Beautiful Liars (11 page)

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Authors: Kylie Adams

BOOK: Beautiful Liars
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Tilly gasped in horror.
Emma took the opportunity to fling what remained of her Horny Goat into Tilly's face. But in her drunken clumsiness,she missed and sloshed an innocent bystander.
And that's the last thing she remembered before waking up on Delilah's couch the next morning with the worst hangoverof her life.
 
 
“Ninety seconds, Ms. Ronson!”The production assistant's voice sent her careening back to the awful present, where things were messier than ever.
THE IT PARADE
BY
J
INX
W
IATT
 
Fill in the Blanks
 
Who ever would've thought that the busiest bee on that much buzzed about new daytime chat fest would turn out to be the poor little rich boy? He's quite the character, and I have it on good authority that he was born with a silver spoon in his ... ahem ...
mouth
. Okay, I'll be nice. Stories are circulating that in additionto his television hosting duties, this ambitious lad might open up his own Manhattan gathering spot for the beautiful, the rich, and, of course, the badly behaved. From dilettante to workaholic? Must be something in the honey, darlings.
15
Finn
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have officially entered
The Beehive
!” the announcer boomed. “Please welcome your hosts ... Sutton Lancaster ... Emma Ronson ... Simone Williams ... and Finn Robards!”
As they emerged from the backstage holding area, thunderousapplause greeted them. The instant adrenaline from the reaction shifted Finn's toxic state of mind from I-hate-these-bitchesto let's-give-the-people-the-best-show-we-can.
“Thank you ... thank you,” Emma said, pushing down her manicured hands in a gracious gesture to bring an end to the ovation. “Welcome back to
The Beehive
. It's Monday. And I think it's safe to say that all of us here had an eventful weekend.”
“Oh, really? Why do you say that?” Finn remarked. The studio crowd seemed to pick up on his fake innocence and real bitchiness.They tittered uncomfortably.
“I might've read a few things ...
experienced
a few things,” Emma admitted with a certain self-deprecating charm. “Seriously,though, my weekend was awful.”
“Mine sucked,” Finn added.
“Mine started off terrible but ended well,” Simone put in.
Sutton just sat there, a somewhat vacant smile glazed across her face. For the first time, Finn noticed her new (and not necessarily improved) look. Edgier eye makeup, hair tousled for that just-out-of-bed impact, a much shorter skirt, and loads of rock-inspired costume jewelry, some of it sporting skull-and-crossbonescharms.
“And your weekend,
madam
?” Finn pressed. “How was it?”
Sutton gave him a pointed look. “Exhausting.”
“Yes,” Finn said with a cheeky knowingness. “As I remember,men that age typically are.”
The audience hooted and whistled.
Sutton pursed her lips disapprovingly, but her mouth still betrayed a hint of a smile. “I believe it's time for ‘Bee in Our Bonnet.'”
The crowd erupted at the mere mention of the popular segment. Its accompanying logo flashed onto the giant monitor.
“Because of the wonderful people in this audience—and all of the wonderful viewers watching at home—our show has become an amazing success,” Sutton said. “With that comes a certain degree of media interest and scrutiny that we just have to deal—”
“Honey, you are being way too diplomatic about this,” Finn cut in. “Allow me.” He turned to face the studio crowd. “Gossip columnist Jinx Wiatt is on the show today to plug her new book, and if all of you would just politely turn away and cover your ears, then the four of us will each take a turn strangling the bitch.”
The audience howled.
“That's
exactly
where I was heading. If you had only given me a chance!” Sutton replied, earning a few laughs of her own.
“Does everybody read
The It Parade
?” Emma inquired.
The explosion of applause provided the answer.
“I have it bookmarked,” Simone admitted. “It's one of the first sites I go to in the morning ...
after
I get my grande-triple-hazelnut-sugar-free-nonfatlatte from Starbucks. Because before I get that, I am
impossible
. Anyway, I was reading it the other day, and I'm, like, ‘Oh my God, who is that? I feel like I know her.' And then I realized that I
was
her.”
Emma nodded with bemused empathy. “For those of you who don't read this stuff ... well, first of all, congratulations! You're probably too busy surfing serious news sites—”
“Are there serious news sites online?” Finn interrupted. “I must have the wrong Internet.”
Another big laugh from the crowd.
“There's a whole world out there, Finn,” Emma deadpanned.“It goes beyond
The It Parade
, eBay, and porn.”
Finn let her get the laugh and get away with the line. After all, it was nothing that he had not—or would not—say about himself.
“Seriously,” Emma went on, “for those of you who don't know,
The It Parade
is a popular online gossip column that never mentions actual names, but the clues are so obvious that identifyingthe subjects becomes a fairly easy game. Also, there's a viral quality to it, because the columns get forwarded in e-mails and then the bloggers get started with their two cents.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Pretty soon your mother is calling to ask if you really
are
still upset about your last breakup.”
“Would the column get half the attention if real names were used?” Simone wondered aloud. “I mean, think about it. ‘Simone Williams tried to shop at Christian Dior, but her credit card was declined.'
There
. A quick and dirty bit of gossip.Over and done with. But without a name, it takes on anotherlife cycle, not to mention endless speculation. By the end of the day, I'm giving my building super oral favors to make the rent. Ridiculous!”
“I can barely get a lightbulb changed for doing that,” Finn cracked. “I need to move into your building.”
This time even his cohosts joined in on the cacophonous laughter.
“We'll be right back after the break ... with Jinx Wiatt,” Emma said, beaming a perfect stage girl smile. “Don't go anywhere!”
As was the custom during the first commercial interlude, Finn and Simone ventured out to interact with audience memberswhile Emma studied her notes for the upcoming segmentsand Sutton engaged in a hushed conference with Jay.
The minutes ticked by like seconds. Suddenly, they were reassembled at the table.
“She's one of the country's most widely read gossip scribes,” Emma began. “And now she can add bestselling author to her résumé with the immediate success of her first book,
Ex Marks the Spot: How to Know When You're Really Over Him
. Please welcome to
The Beehive
... Jinx Wiatt!”
The infamous vixen came strutting out in a towering pair of Manolo Blahniks. But she barely passed the five-foot mark. This girl was very tiny, very tan, very blonde, and, judging from the enormous princess-cut yellow diamond adorning her most significant finger, very well taken care of. After a flurry of double air kisses to each host, Jinx settled into her assigned spot in the middle of the group. “My ears are burning!” she enthused in a voice that reeked of girlishness.
“Just burning?” Sutton remarked. “They probably should be bleeding.”
Jinx giggled.
Simone jumped in without preamble. “Where do you get your information? Do you have, like, spies
everywhere
?”
Jinx waved off the thought in a way that managed to emphasizeher yellow diamond. “Oh, it's not that sinister. I go here. I go there. Sources call me.” She beamed a megawatt smile. “I think people end up sharing more with me, because I don't name names. I'm a firm believer in protecting the guilty.” She punctuated her last line with an outrageous giggle.
Sutton just sat there, stone-faced. “Do you actually find it rewarding to traffic in other people's miseries this way?”
Jinx's smile froze. There was a steel-like glint to her eyes that told Finn she had come under attack countless times ... and always emerged unscathed. “It's not all misery,” she countered.“For instance, I recently reported about an older talk show host who slipped into the restroom at a bar with a much younger man and stayed there for twenty minutes or more. As the story was told to me, they both left looking quite happy.”
Sutton's eyes narrowed into hateful slits.
Finn moved fast to intercede. “Your column often goes beyond the reporting of gossipy tidbits and seems to take aim at people's emotional lives.”
“I have a background in psychology,” Jinx explained. “So that's only natural.”
“But is it responsible?” Emma asked. “As you've explained, much of your information comes to you from random sources—”
“Never random,” Jinx argued. “My sources are vetted for accuracy. I stand behind every column I write one hundred percent, and if there's ever so much as a shred of doubt about the veracity of a story, then I back off until I'm certain. It's the only standard to live by.”
“Yes,” Sutton said haughtily. “You have such high journalisticprinciples. A regular Woodward and Bernstein.”
“I do consider myself a journalist,” Jinx said archly.
Finn saw an opening to kill. “I once had a friend who considered himself Steven Spielberg's nephew. Now he has outstanding arrest warrants in two states.”
The audience laughed uproariously.
But Jinx could not be rattled. “Interestingly, it's not the allegedinaccuracies that cause discomfort to the subjects of my columns.” She paused a beat and fixed a meaningful stare on Finn. “It's the deeper truths. People tend to live in denial.”
Finn knew that Jinx stood ready to play armchair psychotherapist on the subject of his friendship with Dean Paul. But there was a time to throw down, and there was a time to retreat. Finn chose the latter.
“Tell us about your book,” Simone said, holding up a copy of
Ex Marks the Spot: How to Know When You're Really Over Him
. “How did that come about?”
“I'm famous within my friendship clique for staging elaboratefemale summits,” Jinx gushed. “I plan them for big stage of life changes like engagements, first pregnancies, divorces, career reinventions—anything that's huge and life altering. And what I've observed is that the ex factor—I'm talking the significant ex here—really does mark the spot in terms of how women perceive themselves and embrace new opportunities.”She glanced over at Finn. “And some men as well. It works both ways.”
Emma jumped in. “One of your recommendations for getting over an ex is something you call ‘Closure Sex.'”
Jinx nodded. “That's when you sleep with him one last time. Go out with a bang. Literally.”
The crowd broke into titters.
“Too many women over-romanticize the last time they were intimate with an ex,” Jinx went on. “I'm all for a dirty round of sex to say good-bye and good riddance. It's empowering.And it will leave him second-guessing letting you go, which is another plus.” She winked.
“Well, what if your ex is a stalker?” Simone asked. “I'm speaking hypothetically, of course.” She rolled her eyes and made an adorable, who-am-I-kidding face that amused the audience. “But I would think sleeping with your stalker ex could be ... I don't know ... a sign of encouragement you might not want to send.”
“Stalking is such an overused term,” Jinx said. “It rarely applies. I find that many self-proclaimed stalker victims are simply not ready to let go of the relationship, either. They're holding on just as hard.”
Simone let out an audible gasp. “Well, that may be true in some cases—”
“But not yours,” Jinx finished in a patronizing tone. “It never is.”
Simone turned to address the audience, as if convincing them were the only way to get through this now. “My ex-boyfriendkidnapped my cat!”
There was a collective moan of astonished sympathy.
Jinx raised a hand to silence the crowd. “Wait a minute. Did he grow attached to this animal during your time together?”
“Well ... I ... I guess,” Simone stammered. “But the cat is
mine
!”
Triumphantly, Jinx tilted her head to the side. “It's not uncommonfor people to withhold visitation with pets and children. Ostensibly, it's to punish the ex. But it only serves to ratchet up the conflict, which keeps the connection alive, even if that connection is negative.”
Simone just sat there in stunned silence.
“The little games we play to convince ourselves that we're over our exes are endless,” Jinx went on. “The cougar phenomenonis a perfect example. A man leaves a woman for a younger girl. So what does that woman do? She goes out to find a younger man to prove that she's still vital.”
“But men have been doing that for years!” Sutton protested hotly.

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