Sugar and Spice

by Lauren Conrad

  Jane looked alarmed. “Final prep? What final prep? Everything’s all set.”

  “Just make up some minor crisis. It doesn’t matter. We need a couple of mike packs over here, please!” Dana shouted to one of the sound guys.

  Jane squeezed Scarlett’s hand again. “To be continued,” she whispered, out of Dana’s earshot. “About Liam . . . don’t worry. You guys are in love, and you belong together. It’s gonna be okay.”

  “Yeah, I hope so.”

  Scarlett gave Jane a quick hug. In love? They had never said, “I love you.” But Scarlett knew it was true. It’s too bad that it almost took breaking up for her to realize it.

  Scarlett finished getting miked and headed for the doorway. She noticed that Gaby and her publicist were gone—in fact, everyone seemed to be spilling out of the room and into the hallway. Jane had mentioned that Aja and Miguel were going to be boarding a gondola somewhere soon, then traveling via canal to the St. Mark’s Square part of the hotel. There, they would make their grand entrance in front of hundreds of masked guests. Soooo Vegas!

  Then Scarlett caught sight of Aja and Miguel at the back of the pack, momentarily alone. The couple exchanged a quick, tender kiss before rejoining their entourage.

  God, they’re actually in love, Scarlett thought, surprised. It’s not just for the cameras or for publicity.

  Scarlett pulled her cell out of her clutch to check the time. If she hurried now, maybe she could make a late flight back to L.A.? She could pack her bag, leave a quick note for Dana along with her mike pack (Sorry, family emergency!), and send Jane a text (IT’S ALL GOOD. LUV U). And then she could rush home and find Liam and tell him what she should have told him a long time ago.

  Which was that she was absolutely, positively, madly in love with him. He was pretty much the best thing that had happened to her, ever.

  She was also going to tell him about her decision to leave the show and USC and transfer to a new college. How would he take the news? Would he scoop her up in his arms and vow to follow her to Yale or Harvard or wherever because he was in love with her, too, and he couldn’t live without her? (Yeah, wishful thinking.)

  Flush with nervousness and excitement, Scarlett turned on her way-too-high designer heels and half ran, half hobbled to the elevator banks. She felt strangely free.

  Once on the ninth floor, she rushed out of the elevator—and stopped in her tracks. A PopTV camera guy and Matt the director were positioned a little ways down the hall. They had their backs to her, and the camera guy was filming a girl with big hair and a ruffly red dress walking into one of the rooms.

  Scarlett frowned. Wait, was that her room?

  After a moment, Scarlett realized that no, that wasn’t her room, which was two doors to the left of the elevators; it was actually Jane and Caleb’s room, which was two doors to the right. She also remembered that Gaby was wearing a dress just like that downstairs.

  Now Scarlett was thoroughly confused. Had Dana decided to do a quick scene with Jane and Gaby up here, before the party started? What about the Jane-Hannah scene?

  But Scarlett had no time to stick around and find out. She had to slip in and out of her room and make her escape before Matt or anyone else could stop her. She was on a mission.

  Chapter 30

  What Happens in Vegas

  “The gondola’s gonna be here in about ten minutes.” Hannah’s voice crackled over Jane’s earpiece. “I’ll make sure the DJ has their song ready.”

  “Great!” Jane said excitedly. “Everyone’s got champagne . . . place looks awesome . . . I think we’re ready to start this party!”

  Jane signed off and walked briskly across St. Mark’s Square, which was actually an indoor version of the world-famous Piazza San Marco in Venice, Italy. She loved the architecture of the shops and restaurants that surrounded the square, with its cream and pastel walls and high, arched windows.

  Many of the guests were milling around or sitting at the large round tables decorated with gold silk cloths and antique candelabras. Jane tried to make out who was who, but it wasn’t easy, since almost everybody was wearing a costume mask. She knew there were more A-list celebrities than usual because of Aja and Miguel, who were one of the most powerful couples in Hollywood. She spotted D near the VIP seating area, chatting up a model type; she recognized him easily thanks to his purple vintage tux and spiky crew cut. She also saw Veronica Bliss talking to a short dark-haired guy (Jared Walsh?); there was no mistaking the petite redhead in Chanel, mask or no mask. And there were a lot of people not wearing masks: Hannah, Oliver, Trevor, Fiona, Xavier and Hank from the Venetian, Aja’s assistant, Anna Luisa, her publicist, Wanda, and Gaby’s publicist, Annabelle. Although where was Gaby? She must be out there somewhere, along with Caleb, Naveen, Scarlett, and Madison. Not to mention Sophia and Jesse, if they weren’t too wasted to make it down from their room.

  Jane continued toward the dock where Aja and Miguel would be pulling up momentarily. At the top of the steps leading down to the water was an arch covered with roses, freesias, and tiny white lights. Thousands of flower petals blanketed the steps themselves. Two attendants in ivory waistcoats awaited the couple’s arrival. It all looked pretty spectacular, if Jane had to say so herself.

  Her phone buzzed with a text; Jane glanced at it quickly and saw that it was from Braden.

  FLYING HOME TOM. DINNER MONDAY?

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  Jane was so tempted to reply YES!!!!! But what about Caleb? She couldn’t be dating Caleb and hanging out with Braden, too—especially since she and Braden were a little more than friends. And also because she had decided to make more of an effort with Caleb. So he was a bit starstruck. Hollywood had that effect on people, and he would get over it soon. In the meantime, he was still the same great guy he always was: fun, sweet, thoughtful. Hot. She was going to try to talk him into more off-camera dates so they could be themselves again, the way they used to be, before he got the fame bug and before Dana started micromanaging their conversations. No wonder their on-camera chemistry was so lame, when they couldn’t even be themselves most of the time.

  “Jane!” Oliver came rushing up to her. “Sorry to bother you, but Fiona wanted me to ask you . . . can we rearrange some seats at the head table? Aja’s sister and her husband weren’t planning to be here because they live in Martinique and they just had a baby. But they made some last-minute arrangements, and now they’re here, and it’s supposed to be a big surprise for Aja and Miguel. Is there anything we can do?”

  “Ohmigod . . . the head table!” Jane went through a mental picture of the seating chart. Aja, Miguel, Aja’s parents, Miguel’s parents, Miguel’s brother and his wife . . . they couldn’t possibly move any of them over to another table.

  “You know, the tables are kind of big,” Oliver remarked. “Maybe we could ask Hank or Xavier to have someone squeeze in two more place settings? And maybe get rid of one of the candelabras, to make space?”

  “Yes! Oliver, you’re brilliant!”

  Oliver blushed. “Glad I could help.”

  “Yeah, well, it would have been a disaster if we couldn’t accommodate the sister and brother-in-law.”

  “Guess I won’t be having this problem at my celebrity engagement party, since I don’t have any siblings,” Oliver joked.

  Jane smiled. And then her smile faded. Oliver was an only child?

  Jane flashed back to another mental picture, of an entry in Trevor’s notebook she had never been able to decipher. It was a short entry, with just four items:

  Right age, height, attractive

  From SD, only child

  No acting aspirations, needs $?

  Seems very willing to go along with it

  Seems very willing to go along with it. Jane felt sick to her stomach all of a sudden as a terrible realization dawned on her.

  “Jane? Are you okay?” Oliver sounded concerned.

  Jane reached under her clothing and switched her microphone off. She signaled
for Oliver to do the same. He obeyed, looking confused.

  “Oliver, tell me the truth,” Jane said as calmly as she could. “Did Trevor cast you to date Hannah?”

  Oliver stared at her. “W-what are you talking about?” he stammered.

  “Did . . . Trevor . . . cast . . . you?”

  Oliver started to turn away, then stopped. “Look, it wasn’t like that, exactly,” he blurted out. “A friend of mine told me that some producer was looking for a guy my age to be on his reality show. I went in for the interview. Trevor practically signed me up on the spot. He said that all I had to do was be a part-time intern for an event planner, and he hinted that I might like some girl named Hannah.”

  “Nice,” Jane said, disgusted.

  “It’s not what you think!” Oliver said. “I couldn’t say no to the money. My dad got laid off last year, and I’m trying to pay my own way through school.” He raked a hand through his dark auburn curls. “Besides, you don’t understand. Hannah and me . . . it’s not like Trevor made me like her. I was just gonna see what happened. But then I fell in love with her.”

  “You’re . . . in love with her?” Jane said, stunned.

  “Head over heels. She’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever known.”

  “Jane!” Hannah’s voice came over her earpiece. “The gondola’s gonna be here in, like, sixty seconds.”

  Jane glanced quickly at Oliver. “Oh, hey, Hannah,” she said loudly. Oliver looked startled. “I’m on my way. Everything okay where you are?”

  “Everything’s perfect!”

  No, it’s not, Jane thought grimly as she signed off, thinking about Oliver’s confession. She told herself that Hannah was going to need lots of support in the coming days and weeks. Because she was pretty sure that Hannah was in love with Oliver, too, and it wasn’t going to be easy for her when she learned the truth.

  Although . . . something told Jane that Hannah would find it in her heart to forgive Oliver. After all, Hannah had done something similar when she first started working for Fiona, pretending to be Jane’s friend for the cameras per Trevor’s and Dana’s instructions.

  “Jane, you’re not gonna tell her, are you?” Oliver said worriedly. “If she knew Trevor cast me like that, she’ll think I’m lying about the way I feel about her. And I’m not!”

  Jane put her hands on his shoulders. “No, I’m not gonna tell her. You are.”

  “What?”

  “Yep. And it’s gonna be okay.”

  “It is?”

  “She might surprise you. She’s pretty understanding.” Jane gave Oliver a reassuring smile. “Okay, come on, back to work.”

  Jane switched her mike on and hurried toward the dock, just as the DJ on the stage began playing “At Last” by Etta James. The white-and-gold gondola glided into the square, and the crowd erupted into wild cheers as Aja and Miguel, looking happy and radiant, stood up in the boat, waving and blowing kisses.

  “Jane?” A guy in a black tux touched her arm. He lifted his mask.

  “Oh, hey, Naveen! Are you having fun? Where’s Caleb?” Jane asked him distractedly. She noticed a PopTV camera guy about ten feet away, filming them. Yeah, Naveen and I are having a pretty fascinating conversation right now, she thought drily.

  “I’m not sure. Have you seen Scarlett?”

  “Not in, like, the last half hour. Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m working, so I’ve gotta run. I’ll catch up with you later—ow!”

  Someone bumped into Jane, hard. She glanced up, startled, and saw a familiar-looking girl holding an empty wineglass.

  “I’m such an idiot!” the girl cried out.

  Jane looked down and saw the massive red stain blooming across the front of her white silk blouse. “That’s okay,” she said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt. She noticed that the camera guy from before was still filming. Great. “I have another blouse in my room. I’ll just go up and change.”

  “Ohmigod, I’m so sorry,” the girl apologized.

  Jane fake-smiled and hurried to the nearest exit, trying to hide the growing stain with her hand. She spoke briefly to Hannah, letting her know that she would be off-site for a few minutes. She made it to the elevator without receiving too many funny looks and pressed 9.

  When Jane stepped onto her floor, she made a quick right—and was surprised to see another PopTV camera camped outside her door, along with Matt. The camera guy spotted her and zoomed in on her.

  What’s going on? Jane wondered. Was her red wine stain emergency really that interesting? But she couldn’t ask questions during a shoot, so she just kept walking to her door and inserted her key card in the lock.

  She was halfway inside the room when she realized that she wasn’t alone in there. Two more PopTV camera guys were set up in opposite corners, filming.

  And Caleb and Gaby were sitting on the edge of the king-size bed, kissing.

  “What? Caleb!” Jane yelled.

  Caleb and Gaby jerked apart.

  “Janie!” Caleb exclaimed, swiping at the red lipstick smeared on the side of his mouth. “Listen, I can explain. That dude from your show told me to meet you up here so we could do a scene. Then she showed up and threw herself at me. I swear!”

  “Jane, I’m sorry!” Gaby cried out. “I didn’t wanna do this. But Annabelle told me that if I didn’t, Trevor was going to kick me off the show!”

  “Wait, what?” Caleb said, turning to Gaby.

  Jane shook her head and covered her ears. “No! You know what? I’m really not interested in your explanations. Either of you.”

  “But, Jane!”

  “Janie!”

  Jane went over to her closet and yanked a fresh white blouse from a hanger. “Have a nice life,” she said coldly, and stormed out the door. So I guess this is what happens in Vegas, she thought.

  Once in the hallway, she pulled out her phone and called up the text from Braden.

  DINNER ON MONDAY SOUNDS PERFECT, she typed.

  Chapter 31

  Survivor

  Madison took a sip of her martini and glanced around St. Mark’s Square, wondering what had possessed Jane to suggest a Venetian masked ball. All the people in their feathery black masks were so lame, and the long, flouncy gowns made the girls at the party look old. Madison, on the other hand, had taken care to select the perfect dress for the occasion: a black Prada strapless with an asymmetrical hemline that was at once edgy, stylish, and sexy.

  Actually, Madison was supposed to be “on duty” tonight, whatever that meant. But she had no interest; she attended parties, she wasn’t the help. She hated her event-planning “job” and even pretending to work there for the cameras was getting old. Besides, there was no way she was going to run around the Venetian in a uniform like Jane and Hannah. No wonder Jane’s BF had disappeared, and Intern Boy seemed so moody, with their girlfriends looking so frumpy. Madison had half a mind to move in on one or both guys. But what would be the point? She could do better.

  Madison’s gaze drifted to Aja and Miguel Velasquez slow-dancing out on the floor. Now there was a boyfriend worth stealing: a super-hot, super-rich, super-famous baseball player. Her mind reeled with the media possibilities, not to mention the lifestyle upgrades.

  “Maddy! There you are!”

  Madison turned, sighing. Sophie was staggering toward her, holding a drink with one hand and clinging to Jesse with the other. Great. Sophie was halfway to wasted—or possibly already there—and the party had barely begun.

  Madison casually switched off her mike and pretended to kiss her sister on the cheek in case anyone was watching. In fact, wasn’t that Veronica Bliss talking to the Marley twins? And Veronica’s hideous ex-assistant-turned-blogger Diego at the bar?

  “For the hundredth time, it’s Madison, not Maddy,” she hissed in Sophie’s ear. “God, you reek. What is that, pot?”

  “You are so old, Maddy!” Sophie whined. “Isn’t she old, baby?” She stood on her tiptoes and nibbled on Jesse’s neck, looking a little unstable on her
five-inch platforms.

  Madison caught her by the elbow and steadied her on her feet. She had seen Sophie trashed before, but not quite this bad.

  “You wanna hit, Madison?” Jesse whispered, reaching into his breast pocket. “It’s good stuff.”

  “No!” Madison clenched her fists, trying to keep her voice down. This situation was getting out of control. Aside from the fact that there was press nearby, weren’t Sophie and Jesse both miked? It was hard to tell, since Sophie’s clingy black halter dress didn’t have any telltale bumps underneath, and Jesse was in a tux. Maybe Dana hadn’t caught up to them yet?

  Madison knew that she had to do something, fast. “Listen, Jesse—can you get us a couple more drinks?” she said sweetly.

  Jesse smirked. “Sure, anything for my girls. Be right back.”

  He lurched toward the bar, bumping into a couple of guests along the way and receiving nasty looks in return. As soon as he was out of earshot, Madison whirled on Sophie. “We’re going upstairs.”

  “Why? I just got here.”

  “Yeah, well . . . party’s over. You’re going straight to bed, and we’ll talk about this in the morning.” Madison put her hand on Sophie’s arm and started to steer her toward the exit.

  Sophie jerked her arm away. “What are you doing?” she screamed. Then she tossed her champagne glass to the ground, shattering it.

  The crowd around them stopped talking. Madison froze.

  Sophie glared at Madison with glazed, bloodshot eyes. “Who do you think you are, my mother?” she spat out.

  “No, Sophie—Sophia. But you’re in no shape to—”

  “Yeah, that’s right. You are not my mother!” Sophie said, raising her voice as if to make sure everyone could hear. “Cuz Mom lives in a trailer park back East, and you live in a fancy-ass penthouse in Hollywood. Oh, except, it’s not even your penthouse. It’s your boyfriend’s penthouse where he keeps you stashed away so his wife doesn’t find out. Because you’re a whore, Maddy.”