Sugar And Spice Part 11

Chapter 17.

The Perfect Guy

As Jane drove out of the underground parking garage of her apartment building on Tuesday morning, she spotted four-no, five-cars pulling away from the curb. Paparazzi. The tinted windows and absence of plates were telltale signs, not to mention that these same five cars had been following her almost every day the past few weeks. She thought one of them might be the creep that had b.u.mped her car from behind when she was on her way to meet up with Braden.

It was so odd . . . these men, whose names she didn't even know, followed her all day long. (And presumably the other L.A. Candy girls, too. Scarlett had been complaining bitterly about the ones tailing her around town.) They "accompanied" Jane when she went to work, dropped off her dry cleaning, shopped for groceries at Whole Foods-and of course, when she filmed. There seemed to be more and more of them at the PopTV shoots lately, particularly the outdoor shoots. Dana and Trevor were not happy about this for a couple of important reasons. First, the paparazzi often wandered into the frame and scenes had to be reshot. The PopTV crew got into frequent, sometimes violent arguments with the paps about this, and just last week, the network had to replace several expensive digital cameras that had been broken during a tussle in order to avoid a lawsuit. Second, the photos were sold to the tabloids, and they doc.u.mented the girls' activities, outfits, and so forth in a slightly different, more accurate way than the show. Whereas Trevor took liberties with editing-say, patching together two scenes from a month apart into one "seamless" scene that pretended to take place on the same day-the gossip rags could print images of these events as they really happened. Magazines were getting more savvy about this sort of thing, as was the public. Which made Trevor and the other network execs extremely tense.

Jane continued driving down the street, stopped at the stop sign, and made a left. She watched in the rearview mirror as each of the five cars turned left behind her. Three of them didn't even bother to heed the stop sign. She was on her way to film a quick scene at a cafe in West Hollywood with Hannah, after which she had an eleven o'clock meeting at the office with Fiona (off camera), after which she had a lunch date with Caleb in Beverly Hills (on camera). She wasn't thrilled with the idea of showing up at the cafe shoot with a party of five-or more, since sometimes, there was more than one pap per car, or alternatively, once she showed up at a location with a group of them in tow, more would magically show up, easily doubling or tripling their number. Really, it was insane.

A few minutes later, Jane reached Sunset Boulevard. Since the incident en route to Braden's in late March, she had gotten savvier. She had learned through experience that making a bunch of quick turns didn't lose them; it simply made them drive more recklessly and ignore obstacles like red lights and pedestrians. She had also grown to appreciate stop-and-go traffic, especially on Sunset at this time of day. If she switched lanes at just the right moment, she could usually split herself off from a car or two that might be stuck in a slow line of vehicles. And if she could manage to get one or more of them in front of her, she could turn off onto a side street that they had already pa.s.sed.

Using these methods, Jane managed to whittle down her "entourage" to one SUV by the time she reached the cafe and parked on the street. Unfortunately, she saw that there was a small group of paparazzi already waiting for her in front of the cafe. Just beyond them, she saw some PopTV crew members setting up, looking annoyed.

The cameras began flas.h.i.+ng when Jane stepped out of her car, and soon she was surrounded.

"Jane!"

"Give us a smile!"

"Who are you meeting for breakfast, Jane?"

Oh, G.o.d. Jane took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. For her, paps in person were way worse than paps in cars. After all these months, she was still terrified of the sight of these grown men-strangers-running toward her, shouting at her, taking her picture. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to it. (After escaping them, she would often shake for five, ten minutes before she could calm down.) "Jane!"

"Over here!"

"Who designed your dress, Jane?"

Jane realized she couldn't stand there all day like a trapped animal. She adjusted her sungla.s.ses with a trembling hand and made her way through the gauntlet of paparazzi, pretending that this was all perfectly normal. Which it wasn't.

Luckily, there were no paparazzi waiting for her when she arrived at Villa Blanca at noon.

Gazing around the sunlight-filled dining room, Jane ran a hand across her black-and-white wrap dress, smoothing the microphone wire underneath. The PopTV camera guys were already in place, and only a few of the customers at the Beverly Hills restaurant seemed fazed by their presence. Maybe it was because the show filmed there often. Or maybe people in L.A. were just used to TV crews.

When Matt gave her the signal, Jane crossed the room to the corner table where Caleb sat waiting for her. She was excited to see him. New relations.h.i.+ps always made her feel this way. (Even though theirs wasn't technically new. And she hadn't been in a lot of relations.h.i.+ps, new or otherwise.) This was their third date since last Thursday, all of them on camera, and with each one, she became more convinced that Caleb was the perfect guy for her at this point in her life. He was so easy to hang out with-no drama, no surprises, no stress. He was a total gentleman, too, like the way he was at the hospital week before last.

And he was really, really cute, which didn't hurt.

"Hey." He stood up and put his hand on her elbow, kissing her briefly on the lips. He smelled yummy, like woodsy aftershave.

"Hey. You look nice." Jane hadn't expected to see him wearing a navy linen blazer over his b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt. He wasn't usually so dressed up and besides, hadn't he come straight from a construction site?

"Thanks. You're looking pretty gorgeous yourself."

"Thanks. Sorry I'm late. My eleven o'clock meeting ran over." Jane didn't add that it had started late because her cafe shoot had taken longer than expected, due to interference by the paparazzi.

"Yeah, I got your message. No worries. How'd it go?" Caleb pulled a chair out for her.

Jane sat down and tucked her bag under the table. "Good, I guess? There's so much going on. I feel like I'm working twenty-four/seven lately. I mean, Aja's engagement party is, like, a full-time project. And there's a video-game launch at Playground the day after tomorrow, and a restaurant opening next Tuesday. Oh, and Scar's birthday party this Sat.u.r.day! You're coming to that, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Great!"

The waitress came by to take their orders. "The chopped salad, please, and an iced tea," Jane said, glancing at the menu.

"The filet mignon, medium rare. And a Sam Adams," Caleb said.

"Steak? Wow, you must be hungry," Jane teased him.

"Hey, don't give me a hard time. I've been hauling steel beams all week," Caleb said with a grin.

"When's that house going to be finished?"

"Hopefully by the end of May? The family's been living in a one-bedroom apartment for the last two years . . . and there's five of them. So they're pretty excited."

"Wow, I'm sure."

The waitress came back with their drinks. Caleb picked up his beer and glanced around. "Nice place. Guess the owner likes white."

"Well it is called Villa Blanca."

"Blanca. White. Got it."

"Hey, speaking of . . . remember the Valentine's Day dance, senior year? I wore that white dress I bought at Forever 21, and-"

"Oh, yeah, the super-short one. You looked hot in that," Caleb cut in.

Jane blushed. "Caleb! It wasn't that short. Anyway . . . you were trying to dance to that Soulja Boy song, and you kind of spazzed and ended up spilling punch all over my dress."

"I did not spaz. Jenn Nussbaum b.u.mped into me," Caleb said, pretending to be hurt.

Jane laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe she was just trying to get close, cuz she had a huge crush on you."

"She did not."

"She absolutely did, and you know it. Half the girls at the school had a crush on you."

"Well, I didn't notice, cuz you're the only girl I had a crush on."

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. Jane smiled and dropped her gaze. It was true; Caleb used to be one of the most desirable guys at their school. For a long time after they began dating, she used to wonder, Why me? There are so many girls who are prettier. Self-esteem wasn't exactly one of Jane's strong suits. Over the years, Scar had tried to get her to stop being so hard on herself. And it was working. Kind of. Slowly, gradually, Jane was starting to feel better about herself, more confident.

She lifted her gaze and stared into Caleb's chocolate brown eyes and thought, I deserve a sweet, smart, handsome guy like you, who likes me for who I am.

The image of Braden flitted through her mind. Braden might have been the perfect guy for her . . . if only he had given her some indication that he cared about her that way. Oh, well. Too late, Braden James . . .

"What are you thinking about?" Caleb asked her. "Looks kinda intense, whatever it is."

Jane laced her fingers through his. "I'm just happy to be out with you."

"Yeah? Me too."

For the rest of the hour, Jane and Caleb continued to bring up funny memories from high school: Jane getting the hiccups during opening night of the drama club's The Mousetrap . . . Caleb accidentally kicking a soccer ball into the referee's face during a match (the ref was unhurt but really mad). As the waitress cleared their plates, Jane glanced at her watch and realized that it was after one o'clock.

"I'm sorry, I've gotta go," Jane said apologetically. "I have a meeting at two."

"Yeah, I've gotta go, too. Those steel beams are calling out to me."

"Jane! Caleb!"

Dana was approaching their table. "Change of plans. We're not gonna film your exit, because there are, like, two dozen paparazzi out there," she explained.

Them again? Jane frowned. They were in rare form today.

"We tried to talk to them, but they won't go away," Dana went on. "So. You can take off your mike packs now, and Jane . . . we'll see you tomorrow for your scene with Scarlett, and then Thursday at Playground. Caleb, you'll be there, too, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Bye, you two. Nice job today."

Jane and Caleb extracted their mike packs and handed them to one of the sound guys. As Jane rose to go, she said, "Hey, Caleb? Since there are so many photographers outside, we should probably leave separately. You want to go first, and I'll go a few minutes after? Better yet, I'll see if the restaurant will let us leave out the back."

"Wait. Why?" Caleb asked her, running a hand through his hair. "Aren't we supposed to be photographed together and stuff? It's good publicity for the show, right?"

"Yeah, but . . . it's gonna be a zoo out there, and I don't want to be late for my meeting. Besides, they were all over us at La Dolce Vita last Thursday and at the Makeover premiere last night." Not to mention the fact that they were all over her at the cafe earlier. Enough was enough.

Caleb shrugged. "I guess. Whatever."

Jane hooked her arm through his. Was it her imagination, or did he seem a little annoyed? "I'm gonna talk to the maitre d' about letting me go out the back. You wanna come with me?"

"No, you go on ahead. I'm gonna go out front so I can have the valet get my car."

As they kissed good-bye, Jane had the sudden, weird feeling that Caleb actually liked being photographed by paparazzi. What was up with that?

Chapter 18.

Kind of the Truth

"Sophia . . . so I need you to ring the front doorbell when Matt gives you the okay," Trevor said. "Then, Madison . . . you're going to answer the door, and, Sophia, you're going to say: 'Surprise!' And, Madison, you're going to look surprised. Got it, girls?"

Madison fluffed her hair in the reflection of the hall mirror, then peered quickly at the brown leather notebook in Trevor's hands. What was he doing at her apartment, anyway, trying to direct the shoot? She was pretty sure they already had a director. Trevor tended to show up on the set when something important was going on, but he always stayed in the background, just observing. Why was today so special? Because they were filming Sophie's "surprise visit" to L.A.?

After their stressful (in Madison's opinion) meeting on Sunday, Trevor had asked her for some background information on Sophie, and Madison had offered him a plausible-sounding explanation (she'd worked on it for weeks) that Sophie was eighteen and had been cras.h.i.+ng with some friends in New York City since graduating from high school last June. In turn, Trevor had semi-scripted a story about Sophie showing up unexpectedly in L.A. (which was kind of the truth, minus the blackmail part, ha-ha), and then deciding to stay for good (which was also kind of the truth, except that Madison would much rather see the little b.i.t.c.h go far, far away). This way, viewers could be introduced to Sophie, now "Sophia," on the show versus off screen; after all, she couldn't not be there one episode, then suddenly be there the next.

Sophie snaked her hand down her really, really low neckline. "These wires hurt like h.e.l.l," she complained, in the process giving Trevor a bird's-eye view of practically everything. s.l.u.t. "Why do I have to wear a microphone, Trev? Can't I just say my lines super-loudly?"

"It doesn't work that way, Sophia," Trevor explained. "Don't worry, you'll get used to the mike pack."

"You are so mean!" Sophie whined in a little-girl voice. Then she smiled silkily, letting Trevor know that she was kidding. He smiled back.

"Soph . . . Sophia, let's just do this, okay?" Madison said, gritting her teeth. She wasn't sure how much more she could stomach of her sister's attention-wh.o.r.e behavior. Emphasis on "wh.o.r.e."

Sophie turned her gaze on Madison. The brown contacts were disconcerting; Madison was accustomed to seeing violet blue. In fact, when Sophie was a toddler, Madison used to tease her that her eyes were that color because she loved to eat blueberries so much.

"What's your hurry, Maddy? You got a hot date with your boyfriend? Derek, right?" Sophie said, batting her eyelashes.

Trevor frowned. "Madison, you have a boyfriend? Why didn't I know about this? Is he going to film?"

Madison clenched her fists and forced herself to take a deep breath. Was Sophie out of her mind? Did she want to ruin everything? Trevor would not be too understanding about one of his stars sleeping with-and being supported by-a married man. A married, much older man. And Sophie absolutely couldn't call her "Maddy," which was her old nickname from back home. "No, there's no boyfriend. Dirk, not Derek, was ages ago. I'm totally single these days. Which is how I like it," Madison told Trevor.

"Yeah? What about that dude, what's his name, back in Armpit Falls? You went out with him for, like, forever. Didn't seem like you loved being 'single' then," Sophie sneered.

"Did you say . . . Armpit Falls?" Trevor asked.

"It's a joke, Trevor. My sister's got a weird sense of humor. Can we get started? I have to be someplace in an hour," Madison lied, pretending to check her watch as she seethed silently. G.o.d! Did Sophie have no self-control whatsoever?

"Madison, I'm not sure we're going to be done in an hour," Trevor pointed out. Now he looked annoyed.

"Not if we keep talking about my old boyfriends from a hundred years ago. Let's just get started, okay?"

As it turned out, the shoot took more than three hours, mostly because Sophie couldn't follow directions. (Surprise, surprise!) She also kept looking right at the camera and posing, instead of acting natural.

By the time they finally wrapped, Madison was ready for a strong drink and some retail therapy. Luckily, this scene with Sophie was the only one she had to shoot today.

"You did great," Trevor said to Sophie as he checked something on the monitor. Liar, Madison thought. Or was he just too mesmerized by Sophie's looks to tell her the truth? "So. I'll see both of you at the Playground party tomorrow night, right?"

"The Playground party?" Madison repeated. "What Playground party?"