Sweet Little Lies: An LA Candy Novel

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 (#ulink_893c65b0-365c-567a-ac66-413a7f8642c0)

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.”