Sugar and Spice

Jane followed Isaac to Fiona’s office, wondering what, exactly, was in store for her. Maybe it was more than Fiona’s usual “we don’t tolerate lateness in this office” lectures. Maybe Jane was in serious trouble. But for what? She went through her mental checklist, making sure she hadn’t forgotten to do something important, like booking the DJ for an upcoming sweet sixteen party (for Leda Phillips’s daughter Clementine, who seemed to have inherited her mother’s alcoholism gene—better post extra security guards around the punch bowl and at the restrooms), or pinning down a venue for Miranda Vargas’s (fourth? fifth? sixth?) wedding. She hadn’t.

Matt was standing outside Fiona’s door, giving instructions to Jack and another sound guy. “Jane! Great. Cameras are already rolling, you can go right on in.”

“Okay.”

Inside Fiona’s office, there were three—not two—camera guys in place. Fiona herself was sitting at her desk, leafing through a file. Her sleek black hair and makeup were flawless, as always, thanks to the multiple stylists she always demanded before a shoot. “Jane, there you are. Please sit. How are you today?”

How are you today? Now Jane was really confused. Fiona Chen was pretty much the scariest, coldest boss in the history of bosses. Why was she making pleasant chitchat?

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Jane sat down.

“Good! Let’s get down to business, then. I have a new project I’d like to discuss with you. Aja has hired us to do her engagement party.”

“Aja?” Jane’s jaw dropped. So this was why today’s shoot was such a big deal.

“Yes. Aja. She wants it to be at one of the Las Vegas hotels. As you can imagine, this is a huge new account for us. Aja is an international pop star, and her fiancé, Miguel Velasquez, is one of the most popular rookies in Major League Baseball.”

Jane didn’t know a lot about sports, but she did know about the super-hot Miguel Velasquez. She used to have a huge crush on him, as did every other girl on the planet—and probably a few guys, too.

“I’m putting you in charge of this project. And I want you to meet your new coworker, who’ll be assisting, along with Hannah,” Fiona went on.

“My new coworker?”

“Yes. In fact, she’s here now. Why don’t you say hello?”

Jane heard the door open behind her. She turned around—and practically fell out of her chair as the familiar blonde in a black miniskirt, button-down blouse (with a few too many buttons undone), and sky-high stilettos sauntered in.

“What the—” Jane gasped.

Madison sat down next to Jane and slowly crossed her legs. “Hi, Jane! Isn’t this soooo awesome? We’re going to be working together!”

“No, no, no! There is no way in hell I’m working with her!”

Jane tried not to scream too loudly at Trevor as she paced back and forth across Trevor’s “temporary production space.” So this is why he was here today. She had suspected that something was up—but not this particular something, which was pretty much the worst something, ever. She rubbed her temples—she had a splitting headache—and she was this close to bursting into tears. Although she refused to give Trevor, or anyone eavesdropping outside the closed door, the satisfaction.

Trevor leaned back in his plush leather chair, his expression inscrutable. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think—” he began calmly.

“What? What are you talking about? You promised me, Trevor! You promised me I wouldn’t have to film any more scenes with her. And now you’re making me work with her, like, every single day? What the hell?”

“Look. I didn’t hire her. Fiona did.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Believe what you want, Jane.”

“Fine!” Jane stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath. She had no choice; Trevor was forcing her hand. “Then I quit!”

There. She had said it. It was the right thing to do—wasn’t it? So why were her hands shaking, and why did she feel like throwing up?

“Quit … what? The show? Do I need to remind you that you have a contract?”

“No, not the show. I’m quitting this job.”

Trevor folded his arms across his chest. “Jane. I’m sorry you’re upset. But Madison applied for an opening here and Fiona hired her. We had nothing to do with that, but of course we had to film it. If she had shown up for her first day of work and we had missed it, PopTV would have freaked.” He added, “I don’t blame you for wanting to quit your job. But look—if you do, it’s going to look bad to viewers. They’ll think you’re a spoiled brat who didn’t get her way.”

Jane started to say something not very PG to him, then clamped her mouth shut. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She knew the truth: Madison was a crazy, lying, manipulative bitch who would run over her own mother with a bus if it would make her rich and famous. But all those L.A. Candy fans out there didn’t know that, and if Jane left Fiona Chen Events, they would basically think that Madison had won. That Jane had skulked away in a huff.

Jane had worked hard to get this job. Unlike Madison, who obviously only wanted the airtime, Jane actually wanted to be an event planner and maybe even run her own firm someday. She was not about to let Madison push her out of the way now. She would just have to suck it up and beat Madison at her own game somehow.

On the other hand … Madison, every day? Mornings, afternoons, and evenings and weekends, too, working events? How was Jane going to survive that?

She sank down in one of the conference chairs and twisted a lock of hair around and around her index finger. “I need to discuss this with R.J. and Sam,” she said finally, referring to her agent and publicist.

“Of course. And if you really feel the need to quit—well, I’ll respect your choice.”

Jane glared at Trevor. “Respect” was about the last thing she was feeling from him at this moment.

Madison was waiting outside the conference room when Jane stormed out.

“Hey … Jane?” Madison plastered on a faux-concerned expression and placed her super-fake-looking fingernails on Jane’s arm. Jane had to resist the urge to flinch since there was a camera guy standing not six feet away.

“What?” Jane snapped, pretending to glance at her watch.

“Look. I know this is kinda awkward. But I’m willing to make this work if you are.”

Yeah, right. “Whatever. I’m late for a meeting,” Jane lied.

“Jane, you’ve got to stop blaming me for what happened between you and Jesse. I know you think I told Jesse you cheated on him, but I didn’t.”

“What?” Now Jane was totally confused. What was Madison talking about? Of course Madison was responsible for what happened between her and Jesse—or at least for telling Gossip and the entire world about Jane hooking up with Braden. Jane couldn’t believe Madison was pretending she hadn’t done anything wrong, when they both knew perfectly well what she did.

“We need to move on,” Madison said, squeezing Jane’s arm. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow tonight? You want to go out for a drink? We could go to Bar Marmont. It’ll be like old times!”

“Old times? Like when I trusted you and you stabbed me in the back? Yeah, those were great times. Besides, I’m busy tomorrow tonight, and so are you. We have a CD launch at the Thompson Hotel at seven. You should know that, since you work here. Oh, except … I forgot. You’re only pretending to work here.” Jane fake-smiled at Madison. “Have a nice day shopping or getting a mani-pedi or whatever you’re planning on doing.”

Madison smiled back at her. Jane frowned. Why was she smiling? And then she remembered. The camera guy. Jane had just acted like a total shrew to Madison on camera. Which is probably exactly what Madison—and Trevor—had been angling for all along.

Crap!

“Ohmigod, I hate my life,” Jane moaned to Scarlett.

“Poor Janie. Here, have another slice.” Scarlett slapped another wedge of pizza onto Jane’s plate. Tucker put his paw on Scarlett’s knee and stared longingly at her—or rather, the pizza. “There’s only one solution. You’ve gotta quit.”

“I can’t quit, Scar. That’s what Madison wants.”

“Who cares what that psycho wants? You’ve got to think about you.”

“I am thinking about me. I was there first. I can’t let her push me out.”

Scarlett sighed and shook her head. Tonight, she was dressed in one of her usual outfits: distressed skinnies and a wrinkled plum T-shirt. She wore only mascara, and her long, wavy black hair was uncombed. How did she manage to look so gorgeous, anyway?

“You know there’s no way Madison just happened to get that job, right?” Scarlett said after a moment. “Trevor totally arranged it with Fiona.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Did he admit it?”

Jane gave her friend a scathing are you serious? look. The truth was, Trevor was more than capable of “arranging” all sorts of situations for the sake of ratings. For example, soon after the series premiere last fall, Hannah had joined Fiona Chen Events, and the show. She became one of Jane’s good friends and closest confidantes, even encouraging Jane to stay with Jesse when things got bad between them. Later, Hannah admitted tearfully to Jane that Trevor had gotten her the job with Fiona as part of a deal to be “Jane’s office mate” on the show—and that he had instructed her to give Jane pro-Jesse advice, to keep the two of them together, since their stormy relationship was wildly popular with viewers.

Jane had forgiven Hannah; she knew firsthand how persuasive Trevor could be. However, she had never confronted Trevor about this piece of underhandedness—mostly because she didn’t want to get Hannah in trouble. But now he was up to his same old tricks, with Madison. How much more could Jane take?

“Okay. So how are we going to get you through the next, uh, however long Madison lasts at her so-called job?” Scarlett said, swigging at a bottle of Corona. “Therapy? Meds? Or should we install a punching bag in your office?”

Jane giggled. It felt good to joke around with her best friend. “Maybe all of the above. Seriously, I’ve got to figure out how to keep my mouth shut when Madison tries to bait me into saying stuff. Like today? She said this thing to me on camera about how I had to stop blaming her for telling Jesse that I cheated on him. And then she stood there smiling at me like some creepy doll when I shot back at her. I can’t win. I freak out because I can’t be fake and pretend like she’s not a crazy person, and then I end up looking like the crazy person.”

“Wait, back up. Haven’t you watched the season premiere yet? The thing about you supposedly blaming her for supposedly telling Jesse that stuff? Which is crap? She said that to Gaby, too.”

“She did?” Jane had missed the PopTV screening of that episode, and she hadn’t gotten around to watching it on TiVo yet.

“Yeah. I think that’s how she … or, more likely, Trevor … decided to play this one out. I mean, he has to come up with some explanation about why you moved out of her apartment, right? Because he can’t air the actual explanation, which is that Madison sold those photos to Gossip and lied about it.”

“Huh.” Jane’s phone buzzed, interrupting them. She glanced at it and saw that it was a text from Caleb. “It’s just, uh, Caleb,” she said out loud.

“What does he want?” Scarlett said suspiciously.

Jane gave Scarlett a look. She knew Scar liked Caleb but didn’t completely trust him, not after he broke up with Jane last spring.

“Cuz I saw the way he was looking at you at the party Monday night,” Scarlett went on.

“I don’t know what you’re—oh, he says he wants you and me to meet up with him and Naveen this weekend,” Jane said, reading the text.

“Naveen?”

Scarlett and Naveen had hooked up in high school, and Jane had always suspected that Scar kind of liked him, even though she would never admit that.

“What do you think?” Jane asked her.

“I think Caleb wants to get back together with you,” Scarlett said.

“No, I meant, what do you think about meeting up with them?”

Scarlett shrugged and said nothing.

Jane picked up her pizza slice and took a bite, wondering why she felt so flustered. Was Scarlett right? Did Caleb want to get back together with her? He did kind of flirt with her at the season premiere party, and he acted jealous when she was on the phone with Braden. But she had no interest in getting back together with him, even if she was dating these days. Which she definitely wasn’t. Besides, their breakup had been really hard on her, and it had taken her forever to get over him. They were in the perfect place now, as friends.

“He’s new in town and he just wants to hang out, that’s all,” Jane said after a moment.

Now it was Scarlett’s turn to give Jane an are you serious? look.

5 THE OPPOSITE OF A NOBODY

Madison sipped her soy chai latte and stared out at the unfamiliar Ventura Boulevard streetscape from beneath her oversize shades. Across the way from her café table was a high-rise office building, a McDonald’s, and a car wash flanked by two tired-looking palm trees. Depressing. Of course, Madison had no interest in returning to this place—or to the Valley, for that matter—in the near future. This had simply seemed to be the safest spot for her to meet the private detective today, away from paparazzi, who tended not to travel to this particular neighborhood.

“Another latte?” Her waitress, a young, not very pretty girl, had materialized by her side.

“I’m good, thanks.” Madison glanced distractedly at her BlackBerry.

“Are you … you’re on TV, aren’t you? Are you an actress?”

Madison froze, wondering how to respond. She seriously didn’t want to be recognized—not today. “Yeah, I wish,” she said, forcing a laugh. “People tell me that all the time. I was on Idol once, though. During the audition part. I got cut after one round. Maybe you recognize me from that?”

“Ohmigod, I love that show!” the girl gushed.

“Yeah, me too. Sorry, I’ve got to get this,” Madison said, pretending to be taking a call. “Hello? Oh, hey!”

The girl left to wait on another customer, and Madison set her phone down on the table. Where was he, anyway? He was five minutes late, and she didn’t like to be kept waiting. She also didn’t like having to use lame stories to fake being a nobody.

Because she was the opposite of a nobody these days. Fans came up to her on the street begging for autographs. Her appointment book was jammed with magazine interviews and press shoots. Someone from the PopTV publicity department had contacted her just today, saying that the Maxim people wanted her for a possible cover. A cover!

And last but not least, Trevor had arranged for her to get her amazing new job at Fiona Chen Events. Not that Madison gave a damn about being an event planner—she totally didn’t—but she was beyond excited about her big story line, working side by side with Jane on celebrity events and generating major frenemy drama. The idea of truly being one of the stars of the show—if not the star—made her feel almost dizzy with pleasure.

Of course, Madison had no idea how to actually be an event planner. But she figured Fiona didn’t care, since the old woman was just accommodating Trevor, anyway. Although it was not like there wasn’t anything in it for Fiona: Madison’s presence was going to mean increased visibility for the company, bringing a touch of much-needed glamour and style to the place, unlike boring, frumpy Jane and that mousy Hannah girl. Fiona’s client base was about to go through the roof, thanks to Madison.

A noisy black CRV pulled up to the curb, interrupting her thoughts. The car was at least ten years old, and badly in need of a new muffler. A thirty-something guy dressed in jeans and a navy polo stepped out.

“What took you so long?” Madison snapped at him when he joined her at her table.

“Traffic. Sorry.”

“What do you have for me?”

The waitress began to approach the table with an eager, helpful expression on her face, but the man waved her away and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a small manila envelope. He slid it across to Madison.

She hesitated only for a second before picking it up. She was finally going to learn the mystery blackmailer’s identity. Madison had hired the detective, Chris Reynolds, last month after the blackmailer gave her thirty days to come up with a quarter million dollars in exchange for keeping her past a secret. Chris had phoned her yesterday, telling her that he had tracked the person down and that he had a picture. Well, a mug shot, anyway. This was the moment of truth—and the beginning of the end of the dark cloud that had been hanging over Madison’s head. Nobody was going to take her fame or her (future) millions or her Maxim covers away from her—not after she had worked so hard to get them.

Madison ripped the envelope open with her thumbnail (one of the rhinestones on the letter F, for FAME!, came loose) and glanced at the picture inside. Shock rippled through her. “No way,” she said, staring at the picture. “No way!”

Chris leaned forward eagerly. “So you know who she is?”

“Oh, God. I don’t believe this,” Madison muttered to herself. “That bitch!”

“I take that as a yes, then.”

Madison’s head snapped up, and she focused her furious gaze on the detective. “Where’d you get this picture? Is she in L.A.?”

“The mug shot’s from a shoplifting arrest a couple weeks ago, in town, but they ended up letting her go. I won’t go into the details of how I managed to trace her email account. But bottom line, I also managed to trace a credit card, and as of yesterday, she was staying at one of the tourist hotels downtown. Unfortunately, it seems she checked out this morning. I’ve got an in with one of the front-desk clerks there, though. He thinks she’ll be in touch with him soon because she lost an earring and they’re looking for it in her old room.”

“Fine. Let me know as soon as you have a new address for her. I can take it from there.”

“Whatever you say. Do you have her real name? She’s been going under ‘Mildred Mains,’ but I’m assuming that’s an alias.”

“Mildred Mains? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Sounds like someone’s grandma, right?”

“She is.”

Madison told him who the girl was. Chris raised his eyebrows in surprise and gave a low whistle.

6 HISTORY

“Did you understand a single word Professor Friedman was saying?” Chelsea Phibbs asked Scarlett.

Scarlett swung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to her friend, who was in her French novels lit seminar. Chelsea was smart and spoke almost as many foreign languages as Scarlett. Almost. “Yep. Today’s lecture was all about the meaninglessness of human existence. Cheerful stuff.”

“How did you even figure that out?”

Scarlett grinned. “Because I’m so brilliant?”

“Ha-ha.”

“Plus, I’ve read The Stranger twice before. It’s kind of a cool book. Weird, but cool.”

“I guess. I read The Myth of Sisyphus in high school. I think I liked that better. It wasn’t as confusing, anyway.”

The two girls were walking down a tree-lined path outside of the Taper Hall of the Humanities. It was Friday afternoon and especially warm and balmy for late March.

“I’m off to linguistics,” Chelsea said, glancing at her watch. “What class do you have next?”

“I’m done for the day, but I have to go downtown for this, uh, photo shoot for, uh, Life and Style.” Scarlett felt almost embarrassed saying this, especially to a bookworm like Chelsea who probably never read the tabloids.

“Ooh, photo shoot! You’re such a celebrity! Can I have your autograph? Please, please, please?” Chelsea giggled.

“Very funny. You know I have to do this, right? It’s part of my job.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey, it beats serving enchiladas.” Chelsea worked part-time at a Mexican restaurant near campus. “Soooo. What are you up to this weekend?”

“I’m having dinner with Liam and Jane and some friends from high school tonight. You want to come with us? It should be fun,” Scarlett said—although “fun” might not be the best way to describe hanging out with her boyfriend, her best friend, her best friend’s ex-boyfriend, and his best friend who Scarlett had hooked up with once several years ago, on Hendry’s Beach, just after someone’s going-away-to-college party. And maybe would have hooked up with again, if he hadn’t gone off to college himself.

“Sounds great, but I have to work till, like, midnight. Ugh. Maybe we can do something tomorrow? I’ll text you.”

“’Kay. Well, have a good time at work, señorita. Adiós!”

“Yeah. Have a good time posing for cleavage shots! Just kidding!” Chelsea added hastily when Scarlett pretended to throw her book bag at her.

Scarlett headed in the direction of her car, which was parked in one of the student lots. As she fished through her pockets for her keys, her cell rang.

Liam’s name came up on the screen. Scarlett flushed with pleasure. She hadn’t talked to him all day, and she missed hearing his voice.

She stopped on the sidewalk and pressed Talk. “Hey!”

“Hey! What’re you doing?”

“I just got out of class. What are you doing?”

“Oh, making a lot of calls.” He sounded a little stressed. “Listen. I’ve gotta bail on dinner. My friend put me in touch with this director who might have some camera work for me. He wants to meet and talk, like, tonight.”

“Ohmigod, that’s fantastic!”

“You sure? I’m sorry. It’s bad timing, but he’s a busy guy, so I didn’t want to say no.”

“No, I totally understand.”

“I miss you. Are you busy right now? Do you want to grab food or something? I’m near the Grove but I could meet you wherever.”

Scarlett sighed. “I wish. I’ve got this photo shoot downtown.”

“Oh, yeah, that. Okay, well, I’ll call you later?”

“’Kay.”

“Bye.” Liam had hung up before Scarlett could add I miss you, too.

Scarlett stared at the phone in her hand, wishing she could just cancel the photo shoot and meet Liam instead. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to dinner, either, now that Liam wouldn’t be there.

Because what was it going to be like with her, Jane, Caleb, and Naveen? Given their respective histories, it would almost seem like a double date, right? Soooo awkward.

Except that she already had a boyfriend. Who had no idea that she and Naveen had a history. Maybe she should have mentioned it to him just now?

Later, she told herself. It really wasn’t a big deal. For all she knew, Naveen had a girlfriend of his own and would be bringing her along.

“Janie! Scar!”

Scarlett wove her way through the crowded tables at STK, with Jane following close behind. Caleb was waving them over from a booth, looking like his usual hot self. (He knew it, too—the jerk.) Next to him, looking equally hot, was Naveen Singh, sans girlfriend or any sort of date whatsoever.

Naveen was wearing his wavy black hair shorter than Scarlett remembered. His white button-down shirt and khakis made him look older, more professional … not like the wild, disheveled surfer boy she remembered from high school.

There was a flurry of cheek kisses and hugs. Naveen’s hand lingered for a moment on Scarlett’s back when he hugged her. “Hey, it’s been ages,” he said. He smelled faintly of some spicy aftershave.

“Yeah, it has,” Scarlett agreed. Smiling, she gently maneuvered herself out of his embrace and scooted back into the white leather booth, far away from him. Then she tugged on Jane’s hand and pulled her down next to her.

“What are you doing, Scar?” Jane whispered.