Sweet Little Lies

by Lauren Conrad

  “’Kay. Whatever,” Scarlett said coolly.

  Closing the door after him, Scarlett caught her reflection in the hallway mirror. So much for her lucky skirt.

  35

  PLEASE DON’T GO

  Jane glanced at the clock on the DVD player: 3:22 a.m. Below, the TV was paused on an image from the L.A. Candy season finale, in which she and Jesse were staring at each other across a table at Beso. That was the night—was it really only a month ago?—when they had made up, after all the awfulness. She wasn’t sure why she was watching this episode tonight. She remembered how awesome it felt to believe the bad stuff was behind them. But that feeling hadn’t lasted long. She was trying to understand how everything had gone so horribly wrong between them. Again.

  As if analyzing Trevor’s beautifully lit, carefully edited scene could help her understand the complex, dark reality of her and Jesse’s relationship.

  Where the hell is he? she wondered, checking her phone again. No missed calls. No messages. Jesse had promised to come over to the apartment after he stopped by Hyde for a drink with some friends. He should have been here hours ago. Jane knew the clubs closed at 2 a.m. The neon blue numbers flickered: 3:23 a.m.

  Madison was out; she had said something about a hot date. So it was just Jane and Tucker, who was curled up on the rug in front of the TV, his paws tucked around his new stuffed bunny. (Jane needed to relax on buying doggy toys.)

  Jane picked up her phone again. Reluctantly, she started dialing. It rang once, twice….

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Jane. I’m so sorry to call you so late. I’m just—”

  “I’ve got him, Jane,” Quentin said before she could finish. “I was just about to call you.”

  Jane rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or really, really pissed off at Jesse. In any case, she was grateful to Quentin, whom she had come to regard as a good friend. Not a good friend she actually hung out with, but a good friend who looked out for her by looking out for her boyfriend whenever he was…well, in need of assistance. “Thank you. Where are you guys? Do I need to come pick him up?” She was in her sweats, but it would take her only a minute to change.

  “I brought him home to my house,” Quentin replied. “Long story. He’s fine. Why don’t you go to sleep, love, and I’ll drive him to your place in the morning? It’s too late to come over here.”

  “I should come get him,” Jane insisted.

  “Jane, it’s late. Go to bed. I’ll have him call you when he wakes up.”

  Jane hesitated. “Okay. Quentin, thank you so much. I’m sorry if he was trouble tonight.”

  “No trouble at all…well, no more than usual. Just let him sleep it off, and you can talk to him in the morning.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Jane hung up. These phone calls between her and Quentin had increased in frequency in the past couple of weeks. And the incidents were getting uglier. Just a few nights ago, Quentin had called Jane because Jesse had fallen down the stairs and cut his face while smoking outside of Teddy’s. Jane still had blood on the backseat of her car, where he had passed out on the way home.

  Jane leaned forward on the couch and put her head in her hands. What was she going to do? She was so unhappy. When Jesse was sober, he was the sweetest guy in the world. Just yesterday, he had surprised her with a beautiful silver charm bracelet. She glanced at it now, at the single heart-shaped charm engraved with the words, JESSE + JANE 4EVER. But when he was drunk, he was downright cruel. She was constantly on edge, wondering which Jesse would walk through the door: sober Jesse or not-sober Jesse?

  Jane hadn’t gone out in public with him since the season finale party last Monday. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to go out in public with him again. She didn’t want to risk being out in the world with not-sober Jesse, especially because of the fights. The paparazzi were always following her now. She couldn’t keep sneaking him out the back doors of clubs or covering up for him forever. At this rate, not even Sam the miracle-worker publicist could keep the truth from leaking out.

  At least Sam knew the whole story now. So did Hannah, whom Jane talked to late at night on the phone sometimes about Jesse. Ever since Hannah’s confession, their friendship had become much more real. She wished she could talk to Braden, but she wasn’t sure where things stood with them, and she didn’t want to complicate the situation any more right now. She hadn’t spoken to him since that night he drove her home, although he had texted her a couple of times, just to make sure she was okay.

  As for Scar…she wished she could talk to Scar the most. They used to share everything. But they had barely said two words to each other since Jane moved out. With everything that was going on, she really missed her old friend.

  “God, how did my life become such a mess?” Jane moaned to Tucker. He gazed at her with his big brown eyes and thumped his tail. At least he was sympathetic.

  She must have fallen asleep on the couch, because the clock on the DVD player read 4:02 when she heard someone rattling the front doorknob. Tucker bounded to the door and began barking.

  “Madison?” Jane called out groggily. “Did you forget your keys?”

  Bang, bang, bang. “Jane! Open up!”

  Jane shot up. It was Jesse! What the hell was he doing here? He was supposed to be at Quentin’s, sleeping. Had he talked Quentin into driving him over, after all?

  She jumped to her feet and rushed to the door, opening it quickly while trying to restrain Tucker, whose barking had probably woken up the entire building by now.

  Jesse was standing there, his shirt untucked. He reeked of vodka and cigarettes. “Shit, what took you so long?” he snapped.

  “I thought you were staying at Quentin’s.”

  Jesse just sneered at her, then stumbled into the apartment and over to the couch. He lay down with his shoes still on and closed his eyes. Tucker followed him and licked his hand, whimpering. Jesse pushed him away.

  Jane sighed. This was getting so old. She went over to the couch and slipped off Jesse’s shoes. Then she emptied his pockets. Going through the first pocket, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, his cell phone, and a cocktail napkin with Hot Cheryl 310-555-1089 written across it. She shook her head and crumpled up the napkin. Then she reached into his other pocket and pulled out a black Montblanc money clip and a set of keys.

  They weren’t his keys.

  “What are you doing?” Jesse stared at her with his half-opened, bloodshot eyes as she tried to make out the initials on the key chain.

  “Jesse, whose keys are these?”

  “They’re mine.”

  “No, Jesse, these aren’t yours. They’re BMW keys. Whose BMW?”

  “How the fuck should I know?” Jesse rolled over, turning his back to her.

  “Jesse! How…did…you…get…these…keys?” When he was this wasted, she had to speak to him slowly and patiently, as if she were speaking to a child.

  “God!” Jesse burst out. “You’re so annoying! They’re Quentin’s! I took ’em while he was sleeping! Now leave me alone!”

  “You drove Quentin’s car here?” Jane asked him quietly. The thought of him driving to her apartment in his state was terrifying. He could have gotten killed. Worse yet, he could have killed someone else.

  Jesse sat up and glared at her. “Ahhh, fuck this,” he muttered. He stood up, grabbed the keys out of her hand, and staggered toward the front door.

  “Jesse, where are you going?”

  Jesse kept walking, completely unaware that he had no shoes on. He started to open the front door. Jane ran over and quickly closed it, then positioned herself between the door and Jesse.

  “Jesse, give me the keys. You can’t drive right now. You’re too drunk,” she said firmly.

  “Move!” Jesse said as he reached again for the doorknob.

  Jane pushed his hand away and twisted the dead bolt shut. “Jesse, let’s just go to bed, okay? You need your sleep,” she pleaded.r />
  “I don’t want to sleep with you. You’re too fucking annoying. Move!”

  “No!” Jane pressed her back against the door. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. She couldn’t let him leave. He could barely stand up straight, let alone steer a vehicle.

  “God damn it, Jane!” His eyes blazed at her with pure, cold hatred.

  “Please don’t go,” Jane begged, and realized that she was crying. She was afraid of him—she was always afraid of him when he got like this—but she was even more afraid to let him back outside, behind the wheel of a car.

  “God damn it!” Jesse grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the door. He was so strong, much stronger than she was. Tucker nipped at his heels, barking, agitated by the commotion.

  Sobbing, Jane threw herself at the door again. “Please, Jesse, please just stay here. You don’t have to sleep with me. I’ll sleep in Madison’s room. Please, I’m sorry.” She knew she was rambling almost incoherently; she could barely understand herself, she was crying so hard. But she had to stop him.

  “Move!” Jesse shouted. Jane dug in, pressing her back against the door with as much force as she could. At which point Jesse grabbed her shoulders again and shoved her, hard. She landed on the floor, pain shooting up her side. She was so stunned that she could barely breathe.

  Jesse didn’t even look backward as he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  36

  I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’D DO WITHOUT YOU

  Madison yawned as she fumbled through her pink-and-gold Prada clutch for her keys. It was almost 5 a.m., and she couldn’t wait to get inside and slip out of her spaghetti-strap pink dress and into bed.

  It had been a long night, but totally worth it. Derek had managed to get away for a few hours on the pretext of entertaining some big-shot clients from Tokyo who liked to party late. They’d gotten a suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel, a bottle of champagne, and an amazing room-service spread. It had almost made up for the fight they’d had on the phone last week about Jane’s mutt, who had already destroyed two of his favorite chairs (not to mention several pairs of Madison’s favorite shoes). Of course, Madison would love nothing more than to see the animal go back to the pound. But she couldn’t make Jane get rid of him. Not yet. It was all working. She’d already noticed more Madison time on the season finale, which she knew would mean more Madison in season two once they started airing episodes about Jane in her new apartment. Which meant that Madison still needed to keep her happy.

  Granted, Madison needed to keep Derek happy, too, so she could continue to benefit from his generosity and his unlimited line of credit (not to mention his fabulous condo in Cabo). Otherwise, where would she live? Of course, there were always other Dereks out there. She knew, because he wasn’t her first. And he wouldn’t be her last.

  The only low point in the otherwise perfect evening had been a mysterious text message Madison had received at the hotel, while Derek was in the shower. Someone with a private number had written: YOU CAN’T FOOL PEOPLE FOREVER. YOU’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.

  WTF? It had to be a prank, although it did remind of her of the text she’d gotten during her and Jane’s spa outing: I’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU ON TV AND I KNOW WHO YOU REALLY ARE. Obviously, there were a lot of sick people out there with way too much time on their hands.

  She reassured herself once again that no one could possibly know. Still, it was eerie. She forced her thoughts to return to happier things, like the pair of pink sapphire studs Derek had given her tonight as an early Valentine’s Day present. Pink diamonds would have been better, but she shouldn’t complain.

  Madison opened the door quietly, so as not to wake Jane or Tucker. She stopped when she saw Jane lying on the couch.

  Jane stirred. “Madison?”

  Madison walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. Jane was curled up in a fetal position, her face streaked with tears. “Are you okay? What happened?” she said.

  “I’m fine,” Jane said, not particularly convincingly.

  “You’re not okay. What happened?”

  “Jesse. He—” Jane began crying. “He was so drunk, and I tried to keep him from driving home, but he wouldn’t listen, and—”

  “Did you guys have a fight? What happened? Sweetie, calm down; I can’t understand you when you’re crying.”

  But Jane wouldn’t stop crying. Madison wrapped her arms around her. Jane only cried harder, so Madison held her tighter.

  “Oww.” Jane touched her side.

  “What’s wrong? What hurts?”

  “Nothing.”

  Madison frowned. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you into bed.”

  Madison helped Jane to her feet and led her slowly to her bedroom. She knew that Jane and Jesse had been fighting a lot lately. She could hear their muffled arguments through the wall. But she had never seen Jane this upset.

  Jane lay down on her bed and drew the covers up to her chin. The dog jumped up and curled up at her feet, looking subdued. He seemed to know something wasn’t right.

  “Can I get you anything?” Madison asked.

  “Yeah, my phone. I think it’s on the coffee table.”

  “Who’re you gonna call? It’s, like, five a.m.”

  “I just need to send a text. Please, Madison? It’s important. Before I change my mind.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Madison hurried to the living room and retrieved the phone, which she found on the floor next to a pair of black men’s loafers. (WTF?) She noticed that the TV was on Pause, fixed on an image of Jesse and Jane at Beso. (Again, WTF?) She turned off the TV and brought the phone back to Jane.

  Jane took it from her and began typing. “I should’ve done this a long time ago,” she whispered to herself.

  “Done what, sweetie?”

  Jane held up the screen for Madison. The message read:

  JESSE: WE’RE DONE. I MEAN IT THIS TIME. I NEVER WANT 2 SEE U OR SPEAK 2 U AGAIN.

  “Good for you,” Madison said, hugging her. And she was surprised to find that she meant it, and not just because she had been angling to break Jane and Jesse up for ages, but because Jane didn’t deserve to be treated like this. Madison wanted to take Jane’s place on the show, sure. But she didn’t want to see Jane’s spirit crushed by a drunk train wreck like Jesse.

  She’d seen too many women go through crap like that. Including her own mother.

  Jane hit Send, then sank back wearily against the pillows. “I’m so tired,” she mumbled. “Madison, will you stay with me? I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

  “Of course, sweetie.” Madison slipped off her gold Miu Miu sandals and got into bed beside Jane.

  “Thank you,” Jane whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For being such a good friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Madison took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to respond. You’re welcome? You’re a good friend, too? Sorry about trying to destroy your TV career and image—it’s nothing personal?

  But she didn’t have to worry about it, because Jane had fallen asleep. Madison closed her eyes, trying to sleep, too. But her mind was too busy and confused. So much was happening so fast; she felt overwhelmed.

  The dog made a sighing sound. Madison smiled slightly, wondering how they must look: her, Jane, and the animal, all snuggled in Jane’s bed, the first faint light of the Los Angeles sunrise shining through the curtains.

  “So what do you have for me?” Veronica Bliss asked pleasantly. She’d been a lot nicer to Madison since she gave her the info about Scarlett and her camera guy. “When someone gets fired,” she’d said after the story ran, “you know it was a good tip. Keep the good tips coming, Madison.”

  Madison shifted in her chair. The Gossip editor was sitting at her desk, sifting through piles of what looked like scandalous photographs of a familiar-looking brunette. That underwear model? That actress who played the little sister in Animal Magnetism? Madison felt sorry for her, whoe
ver she was.

  “Don’t feel sorry for her,” Veronica said, as if reading her mind. “She leaked these herself. Her career needed a boost. So.” She folded her hands and stared at Madison expectantly. “What’s going on with Jane Roberts these days?”

  Madison hesitated. There was so much she could say, especially after last night. Jane had filled her in on the rest of the details this morning, over a late breakfast. But she couldn’t get the image of Jane out of her head, nestled against her shoulder and whispering, “Thank you for being such a good friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Shit! She was going soft. Which she could hardly afford to do, now that she had this beneficial arrangement going with Veronica. Veronica had even come through, publishing a full-page piece about Madison’s predictions for season two in last week’s issue (the same issue that blew the cover off Scarlett’s little romance). Madison deserved to be the star of L.A. Candy. And she was almost there. She could practically taste it.

  Which meant that Jane had to go. There couldn’t be two stars on the show. Besides, Jane didn’t even appreciate what she had.

  “Well?” Veronica’s eyes flashed impatiently at her.

  Madison looked away. “Yeah. So I think Jane and Jesse broke up last night.”

  “You think they broke up?”

  “They did. They broke up.”

  “Where? When? Was there another girl involved? Or another guy? Is Braden back in the picture? I need details.”

  “I…don’t have any details yet. I’m working on it.”

  “Well, get on it! I’m going to clear the cover for this week’s issue. Deadline’s end of business tomorrow. Can I count on you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Tomorrow, five p.m. I’ll be expecting an update.”

  As Madison walked out of Veronica’s office, she noticed her assistant staring at her. That little dude was so weird. But she was too preoccupied to stop and ask him what the hell his problem was. She had her own problem—namely, what was she going to tell Veronica tomorrow at 5 p.m.?