Читать книгу Sweet Little Lies: An LA Candy Novel - Lauren Conrad - Страница 10

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.

“Fine, fine.”

Madison watched Veronica as she slid into the seat across from her. The forty-something woman was tiny—five feet tall and petite—with short red hair and piercing light blue eyes behind stylish black Chanel frames. Her simple black suit with pearls was at odds with the tacky decor in the Blue Dolphin.

Even though Veronica was physically diminutive, most people in Hollywood were terrified of her. And for good reason. As the editor in chief of Gossip magazine, Veronica could make or break a person’s reputation and career with just one well-timed, well-placed story or photo.

A person like, say, Jane Roberts.

“Enjoy yourself in Cabo?” Veronica asked.

“The weather was to die for.”

“Anything you want to share?” Veronica gazed squarely at Madison.

Madison stirred uncomfortably. Veronica had the weirdest way of staring at a person and not breaking eye contact, even for a second. It was creepy.

“You know, it was all baking on the beach and downing margaritas,” Madison said, shrugging.

Veronica took a sip of her drink. “Well, I certainly appreciate your emailing me from Cabo with your location. My photographer flew in and got some great shots of Jane.”

“Did he get any of me?” Madison said, remembering the guy with the aviators. At Veronica’s silence, she continued, “I had to sneak into town to send you that email, ’cause our resort has no internet access, and—”

“Yes, yes, I’m grateful,” Veronica cut in, not sounding appreciative at all.

Madison flinched. The woman owed her, big-time. Why wasn’t she being nicer? Maybe she needed reminding.

“So. How are the newsstand sales of the big Jane/ Braden/Jesse issue?” Madison asked, taking a sip of her wine.

Veronica’s blue eyes lit up. “Excellent. The numbers are incredible. You really came through with those photos.”

Madison smiled smugly.

“I’m curious, though. How, exactly, did you obtain them?”

“I know a photographer. He’s not afraid of heights, if you know what I mean.” Veronica just stared at her, so Madison continued to explain. “There’s a big tree near Jane’s bedroom window, and she never closes her curtains, and…well, you can guess the rest.”

“Impressive.”

“So, will those pictures from Cabo be part of a follow-up story?” Madison asked.

“Yes, of course. I have reporters keeping tabs on both Jesse and this Braden guy. Apparently Braden flew out to New York City the day before yesterday. From what I gather, he and Jesse have been friends for a while, but no one knew who Braden was. One day he’s an unknown wannabe actor living in the shadow of his best friend; the next day everybody’s talking about him. The power of publicity, right? As for Jesse…well, it’s been less than a week since the story broke, but during that short time our Jesse’s been busy. He’s been spotted at Crown Bar with some blonde, then Les Deux with another girl. I guess someone’s trying really hard to prove that he’s over Jane.”

“Interesting,” Madison said, although really, it wasn’t interesting at all. Who cared about Braden or Jesse? She wanted to get the subject back to what really mattered: her. “Listen. About our deal.”

“Deal?”

Madison felt heat rising to her cheeks. “Yes, deal. You told me that if I got you dirt on Jane, you would put me in your magazine.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll have one of my reporters call you first thing tomorrow. Oh, except…it’s Christmas, right? Maybe the day after.” Veronica cocked her head. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“That you, Madison Parker, are spending Christmas Eve plotting against one of your best and, as I understand, only friends.”

Madison glared. “She’s not one of my best friends. I have other friends. Lots of them. Besides, Christmas Eve isn’t over yet. I have plans.”

“Of course you do.” Veronica picked up her scotch and took a sip, never breaking eye contact with Madison.

Madison looked away, wanting so badly to say what she was thinking, which was that it didn’t seem like Veronica had any warm, fuzzy Christmas Eve plans, either. But Madison knew better than to bite the hand she was hoping would feed her.

“Bitch,” Madison murmured.

“What?” Derek rolled over from his side of the bed and gazed at her, confused.

Madison shook her head. “Nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking about this woman I had a drink with tonight.”

“Oh,” he said, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. “Damn. I’ve gotta go. It’s almost midnight, and…” His voice trailed off.

“Don’t worry about it. Go, go.”

Derek stood up, picked up a dove gray Zegna dress shirt from the floor, and shrugged it on. “Hey, I left your Christmas present under your tree.”

Madison grinned. “You did? Am I gonna love it?”

“You’re gonna love it. Oh, and I mailed in your other Christmas present this morning. January rent.”

“Awesome. Thanks, sweetie.”

“No, I’m the one who should thank you.” He leaned over, cradled her face in his hands, and kissed her.

Madison kissed him back, as always managing to (almost) ignore the cold touch of his platinum wedding band against her skin.