. She turned to Jesse. “Another ginger ale for you?”

  Jane raised her eyebrows. Ginger ale? Jesse? She’d figured scotch on the rocks or a gin and tonic, and that he was already halfway to wasted…. Guess I was wrong, she thought.

  “I might switch to wine,” Jesse told her. “Jane?”

  “Um, just water. Thanks.” Jane knew that, unlike the clubs where they usually filmed, restaurants were likely to card. And her fake ID had become increasingly difficult to use after people realized her name wasn’t Jillian McManus.

  “Red wine for me,” Jesse said. “I’ll try the cab.”

  “Sure thing,” the waitress said before walking away.

  Jesse leaned back in his chair and gazed at Jane. “So. How are you?”

  “You know. Okay. Ish.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Jesse was smiling as he said this, but Jane couldn’t help but notice a little sadness in his expression.

  “So what’d you do for Christmas?” Jane asked, deciding to start with something positive.

  “My mom invited a bunch of friends for dinner. It was like the who’s who of Hollywood forty-somethings. My dad’s filming a new movie in Australia, and he couldn’t get away.”

  “What’s the movie about?”

  Jesse shrugged. “Not sure. I think it’s some kinda indie-artsy thing. It’s being directed by that Italian guy, Michaelangelo what’s-his-name.”

  “Wow, cool.”

  “I guess. You know, if you’re into indie or artsy.” Jesse smiled at her. “So. What’d you do for Christmas?” he asked.

  “I went home to Santa Barbara and hung out with my parents and my sisters.”

  “That must have been fun,” he said sincerely. “You hadn’t seen them in a little while, right?”

  “Yeah, it was nice to see them.”

  Jesse picked up his menu, and Jane followed suit. But she had a hard time concentrating on it; she was so nervous, and yet at the same time oddly comfortable. As though she and Jesse had never broken up. As though the whole Braden thing had never happened.

  Ugh, Braden. D had texted her on Saturday, saying that he’d read on a blog that Braden had gotten a part in some new show based on a book series. The news had finally given her an excuse to send the email she’d been meaning to:

  Hey. I heard you got a part on a big show. Congratulations! That’s huge.

  If and when you’re ready to talk, please call or text me. I feel so bad about what happened and I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this. I never wanted you to get hurt.

  Love,

  Jane

  Braden still hadn’t replied, nearly three days later. Would he ever? Was he so mad at her that he was never going to speak to her again? Could she really blame him? She had ruined his oldest friendship, with Jesse. And embarrassed him in the national media.

  After the waitress came back with their drinks and took their orders, Jesse asked Jane how work wa
s going, and she filled him in on the Crazy Girl Valentine’s Day party at the Tropicana and how excited she was that Fiona was entrusting her with such a major assignment. By the time their food arrived, the conversation had shifted to the topic of…them.

  “I’m glad we talked at the New Year’s party.” Jesse picked up his glass and watched the way the light danced on it.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Because the truth is, I’ve kinda missed you.”

  “You have?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really?”

  Jesse grinned. “Really.”

  “I’ve kinda missed you, too.”

  “Really?”

  They both laughed, awkwardly, because they knew how silly they sounded. Jane wasn’t sure what they were doing, talking about missing each other. She hadn’t expected this. She had expected…what? Small talk. Catching up. Thinly veiled hostility. Her apologizing some more. Jesse saying that he forgave her. The two of them insincerely promising that they’d stay in touch as they air-kissed good-bye.

  Jesse reached across the table and laced his fingers through hers, tentatively, as if he were uncertain as to whether she might pull back. She didn’t. She was still so confused about everything—about Jesse, about Braden, even about Caleb—but she knew for sure that she liked the feel of his hand on hers, so she held it tight.

  “Hey.” Jesse glanced toward the camera crew. “You wanna get out of here?” he asked her quietly.

  Jane hesitated for a moment. Then nodded.

  “Good. Me too.”

  Jesse signaled to the waitress for a check. A split second later, Dana came rushing up to their table. When did she arrive?

  “You guys are doing great! But could you hang out here for a min while we set up outside to film your exit? Awesome, thanks!” With that, Dana was gone, speaking rapidly into her headset.

  Jesse’s eyes twinkled. “See, you can’t go out with any other guys besides me, because I’m the only one who’ll put up with her telling us what to do on dates.”