Sweet Little Lies: An LA Candy Novel

5 CHRISTMAS EVE WITH THE HARPS

“Could you pass the smoked trout, darling?” Scarlett’s father said to her mother.

“Yes, of course, sweetheart. Scarlett, would you like another oyster with mignonette sauce?”

“Umm…sure.”

Silence followed, filled with only the clinking of silverware against dishes. Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at Dana, who was making a frantic rolling motion with her hands, which Scarlett translated to mean, Please keep the conversation going, already. Any second now, she would be sending Scarlett another text: CD U TALK ABOUT CHRISTMASES FROM YR CHILDHOOD? ANY FUNNY STORIES? WHAT ABOUT THE BEST AND WORST PRESENTS U EVER GOT? WHAT ABOUT…

“So…skiing was awesome today, wasn’t it?” Scarlett managed as she slurped down another oyster without grimacing. (Why did they have to have the consistency of snot?) She would normally ignore Dana’s TMs, but she didn’t want to come across as being even more awkward and conversationally challenged than her parents.

“Yes, excellent,” her father agreed.

“A little crowded for my taste,” her mother said.

More silence. Scarlett stared at the hideous all-white centerpiece (tall white candles, twinkling white lights, and a pair of fake white kissing doves nestled in a bed of white leaves and berries) and tried to think of something else to say.

Oh, yeah, the tricycle incident. “Remember when you got me that yellow tricycle for Christmas?” she said, forcing a laugh. “When I’d already taught myself how to ride a bike? That was hilarious, right?”

Her parents exchanged a confused glance. “I’m not sure I remember that,” her father said. “Do you, darling?”

Her mother shook her head. “I don’t.”

More silence. Scarlett stirred in her chair, picking at the food on her plate. Why had she agreed to this? she wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time. Letting the show film her with her parents, of all people, on Christmas Eve, of all days?

But it had been so hard to say no—for Jane’s sake.

Trevor had originally scheduled the cameras and crew to film Jane at home with her family on Christmas Eve. But as of yesterday, Jane was still missing. So when Dana had called Scarlett as soon as she’d landed in Aspen and asked if she wouldn’t mind filling in for Jane, what could she say? “No?” Well, actually, that was exactly what she said, but after many phone calls they had worn her down, not-so-subtly reminding her that she had a contract. A contract that she was willing to honor for the few remaining episodes of the season. After that…she wasn’t sure. Being on the show kind of sucked, in her opinion, and the (free) gorgeous apartment wasn’t worth the invasion of her privacy and all the other little annoyances. She and Jane could happily move back to their rat hole by the 101. Well, she could, anyway. She wasn’t sure how Jane was feeling about the show these days.

Soon after agreeing to the Aspen shoot, Scarlett had gotten the text from Jane saying that she was okay and that she was heading up to Santa Barbara. She had tried to call her a few times since then, but Jane hadn’t picked up. Obviously, Jane wasn’t ready to talk to anyone just yet. Which meant that she definitely wasn’t going to be in the mood to have the L.A. Candy cameras in her face when she and her family sat down for their Christmas Eve dinner.

So Scarlett had decided not to inform Trevor or Dana that Jane was no longer MIA—or that they should move their shoot back to Santa Barbara, as originally planned. She had decided to give her best friend another few precious hours of space and privacy. She had even elected to try to be nice to her parents and put on a good show for the cameras. She could see the finished episode now: “Christmas Eve with the Harps.” Gag! The way it was going, the scene would be almost silent, with only the sounds of utensils clinking against china. She guessed that would end up being perfect for the way Trevor was editing her—the silent, pretty girl and her silent, pretty family.

See how much I love you, Janie? Scarlett thought drily.

What made it even worse was that her parents clearly had no idea how to behave in front of the cameras. Although on this count, Scarlett was sympathetic. It was definitely surreal, trying to act normal (well, as “normal” as the Harps could be) in your home (or in your rented condo in Aspen) with a crew of eight rearranging your furniture, plastering paper over your windows, and bustling around with their high-tech equipment. And then recording your every word and gesture for posterity—at least until Trevor edited the hell out of them.

The only—only—thing that was (almost) saving the day was the fact that Liam was here. Working, but still.

“Are we ready for the soup course?” her mother said.

“Fine with me,” her father replied. “Vichyssoise?”

“No, lobster bisque. I had the caterer make it with skim milk, of course.”

“Of course.”

Scarlett slurped down another oyster (okay, so maybe they were kinda good) as she felt her cell vibrate in her pocket. Great, a Dana-gram. Obviously, the yellow-tricycle story hadn’t cut it.

But when she glanced at the screen, she saw that it was a text from Liam.

DID THEY HIRE THESE PEOPLE 2 PLAY YR PARENTS OR R U ADOPTED AND DIDN’T TELL ME?

Scarlett stifled a giggle. She snuck a peek at Liam, who was behind the camera next to the massive stone fireplace. She could tell that he was trying to keep from laughing, too.

Underneath the table, she quietly typed: NEVER SEEN THEM B4. IM JUST HERE 4 THE OYSTERS.

Liam typed back: HOPE THEY TASTE BETTER THAN THEY LOOK!

WHY R U HERE? DID DANA MAKE U WORK? Scarlett typed.

A moment later, Liam typed back: BEN ASKED 4 THE DAY OFF AT THE LAST MIN SO I OFFERED 2 FILL IN.

Oh, Scarlett thought.

Staring at the bowl of lobster bisque that her mother had just set down in front of her (ew, pink soup?), Scarlett weighed Liam’s statement. Liam had offered to work on Christmas Eve. Did he do this because he had nothing better to do? Or because he was a really, really nice guy and he wanted to help Ben out? Or because he wanted to be in Aspen…to be near her?

Stop it, Scarlett told herself. You’re being an idiot. Yeah, like the guy seriously gave up his holiday to work, just so he could watch your lame family eat pink soup and have nothing to say to one another.

Her cell buzzed again. SO R U COMING 2 MY PARTY? Liam had typed.

Scarlett smiled. “Maybe,” she said out loud, before she realized what she was doing.

“Maybe what, Scarlett?” her father asked her.

Scarlett glanced up sharply. Everyone in the room was staring at her, including Liam, who was obviously trying hard to keep a straight face.

“Uh…yeah…that is, maybe I’ll have more of that, um, delicious soup,” Scarlett managed to say.

Trying to recover her composure, she quickly tucked her phone back in her pocket. Texting with a cute guy in the middle of a shoot was way too dangerous!

6 CREATIVE EDITING

Trevor Lord leaned forward and studied the magazines fanned across his desk. Again. Each cover line and photo made him clench his jaw a little harder.

L.A. CANDY STAR

MORE TART THAN SWEET

JANE’S BETRAYAL

IS L.A. CANDY STAR

PREGNANT

WITH JESSE’S BABY?

DID JESSE’S DRUG HABIT DRIVE JANE INTO HIS BEST FRIEND’S BED?

SEE JANE CHEAT!

And on and on. Each headline was insulting, attention-grabbing, and sure to sell issues. And sure to cause problems for the show.

How had everything spun so out of control? With his golden girl at the wheel?

He might’ve expected trouble from the other girls. Scarlett was stunningly beautiful, but she was way too smart, opinionated, and out-there to appeal to a general audience; Trevor had to edit out most of her real personality just to make her even remotely accessible. Madison was the perfect Hollywood cliché, with her dyed-to-the-max platinum hair and penchant for shopping, partying, and guys. But she was constantly bugging Trevor for more airtime; so far, he’d managed to keep her at bay with carefully worded compliments on the theme of “quality over quantity.” Gaby had proven very entertaining, with her ditzy personality and natural talent for getting just about everything wrong. Sometimes she seemed too over-the-top even for reality television.

But Jane…Jane was his find of the decade. Sweet, natural, and vulnerable, she was a person everyone could relate to. She was pretty, but not too pretty. She liked to go out, but she didn’t like to get wasted or do drugs. She worked hard. She was loyal to her friends. She came from a close-knit family.

Even her flaws were relatable. She procrastinated. She made mistakes at her job and got into trouble with her boss. She had arguments with her friends about dumb stuff. She didn’t have the best judgment about guys and went on bad dates once in a while.

Right after the L.A. Candy series premiere in October, Trevor knew that he had a hit on his hands—and that Jane was largely responsible. Viewers loved her. After a couple of flops (fine, so everyone was sick of listening to amateurs sing Rihanna covers and watching strangers hook up on tropical islands), he was back on top as one of Hollywood’s hottest reality producers.

Then things went from great to amazing when Jane and Jesse started dating, and with absolutely no intervention from Trevor. He couldn’t have picked a better boyfriend than the bad-boy son of superstar actors Wyatt Edwards and Katarina Miller, who was always in some tabloid with a starlet on his arm. Jesse also liked to party hard. As in, in-and-out-of-rehab hard.

But Jesse had apparently cleaned up his act when he met Jane. It was love at first sight, and their chemistry was undeniable. Everyone seemed to want to tune in to their romance: Hollywood playboy falls for the girl next door. It was a reality producer’s dream come true.

Trevor clutched his stress ball tighter. He had known that Jesse would eventually crash and burn. Once an addict, always an addict. But Trevor figured that if and when the time came, he would do some creative editing to make sure Jane and Jesse’s romance continued its course, from breakup to makeup to breakup to makeup, without the unwholesome tarnish of Jesse’s issues. The L.A. Candy cameras never showed Jesse misbehaving at clubs (drinking too much, disappearing to the men’s room to do God knows what), and they never would.

But Trevor hadn’t seen this coming: It was Jane who had screwed up. Big-time. Virtually overnight, the “reality producer’s dream” had turned into a nightmare. With Jane and Madison gone, the shooting schedule was total chaos. Trevor and Dana were frantically improvising new and interesting ways to film Scarlett and Gaby: Scarlett Christmas shopping…Gaby taking a boot-camp fitness class…Scarlett checking out the spring courses in the USC catalog with a fellow student…Gaby taking her pint-size, overgroomed dog out for a walk. And filming the two girls together was beyond challenging, since most of those scenes consisted of Gaby having one-sided conversations while Scarlett mocked her and made sarcastic remarks under her breath.

How long would they be able to keep this up? Where the hell was Jane? (She’d been photographed at LAX yesterday, but she didn’t seem to be at her apartment, and she still wasn’t answering his calls. Her parents weren’t answering his calls, either.) And what was he going to do with her when she finally resurfaced? He had a story line on his hands that everyone knew about but that didn’t make sense for the show. There could be no mention of Braden, since he refused to sign a release. Which meant that there could be no mention of Jane cheating on Jesse with Braden. There could be no mention of the Gossip scandal, either. In the L.A. Candy universe, tabloids didn’t exist. And neither did half-naked pictures of a nice girl like Jane.

“Trevor?”

He rubbed his eyes and glanced up. Melissa, one of the PopTV publicists, was standing in the doorway. He had ordered his entire team to put in overtime, and many were working today despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve. “Yes? What is it?” he snapped.

“Yeah, hello to you, too. Listen, you’re gonna be a little nicer to me when you see this.” She held up a file.

“What is it?”

“Ratings from the last episode. You know, the episode that aired after those, uh, lovely photos came out?”

Trevor stared intently at her. “And?” “Our ratings nearly doubled.”

“Let me see that.”

Melissa handed the file to Trevor. He opened it and scanned the figures quickly. His pulse quickened, and he sat up straighter. Four-point-six million? Did it really say 4.6 million?

Trevor’s lips curled up in a slow, satisfied smile. “You just made me a very happy man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Until the next crisis,” Melissa joked.

“No, no. The crisis was good. The crisis made our numbers go up.”

“Any publicity is good publicity, right?”

“Something like that. Now, go back to your office and break these down some more. I want them within the hour.”

Melissa peeked at her watch. “It’s almost eight and I’ve got a red-eye to New York to visit my family for Christmas.”

“Well, you’d better get busy, then.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

As Trevor watched her leave, he closed the file and thought about what this meant. As always, his brain operated simultaneously in two realities: the real reality and the L.A. Candy reality. Trevor realized that at this moment in time, these two realities were actually working in sync and in his favor. The real reality (Jane, Braden, Jesse, the Gossip scandal) boosted and would continue to boost ratings, while the L.A. Candy reality airbrushed—and would continue to airbrush—over any and all the ugliness, painting Jane in the same soft, golden glow that had morphed her into “America’s sweetheart.”

This was good—all good. Now all he needed was to find Jane. And figure out how to choreograph the next few episodes.

Trevor picked up the phone and got back to work.

7 IT’S KINDA COMPLICATED

Lacie hit the Pause button and pointed to the giant plasma screen. “Oh, yeah, that dude,” she said, cracking up. “Did you ever go out with him again?”

“He seems like kind of a dork,” Nora piped up. “But he’s H-O-T.”

Jane sighed and leaned back on the couch, where she was sandwiched between her two baby sisters. Lacie, sixteen, was to the right of her, wielding the remote. Nora, fourteen, was to the left, hugging a massive bowl of nacho-cheese-flavored popcorn. It was Christmas night, and the three girls were watching episode after episode of L.A. Candy in their family room. Lacie and Nora had TiVo’d all of season one so far, and were now making Jane sit through them as they grilled her about various details.

“Yeah, that’s Paolo,” Jane said, wishing she didn’t have to relive that particular date. They’d had zero chemistry—and to make things worse, she had partied too much at Madison’s the night before and had thrown up on the way home. “No, no second date.”

“See, I told you,” Lacie said triumphantly to Nora.

“Yeah, well, she’s gone on second dates with dorks before,” Nora shot back. “Remember that guy she went to the Homecoming dance with? And what’s-his-name from the track team, Rob, Bob?” She shook with laughter, practically rolling off the couch.

Great, Jane thought. Why do little sisters have to remember everything?

“How come your new boyfriend isn’t on the show?” Nora asked. “Braden?”

Jane managed to fudge an explanation about Braden being too busy (and to add that Braden was not her new boyfriend) because she didn’t feel like explaining that Braden had steadfastly refused to sign a release to be filmed. And as far as Trevor was concerned, if someone couldn’t be filmed, that person didn’t exist. Sometimes Jane would mention Braden while filming, but they would never use any of that footage.

On the floor nearby was the carnage from this morning’s present-opening frenzy: wads of brightly colored wrapping paper, ribbons and bows, empty boxes, and stray gifts. Across the room, the eight-foot-tall tree looked as beautiful and Christmassy as always, decorated with family ornaments. She especially loved seeing the angel she’d made in second grade, out of white felt and cotton balls, hanging in its coveted spot on a high-up branch.

Still…Christmas felt different this year. Lacie and Nora had been their usual giddy selves this morning, ripping open presents and screaming about their new cell phones, iPods, Sephora gift certificates, and the rest of it. Their parents had tried to put on their best happy faces—her mother oohing and aahing over the diamond earrings from her father, her father modeling the goofy apron from Nora that said, DANGER: DAD GRILLING ON BARBECUE. But Jane had caught the two of them sneaking glances at her, looking stressed and worried. And disappointed. That was the hardest part, the disappointment. Jane had let her parents down by cheating on her boyfriend and causing a national media scandal.

Lacie hit Fast-forward, then Play. Gaby appeared on the screen, answering phones at Ruby Slipper, the PR firm where she worked.

“Okay, so what about your friend Gaby?” Lacie said. “She seems nice, but is she really that dumb?”

“Like that episode where she microwaved her True Religion jeans because the dryer was broken? Did the show tell her to do that, to make people laugh?” Nora asked.

“Gaby’s really sweet,” Jane said vaguely. “Hey, you guys wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Movie?” Lacie burst out. “Are you crazy? We have more episodes to watch! And we have soooo many questions to ask you!”

“Alanah and Ainsley might come over later, ’cause they wanna talk to you about the show,” Nora added. She picked a piece of popcorn out of her purple-tinted braces. “Oh, and they want Jesse Edwards’s autograph. You can get that for them, right?”

Lacie craned her head to glare at her little sister, her hazel eyes blazing. “Nora! Are you slow or what?”

“Lacie, be nice!”

Jane glanced up and saw her mother standing in the doorway. Maryanne Roberts frowned sternly at Lacie, who pulled her long blond hair over her face and mumbled, “Sorry,” under her breath.

Maryanne was wearing a salmon-colored silk robe, Jane’s Christmas present to her, as well as a pair of fuzzy pink slippers from Lacie. She set a tray of steaming mugs on the coffee table. “Hot chocolate,” she announced to her daughters. “What are you watching?”

“L.A. Candy, what else?” Nora replied. She pointed to the screen. “Hey! Ha! That’s when Jane gets drunk at that club and flirts with that Australian guy!”

“Austrian,” Lacie corrected her.

“I did not get drunk!” Jane scoffed. Did Nora seriously have to say that in front of their mom?

“Okay, girls, enough,” Maryanne snapped. “Jane could probably use a break from all this stuff. Why don’t we watch one of the twenty thousand DVDs Santa brought you for Christmas?”

“Santa, right.” Nora rolled her golden brown eyes.

“Good idea,” Jane said quickly. “I’m gonna change into my jammies first. Back in a sec.”

Her mom was right—she did need a break from all this stuff. Five days in Cabo hadn’t done the trick, after all. Seeing her family was a lot harder than she thought it would be. Not to mention seeing them watch the show.

She hadn’t had much time to herself since driving up to Santa Barbara in the middle of the night two nights ago. Her parents had been so happy and relieved to see her, but they had a lot of questions: Was she okay? Where did she disappear to? Had any reporters followed her from L.A.? Later, after dinner (their family had a tradition of making a Swedish feast together on Christmas Eve, because her mom was half Swedish), her dad had called her aside and asked her if she was having second thoughts about being on the show. Jane hadn’t had a good answer. All she’d managed was, “I don’t know, Dad. Maybe?”