None of them mentioned Braden. None of them even hinted at scandal.
Sam really was a miracle worker.
When her phone buzzed a few moments later, she wondered idly if Sam was making sure she’d seen the email or maybe it was another text from Caleb, who had sent her another message this morning “just saying hi,” whatever that meant.
But it was from Dana, who had written, CD U AND HANNAH PLZ TALK ABOUT SOMETHING????
Jane glanced up. Dana was standing in the doorway, gesturing wildly with her hands for Jane and Hannah to resume their fascinating conversation.
Jane turned to face Hannah. “Yeah, so we have a meeting with Gaby today, right?” she said hastily.
Hannah nodded. “Gaby from Ruby Slipper?”
Jane remembered that Dana had asked them to mention Gaby’s name whenever they talked about Ruby Slipper. But why was Hannah saying it like that—like she was in a commercial or something? She really was in a strange mood today. “Yes, Gaby at Ruby Slipper. We have to go over the list of DJs for the party.”
“Sounds good.”
Silence. Hannah gazed pensively off into space. Jane heard her own phone buzz again, then Hannah’s phone. Dana was probably about to lose it with the two of them, wasting precious airtime with…well, dead air. Jane was tempted to ask Hannah if something was wrong.
But knowing Hannah, Jane was not likely to get any answers.
20
POISON APPLE
Madison sat back in the sleek white pedicure chair and dipped her feet into the warm, rose-scented water. “Mmm, this is just what I needed.”
Jane, who was in the chair next to her, smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for inviting me. I really needed this, too.”
“Your nails were nasty, huh?” Madison joked.
Jane laughed. “It’s nice to relax, that’s all. I’ve been working hard, and things are a little crazy.”
“Yeah, me too. We have to start doing this girls’ stuff every week.”
“Definitely.”
Madison fell silent, digesting Jane’s words. “Things are a little crazy right now” probably referred to her renewed and, from Madison’s perspective, disastrous romance with Jesse. Although maybe it wasn’t as awful as she had feared? From what she could tell, Jesse either hadn’t told Jane about Madison being behind the Gossip pictures, or he had, and Jane hadn’t believed it. Either way, Madison seemed to be off the hook—at least for now. Jane was as friendly and nice to her as ever, and since Jane didn’t seem capable of ulterior motives, Madison assumed it was sincere.
Still, Jane’s being with Jesse was not good news for Madison for other reasons, namely because Trevor was weirdly obsessed with their relationship (and with not-very-pretty, not-very-exciting Jane, Plain Jane—why?), and would likely focus on them for the rest of the season. And maybe next season, too—if there was a next season, and if the Jane-Jesse love-fest hadn’t expired by then.
How was she going to turn this around?
Patience. She would continue to stay close to Jane in order to get what she needed for Veronica, in exchange for more pieces in Gossip (like pictures of Jane and Jesse fighting or Jane the morning after too many margaritas). And in order to get more airtime on L.A. Candy, too. The math was simple. Jane got the most airtime of all four girls, so being Jane’s BFF would mean…well, getting almost as much, since there would be lots of scenes with both of them. And since Scar was on the outs with Jane these days, the BFF position was available.
In fact, Madison had been thinking lately that it would be so incredibly awesome if she and Jane could become roommates someday. She could imagine the cameras now, capturing all their predate closet raids, postdate couch convos, and more. The possibilities were endless.
Although…where were the cameras tonight? Madison had texted Dana that she and Jane wanted to get mani-pedis. In response, Dana should have cleared a salon and scheduled a crew. Instead, Madison got a text from Gaby that they were filming her and a couple of her coworkers at some stupid event at the Thompson Hotel. Lame.
Madison turned to Jane, faking a smile. “Soooo. How are things with Jesse?” She forced herself to sound as chatty and girlfriend-y as possible. “You know I worry about you with him. Did you see the trash he hauled into STK?”
“I know, I know.” Jane sounded uncomfortable. “He was just doing that because of what happened with…ya know.”
“So are you guys, like, officially back together? Or are you kinda taking it slow and dating other people?”
“We’re back together.”
“Seriously? You don’t think he’s seeing other girls?”
“No. Why are we talking about this?” Jane snapped. “And why am I constantly defending him? Why can’t my friends be more supportive?” She picked up a magazine and began flipping through the pages.
Madison reached over and squeezed Jane’s arm. “Sweetie, you know I’m just looking out for you.”
Jane frowned. “Yeah, but…it’s just that I wish my friends would at least pretend to be happy for me. Why do you all assume the worst about him? If you knew him like I did, you’d feel differently.”
Okay, time to shift gears, Madison thought. Otherwise, Jane’s gonna dump both me and Scarlett and find a whole new BFF. “Well, then, maybe I should get to know him better,” she said brightly.
Jane’s face lit up. “Really? You mean that?”
“Yeah, why not? This is nothing that three or four rounds of martinis can’t solve.”
“That would mean so much to me, thank you! I wish Scar felt the same way.”
Score. Madison pictured Scarlett’s red face when Jane told her about Jane, Madison, and Jesse hanging out.
“How are things going with you and Scar, anyway?” Madison said, her voice full of fake concern.
“I don’t know. Not great. She’s so…negative these days. She didn’t used to be this bad.”
“I’m so sorry.” Madison leaned toward her. “You know what? Living together can sometimes ruin a good friendship. Especially if the friendship’s got issues to begin with. Like if one person is kind of possessive or controlling about the other person. You know what I mean?”
Jane sighed. “Yeah…I guess I kind of do.”
“You guys might think about taking a break for a while. Like, live apart. It might help you get your friendship back on track.”
Jane looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Maybe.”
This is too easy, Madison thought smugly.
A couple of aestheticians dressed all in white came into the room. One of them knelt on the floor by Jane’s chair. “What color would you like today?”
“Maybe a dark purple?” Jane replied.
“That would be so pretty on you. We have a few different shades.”
“And you?” Madison’s aesthetician asked her.
“Same as last time,” Madison replied. “That really deep red. I think it’s called Poison Apple.”
“Of course.”
Madison’s phone vibrated with a new text. She knew there was a no-cell-phone rule in the salon, so she had just silenced it, because she was expecting some important calls.
“Hot date?” Jane teased her.
“Dunno. I’m checking.” Madison punched some keys.
There was only one text, from a private number. Madison read it.
I’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU ON TV AND I KNOW WHO YOU REALLY ARE.
There was no name or other ID.
Madison’s fingers tightened around the phone. It’s just a prank, she told herself, trying to regain her composure. It’s just a prank.
“Madison? You okay, sweetie?” Jane sounded concerned. “Who was that?”
“What? Oh, nobody.” She plastered an Emmy-caliber smile on her face, turned off her phone, and tossed it on the counter. “It was a wrong number.”
21
I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU ANYMORE
It was almost 10 p.m. when Scarlett walked through the front door and tossed her backpack onto the floor. Wha
t a long day. The new semester had started on Monday after a monthlong winter break. In an effort to challenge herself academically, Scarlett had registered for some upper-level classes, including a couple of literature seminars, one of which involved reading novels in their original French. Sure, she did this on her own sometimes, just for the hell of it. But it was another thing altogether to do it in a classroom, and with a super-picky professor to boot. She’d stayed up most of the night trying to get through the first few chapters of Marcel Proust’s À la recherche du temps perdu, aka Remembrance of Things Past. Yikes. Her online French–English dictionary was going to get a serious workout over the next few months.
Scarlett yawned as she made her way into the living room, then the kitchen. Sleep. What an appealing idea. She didn’t mind pulling all-nighters once in a while, but she’d stayed up most of the night on Monday as well as Tuesday—not reading Proust, but hanging out with Liam. It was all catching up with her now.
Still, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips at the thought of Liam. He’d taken her out to dinner Monday at a funky little fish shack in Malibu; afterward, they’d gone for a long walk on the beach. She couldn’t decide which was more amazing: their marathon conversations about everything under the sun, or the way it felt when they kissed, their lips and bodies fitting together perfectly as though they were two halves of the same—
Stop it! Scarlett scolded herself. You’re starting to sound like one of those pathetic romance novels! Puke!
She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, then plopped down on the couch and glanced around. No TV. No music. No sounds of Jane rifling through her insanely messy closet, looking for a missing designer whatever. The apartment was too quiet.
“Janie?” she called out. No answer. They had barely seen each other since New Year’s Day, when they’d had that awkward conversation about Jane talking to Jesse at h.wood. Scarlett wasn’t sure, but she thought Jane and Jesse might be back together. Jane hadn’t come home a couple of nights last week, and she hadn’t been around most of the past weekend. And Scarlett had seen some tabloid covers with photos of Jane and Jesse looking cozy. She knew full well that those magazines were capable of distorting anything, but she was pretty sure that this time they were telling the truth.
She and Jane had always shared the most intimate little details of each other’s lives, like when they were eleven and Scarlett told Jane about her fear that her chest was lopsided, or when they were thirteen and Jane told Scarlett about how she’d practiced kissing on one of her dolls. Now it was as though they existed on parallel planes. It felt so bizarre.
Scarlett was the same old Scarlett. It was Jane who had changed. What happened to the old Jane? That Jane would never go out with someone like Jesse Edwards. A couple of dates, maybe. But a relationship? Especially after he showed his true man-whore colors at his twenty-first birthday party? And the old Jane would never be friends with Madison Parker, either.
Scarlett heard the front door open with a jingling of keys. A moment later, Jane walked into the living room, wearing a navy blue wrap dress and wedges. She was carrying a to-go bag from Koi in one hand and a large white leather tote with some files spilling over the top in the other. She set the items down on the dining room table, very gingerly, then held up her hands, studying them with a worried expression.
“Hey,” Scarlett called out. “What’s wrong with your hands?”
“Madison and I got mani-pedis, then sushi after,” Jane replied. “I think my nails are dry.” She frowned.
Madison and I got mani-pedis, then sushi after. Scarlett took a swig of her bottled water, forcing herself to count to ten so she wouldn’t make a rude comment. “Yeah? Definitely sounds like one of Dana’s brilliant ideas” was the best she could manage.
“Nah, the cameras weren’t there. It was just a girls’ night,” Jane replied. “Hey, how’s school going? Classes started this week, right?”
“‘Just a girls’ night’? Seriously?” The words tumbled out before Scarlett could stop herself. This counting-to-ten stuff was crap. “Was Gaby there, too? What, have I been kicked out of the club?”
“No, Gaby wasn’t there. Madison invited me out. I don’t get it. You keep telling me how much you hate Madison. Now you wanna hang out with her?”
“No, I don’t wanna hang out with her. And I don’t want you to, either.”
“Scar, please don’t lecture me about Madison again. She’s my friend. You need to accept that.”
“She’s not your friend. Don’t you see? She’s a crazy, lying bitch, and she’s got you wrapped around her finger! She’s—”
“Scar!” Jane put her hands on Scarlett’s shoulders. “This. Has. Got. To. Stop. Do you understand? I can’t take it anymore!”
Scarlett pushed Jane’s hands away and stood up abruptly. “Why won’t you listen to me? Why would you trust some girl you’ve known for all of four months instead of me?” she demanded, her voice cracking with anger and also hurt, because no matter what she said, she couldn’t seem to get through to Jane. “Would you listen to me if I had proof? I could go to Madison with, like, a hidden microphone, and get her to confess about how she sold those pictures of you and Braden to Gossip magazine.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because, Nancy Drew, you sound like a crazy person right now.”
Scarlett knotted her fists. She felt like punching a wall. She had to calm down. “Yeah? So what does your boyfriend think of your new best friend?” she said sarcastically.
“She is not my new best friend. Although my old best friend is never around anymore, so it’s good I’ve got new friends to hang out with.”
“What do you mean, I’m never around anymore?” Scarlett burst out. “You’re the one who left the country!”
Jane ignored her. “And to answer your question, Madison was just saying tonight that she wants to get to know Jesse better. You know, like a fresh start. Which is something we could all use,” she added pointedly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean I’m sick of all your negativity about Madison—and Jesse, too. You need to learn how to be nice to them. Or, if you can’t be nice to them, at least stop being such a bitch all the time.”
“No! I’m not going to be nice to them, and I’m not going to stop being bitchy about them. Someone’s gotta look out for you, because you’re being really, really stupid about those two. I don’t know why, but you are.”
“What is wrong with you?” Jane cried out. “I can’t believe you’re saying these things. Seriously, I don’t even know you anymore!”
“That makes two of us, because I don’t know you anymore, either!”
Jane got up and paced around the room. After a moment, she stopped and turned around. “Well, maybe we should take a break from living together,” she said in a trembling voice.
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
Jane looked as though she was about to say something else. But instead, she turned and ran down the hall toward her room. A second later, Scarlett heard a door slamming.
And another second later, Scarlett did something she never, ever did.
She burst into tears.
22
MOVING DAY
“It’s the last door on the right,” Madison told the movers. “And be careful going around corners and through doorways. I don’t want any scratches or marks on my walls. Got it?” As she spoke, she turned ever so slightly toward the soft light filtering through the paper-covered windows. She wanted to make sure that the PopTV camera crew captured her at the most flattering angle possible.
“Yes, miss,” one of the guys in the bright orange MOVE IT! INC. tee said. He wiped his brow as he and another guy maneuvered Jane’s queen-size mattress past one of Madison’s lipstick-red chairs. “What about the fish? Which room does he live in?”
“Penny’s a she! Bedroom, please!” Jane called out. She was carrying a potted ficus tree strung with tiny
lights. She set it on the living room floor and sat down next to it, swigging from a sports bottle. The cameras pivoted toward her.
Madison hoped Jane didn’t plan on leaving her sorry Wal-Mart plant in that spot, so close to the ten-thousand-dollar Italian leather couch. Seriously, she was beginning to have second thoughts about letting her move in. The girl had so much crap. Madison believed in what one of her old (and older) boyfriends called “one percent decor”: that is, furniture and artwork that only the top 1 percent income bracket could afford. She had been very careful about what items to choose for her prized penthouse—or rather, what items to let Derek, her current (and older) boyfriend, choose for his prized penthouse, which he was kind enough to share with her.
Not that he was around often. Mostly, he was at his other home in Pacific Palisades with his wife (who didn’t know about the penthouse) and their new baby.
Still, he was going to be a problem. Or rather, Jane was going to be a problem where he was concerned. When the call came from Jane four days ago, saying that she’d had a fight with Scarlett and needed to find a new place to live ASAP, Madison had immediately invited her to move in with her—for a week, for a month, for a year—however long she needed. And Jane had accepted gratefully. Madison couldn’t have planned it better herself, and she wondered if her remark that day at the spa had actually set this in motion.
Madison had called Derek right away, telling him that the network was forcing her to let Jane move in temporarily for a certain story line they had in mind. He hadn’t been happy at first, but she had convinced him that it would be okay to meet elsewhere for a while—maybe their old suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel?—and he had agreed. Men. They could never say no to her.
But this little lie was bound to catch up to her if Jane stayed longer than a few weeks or months…or if Derek (who watched L.A. Candy, or rather, whose wife watched L.A. Candy, and he watched with her, because it gave him a stupid, secret thrill to do so) eventually figured out that there was no “certain story line” having to do with Madison and Jane being roommates. Although Jane moving into her apartment would make an awesome season finale—wouldn’t it?