Sugar and Spice Page 9

  Jane, Hannah, and Oliver were heading toward the front entrance. “Hey, wait up!” Madison called out, rushing to catch up to them. “Jane, why couldn’t I ride with you guys? Are you mad at me for some reason?”

  Jane turned to her. Madison blinked innocently.

  “I told you, Madison. It was a space issue. Next time, why don’t you rent a bus, and we can all ride together with all your luggage?” Jane suggested sweetly.

  Bitch, Madison thought. “Sounds like a plan. Hey, so . . . when’s our first meeting? Two, right?” She peered at her diamond-studded Chanel watch. “That means we have time for lunch at Postrio. After we check into our suites, that is.”

  “I think us girls are sharing a room,” Hannah said quickly. “We were thinking of just ordering room service while we prep for our meeting.”

  Madison stifled a scream. Room service? Sharing a room—with Hannah and Jane? Was this for real?

  “We can meet in Oliver’s room in, like, ten minutes—we can spread out there—and go over our notes,” Jane added.

  “I brought my camera so we can get shots of the different banquet spaces,” Oliver piped up, patting his jacket pocket.

  Madison took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She gazed at her three Louis Vuitton bags, which a bellboy was loading onto a luggage cart. Grabbing a club sandwich in Intern Boy’s room was not quite what she had packed for.

  “We had a couple of ideas we wanted to run by you,” Jane said.

  Madison leaned back in the plush leather chair and checked out the other occupants in the conference room. In addition to herself, Jane (who was leading the meeting—why?), Hannah (who was studiously taking notes like a lowly secretary), and Oliver (who was doing the same, because he clearly had nothing useful to contribute), there was Aja’s publicist, Wanda, Aja’s personal assistant, Anna Luisa, and two guys from the Venetian’s event-services department, Xavier and Hank. Two PopTV camera guys were set up in opposite corners of the room, filming.

  “We know Aja wanted ‘big and bold,’ so we came up with a couple themes with that in mind,” Jane went on. “The first one is a Caribbean theme, playing on Carnival in Martinique, which is called Vaval. The second one is—”

  “My idea. A Venetian masked-ball theme, which would work soooo well with the setting here at the Venetian,” Madison cut in. She smiled at Xavier and Hank. “We could have the party in St. Mark’s Square, with Aja and Miguel making their entrance on a special gondola. What do you think?”

  Jane glared at Madison, her blue eyes shooting daggers. Madison tried not to burst out laughing. Take that, bitch. The Venetian masked ball had been Jane’s idea, not hers. Trevor was going to love this and would no doubt pull together an awesome episode with footage from an earlier meeting at which Jane had suggested the ball . . . followed by footage from today’s meeting, with Madison taking credit.

  “We’ll have to run both ideas by Aja, but they seem great,” Wanda the publicist spoke up. “Are they doable, logistically?” She turned to the two guys.

  “Absolutely,” Xavier said, pulling something up on his laptop. “Let’s see . . . we’re talking about a sit-down for five hundred guests, right?”

  “I believe we’d need to incorporate the restaurant patios in St. Mark’s Square as a private-party buyout,” Hank piped up.

  As the group continued discussing details, Madison studied Jane, who was doing her best to maintain her game face and act like . . . well, a professional event planner. Madison had to give her credit. Jane seemed good at her job and was somehow managing to keep her cool despite Madison’s efforts to derail her. If their roles had been reversed, and Jane had stolen Madison’s idea during an important on-camera meeting, Madison would have thrown a full-blown tantrum and stormed out in a fury. Which of course would have made for killer TV.

  Was it only a few months ago that she and Jane were BFFs-slash-roomies? Madison flashed back to those nights when the two of them would stay in, wearing sweats and fuzzy slippers and no makeup. They would pig out on junk food and gossip about Trevor and Dana and watch DVDs until 4 a.m. (Jane’s favorite movie was The Notebook, and she always cried at the exact same spots.) It was . . . “real” was the word that came to Madison’s mind. Just two girls hanging out at home, relaxing and having fun. Madison wondered, If things had been different, would she and Jane still be friends? Madison’s personal contact list wasn’t exactly overflowing these days. Gaby, who used to be handy for shopping, clubbing, or spa outings, seemed to be avoiding her lately. (Besides which she had been totally MIA during filmings this past week—Madison heard she was on vacation in Mexico?) And of course there were the usual wannabes at Fiona Chen Events who kept sucking up to Madison, clearly angling for their fifteen minutes. As for boyfriends . . . well, besides Derek (who might not be one for much longer), Madison had a stable of faux-romantic interests—mostly models or actors wanting to get into the business—to escort her to events and fawn over her in front of paparazzi. But those relationships, if they could even be called that, were only for show. If Madison ever found herself in a burning building, she doubted any of those guys could be bothered to pull her out, unless there was media present.

  Bottom line, the closest person to her these days was Sophie, her little sister and blackmailer. Which was beyond pathetic. Madison wondered what she could do to remedy that situation. And if she even cared enough to bother.

  Maybe someone as powerful, ambitious, and beautiful as Madison was meant to be alone? Madison glanced at Jane, who was jabbering on about the guest list now. Madison had always wanted—and deserved—to replace Jane as the star of L.A. Candy. She was so close now; all she had to do was keep her eye on the prize and not get distracted by sentimental feelings about Jane or anyone else. And, of course, make sure Sophie kept her big mouth shut.

  To hell with other people. It may be lonely at the top, but it was totally worth it.

  Chapter 13

  Boy Trouble

  “How was Vegas?” Scarlett asked Jane. “And I want the real dirt now, before the crew gets here. You know Dana’s gonna make us repeat this conversation for the cameras, so you can give me the L.A. Candy–coated version then.”

  Jane grinned as she reached for an avocado from a painted Mexican bowl, then looked frustrated as she squeezed it. It was rock hard, which was not conducive to guacamole making. Scarlett wondered if they should just order in. So far, their dinner preparations weren’t going too well. Aside from the unripe avocados, there were onion pieces splattered everywhere, thanks to a food processor malfunction (well, actually, due to Scarlett forgetting to put the top on before pressing the Chop button). And Jane had spilled a jar of salsa on the floor, which Tucker was now lapping up. It had been a while since the girls had cooked dinner . . . much less cooked dinner for guests . . . much less cooked dinner for guests for the cameras, which were due any minute.

  The guests being Caleb and Naveen. And no Liam.

  “Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?” Jane said, reaching for another avocado. “Hmmm, are these things fruits or vegetables?”

  “Um . . . I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell me the good news first?”

  “The good news is, they all loved my masked ball idea—and so did Aja, when her publicist and assistant told her about it! Yay! The bad news is . . . Madison.”

  “God. What did that psychopath do now?”

  “Well, first, she took credit for my idea in front of everyone. Second, she told the two guys from the Venetian that she was in charge of the party and that they should contact her for anything and everything. Third, she was a total nightmare while Hannah and I were sharing the room with her, and—”

  “Wait, what? You guys had to share a room?” Scarlett interrupted.

  Jane shrugged and sighed. “I’m sure Trevor and Dana set that up. It was easier to film, and you know . . . more drama. The Venetian would have comped each of us a private room.”

  “I would have smothered Madison with a p
illow while she was sleeping.”

  “Believe me, I was tempted. Anyway, you’ll get to see all this lovely footage in a few weeks when the episode airs.” Jane’s face lit up. “Ohmigod, I forgot to tell you the best part! Guess who didn’t sleep in our room?”

  “Um, who?”

  “Hannah!”

  Scarlett wasn’t sure where Jane was going with this. “Because she was sleeping . . . where?”

  “In Oliver’s room,” Jane said giddily.

  “Who’s Oliver?”

  “I told you about him, Scar! He’s the new intern. He goes to UCLA part-time. He and Hannah have been flirting nonstop since he started working at the office. I guess they finally took it to the next level.”

  “Wow. Good for her.” Scarlett mostly knew Hannah from her scenes on the show, which consisted of her being Jane’s office confidante. She seemed nice—and kind of smart, too, except for the multiple times she advised Jane to stay with Jesse no matter what. Yeah, that turned out well.

  Scarlett wiped her sour cream–covered hands on her black T-shirt and gazed at Jane thoughtfully. “Speaking of guys . . . are you okay with tonight?”

  Inviting Caleb and Naveen over for dinner had been Trevor’s bright idea. He’d told Scarlett and Jane that viewers would love hearing stories about their old days at high school, and that there had to be some boys in their story lines—even if the boys were “just friends”—since Jane wasn’t seeing anyone and Scarlett’s BF couldn’t be filmed. Which actually made sense, in a Trevor sort of way. Didn’t it? Fortunately, Caleb and Naveen had been completely fine about being filmed tonight. Scarlett knew they weren’t dying to be on TV or anything, but they were happy to help out the girls.

  Jane frowned at Scarlett’s shirt and handed her a dish towel. “I guess? Why? Are you sorry Trevor talked us into it? Scar, you need to change. That’s gross.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Scarlett frowned at the sour cream smears on her shirt. “Are you going to be okay with, you know, Caleb? He was all over you at STK. Seriously, I think he might want to get back together.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Jane said, looking away.

  Uh-oh. Why was Jane avoiding eye contact? “Plus, you went out on that date last week. Dominic’s, right?” Scarlett persisted.

  The doorbell rang. “That’s the crew! Oh, crap!” Jane cried out as she stepped in the puddle of salsa. Tucker began licking her bare foot. “Tucker, stop that!”

  “You want me to get you a paper towel?”

  “I can do it. You need to change, right now! And it wasn’t a date! Don’t bring that up on camera. Seriously, Scar!” Jane grabbed a roll of paper towels and headed for the front door.

  “Okay, okay!”

  As Scarlett walked to her room, yanking off her T-shirt, she thought about Trevor’s comment that Jane wasn’t seeing anyone these days. It might appear that way, but the truth was, Jane had more than her share of off-camera boy-drama in her life. Jane had confided in Scarlett about hooking up (again) with Mr. Unavailable, aka Braden James. (Who conveniently had to leave for Canada the next day, for a couple of months. Way to avoid the aftermath or any responsibility at all, Braden!)

  Jane had also fessed up about Jesse’s DUI and the crazy lie she told him afterward, about possibly dating him again, to get him sober. Jane knew how much Scarlett detested Jesse, and she probably wouldn’t have mentioned that little tidbit if not for the tabloid pictures that popped up on various websites over the weekend, of Jane fighting back tears as she left Cedars-Sinai on Caleb’s arm.

  And of course, there was Caleb. Scarlett was sure he wanted to be more than “just friends” with Jane. And from the way Jane was acting, she seemed to be toying with the idea, too. But hadn’t she been there, done that already, and gotten burned?

  As Scarlett scrounged through her dresser for another black T-shirt, she heard the crew bustling into the apartment and starting to set up in the living room, then Jane shouting: “Scar! They’re heeeere!”

  “Just a sec!” Scarlett shouted back.

  Pulling a shirt over her head, Scarlett realized that she would have to play serious Musical Chairs tonight to keep Jane and Caleb far away from each other. Jane was her best friend, and it was her job to protect her from Boy Trouble.

  Except . . . there was also Naveen to worry about.

  The problem was, she hadn’t told Liam about tonight. She’d simply told him that she and Jane were filming at their apartment. Of course she would have to clue him in, eventually, before the episode aired. But there had been something about his little jealous moment last week, when he saw the tabloid pictures of her leaving STK with Naveen, that rubbed her the wrong way. She wasn’t used to being reined in. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been trying to rein her in, exactly. But it had felt that way to her . . . like he didn’t trust her or something.

  Scarlett wondered how Liam was going to react when she told him about tonight. Or, for that matter, when she told him the news about Maxim. She’d gotten the call from the PopTV press department this afternoon, telling her that Maxim wanted to book her for a cover. She had started to say no but changed her mind after giving it some thought. After all, she was the new, cooperative Scarlett Harp. And magazine covers were good for the show. It was all a part of the job of being famous. (She tried not to mentally choke on that word, “famous.”) Besides, it wasn’t as though she had anything to hide.

  Oops. Wrong choice of words. Scarlett had become excellent at hiding things.

  “This looks good,” Caleb said politely.

  Scarlett and Jane exchanged a glance as Caleb dug his fork into the guacamole. Or rather, the rock-hard avocado chunks mixed with lemon juice, chopped onion, cilantro, and Tabasco sauce.

  “Um . . . thanks?” Jane said sheepishly, waiting for him to take a bite.

  “We also made fish tacos. Do you guys like fish tacos?” Scarlett asked quickly. The tacos had turned out well, and seemed semi-edible, unlike the guacamole.

  “Fish tacos are my favorite,” Naveen said.

  “Yeah, mine, too. Janie, you remembered!” Caleb said, looking pleased.

  Scarlett noticed Jane opening her mouth to say, “I didn’t,” then clamping it shut. The fish tacos had been Scarlett’s idea, because she had a super-easy recipe that consisted of four ingredients (tortillas, frozen fish sticks, shredded cabbage, and bottled sauce) and a microwave.

  Jane glanced down at her lap, then up at Caleb with a fake smile. “Yeah, well, do you remember my favorite food from high school?” she asked him.

  Scarlett rolled her eyes. Dana must be texting Jane directions. She could tell the difference between her friend’s real tone of voice and her Dana is making me say stuff tone of voice.

  Caleb looked thoughtful. “Hmmm. Definitely your mom’s homemade clam chowder.”

  “Wrong! It was pizza from Paesano’s,” Scarlett corrected him.

  Jane laughed. “You’re both wrong. I was obsessed with mac and cheese. Remember, I used to make it all the time?”

  Caleb and Naveen laughed, too. Scarlett was surprised that they seemed so comfortable with two PopTV cameras practically on top of them, filming everything. Maybe it was the pomegranate margaritas (which were kind of strong) . . . or maybe they were just naturals at this . . . or maybe Dana was texting them lines, too. Whatever the case, the evening was going smoothly so far, and Caleb and Naveen were being really charming. Scarlett found herself almost relaxing and having fun. Almost.

  “So, Scarlett. How’s school going?” Naveen said, touching her arm lightly.

  She pulled away quickly and said, “It’s fine.” You’re on camera. Say something! Act friendly and casual! she reminded herself. “I had my photography class today.”

  “Digital or film?”

  “Digital. The professor doesn’t believe in Photoshopping, so we have to learn to take really, really good images.”

  “Wow, no Photoshopping? That’s so not-Hollywood.”

  “Yeah, right? It’s kind of refreshi
ng.” Scarlett took a bite of the guacamole. Hmm, not good.

  Naveen grinned. “Could you imagine if Photoshop was never invented? And you got to see pictures of celebrities as they really are, with wrinkles and muffin tops and massive zits and cankles—”

  Scarlett cracked up, covering her mouth with her hands. “Stop! You can’t make me laugh when I’m eating!” she mumbled.

  Naveen leaned over as if to tickle her. “Really? Why not?” he said innocently.

  “Stop it!”

  “Caleb and I are going to make another pitcher of margaritas,” Jane announced, standing up. Caleb stood up, too. Was Scarlett imagining things, or was Jane a bit wobbly on her feet? Maybe more margaritas weren’t such a good idea. “Stay out of trouble, you two!” she added, wagging her finger playfully at Scarlett and Naveen.

  Oh, God. Did she seriously just say that on camera? “We’re just going to finish off this yummy guacamole!” Scarlett said as Jane and Caleb headed into the kitchen, hoping to divert attention from Jane’s remark. Although that was probably wishful thinking, since Trevor would no doubt edit out Scarlett’s guacamole comment and replace it with—oh, maybe a shot of Naveen’s hand lingering on Scarlett’s arm. Or a shot of Naveen pretending to tickle Scarlett. Or a shot of Scarlett giving Jane some sort of intense, loaded, just between us girls look, lifted from some random portion of the evening.

  Scarlett sighed, dreading the conversation she would have to have with Liam when this episode aired. It wasn’t a double date. No, he wasn’t trying to cop a feel. Jane was drunk, she didn’t mean that. No, I wasn’t drunk, I was totally sober and I was not flirting with him.

  Scarlett glanced sideways at Naveen. He was staring at her, and it made her uncomfortable.

  “So I have this assignment I have to do for photography,” Scarlett blurted out. “I have to take a portrait in the style of one of my favorite photographers.”

  “That’s cool. Which photographer did you pick?” Naveen asked her.

  “I was thinking of Richard Avedon or maybe Irving Penn.”