When Jane picked up her cell and glanced at the screen, though, she didn’t recognize the number. She decided to ignore it and let it go to voice mail.
Tucker was curled up at the foot of her bed, snoring quietly. She knew she shouldn’t let him sleep on the bed, but she didn’t have the heart to push him off.
Jane snuggled back under the covers, trying to get comfortable. Closing her eyes, she thought about the voice-over she’d recorded earlier that day, for the upcoming series finale. After I apologized to Jesse on New Year’s Eve, it looked like there might be hope for us after all. Now he wants to meet me to talk. Could a new year mean a new Jesse, too?
Jane sighed heavily. She had been so full of hope that night at Beso. It had been her second chance with Jesse…a fresh start. And now look where they were. Who the hell was Amber? And where the hell was Jesse?
Just as she was slipping back to sleep, her phone rang again. Ugh. Whoever it was probably wouldn’t leave her alone until she picked up. And she didn’t want to turn off her phone, in case Jesse called.
“Hello?” she said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice. “Who is this?”
“Jane, I am sorry to call you so late. I don’t know if you remember me. It’s Quentin Sparks. I got your number from D.”
Quentin? D’s promoter friend? Jane had first met him at the L.A. Candy series premiere party and had seen him around at clubs a few times since then. Why was he calling her in the middle of the night?
“Uhh. Hey, Quentin. What’s up?”
“I’m at Teddy’s, and I’ve got kind of a situation on my hands. I thought you should come down.”
“What…sort of situation?”
“Your, uh, boyfriend’s here, and he’s, uh, had way too much to drink. He’s not in any shape to drive. Photographers are out front, so I’ve got him in back. Can you come down and get him?”
“Ohmigod! Yes, I’ll be right there,” Jane said as she sat up quickly.
Quentin told her to meet him at the back valet. He was going to bring Jesse out from the Tropicana exit so that no one would notice. Also, one of Quentin’s friends—a paparazzi magnet—had agreed to leave out the front at the same time, to divert attention.
“Thank you so much,” Jane said as she rolled out of bed. “It’s so nice of you to do this for me.”
“Hey, any friend of D’s is a friend of mine,” Quentin said. “Besides, I can’t stand the idea of the press having a field day with this. No reason for people to get hurt.”
“Thanks again. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Jane fumbled for the light switch and looked for her purse and car keys. Oh, and her clothes. She couldn’t show up at the Roosevelt Hotel in her jammies.
Stay calm, she told herself. Don’t freak out.
She once again found herself thinking, How is this my life? A year ago she was in a long-term, long-distance relationship with her high school sweetheart. Now she was running out of the house at two in the morning to save her boyfriend from himself and the paparazzi. Her hands were shaking as she picked up some jeans and a T-shirt from the closet floor and slipped them on.
As Jane hurried toward the door, she heard Tucker wake up and give her a sad little whimper. She turned and hugged him quickly. “What? You think I should break up with him, too? It’s complicated, Tuck!”
Tucker whimpered again. Jane shook her head, feeling like a crazy person. Was she seriously talking to a dog about her love life? How desperate had she become?
Pretty desperate, she thought. Maybe she should ask Penny’s advice.
Her friends had been warning her for months about Jesse. And now, all their worst predictions were coming true. He was spiraling out of control. And it was all her fault. How was she going to turn him around—turn them around—so they could get back to the way things were, before Braden?
Because she was in too deep with Jesse to get out now.
31
BEST FRIENDS ARE FOREVER
“Do you have, like, a minidress? You would look awesome in a minidress,” Gaby told Scarlett.
Scarlett eyed (or pretended to eye) the contents of her very spare closet. She knew exactly what was in there: about twenty pairs of jeans and the same number of tees and assorted other tops, mostly black. “Nah, no minidress,” she announced. “I thought I’d just go with jeans and a T-shirt. Party’s casual, right?”
“You can’t wear jeans to the season finale party!” Gaby gasped.
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because…’cause you just can’t, that’s all. Wait, lemme think. Maybe I can call someone to rush-messenger an outfit.”
Scarlett sighed. Maybe this was a bad idea, letting Gaby come over. It wasn’t like she could blame Dana this time, either. Tonight it was just Gaby and her—no Dana, no cameras, nothing.
Gaby had called the apartment this morning, asking to speak to Jane, and Scarlett had explained to her that Jane no longer lived there. (After all, it had been over two weeks since Jane moved out. Hadn’t Gaby gotten the memo?) Gaby had pressed for details, and Scarlett must have sounded depressed or something, because the next thing she knew, Gaby was saying that she would come over after work so the two of them could get ready for the party together. And Scarlett had, inexplicably, agreed.
Now the two of them were hanging out in Scarlett’s room, their faces covered with some sort of overpriced, smelly paste that Gaby had described as a pomegranate-lemongrass mask. Gaby had also painted both girls’ toenails metallic white. The whole experience was a bit girlie for Scarlett’s taste. Still, it was nice having company. Even if the company was Gaby.
Scarlett hadn’t been hanging out with too many people lately. She’d gone out with her trainer Deb and Deb’s friends a couple of times, and also Chelsea, the super-smart girl from her French novels seminar. She hadn’t spoken to Jane at all. She hadn’t spoken to Liam, either—not since before that awful night at Teddy’s nearly two weeks ago. She had seen him at several shoots—two at USC, and one at a charity fashion show Dana had forced her to attend (Jane had been absent)—but he had steadfastly ignored her on all three occasions. Not that she blamed him. It hadn’t even occurred to her to try to reach out to him, to explain, apologize. She had figured it was way too late.
Gaby walked over to Scarlett’s closet and began rooting through it. “So, that sucks about Jane moving out,” she murmured. “You guys are totally gonna make up, though.”
“Yeah? How do you know?”
“Aren’t you best friends from when you were, like, babies? Best friends are forever. That’s why they’re called BFFs.”
“Well, then, where’s your BFF, Madison?” Scarlett asked.
“No, no. Madison isn’t my BFF. She’s my BFFN. Or she was, anyway. She’s too busy to hang out with me lately.”
“BFFN?”
“Yeah. Best friend for now.” Gaby shrugged.
Scarlett laughed. She had to admit that was funny. “Yeah, well, my BFF is pretty pissed off at me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Scarlett sat down on her bed and hugged a pillow to her chest. “Well, I do know. Madison may be your friend or BFFN or whatever. But I think Madison’s not a very good friend to Jane. I tried to tell Jane that, but she wouldn’t believe me.”
For a moment, Scarlett contemplated telling Gaby about the pictures. But maybe Gaby would think she was crazy, too. Especially since Gaby liked Madison. The whole thing did sound pretty convoluted. Yeah, so Madison somehow got hold of those photos of Jane hooking up with Braden. She tried to convince Jesse to sell them to Gossip, but he said no. So she sold them to Gossip herself, and lied to Jane, saying that Jesse did it, or that maybe I did it….
Gaby was staring at her. Scarlett took a deep breath. “And then there’s Jesse. I tried to tell Jane that he’s a drunk, no-good man-whore. But she wouldn’t believe that, either. And now she’s mad at me because she thinks I’m being way too negative about Madison and Jesse.”
&nb
sp; Gaby held up a black silk top and scrutinized it. “You know what?” she said. “If Madison isn’t a good friend to Jane, she’ll figure it out. And if Jesse isn’t a good boyfriend, she’ll figure that out, too. It’s hard to tell people who they should hang out with and who they shouldn’t hang out with, especially if they’re not ready to hear that. You have to let your friends make their own mistakes sometimes. You can’t protect them from everything, or else they’ll never learn. Ya know what I mean?”
Scarlett stared at Gaby. This was the most profound sentiment she had ever heard the girl utter. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“And when Jane figures this stuff out, she’ll be back,” Gaby went on. “’Cause BFF, right?”
“BFF. Right.”
“So who’s the guy?”
Scarlett frowned. “Uh…what guy?”
“The guy. You’re seeing somebody, right? I can always tell. I’ve got a fifth sense about stuff like that.”
“Oh.”
“’Fess up. Are you in L-U-V?” Gaby wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“No!” Scarlett felt her face grow hot. “I mean, I was dating a guy. But we’re not dating anymore.”
“Lame. Why not?”
Scarlett hugged the pillow more tightly to her chest. “Because I blew it with him. When Jane moved out, I was really, really upset. He tried to be there for me and stuff, because he’s such a nice guy, but I didn’t want his sympathy, so I just pushed him away. Actually, I didn’t just push him away. I was an asshole to him.”
“So why don’t you tell him you’re sorry?” Gaby suggested.
“Uh…because he probably never wants to speak to me again?”
“How do you know? Do you have a fifth sense, too?”
Scarlett sighed. “No. And I think that’s sixth sense.”
“No, I don’t see dead people. It’s different. Anyway, look, if you like him, and he likes you, just tell him you’re sorry. Give him a chance. If he’s such a nice guy, he’ll probably forgive you, right?”
Scarlett considered Gaby’s words. When did the girl get to be so smart? Or had she been this way all along, and was just hiding it beneath a veneer of complete and total ditziness?
Gaby bent down and pulled out a couple of cardboard boxes from the floor of the closet. She brushed off a layer of dust bunnies. “What’re these?”
“What? Oh. Jane gets all these designer clothes for free. Sometimes she gives them to me. But I don’t wear that stuff.”
“Are you crazy?” Gaby started ripping open the boxes. She looked like a little girl on Christmas morning. “Oooh! I love this beaded top! Can I borrow it? Please, please?”
“Uh, sure. You can have it.”
“Really?” Gaby extracted a short black skirt from another box. “Oooh, this would be perfect on you! With your black silk top! You’re gonna look hot!” She shimmied her shoulders.
“Hmm. No, thanks.”
“Yes, thanks! You’re wearing it! No arguments!”
Later, as Gaby worked on Scarlett’s makeup (Scarlett couldn’t stand makeup, and rarely let anyone apply it to her except for Jane, although Gaby seemed pretty good at it), Scarlett’s thoughts drifted to Liam. What if Gaby was right? Maybe Scarlett should give him another chance.
Or rather, ask him to give her another chance.
Trevor stepped up to the mike. “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention?”
Scarlett sipped her drink and glanced around the large, packed patio. PopTV had rented out a luxurious Malibu beach house—more like a beach mansion—for the season finale party. The backyard was lit with dozens of tiki torches. Scarlett loved the sound of the waves crashing against the dark shore.
She couldn’t help but compare this party to the premiere party at Area back in October, a little over three months ago. Tonight’s event seemed bigger, nicer, louder, and way more crowded. There was even a red carpet out front, with press. Scarlett had spent nearly thirty minutes posing for photographers and talking to reporters. Answering the same questions over and over. “Are Jane and Jesse back together?” “How are things between you and Jane?” “Will you and Madison ever bury the hatchet?” All answered with the same well-rehearsed response: “You’ll have to watch and see.” (Cue cheesy smile.) It made sense that the finale was a bigger deal than the premiere, since L.A. Candy was becoming more and more popular. Not that she cared.
Scarlett’s gaze flitted around the crowd, searching for Liam. He would be here tonight—wouldn’t he? She spotted several other PopTV crew members. But there was no sign of Liam. She tried to bite back her disappointment.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Trevor went on. “For those of you who haven’t seen the season finale yet, we all worked really hard on it, and it turned out amazing.” Cheers erupted, and people clinked glasses. Trevor looked very pleased with himself.
Unlike with the season premiere party, they weren’t showing the season finale to the guests tonight. Scarlett had heard from one of the producers that the episode was called “Decisions, Decisions,” and featured Jane deciding to move out. It ended with a cliffhanger, at Beso, about Jane and Jesse’s relationship—would he forgive her for cheating on him with he-who-shall-not-be-named, blah, blah, blah? Apparently, it was supposed to be a surprise when they did get back together, so Jane and Jesse weren’t allowed to confirm their relationship to the press…even though they were constantly being photographed together, kissing and holding hands. Or having a big fight. Yeah, they were really fooling people.
Scarlett sneaked a glance at Jane, who was sitting across the table between Madison and Jesse. The two girls had exchanged polite hellos earlier, but not much more than that, which was so sad. Jane looked…stressed, probably because Jesse was downing vodka tonics like they were water. He kept slurring his words and sniping at Jane about stupid stuff, like why did they have to be at this lame party (Scarlett was sympathetic, but still…), and whose attention was she trying to attract with her revealing dress? (Jane’s neckline showed about a millimeter of cleavage and was hardly revealing.)
Also seated at their table were Gaby, Hannah, Jane’s new agent, R.J. (who seemed smart in a wise-dad kind of way), and her new publicist, Samantha (who pretty much hadn’t stopped talking since the party started—the woman had an insane amount of energy). Hannah had been quiet tonight, nodding a lot but not saying much. From the few L.A. Candy episodes Scarlett had seen her on, her job seemed to be to play the part of one-girl cheering squad for Team Jesse. It was a little nauseating.
“And while I have you all here, I want to share some exciting news,” Trevor went on, grinning coyly.
“Hey! Maybe they’re canceling the show!” Scarlett joked. Everyone at the table stared at her. “I’m kidding! Seriously, people!”
“Yeah, Tina Fey, maybe you should quit L.A. Candy and go into comedy,” Madison said, rolling her overly made-up eyes.
Scarlett fake-smiled at her. But even fake-smiling was an effort, because really all Scarlett wanted to do was to throw her drink in stupid Madison’s face.
Trevor raised his champagne glass in the air. “So…I’m pleased to announce that L.A. Candy has been picked up for another season. We’ll be back with not ten, but twenty brand-new episodes!”
Everyone began applauding loudly. The DJ started playing the song from the opening credits.
“OMG!” Gaby cried out. “This is amazing! We need more champagne!” She waved at a passing waiter.
“This is soooo awesome,” Madison agreed. Scarlett could practically see the dollar signs flashing in her eyes. The girls were paid two thousand dollars per episode—or that was what she and Jane were paid, anyway, so she assumed Madison and Gaby were paid that as well—so twenty episodes was a lot of money. Or would they be paid even more for next season? Scarlett wasn’t exactly sure how these things worked. “The press is here tonight, right? Trevor’s probably gonna want us to talk to them,” Madison went on.
Hannah didn’t say an
ything, instead fumbling with her clutch and extracting a lip gloss. Scarlett wondered what was up with her.
R.J. leaned over and whispered something in Jane’s ear. Jane smiled excitedly and nodded.
Jesse put his arm around Jane, not-so-subtly pulling her away from R.J. “Yeah, so I guess this means I have to keep wearing those fucking microphones every time I take you out,” he complained.
Jane’s smile disappeared.
You sorry little piece of shit, Scarlett wanted to say to Jesse, but stopped herself. Jane was no doubt already embarrassed enough by Jesse’s behavior. Scarlett didn’t want to add to Jane’s troubles by getting into a fight with her boyfriend in front of everyone. Even though she would love nothing more than to smash her fist into his very photogenic jaw.
“Honey, why don’t you and I take a walk? There are some people I want to introduce you to,” Sam said pleasantly to Jesse, rising to her feet.
Jesse gave Sam a smarmy look. “Yeah? Sure, why not?”
Sam grabbed Jesse’s elbow—he wasn’t exactly steady on his feet—and led him away, turning briefly to wink at Jane. Scarlett wasn’t sure where Sam was taking him, but she hoped it involved car service and a one-way trip somewhere, anywhere but here.
As she watched Sam and Jesse go, Scarlett spotted a familiar figure walking up to the bar. It was Liam, greeting one of the other camera guys. He had come to the party, after all! He looked so handsome, dressed in a black suit (she had never seen him in a suit) and a charcoal shirt with a skinny black tie. She felt her heart race.
Go talk to him, she told herself, remembering what Gaby had said. Stop being such an idiot.
But what would she say to him? Um, I’m really sorry I’ve been ignoring you and acting like a bitch. And I’m really sorry I hooked up with that guy while you were filming, even though I didn’t hook up with him, because I bailed on him as soon as we were outside. So are we cool now? Can we go back to the way things were?