Sweet Little Lies: An LA Candy Novel

No reply. Jane closed the door behind her and threw her keys on the hall table. The apartment was totally quiet: no TV, no music, no Scar conjugating Spanish verbs out loud. On the counter, Jane noticed an empty to-go cup from 7-Eleven. Ah, so the crew has been here filming, she thought. She was really, really glad she’d missed them. She didn’t need the cameras spontaneously documenting her “homecoming,” especially with her feeling so crappy and her face streaked with tears.

Jane thought about the ambush at the airport and felt a fresh wave of distress—and anger, too. She decided to hide out in her apartment until late, at least midnight, before hitting the road for Santa Barbara. It was the only way she could be sure not to be followed by more of them.

She walked into the kitchen and saw a big note plastered on the marble counter:

Janie, it’s 2 p.m., and I’m off to catch my flight to Aspen. I have my cell, so call me!!!!!!!! Love, Scar, 12/23

Jane realized that she had just missed Scar. In fact, maybe they were at LAX at the same time?

There was another note next to the first one:

To the person from Angelo’s Pet-sitting Service: Penny is in the last bedroom on the right. Plz feed her the fish food that’s next to her bowl.

Scar had added her cell phone number in case of an emergency.

Aw, Jane thought. That was so sweet of Scar to remember Penny. Especially since Jane had taken off for Cabo without remembering to ask Scar to take care of her (yet another thing she felt incredibly guilty about).

The kitchen was really clean: no dirty dishes in the sink, no empty pizza boxes piling up next to the trash can. In general, Scar tended to be much neater and more organized than Jane. (Except in the grooming and fashion departments, although Scar was so naturally stunning that she always got away with not brushing her hair, putting on makeup, or wearing anything other than jeans and a wrinkled tee. Jane, while pretty, required a little more effort.) Although, speaking of the trash can…Jane noticed dozens of Post-it notes and scraps of paper spilling out of it. She fished them out.

They were all messages from Scar to her, dated between five days ago and today:

Janie, call me!

I’m off to the library to return books. Back by 9 a.m.

I have to talk to you about Madison ASAP!

Your mom called.

Call me!

Trevor called like fifty times—can u call him back?

Fiona Chen’s office called.

At the gym (new personal trainer!), back noon. If you’re home wait for me!!!

Call me!

Starbucks, back in an hour.

Trevor called again.

Last exam for the semester, back by dinner.

Fiona Chen’s office called again.

Your dad called.

Filming at some stupid club, back by midnight.

Janie, call me!!!!!

And more of the same.

Jane’s chest tightened. Scar had obviously been worried about her and trying to connect with her at every opportunity. And Jane had completely blown her off. Okay, so she didn’t have cell reception or internet at Madison’s parents’ condo. She should have called or texted Scar from the Cabo airport or LAX or wherever.

She scanned the messages again, pausing on the one about Madison. What did Scar mean, she had to talk to her about Madison ASAP? That seemed so random. Jane knew that Scar thought Madison was a shallow, pretentious bitch who only looked out for herself. No emergency there. Like all of Scarlett’s opinions, she wasn’t shy about voicing it. But as far as Jane could tell, Madison had always been friendly to Scar, inviting her to parties, spa outings, and more. Scar was the one who turned her nose up at stuff like that. She prided herself on being different, apart, an outsider.

But that was Scar. She could sometimes be too intense and critical when it came to people, especially people in Jane’s universe. Jane knew Scar was just looking out for her, but still. Scar had been this way with a couple of Jane’s friends in high school, and with some of her boyfriends, too, including Caleb (Scar was totally against their long-distance relationship when he started college) and Jesse (whom she rarely referred to by his name, preferring “man-whore” and similarly flattering nicknames).

Scar was Jane’s best friend, though. And Jane was way overdue in reaching out to her. Her friendship with Scar wasn’t going so well these days. Like everything else in her life.

Jane pulled her cell out of her bag and quickly typed:

SCAR, IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN OUT OF TOUCH BUT IM BACK AT APT NOW AND ON MY WAY TO SANTA BARBARA. IM OKAY. LUV U, JANE

Jane hit Send and smiled to herself. That was that. She had made first contact after her self-imposed exile. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Now she just had to do the same thing with her mom and dad and Trevor and Fiona and whoever else had left messages for her. Yeah, piece of cake, she thought.

4 YOU’RE DOING THIS FOR A GOOD REASON (#ulink_5ddb4e5c-1aaa-52f8-97c8-4d1e014d56a0)

Considering that it was Christmas Eve, the Blue Dolphin was surprisingly crowded. The blinking neon Santa Claus and the Christmas lights and fishing net that decorated the walls were more depressing than festive and did nothing to disguise its cheap vinyl booths, dingy pool tables, and lame jukebox. (Jimmy Buffett? Seriously?) It was the kind of place where a mostly older crowd could drink a lot of cheap beer, play darts, and yell at whatever game happened to be on the minuscule TV set above the bar.

It was also perfect for twenty-year-old Madison Parker’s purposes tonight. These people were not PopTV fans; no one would know who she was. And while she usually loved to be seen, she didn’t want to be recognized this evening. As much as she would have preferred meeting her contact at her office—or better yet, over martinis at Bar Marmont—she didn’t dare take the chance, not so soon after the story had broken. Maybe she was being overly paranoid, but better safe than sorry.

She sat in one of the booths in the corner, her body angled so that she had a view of the room but no one could see her face.

When her phone buzzed, Madison expected to see a text making excuses about traffic or whatever. She reached into her quilted Chanel bag and pulled out her cell.

It was from Jane:

THANK U FOR CABO! U SAVED MY LIFE! IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE YOU AS A FRIEND. MERRY XMAS! LUV U, JANE

Madison’s fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the phone. Her reaction should have been annoyance. She should be scoffing at this sweet little message from sweet little Jane, whose sweetness generally made her want to puke, but for a moment she felt a pang of…what? Guilt? Regret? Jane thought of her as a friend. A good friend. And for those few days in Cabo, Madison had been just that. It had been fun hanging out on the beach and talking about clothes and boys. Being away from L.A. and from the twenty-four/seven pressure of being “on,” Madison had almost relaxed into normalcy with Jane. Madison had never had a best friend growing up. In some ways, ironically, Jane was the closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had.

Madison shook her head sharply. Stop it, she told herself. You have to focus. You’re doing this for a good reason.

After all, it wasn’t like she was hurting Jane. Sure, Jane was upset now, but she would get over it. Any publicity was good publicity, right? If no one knew who Jane Roberts was before, they sure did now. And if Jane ended up with really minor story lines because of this—or off L.A. Candy altogether—then it was for the best. Hadn’t she told Madison the entire time they were in Cabo that she wished she’d never signed on to do the show? Madison was just helping Jane get what she wanted.

Besides, Jane was not meant to be the star of L.A. Candy. She didn’t even want it. Madison, on the other hand, needed this, and would never take it for granted. Paparazzi were part of the job. Madison would never have run away from a scandal. In fact, she would have made sure to get a Maxim or FHM cover out of those photos. And loved every second of it.

“Traffic was a joke, and what bar doesn’t have valet?”

Madison glanced up, startled. She hadn’t noticed Veronica Bliss standing there. She was holding a glass of what looked like scotch on the rocks, which she set down on the table next to Madison’s untouched glass of white wine.

“Hi, how are you?” Madison said brightly.