L. A. Candy (17 page)

“Sam Roca Chica,” Jesse said. He lifted his glass in a mock toast.

Jane pushed her salad around with her fork. “Huh? What’s that?”

“My porn star name,” he replied, his light eyes smiling. “It’s your first pet combined with the street you grew up on. What’s yours?”

Jane thought for a moment. “Fluffy Santa Cruz,” she said, laughing. “Sexy, huh?” It was a weird conversation to be having with Jesse on their first date. She used to play this game in middle school with her friends.

“Was Fluffy a cat or a dog?” Jesse asked her.

“Umm, she was a hamster,” Jane said, feeling a little embarrassed. “I couldn’t have cats or dogs. My mom’s allergic to them. What about Sam?”

“Sam was my dog,” Jesse said with what seemed liked a sad smile. “She was part collie, part German shepherd, and
part, like, twenty other breeds. My mom wanted me to get some foo-foo purebred or some genetically engineered freak dog like a puggle. But I found Sam when Braden and I went to the pound, and it was love at first sight. She was the best dog.”

Jane hesitated. “Was?”

Jesse looked down. “Yeah. She died last year. She was fourteen. I was gonna get another dog. But I can’t replace Sam, ya know?”

“Aw. I know.”

Jane stared at Jesse for a moment, studying him as he busied himself cutting his Kobe rib eye steak. He was nothing like she expected him to be. But what had she expected? A smooth guy with a line for everything? A dysfunctional celebuspawn with issues? An egomaniac who couldn’t stop talking about himself (aka Paolo 2.0)?

But Jesse was none of these things. He had been nothing but a gentleman since the moment he had called her two days ago, asking her out to dinner. He had picked her up in his black Range Rover, and as they drove he played her a mix he had recently made of songs by groups like Death Cab for Cutie and MGMT and Postal Service. He was still getting comfortable in front of the
L.A. Candy
cameras, which had followed them the entire time and were set up now in the far corners of the dining room of Geisha House. Jane loved the restaurant, which was filled with a glowing red light and had a dramatic square-pillared fireplace in the center of the room, rising to the second floor.
From time to time, Jesse typed funny notes on his phone and sent them to her, just to avoid the mikes and make her laugh.

Jesse was definitely a mystery. She couldn’t quite read him. Was his nice-guy act a part of his player personality? Or was he simply a nice guy?

“So what are your parents like?” Jane asked him. “I think I’ve seen most of your mom’s movies. She got an Oscar for Best Actress last year, right?”

As soon as she had spoken these words, she felt dumb.
Way to sound like a fan, Jane. You should ask him for an autograph while you’re at it.
But Jesse didn’t seem fazed at all. He just took another sip of his drink and smiled at her. “Yeah, she makes me sit through them all,” he joked. “She’s pretty great though. I remember she was always working so hard when I was growing up. Both of my parents were constantly on location somewhere.”

“That’s so neat. Did you get to travel a lot?” Jane asked.

“No, I had school, so I normally got left with nannies. Actually, it was pretty cool, being able to run around and do whatever I wanted without parents yelling at me or telling me what to do.”

Jane raised her eyebrows. “
Nannies,
plural? How many nannies did you have?”

“I don’t know. I think I went through like one every six months. I was, you know, what they call a ‘challenge.’” Jesse grinned.

He finished off the last of his drink and signaled to the waiter for another one. “I’m getting you another one too,” he said.

“Oh, I’m good,” Jane protested, but Jesse just shook his head and smiled charmingly at her. “Fine, one more,” she relented, smiling back.

Not that Jane was counting, but this would be his third drink in less than an hour. She was only halfway through her first. The guy could sure hold his liquor. He was drinking straight Jack Daniel’s and wasn’t acting drunk at all.

“So how’d your meeting with Anna Payne go?” Jesse asked her.

“Oh, she had to reschedule. Fiona’s stressed about it, ’cause New Year’s Eve is only a coupla months away, you know?”

“I’m sure you guys’ll make it happen. I’ll be expecting an invite,” Jesse added with a grin.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Once Jesse had paid the check, Dana came up to their table and told them they just needed a moment to reposition cameras outside for their exit. Jesse had been in the process of pulling out Jane’s chair. He stopped and sat back down. “Ooookay. Jane and Jesse’s First Date, Exit from Geisha House, Take Two,” he joked.

Jane grinned. “Yeah, no date in L.A. is complete without awkwardly waiting for cameras to film you getting into a car.”

“Hey, maybe we should pretend to have a fight on the way out. Fights are good for ratings, right?”

“Yeah, but maybe not on the
first
date.”

“Good point. We can save that for our third or fourth date.”

Jane smiled, not knowing what to say. Third or fourth date? Was it possible that he liked her as much as she liked him?

Dana texted Jane, indicating that they were ready. As Jesse escorted Jane outside to his car, she felt sufficiently buzzed from her two martinis and slipped her arm through his, for balance. “You tired?” Jesse asked her.

“Mmm. Long day,” Jane replied. She rested her head against his shoulder.

Jane didn’t notice that there was a photographer standing behind one of the
L.A. Candy
cameramen outside the restaurant. As soon as she and Jesse stepped onto the sidewalk, the photographer jetted in front of the camera guy and started snapping pictures. Jane instinctively shielded her face with her hand. She could barely see through the flashes.

Jesse appeared unaffected as he opened the car door for her, but Jane was freaked out. She could hear Dana yelling at the photographer as Jesse made his way around the car. Jane turned to him as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. This was the first time she had been ambushed by paparazzi. It was actually a little scary.
“Take me home?” she said, trying to shake her jitters.

“Of course.”

Jesse pulled up in front of her apartment building. They hadn’t spoken much on the drive over, and it was still quiet in the car as Jesse put it in park and turned to Jane. It wasn’t one of those bad, awkward silences. It was one of those good, goose-bumpy silences, filled with romantic tension and the big unanswered question: Would there be a good-night kiss? Jane’s heart was racing. She was glad the camera crew hadn’t followed them home.

“I had fun. Cameras and all,” Jesse said softly.

“Me too.”

“So…what are the chances of you letting me take you out again?”

“I’d say they’re looking pretty good.”

“Really?”

Jane laughed. “Yes. Really.”

“Well, how about next Saturday?”

Jane pretended to think about it. “Hmm.
Maybe.
”

Jesse smiled, then put both his hands on her face and leaned over to kiss her. Her heart skipped. God, the guy knew how to kiss. Jane surrendered to the feeling of it, wishing it would last forever.

Trevor leaned forward in his chair as he reviewed the night’s footage.
Perfect,
he thought eagerly. He could not have predicted this pairing, but Jane and Jesse came alive on the screen. He could see the chemistry between them. This kind of romantic drama could make the ratings jump sky-high. They were already number one and with this, they would break records. Now, if only he could keep the relationship going long enough to hook viewers before things turned ugly. He knew Jesse Edwards’s history all too well. Everyone in Hollywood did.

Although perhaps that inevitable ugliness could be managed, tempered somehow.

Mesmerized, he stared at the footage that continued to roll on his screen, of Jesse touching Jane’s arm and whispering something to her (the mikes didn’t catch it) as they left their table. The cameras then zoomed in on Jane’s face. She had that sweet, wonderful, infatuated look
that no amount of directing, editing, or retouching could fabricate. Trevor could already picture the episode in his mind…hear the music he would set in the background as Jesse and Jane gazed at each other (something by Eliott Smith, maybe “Say Yes”)…see the fade to black as the end credits rolled…imagine audiences everywhere sitting at the edges of their seats and wanting more…feeling like having to wait an entire week to see what happened next to their favorite new reality couple would drive them crazy.

This couldn’t have worked out better if he had written it himself.

Scarlett hurried down the hall, her backpack slapping against her side as she tried to tune out the chattering voices of Madison and Gaby. Her phone vibrated in her pocket—
again.
She was 99.9 percent sure that it was Dana—
again.
The producer kept texting her and telling her to please slow down and
talk
to the two girls. Scarlett decided to ignore it. Just ahead, the cute camera guy—she thought his name was Liam—bumped into a student as he tried to walk backward to keep up with Scarlett’s frenetic pace and film at the same time. Scarlett felt a little bad but kept walking as he was readjusting his equipment behind her. He and the rest of them would catch up later. And if they didn’t? Well, they had enough footage.

“Hey, wait up, Scarlett! These Manolos aren’t meant for jogging, ya know?” Madison complained cheerfully.

“I love U.S.C. I’m gonna sign up!” Gaby said. She
peered through an open doorway at a crowded biology lab and waved.

“Who are you waving to?” Madison asked her.

“I dunno. Someone waved at me.” Gaby shrugged.

Scarlett sighed. Why had she agreed to give Madison and Gaby a tour of the campus for the show? Probably for the same reason she had “agreed” to wear a freaking bathing suit in that photo shoot: She didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter. Whose stupid idea of “reality” had this been, anyway? Like Madison was really serious about going to college. Like Madison was really serious about
anything.
Gaby had no interest in college, but had come along “just for fun.” Scarlett glanced impatiently at her watch, wondering how much longer she was going to have to drag these two around.

Madison pulled her phone out of her bag and stared at the screen. “So. Who are the hot professors here?” she asked Scarlett.

Scarlett stopped and gave Madison a withering look. “Seriously?”

“I saw a really cute guy giving a lecture in room one hundred something. I wanna take
his
class,” Gaby said.

Madison looked down the hall at the crew, who hadn’t started filming again.

“Sweetie, I don’t think college is for you,” Madison told Gaby. “You’ve gotta graduate from middle school first.”

Gaby’s eyes widened with hurt.

“Gaby, you’d love my photography class. The professor’s cute—
and
he gives interesting assignments,” Scarlett cut in. Why was she being nice to Gaby? She didn’t even like her. Still, she liked Madison even less. Why did Madison have to be such a bitch to Gaby whenever the cameras weren’t around? And often when Jane wasn’t around, now that she thought about it.

Gaby smiled at Scarlett gratefully. “Really? I
love
photography. When I was little, I wanted to be a famous fashion photographer, like in
Vogue.
”

“That’s funny, because—” Madison began.

“That’s cool, Gaby,” Scarlett interrupted. Seeing that Cute Camera Guy and crew had caught up with them and were filming from an angle behind Madison, Scarlett had an idea. Time to rein in the bleached blond bimbo. “So, Madison? Where did you go to high school?” Asking Madison about her childhood seemed to bring out the ultra-bitchy pretentious side of her.

Madison didn’t disappoint. She tossed her hair over her shoulders. “I went to a private boarding school in Switzerland,” she said huffily.

“Really? Which boarding school?”

“I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. You don’t seem like the boarding school type.”

“Oh, yeah? And just what
is
a boarding school type?”

“Well…not you, sweetie. No offense, but you and
Jane have got ‘public school’ written all over you—” Madison stopped abruptly, noticing the cameras with a worried expression.

Scarlett gave her an icy smile. Too late, bitch. They’ve got you on tape. And it was just the kind of catty remark she could see making the cut. She couldn’t wait until Jane saw this footage. Jane was in for a big surprise when she witnessed Madison being a royal snob. A royal bitch
and
a royal snob. Maybe then, Jane would stop talking about the girl like she was the second coming.

When they reached the end of the hallway they headed outside. Scarlett hoped this would signal the end of her “tour,” but the cameras followed. The early November air was pleasantly cool, in the low sixties. Off in the distance, Scarlett spotted Cammy—dressed in a tank top and super-short shorts—talking to a couple of guys. Uh-oh, better make a detour. After their initial meeting in August (when Cammy had invited her to rush), and right up until
L.A. Candy
started filming on campus, the girl had been ice cold to her. But after that first shoot in Professor Cahill’s class, Cammy had started hounding Scarlett nonstop, inviting her to parties and to the movies and to study circles and everything else under the sun. There were a few others like her too—classmates who had never paid any attention to Scarlett before the show, and who now swarmed around her every time she walked into class and fought to sit next to her. Of course, this was in stark contrast to the bunch who gave her the
evil eye every time the cameras were on-site.

But despite her new (admittedly small) fan club, Scarlett still hadn’t made any real friends at U.S.C.—that is, friends who liked her for her and had no interest in being on TV. For one thing, she was too busy with other stuff, like classes, homework (which took up four to six hours a day), and dealing with Dana’s annoying, OCD schedules. She had also started going to the gym every day—it was a good way to release her pent-up whatever—and rereading all of Gabriel García Márquez’s novels, in the original Spanish. Just for fun.

But lack of time wasn’t the real problem. The truth was that she didn’t want to subject anyone worth being friends with to releases and cameras—i.e., the whole messed-up
L.A. Candy
package.

Scarlett had even slowed down in the hookup department. She’d originally thought she’d enjoy shocking TV viewers with the details of her active sex life. But she’d found that she didn’t enjoy the invasion of her privacy. She didn’t
want
America to see her hookups “as created and produced by Trevor Lord.”

Her phone vibrated:
Bzzzzz!
Frowning, Scarlett peered at the screen. CAN YOU PLZ TALK TO M AND G ABOUT THE SCHOOL? AND CAN YOU SMILE A LITTLE MORE? Dana had written.

Whatever,
Scarlett thought, annoyed. Plastering a bright, fake smile on her face, she first turned to the cameras, then to Madison and Gaby. “Soooo! You wanna go
grab some lattes and maybe check out the library after? You could help me do some research for my paper on the Tokugawa period in Japanese history,” she said in a bright, fake voice.

“Huh?” Madison and Gaby said at the same time.

Scarlett’s phone vibrated again. Obviously she hadn’t gotten it right.

But that was just it. She didn’t
want
to get it right.

This time her smile was real.