37
LOVE IS CRAZY
Jane scanned the patio of the Tropicana Bar, nervously going through her mental checklist of to-dos. Rose petals in the pool. Check. Red cushions on the chairs. Check. Vintage coolers filled with cans of Crazy Girl’s latest energy drink, Psycho Remix. Check. The step-and-repeat with the Crazy Girl logo. Check. Crazy Girl gift bags. Check. Naomi was organizing them on a table by the entrance. DJ equipment. Check. DJ…Uh-oh! Where was the DJ?
Jane twisted her earpiece into her right ear, and she plugged the long cord that attached to the earpiece into a walkie-talkie. The extra hardware didn’t exactly coordinate with her high-waisted black skirt and red silk blouse, but Fiona had dictated that they be mandatory accessories for the entire night, so that Jane and Hannah could be in touch at all times. Jane was also wearing her mike pack for the PopTV cameras (there were four of them tonight), creating an unfortunate lump underneath her fitted skirt. She hadn’t been able to attach it to her bra because the back of her top dipped too low.
Jane switched on the radio. “Hannah? Are you there? We’ve got a problem.”
“What’s wrong?” Hannah’s voice boomed back. Jane cringed at the volume and twisted a knob on her headset to lower it.
“Where are you right now?” Jane asked her.
“I’m at the door. People are starting to arrive, and there was a mix-up with the guest list.”
“Mix-up? What mix-up?” Jane demanded.
“Don’t worry about it. Gaby’s here with me, and she’s on the phone straightening it out with her boss at Ruby Slipper. So what’s going on?”
“Where’s the DJ?”
“He’s not here yet?”
“I haven’t seen him. Has anyone talked to him?”
“Not that I know of. I have his number and…Listen, Isaac is here; I’ll put him on it.”
Isaac was one of the interns at Fiona Chen Events. “Okay, perfect. Will you have him call right now, and let me know if he gets ahold of him?”
“Yup. We’re on it.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Hey, Jane? One more thing. There’s a girl here who says she’s a friend of yours. She’s not on the list, though. Her name’s, uh, Fabiana? She’s got three—no, four other girls with her.” In the background, Jane heard laughter and someone screaming, “Hey, homegirl!”
“Fabiana? I don’t know anyone named Fabiana.”
“Didn’t think so, thanks.”
Jane clicked off and was about to see about the hors d’oeuvres when someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was Madison, looking stunning and barely PG in a magenta minidress that was nearly see-through. “Ohmigod, does your mother know you’re wearing that?” Jane said, hugging her.
Madison grinned. “I guess I’m gonna be grounded, huh?”
“Yeah, no TV for a week.” Jane laughed.
“Place looks amazing. You guys did a great job.”
“Thanks. I don’t know. There was a problem with the guest list, and we can’t find the DJ, and—”
Madison squeezed her arm. “Don’t stress. It’s gonna be an awesome night.”
“Yeah. It’s just that it’s my first big assignment for Fiona, ya know? And I’ve been kinda distracted lately…”
A waitress came by, carrying a tray of frosty-looking pink Cosmos. She was wearing the uniform Jane had come up with for all the waitresses: a red halter top and a pair of short shorts with the words CRAZY GIRL spelled across the derriere. “Care for a cocktail?” she offered.
Madison plucked a glass off the tray. “Absolutely.”
Jane declined. She had to stay focused. “Did you like the invites?” she asked Madison. “Gaby helped come up with the theme, ‘Love Is Crazy.’ She’s super-creative.”
“Yeah, well, love is crazy.” Madison took a sip of her Cosmo. “Speaking of…He isn’t coming tonight, is he?”
Jane didn’t even have to ask who Madison was talking about. “Don’t know. He was on the guest list. We sent the invites out a while ago.”
“Well, if he shows his sorry face, send him my way. I’ll take care of him,” Madison told her.
“Thanks.”
Jane hadn’t seen or spoken to Jesse since that horrible night last weekend. He had filled up her voice mailbox with messages, apologizing and telling her that he loved her…but she had ignored them all, and eventually started deleting them without even listening to them. This morning, she had received three dozen red roses from him, sent over from one of the most exclusive florists in L.A. Did he seriously think that flowers would make up for the way he treated her? She had given them to the elderly woman who lived on the floor below.
“Hey, isn’t that Jared Walsh at the bar?” Madison said, peering across the pool. “I think I’ll go see what he thinks of my dress.”
“Uh, Madison? I think he’s married.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that really matters with him. Wish me luck.”
Jane laughed.
By nine o’clock, the party was getting crowded. The DJ had finally arrived—his car had broken down on the Santa Monica Freeway—and was spinning a perfectly pitched mix of old and new love songs. Jane was stressed and running around—there were so many details to attend to (like making sure the in-house photographer was getting enough product-placement shots without bothering any of the guests), and a couple of fires to put out (they had seated two starlets-slash-BFFs at the same table, but it turned out they weren’t speaking this week). And yet she was exhilarated, too, because everyone seemed to be having a good time, and Fiona had actually come up to Jane and said, “Things appear to be in order.” Which, for Fiona, was a glowing compliment.
Jane spotted lots of familiar faces in the crowd, including R.J., Sam, and Quentin (who had shot her a sympathetic smile). Scar had arrived earlier with several girls Jane didn’t recognize—maybe students from USC? Jane had been meaning to talk to her since the Gossip article about her and one of the camera guys broke last week. Jane had no idea that Scar was dating anyone, much less Liam, who seemed like a nice guy and was definitely cute. The thing was, Scar didn’t date. Of course, knowing Gossip, the story had been twisted to make it appear as though Scar and Liam were in a relationship, when it was probably just a casual fling.
Or maybe Scar had changed her ways and failed to clue Jane in. It wasn’t like they were confiding in each other these days. As frustrated as Jane had been dealing with Scar’s negative attitude, she couldn’t help but miss her. Madison was a great friend, but she could never be her best friend, not like Scar was.
“Jane.”
Jane froze at the sound of the familiar voice behind her. He had come to the party, after all.
He kissed the back of her neck. “Did you get the flowers I sent?”
Jane flinched and turned around. Jesse looked stylish in his black Armani suit, white tailored shirt, and skinny red tie. He also looked intoxicated. Jane wasn’t surprised. She knew the signs so well: the tired, unfocused eyes…the slurred speech…the flushed cheeks. Not to mention the stupid smirk on his face and the not-so-subtle scent of whiskey and…God, did she smell pot, too? Nice, Jesse, she thought in disgust.
She saw that he wasn’t wearing a mike pack. He must have slipped in past Dana and also Trevor, who had made a point to be at the party tonight. They weren’t exactly happy with her decision to break up with him via text…in the middle of the night…off-camera. Trevor said that he understood that she was upset, but they were going to have to “come up with something” later. Jane wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but she had agreed, just to shut him up.
Jane scanned the crowd, looking for Trevor and Dana. She figured they would track Jesse down momentarily in order to mike him. Although she didn’t know if any of the footage would even be usable, because the finished episodes never showed Jesse trashed. After all, he was supposed to be the perfect guy who every teenage girl dreamed of being with.
“I’m working right now, Jesse.” Jane turned to go.<
br />
Jesse grabbed her arm. Jane wrenched it away. “I said, I’m working,” she repeated angrily.
“Whassa matter? Ya don’t love me anymore?” He wobbled on his feet, clutching at the air and then at the back of a woman’s chair. The woman spun around and glared at him.
Why did I ever think I could change him? Jane wondered. Her friends had been right about him. It pained her to admit this, and at the same time, she felt so free. Like she no longer had to continue her lonely, dysfunctional dance with him. Love was crazy. But it was supposed to be mostly good-crazy, not bad-crazy.
Jane was finished with her conversation with Jesse—for good. She fake-smiled at him and walked away. She heard him yell out her name, followed by a loud crash and the sound of something breaking. “Please get someone to clean that up,” she called out to a passing waitress, without even looking back.
“Jane! Pssst, Miss Jane!”
Oh, God, what now? Jane glanced around and saw Diego waving to her from behind a nearby palm tree. Was he…hiding? “Hey, D!” Jane went up to him and gave him a big hug. It was nice to see a friendly face, especially after her encounter with Jesse. “How’s it going? Did you just get here? Why are you hiding?”
“I’m hiding ’cause—Ohmigod, love your Loubs! Are they new?”
“Yeah, thanks. So what’s going on?”
D pulled Jane behind the palm tree. “I can’t let her see me,” he whispered.
“Who?”
D pointed at Jane’s mike pack, gesturing that they should speak in low volumes so as not to get picked up. Jane nodded to indicate that she understood. She leaned in closer and started to rub her thumb back and forth across the top of the mike. It was a trick she and Madison had figured out recently. That way, all the mike would pick up was a loud fuzzy sound.
“Who are you hiding from?” Jane whispered.
“The person who gave those pictures of you to Veronica,” D whispered back.
Jane gaped at him. “What are you talking about?” she stammered.
D reached into the pocket of his leopard-print smoking jacket and extracted several pieces of paper, folded in quarters. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I found these emails on Veronica’s computer, like, an hour ago. I started digging around when I saw her in Veronica’s office today.”
“Her?” Jane took the printouts from him—reluctantly, because she wasn’t sure she even wanted to read them. She had convinced herself a long time ago that the pictures had been taken by some anonymous tabloid photographer. She couldn’t imagine—then or now—that anyone she knew might have been involved.
“I know it’s hard, honey,” D said softly. “But don’t you wanna know the truth?”
No! Jane thought.
On the other hand, maybe it was time she stopped brushing things under the rug. She had faced the truth about Jesse. She should face the truth about this, too.
She took a deep breath, then unfolded the printouts one by one. And began reading.
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.
Madison? Jane clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. There was no way. This had to be a joke. D was making this up. Someone was making this up. Madison was one of her best friends, and she would never do something like this to Jane. In fact, Madison was the one who had gotten her through the whole ordeal, after the story broke.
D squeezed her hand. “I know. You can’t believe it, right? I couldn’t either, at first. Keep reading.”
She did.
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?
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.
TO: MADISON PARKER
FROM: VERONICA BLISS
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: WTF???
FYI, “Nothing new,” “back at work,” and “not seeing anyone” isn’t news. You can’t get something for nothing.
There was another email, too, dated back in December, in which Madison had emailed her Cabo address to Veronica, adding, “Your guy should be able to find us on the beach, or else on the balcony of our condo.” Jane’s thoughts flashed to the photographer who had ambushed them on her last day. So that was how he had tracked them down. It all made sense now.
There were other, more recent emails about her and Jesse—and Braden, too. And there was one dated just four days ago, in which Madison informed Veronica that she couldn’t get her the details she needed, after all. The details about what? But it didn’t matter.
Jane had read enough.
38
BFFC
Madison pressed the button for the penthouse as she stepped into the elevator and wearily slipped off her Manolo stilettos. She was in a bad mood, mostly because it was Valentine’s Day and she was going home alone. The problem, of course, was wives. Derek had taken his to Palm Springs for the weekend. And Jared Walsh’s had turned up at the Tropicana just seconds after Madison had talked him into slipping away for a nightcap. Talk about missed opportunities—a photo of Madison and him sneaking out of the Tropicana’s back entrance would have done wonders for her career. Then again, people weren’t always fond of “the other woman.” There were better ways to get publicity.
Madison told herself that she had a dozen other numbers she could call tonight, if all she wanted was a warm body. But it wasn’t. For the first time in a long time, she wanted something more. Not a Derek or a Jared Walsh, but a guy who might have sent her roses for Valentine’s Day and taken her out to dinner at Koi and told her how crazy he was about her.
God, what was happening to her? Something was definitely wrong. Just days ago, she had blown it with Veronica and failed to give her the dirt she wanted on Jane and Jesse’s breakup. And now she was fantasizing about…what, giving up on her extremely lucrative love life, so she could have a real boyfriend like other girls? Romance was overrated.
Madison was not like other girls. She used to be, before the surgeries and before Hollywood—but no longer. She had worked hard to get where she was, and she couldn’t stop now. She had to shake this funk she was in before she made more costly mistakes, like letting Veronica down. And all for what? So she could protect Jane? Jane was her BFFN, or more accurately, her BFFC (best friend for cameras)—not her real BFF. Madison didn’t have real BFFs any more than she had real BFs. She knew that the only person she could truly count on was herself. She had had enough disappointment in her life to know that other people always let you down.
The elevator stopped. The doors opened, and Jane walked in—with her blue rolling suitcase in one hand, her goldfish bowl in the other, and the dog at her heels, his leash dragging on the ground.
“Ohmigod! Where are you going so late?” Madison said, surprised. Tucker sniffed at her dangling Manolos.
“I’m calling the movers first thing tomorrow,” Jane informed her in an ice-cold voice. “They’ll get the rest of my stuff, and my furniture, too.”
“Movers? What are you talking about?”
Jane pressed 1. “I saw the emails, Madison.”
“Emails? What emails?”
“The emails between you and Veronica Bliss. About the pictures and everything else.”
It took every ounce of willpower for Madison to maintain her composure at that moment. Inside, she wanted to scream and lose it and kill someone. How the hell had Jane gotten hold of those emails? Damn it. God damn it! On the outside, however, she managed to tilt her head and smile a li
ttle, as if she were befuddled and maybe even a tiny bit amused.
“Veronica Bliss? You mean that really bitchy woman who works for Life and Style?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Please. I have copies right here.”
“Jane, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Copies of what?”
Jane reached into her bag and pulled out a wrinkled wad of papers. She thrust them at Madison, her face rigid with anger.
Madison scanned the papers quickly. Her heart skipped a beat.
Jane really did have the emails.
Someone had sold Madison out.
“This is soooo weird,” Madison said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Ya know what, someone stole my BlackBerry, like, right before Christmas. I think whoever it was sent out a bunch of emails under my name. I got complaints from some of my other friends about this, too. People are sick.”
“Madison, please.”
“I’m serious! I told Trevor about it, ’cause he got us the BlackBerrys, remember? He said he was looking into it, and—”
“Let me know how much I owe you for rent and utilities.”
The elevator stopped at the first floor, and the doors opened. Jane got out, somehow managing to juggle the suitcase and the goldfish and the dog.
“Jane!” Madison called out. “Jane!”
The doors closed, leaving Madison alone. She stood there, trying to breathe, trying to figure out how her perfect plan had spun so horribly out of control.
How was she gonna fix this?
39
COSMIC SHIFT
Scarlett heard her phone ringing in her purse as she pulled into the parking garage. She frowned in irritation; it was probably Dana, wanting God knew what. The woman was impossible. Earlier tonight, at the Crazy Girl Valentine’s Day party, she kept texting Scarlett, asking her to go say hello to Jane. Why did she even bother? Why would Scarlett want to embarrass herself by going up to Jane with everyone watching, when Scarlett knew perfectly well that Jane didn’t want to talk to her?
Sweet Little Lies Page 19
