“Whatever. I don’t want to think about him anymore.”
Scarlett laughed. “Right. Like I believe that. I think you and Braden need to get really, really drunk and confess your true feelings for each other.”
Jane grinned. “Yeah, that sounds like a healthy start to a relationship. Besides, why are you saying this stuff about Braden? I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I like him fine, except for his commitment issues.”
“Commitment issues?” Jane started twirling her hair again.
“You mean that girl he was stringing along for, like, three years didn’t clue you in? Willow, right?” Scarlett shook her head. “See, Janie, there are two types of guys who won’t commit. The first type avoids relationships until he falls in love for real, and then he’s yours forever. The second type avoids relationships, period. That’s the type you want to stay far away from. The question is, which type is Braden?”
“I don’t know, Dr. Phil,” Jane joked. “Or should I say Dr. Harp? Has your mom been giving you therapy lessons?” Scarlett’s mother was a shrink.
“Hey, shut it! I’m just trying to help.”
Of course, Scarlett knew something about commitment issues because she used to have them herself . . . until she met Liam.
She gazed out at the twinkling lights of the city against the dark sky, wondering where he was right this second. On the nights they didn’t spend together, they usually talked before going to bed, just to say hi and talk about their day. Scarlett checked the dashboard clock: 11:23. Not too late. She could still call him when she got home.
Liam was due back on Saturday—her birthday. The plan was for him to pick her up at 7 p.m. that night, her bags packed for whatever surprise he had in store for her. She couldn’t wait.
Scarlett normally didn’t get worked up about birthdays. Her family had never been into traditions and celebrations, so she grew up not expecting much each April 24. Usually, Jane had to drag her out and force her to do something, even if it was just going out with a few friends. Although some years Jane went all out, like on Scarlett’s sixteenth birthday, when she organized a barbecue at the beach, followed by a girls-only sleepover, followed by a spa day.
But this year . . . well, Scarlett was excited about whatever plans Liam had for her. Knowing him, they were sure to be awesome.
Chapter 21
The Other Team’s Playbook
“Miss Jane! You’ve outdone yourself. Our birthday girl is going to be soooo surprised,” D said, typing briskly on his iPad. “Tell me—what juicy little lie did you come up with to get her here tonight?”
“Dana told her to come by here at six to shoot a quick pickup scene,” Jane replied. She stood back and studied the HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SCARLETT! banner she had just strung across the doorway of Coco de Ville. “What do you think? Higher or lower? Hmm, should I have gotten green letters instead of blue? Maybe I should just take it down. . . .”
“The sign is perfect! Honey, stop stressing and give me something to write about for my blog,” D ordered her, patting the chair next to him.
“Hey! Don’t post anything until after she gets here. I don’t want you to ruin the surprise. I mean it, D!”
Jane sat down, wishing she didn’t feel so anxious. But there was still much to do for Scar’s birthday party, which was in less than three—no, two—hours.
The inside of Coco de Ville looked strange to Jane in the daytime, brightly lit and almost completely vacant. The floors were swept, the bar was clean, the mismatched, patterned cushions were neatly lined up, and there was a quiet hush in the air. It was hard to imagine that in just a short while, the place would be packed with people—drinking, dancing, shouting over the music, and spilling their cocktails.
Across the room, the PopTV crew was shutting down to break for dinner before resuming the shoot once the party started. They had spent the afternoon filming scenes of Jane and Hannah putting up decorations, making last-minute changes to the menu with the kitchen staff, and going over the playlist with the DJ. Hannah had just left to pick up a poster at OfficeMax: a “best of” collage of photos of Scar spanning from childhood to the present. Getting the photos had not been an easy project, since unlike Jane’s parents, Scarlett’s parents were not big on taking family pictures.
D had stopped by around three to watch the shoot and get some notes for his blog. In the old days before D-Lish (i.e., two months ago), he might have been in the shoot as a friend of Jane’s versus observing from the sidelines. But Jane knew Trevor would never allow that now. It would be too weird to have a journalist who blogged about the show to also be on the show, especially because D was becoming very well-known very quickly. In any case, it had been a while since they had hung out, and Jane was happy to spend some time with him, even if it was during “work hours.”
“So, have you talked to your gorge ex lately?” D asked Jane. “I hear rehab is doing wonders for him. If he manages to stay sober, I might ask him out myself.”
“Yeah, good luck with that. And no, I haven’t talked to him.”
Which wasn’t exactly the truth. Jane thought about the email she’d gotten from Jesse just this morning:
Didn’t take you long to find a new boyfriend, Jane. Guess you’re as big a liar as you always were.
She’d started to write back, then figured, what good would it do? Jesse had obviously heard about her and Caleb, which would not have been difficult, since their relationship was all over the media. She wished now that she hadn’t listened to Trevor’s “advice.” It had been stupid, lying to Jesse and making him think that he still had a chance with her.
D’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Soooo. Was it super-awkward seeing Jesse at the hospital?”
“Yeah. I hadn’t seen him since we broke up, and—” Jane stopped suddenly and craned her neck to see what D was typing. “Don’t you dare write about me and Jesse in your blog! It’s totally off the record! Do you hear me, D?”
“Calm down, baby cakes! I would never!”
Jane sighed. She reached over and straightened his bow tie, which was large, striped, and vintage. “It’s so confusing with you these days. I mean, you’re my friend I tell private stuff to, plus you’re a blogger. Should I just keep my mouth shut?”
“Honey, the only thing I ever publish about you is that you’re a sweet, beautiful, un-Botoxed gem in a shark-infested sea of fakes.” D set aside his iPad. “Let’s change the subject! How is your new man-friend?”
“Caleb? He’s, um, fine.”
“Fine?” D leaned back and narrowed his eyes at her. “That doesn’t sound good, honey.”
“No, no! Caleb’s really cool! It’s just that”—Jane hesitated—“we’ve been dating for a couple of weeks now. Less than that, even. At first it was a lot of fun, you know, talking about high school and catching up and stuff. But . . . well . . . I’m kinda starting to wonder about him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well . . . like last night? We finally had a date without the crew. I was looking forward to seeing him alone, you know? Except he asked me where the cameras were. Like he missed them or something. And then, we’re kissing on his couch, and he pulls away and asks me if I think he should get an agent.”
D gasped. “No!”
“Yep.”
“Sounds like your boy has the fame bug.”
“Yeah, right? I’m hoping it’s just temporary, though. I mean, this is all pretty new for him. Maybe once the excitement wears off—”
“Hey, you two!”
Jane glanced up and saw Trevor walking toward them, coat in hand. He’d been showing up at shoots more and more lately. She hoped he hadn’t overheard any of her conversation with D. “Hey, Trevor. Are you taking off?”
“Yeah, I just came by to go over a few things with Dana. Hi, D. Loved your piece about Jared Walsh.”
“You didn’t think I was too harsh?”
Trevor laughed. “The guy gives heterosexuality a bad name. And no, y
ou can’t quote me on that. Will we see you tonight?”
“Wouldn’t miss it!”
“Great! You’ve done a terrific job organizing this party, Jane. Scarlett’s going to be very, very happy.”
“I hope so.” Jane smiled, flattered. Then confused. Why did Trevor have this effect on her? When he talked to her like this, it was like he was some hard-to-please dad and she was his favorite little girl. Which was kind of weird, but it was the truth. But he could also make her feel like she was a spoiled, ungrateful brat, like when she tried to discuss the Madison Problem with him and he basically shot her down, reminding her that she got paid a lot of money to do the show. Translation: Stop being so ungrateful and suck it up.
Still . . . why did she care what he thought of her?
“She’ll be here at six sharp, right, Jane?” Trevor asked.
“Um, yes. Six sharp. Dana arranged that,” Jane said. She had to stop it with the psychoanalysis and focus on the party.
Trevor gave Jane a few more instructions, then said good-bye to her and D and took off. “Your boss is one good-looking man,” D remarked.
Jane laughed. “D, he’s, like, forty.”
Jane surveyed the room to see what other area needed setting up. She noticed a small brown notebook lying on the floor nearby. She leaned over and picked it up. “This isn’t yours, is it?”
D took the notebook from her and turned it over in his hand. “I wish! It’s a Smythson, crocodile.”
Jane’s cell buzzed. She glanced at the screen and saw that it was Hannah. “D, I have to get this. See if you can figure out who it belongs to.”
“No problem, sweetie.”
Jane spoke briefly to Hannah, who was at OfficeMax and had a question about the poster. When she hung up, she saw that D was poring over the notebook with an intense expression. “D! I didn’t tell you to snoop. I meant, look for a name or something,” she teased him.
“Jane?” D looked up. “I thought your restaurant opening wasn’t until next Tuesday.”
Jane frowned. “It’s not. Why?”
“Then why does Trevor have notes about the party from start to finish, like it’s already happened?”
“Wait. That’s Trevor’s notebook?”
“Yep. He must have dropped it. Check this out.” D slid the notebook across the table and stabbed his finger at an open page.
Jane stared at the entry, which was in Trevor’s familiar, nearly illegible handwriting. It wasn’t easy to read, but as far as Jane could tell, it said:
SIRLOIN OPENING
J arrives late, looks flustered (20–30 min late).
F’s reaction = perturbed.
H already there (push her call time 30 min earlier so she’s on time).
J & H discuss expectations for night while doing a task (gift bags?).
Line from J: “What could go wrong?”
M enters through side door. (Make sure to have 1 camera on J.) J won’t be expecting M b/c she’s not working that night. (Earlier have M say she’s going to be “out of town.”)
J upset that M is there.
F asks J to seat M.
Possible beat later: Chef offers girls a sample of special hors d’oeuvres (oysters, scallops?). Jane refuses (doesn’t eat shellfish). Chef’s reaction = insulted.
Jane gasped. WTF?
D was shaking his head. “Jane, this is just creepy. It’s like you’re his little puppet. He knows what you’re going to do before you do.”
Jane was so shocked that she could barely speak. “This . . . is . . . sick,” she finally managed.
“Yeah. I mean, we all know reality TV isn’t one hundred percent real, but this is crazy.”
Jane began leafing through pages, growing increasingly disgusted. “Ohmigod! He’s got my ‘scenes’ for the next three weeks all figured out. A week from Monday, I’m apparently having lunch at the Sunset Marquis with Scar, and we’re apparently going to run into Madison’s sister.”
“Seriously?”
Jane slapped the notebook shut. She couldn’t take any more of this. She picked up her cell and scrolled through her address book.
“Honey, what are you doing?” D asked her.
“Calling him. He can’t treat me like this. I’m a human being!”
“No, no, no!” D snatched her phone away from her and tucked it into the inside pocket of his black velvet blazer. “Sweetie, you have to learn to fight fire with fire. I know you’re upset, but Trevor will just talk his way out of it, and nothing’s gonna change.”
“But—”
“Hush! You know I’m right.”
Jane fumed. D was right. But she couldn’t just sit back and do nothing, could she?
D squeezed her hand. “The good news is . . . do you understand what you have here? You have the other team’s playbook.”
“Huh?”
“You know exactly what Trevor has in mind for you for the next three weeks. You can be a step ahead of him the whole way. Why not use that to your advantage?”
Jane nodded slowly. D was on to something. “Yes! You’re brilliant!” she said, hugging him.
“Yeah, and you thought I was just a pretty face. Come on, girl. We’ve got some reading to do.”
Chapter 22
Fame and Fortune
“I’m obsessed with this,” Sophie said, punching the keys on her new BlackBerry. “It’s way better than my other phone. Or surfing the Web on Mom’s piece-of-crap PC. It was super-sweet of Trev to give it to me. I think he really likes me, don’t you?”
“Don’t get too excited. We all got one. For the show,” Madison explained. She looked around, wondering where in the hell the waitress was. She and Sophie were sitting at an outdoor café, waiting for the PopTV crew to show up. According to Dana’s earlier email, they were going to shoot a quick scene of the two sisters discussing tonight’s (yawn) surprise party for Scarlett.
“Check out this picture of me. Isn’t it cool?” Sophie held up the screen for Madison.
Madison glanced at it. It was the same red-carpet shot from the video-game launch that had popped up all over the internet, with captions like: L.A. CANDY’S NEWEST HOTTIE! and SMOKIN’ SOPHIA! She fake-smiled, trying to mask her annoyance. “Yeah, it’s kind of a big deal that you’re my sister.”
Sophie smirked. “Oh, is that why the photographers were all over me at the party?”
Madison rolled her eyes. “Look, everything’s going really well. Let’s just focus on the plan, okay?”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Maddy?”
“Stop calling me that!”
“God, you are such a bitch today! What’s the matter, did Derek stand you up again?”
“So what can I get you girls?”
The waitress had suddenly materialized at their table, pad in hand, her curious gaze bouncing between Madison and Sophie. Hopefully she hadn’t overheard their conversation. “An iced soy latte, no sweetener, and make sure they actually use soy milk this time,” Madison snapped.
“Got it. And for you?”
“I’ll have an extra-large mocha ice-cream milk shake with whipped cream. And one of those really big chocolate-chip cookies,” Sophie said, closing her menu.
“What are you, nine years old?” Madison said when the waitress had left.
“You’re just mad cuz I can eat that stuff without getting fat.”
Madison started to respond, then clamped her mouth shut. She wasn’t going to let Sophie keep baiting her like this. “Soooo. Are you looking forward to the party?” she said in a faux-friendly voice.
“Yeah, I guess. Why are we going, though? You and that Scarlett girl hate each other, right? Or are you just pretending to hate each other for the cameras?”
“Uh, we’re definitely not pretending. You and I are going because Trevor wants us there. Jane didn’t invite us, so it’s gonna be a big surprise. If anybody asks, we’re supposed to say that Gaby invited us.”
“Did she invite us?”
“Who knows
? A PopTV assistant was handling the Evites, so Trevor probably just added our names or whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point is, he wants a scene tonight when we walk into Coco de Ville, and everyone’s gonna be like, ‘Oh, no, what are they doing here?’”
“Awesome!”
Madison shrugged. “Yeah, maybe . . . if you like crashing parties where no one wants you there.”
“But we’re not crashing if Trev asked us to come. He’s the boss,” Sophie pointed out.
Madison said nothing as she watched Sophie peering around the café, adjusting her new Gucci sunglasses for what seemed like the hundredth time (the girl needed to take it easy with the “celebrity gestures”) and pretending not to notice the half-dozen guys ogling her. She told herself that everything was going according to “the plan”; she had promised Sophie fame, wealth, and boyfriends in exchange for her silence, and it was already starting to happen. Sophie had been a huge hit at Playground. She’d had a ton of guys around her the entire time, and the reporters and photographers couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Trevor was already talking about “maximizing Sophia’s airtime.”
So why did Madison feel awful? Like she’d been replaced?
She had been racking her brain trying to come up with something, anything, so she could regain the upper hand with Sophie. Being devious and manipulative were two of her finest qualities—normally. But the situation with Sophie was not normal, and the stress had taken a toll on Madison’s creativity.
Madison Parker didn’t do helpless. Yet that was exactly how she felt at this moment. God, how pathetic was that?
The waitress came by and set their order on the table. Sophie dug immediately into her disgusting shake and cookie. It really was unfair. How could she live on a diet of junk food and hard liquor and still look like that? Whereas Madison practically had to subsist on bottled water and carrot sticks—and spend hours a day at the gym—to maintain her size-0 body.
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