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SWEET LITTLE LIES: An LA Candy Novel
Lauren Conrad
Copyright
First published in hardback in the USA by HarperCollins Publishers Inc in 2010
First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2010
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd,
1 London Bridge Street,
London, SE1 9GF
Copyright © Lauren Conrad 2010
Lauren Conrad asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication
Source ISBN: 9780007181056
Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2010 ISBN: 9780007367955
Version: 2018-12-03
To my dear friend Sophia. Your friendship and support have meant so much to me. I love you, big sister.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
GOSSIP
1 YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN THERE MIGHT BE A PHOTOGRAPHER AROUND
2 JUST ANOTHER GUY
3 IS THAT THE GIRL FROM THAT SHOW?
4 YOU’RE DOING THIS FOR A GOOD REASON
5 CHRISTMAS EVE WITH THE HARPS
6 CREATIVE EDITING
7 IT’S KINDA COMPLICATED
8 YOU’RE TWO OF MY BEST FRIENDS
9 CRAZY GIRL
10 WHAT I NEED IS THE TRUTH
11 MY IMAGE NEEDS TO BE SAVED NOW?
12 NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS OR SOMETHING
13 YOU’RE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE
14 CAN U EVER 4GIVE ME?
15 LIE UPON LIE
16 FIFTEEN MINUTES
17 HOW TO ACT FOR THE CAMERAS
18 WHO SAYS WE’RE DATING?
19 CD U AND HANNAH PLZ TALK ABOUT SOMETHING????
20 POISON APPLE
21 I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU ANYMORE
22 MOVING DAY
23 REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST
24 BE GOOD
25 SOMEONE LIKE HIM
26 IT WAS GREAT SEEING YOU
27 HANGOVER
28 LIAR
29 TIME BOMB
30 I DIDN’T MEAN ANY OF IT
31 BEST FRIENDS ARE FOREVER
32 JANE WHO?
33 THE TRUTH, THE WHOLE TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH
34 LUCKY SKIRT
35 PLEASE DON’T GO
36 I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’D DO WITHOUT YOU
37 LOVE IS CRAZY
38 BFFC
39 COSMIC SHIFT
40 SEASON TWO
41 A FAN LETTER
42 A BREAK FROM BOYS
GOSSIP
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
BOOKS BY LAUREN CONRAD
About the Publisher
GOSSIP
YOUR #1 SOURCE FOR ALL THE HOLLYWOOD DIRT THAT’S FIT TO SLING
PopTV’s newest hit series is all about good friends living the good life in L.A.—right? Last we checked, friends don’t lie to each other—or stab each other in the well-dressed back. On famed reality TV producer Trevor Lord’s sugarcoated confection, it’s hard to tell who’s really friends and who’s just making nice for more airtime. But one thing’s for sure: This candy isn’t as sweet as it appears to be. In fact, it just might be toxic.
1 YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN THERE MIGHT BE A PHOTOGRAPHER AROUND
Jane Roberts sat up on her white chaise longue and gazed at the horizon between the vast blue ocean and the vast blue sky. She could hear the distant cries of seagulls and the roar of the surf as it curled in, approaching high tide. The breeze, dry and warm for December, stirred her long, wavy blond hair. She reached for the cactus-pear margarita on top of the small hand-painted table next to her and took a long sip.
It was a perfect day on a perfect beach in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. But not for Jane, who felt perfectly awful.
“Another margarita, sweetie?”
Jane glanced over her shoulder and saw her friend Madison Parker walking toward her. Despite her mood, Jane had to smile. Madison was wearing a bronze bikini that barely covered her size-zero figure, along with five-inch wedges and full makeup, including bright coral lipstick. But that was Madison. She never went anywhere, not even to the beach, without spending an hour and a half getting ready.
“I’m good, thanks. Where’s your Gucci purse? And your gold jewelry?” Jane teased.
Madison slid onto the chaise longue next to Jane’s. “Hey, a girl’s gotta look her best, right? You never know when there might be a photographer around. Or a hot guy.” She lowered her massive Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses to stare at a nearby lifeguard with an impressive six-pack. “Like him. Hmm, I call dibs!”
“He’s all yours,” Jane said. After the boy drama she’d been through lately, she really wasn’t interested. She was in Mexico to get away from her disastrous love life and the media circus, not to scope out guys. “Anyway, I thought you said this was a private resort and that photographers couldn’t get in.”
“Yeah, I meant like other guests with cameras,” Madison replied, still staring at the lifeguard. “I’ll see if he has a friend for you. Back in a sec.” She rose to her feet, fluffed her long platinum-blond hair, and struggled through the sand in her heels.
Jane had to laugh. Poor guy has no idea what’s coming.
Jane and Madison had been at Madison’s parents’ condo for the last five days, doing not much besides swimming, tanning, drinking, and checking out guys. Well, Madison had been checking out guys. Jane couldn’t stop thinking about what she had done to her boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend), Jesse, back in L.A., and how she had run away when everything had gone so wrong. A guy was the last thing she needed right now. Unless he had a PhD in psychology, he was of little use.
Jane leaned back and tried to relax. The sun felt so nice, and the sound of the waves in the background should have been calming. But her mind still raced with worries. Her life used to be so normal. A little boring, but wonderfully normal. When she and her best friend, Scarlett Harp, had moved to L.A. from Santa Barbara after high school, it was so Jane could pursue an internship with Fiona Chen, one of the top event planners in the business, and Scarlett could attend USC. They’d hoped to add a little excitement to their lives by meeting new people and experiencing L.A. nightlife. But they’d never planned on meeting Trevor Lord at Les Deux.
Jane still couldn’t believe that out of a roomful of pretty girls Trevor had asked her and Scar to audition for L.A. Candy, the new reality show he was producing for PopTV. And that he’d actually cast them.
As Jane sat there on that beach so far away from everything, she wished she could go back in time to that night in August and say, Thanks, but no, thanks. Although it’s not like she could’ve predicted what was about to happen to her. She and Scar had figured the show would flop but they’d get some fun nights from it. Of course, the show ended up being a hit, and soon after the series premiere in October, Jane found herself unable to walk into a restaurant or down the street without someone recognizing her. Magazines called her “America’s sweetheart.” Blogs called her…well, other things. Her face was everywhere.
At first, her sudden fame was exciting and flattering. Now she was one of the beautiful, glamorous people. She got all the best tables at all the best clubs. Designers sent her clothes to wear, for free. She was invited to a different Hollywood party almost every night, rubbing shoulders with A-list insiders she used to only read about or see on TV.
But all the attention was also confusing. What had she done to deserve it? The L.A. Candy cameras merely filmed her living her life: cooking dinner, doing the laundry, going out with her friends, working as Fiona’s slave-slash-assistant. Everyday stuff. How, exactly, did that make her worthy of celebrity status?
More important, why had it turned her into a tabloid target? That was the reason she was here, attempting to relax on this beach with Madison. Five days ago—was it only five days ago?—Gossip magazine published a story about Jane hooking up with her boyfriend Jesse’s best friend and housemate, Braden. The story didn’t mention that Jane and Jesse had been fighting. No one who read it knew how trashed he’d gotten at Goa or knew about the girl he’d been all over that night. They didn’t know how vulnerable Jane was when Braden, who had been her friend before she met Jesse, came over, and they definitely didn’t know about her long-standing, unspoken crush on him. All they knew was that there were photos of Jane and Braden in little more than their underwear, in her bedroom. A photographer had somehow gotten those shots of them through her window—why, why had she left the curtains open? And what kind of sick person shoots into a girl’s bedroom? Talk about invasion of privacy…and that was coming from someone on a reality show. The photos ended up all over the internet for everyone in the world to see, including Jane’s parents…her little sisters, Lacie and Nora…Trevor…Fiona…and, of course, Jesse.
Jane couldn’t bring herself to face Jesse when the story broke. Actually, she didn’t have the guts to face anyone. So she didn’t. That same day, she let Madison whisk her away to the Parkers’ gorgeous, exclusive condo in Cabo to escape the photographers (who were camped out at Jane’s apartment building) and her phone (which was ringing nonstop). Jane made only one call before departing: to her parents, leaving them a message that she was okay and that she was going away for a few days. Luckily there was no cell reception at the Parkers’ condo. Jane knew there must be hundreds of messages waiting for her: from her parents, Scar, Trevor, Fiona, random reporters, and who knew who else. She also knew there was a very real chance that she would never check her voice mail again.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it wasn’t to block out the sun. Had Braden been trying to contact her since she left L.A.? Jane wondered, not for the first time. Had Jesse? She opened her eyes and seriously considered staying in Mexico forever.
It wasn’t like she had a job to go back to. Jane figured that the boss lady would likely fire her for taking off without a word and for generating headlines like L.A. CANDY STAR NOT SO SWEET (probably not good for the company image). And as for Trevor…would he fire her, too? She had been scheduled to film each of the last five days she had been in Cabo with Madison. The idea of leaving the show was definitely tempting, but Jane knew there would be consequences. Back in September, she had signed a contract with PopTV to do ten episodes, and they still had several episodes to go until the season finale. Would Trevor sue her for breaking the contract? Would he kick Jane and Scarlett out of their amazing apartment, which the show was paying for? Scarlett would be homeless, all because of Jane. Well, maybe not homeless, but they would have to return to their apartment with the gross walls and nonstop traffic noise. She couldn’t go back there. She liked their nice, quiet apartment with the pretty white walls.
Scarlett. On top of everything else, Jane felt really guilty about leaving L.A. without talking to her best friend. She knew Scarlett must be so worried about her. They had been practically inseparable since kindergarten, and Scarlett had always been so protective of Jane. Lately, things had been kind of strained between them. For one thing, Jane liked their L.A. Candy costars—Madison and another girl named Gaby Garcia—and Scar didn’t. Scar often made bitchy remarks about them, on- and off-camera, which was so uncalled-for. Also, Scar didn’t approve of Jane’s relationship (now ex-relationship) with Jesse because of his history with girls…and drinking…and drugs…and girls. But “history” was exactly what it was. Jesse didn’t do stuff like that anymore (except for that little slipup at Goa). He had changed, and he had practically been a perfect boyfriend. It was Jane who had screwed up and cheated on him with Braden.
Jane stirred her mostly melted drink and swallowed the watery remains in one gulp. She wished that she had never heard of Trevor Lord—or L.A. Candy. Yes, the incident with Braden was 100 percent on her. But back when she was just plain old Jane Roberts from Santa Barbara, the press wouldn’t have taken pictures and splashed them all over the place, humiliating her and destroying her relationship with Jesse. It was bad enough that she’d made a mistake—now she had to share her mistakes with the whole country. No amount of free designer clothes would make that okay. She wanted to rewind time to when she and Scar were nobodies, when they had first moved to L.A., full of hopes and dreams for their fabulous new life in a fabulous new city. Instead, she was living a nightmare.
Madison returned, teetering on her heels. “Gay,” she said, shrugging. She sat down and stretched out her long tanned legs. “He invited us to a party, though. Hey, you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Two words. ‘Jane Ho.’”
“What?” Madison said, confused.
“That’s the last headline I read before we left the apartment,” Jane said with a sigh. “I was just thinking that if I’d never signed on to do the show, then none of this would have happened.”
Madison leaned over and placed her hand (decked out in long acrylic fingernails) on Jane’s arm. “Relax. It’s gonna be okay. I promise. You know someone’s gonna do something way sluttier this week, so by the time we get back, your little slip will be old news.”
“I hope so,” Jane said, although she wasn’t sure of this at all. And she was a bit stung by Madison’s implying that she was slutty. Still, Madison had been such a good friend to her these last few days—bringing her to Cabo, taking care of her, ordering her frilly drinks, distracting her with funny stories about her Swiss boarding school, her parents, her crazy aunt Letitia. “You’ve been so sweet. Seriously. But we can’t stay here forever. Christmas is the day after tomorrow, and I’ve gotta go home. My mom and dad’ll be expecting me.”
“No, stay!” Madison begged. “We could have a Cabo Christmas together! We’ll get a little palm tree for the condo and decorate it with pretty lights!”
“You know I would love to stay here, but I can’t,” Jane said. “Besides, your mom and dad’ll be expecting you, too.” Madison didn’t respond, which made Jane wonder what her family life was like. Come to think of it, Madison rarely talked about her family. Jane hoped she hadn’t stuck her foot in her mouth, and decided to change the subject. “Hey, do you know if anyone has internet in this resort? I wanna check out flights to LAX. And I wanna send an email to Scar, to let her know I’m okay and stuff.”
“Nah, this place is completely backward. No cell reception, no internet, nothing. They do that deliberately, so super-rich, super-busy people like my parents can get away from it all or whatever.” Madison hesitated. “Actually, about Scarlett? I’ve kinda been meaning to talk to you about her.”
Jane frowned. “What about?”
“The day the Gossip story came out? When the three of us were in your apartment together? She was acting kinda weird,” Madison said.
“What do you mean, ‘kinda weird’?”
“Haven’t you wondered? You know, like, who tipped off the photographer about you and Braden being together in your apartment that night?” Madison said. “I’m sorry to bring that up, but…well, you know I’m just looking out for you, sweetie.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m just saying…I know she’s your friend. But…” Madison’s voice trailed off. “Oh, I just got it.” She grinned. “Jane Ho, like Jane Doe. Funny.”
Jane turned to gaze out at the water. Was Madison hinting that Scar could have been behind the photos? There was no way. There was no way anyone Jane knew could have been behind them. No one in her universe was that mean or vengeful or manipulative. Much less her very best friend.
As far as Jane was concerned, there was only one logical explanation. That photographer must have been hanging around her apartment building, waiting for a scoop. Or he must have followed Braden there because he knew Braden was a friend of Jane’s. Whatever. Really, she didn’t want to think about it anymore. The whole thing was too horrible.
“I mean, there was that rumor I heard about Jesse shopping those photos around to the tabs,” Madison persisted. “But I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s someone else. So…who knew Braden was at your place that night?”
Jane shrugged. “Well, Scar. And my goldfish, Penny,” she said with a straight face.
“Oh, well, then, it was obviously the fish who tipped off the photographer!” Madison said, giggling. “Maybe Penny has a thing for Jesse and wanted to break you guys up?”
“Penny would never,” Jane replied, thinking how nice it felt to joke around after so many days of wallowing in misery. “Penny prefers tall, dark, and…”
But Jane didn’t finish her sentence. She was distracted by a strange movement behind a palm tree about thirty feet to the right of her. She shifted in her chair, trying to see.
Click, click, click. A middle-aged guy in aviator shades stepped out from behind the tree, angling his super-long telephoto lens—at her.
“Oh my God!” Jane cried out, instinctively shielding her face with her hand. She grabbed her towel and beach bag and jumped to her feet. “Madison, there’s a paparazzo over there.”
“Really?” Madison plastered on a smile and glanced around. “Where?”
“Never mind. God, I hate this. I can’t even get away from them in another country!” Jane said, her voice trembling. She began wrapping the towel around her waist, ready to head back to the condo.
Madison’s smile vanished. She got her stuff and rose to her feet. “I’m sorry. You’re so right,” she said quickly. “Come on, let’s go inside and get away from that jerk. You wanna rent some DVDs from the clubhouse? And later we could go to that party my new lifeguard friend invited us to.”
Jane shook her head. “The photographer’s a sign, Madison. I can’t run away from it anymore. I have to go home,” she declared, heading back inside.
“Whatever you say, Jane Ho,” Madison joked.
Not funny, Jane thought.
2 JUST ANOTHER GUY
Scarlett Harp tried not to swear too much as she stuffed her clothes into a suitcase. Christmas in Aspen? Who celebrated Christmas in Aspen? Well, probably a lot of people, she thought, but she wasn’t the Christmas-in-Aspen type. It had been her parents’ idea to rent some posh condo there and spend the holiday on the slopes. Mr. and Mrs. Harp—actually, Dr. and Dr. Harp (he was a plastic surgeon; she was a shrink) didn’t believe in “sentimental” traditions like decorating a tree or hanging stockings on the mantel. Every year they spent the holidays in a different vacation spot. Last year had been the Bahamas. The year before, Paris. And Hawaii before that.
It was bad enough that Scarlett had to pack for a trip she didn’t want to go on. The worst part was, she wasn’t alone. There were people in her bedroom watching her. Lots of people, in fact. A director, two cameramen, a sound guy, and a producer. And Gaby, her annoying costar, who had been sent over by Trevor to be Scarlett’s stand-in friend and keep her company while she packed. Translation: Jane and Madison were MIA, and the show was desperate for footage, so Trevor and another producer, Dana, were setting up scenes that were totally bogus. So much for L.A. Candy being a reality show. Scarlett would never hang out with Gaby unless she was forced to. Which she currently was.
Gaby was sitting on the bed, trying to make conversation and commenting on Scarlett’s clothes—90 percent of which were jeans and T-shirts.
“Ooooh, that top is so cute!” Gaby pointed to a purple tee that Scar was rumpling into a ball and shoving into her suitcase. “What do you call that color? Eggplant? Violet? Magenta?”
“Purple,” Scarlett grumbled. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be today?”
“Nope, all yours. Hey, what time’s your flight? I could use a mani-pedi, couldn’t you? You wanna see if we can get in somewhere after lunch?”
Gaby glanced over at Dana, no doubt to see if her mani-pedi comment had registered. Scarlett knew that the panic on Dana’s face meant she’d caught it and was thinking that if they wanted to find a salon to film in, they would have to call and set that up now.
Scarlett held up her nails, two of which were broken. “No, I’m good. You go without me.”
“Well, that’s no fun!” Gaby complained.
Scarlett’s cell phone buzzed in her back pocket and she grabbed it quickly, thinking it might be Jane—finally! She had been trying to reach her best friend for the last five days, leaving dozens of frantic messages: Call me! Where are you? I’m so worried about you! Call me! There were other messages, too—along the lines of Get away from that crazy bitch Madison ASAP! Scarlett couldn’t remember the exact wording.
Her face fell when she saw the name on the screen. It was yet another text message from Dana. CD U SLOW DOWN W/ THE PACKING? AND BE NICE 2 GABY PLZ.
Scarlett sighed. Dana was fond of texting Scarlett directions in the middle of a shoot, telling her to do this or say that. Not that Scarlett ever actually did what Dana asked. Scarlett didn’t do nice. She believed in saying whatever was on her mind, and if it came out a little harsh—well, the truth hurts, people.
The thing was, with each episode of L.A. Candy she watched, Scarlett was growing increasingly frustrated by the disconnect between her TV self and her real self. The way Trevor edited the footage made Scarlett seem like a shy, quiet bookworm. Every time she was in a scene with Jane or the other girls, Scarlett ended up with almost no lines—just stuff like yeah and no, thanks and bye, gotta get to class! Sure, she looked good, with her long, wavy black hair, emerald green eyes, and five-foot-nine, gym-toned bod. But she sounded like she had nothing to say. Which was the exact opposite of who she was.
“Okay, guys, we have to break for lunch, and then we’ll head over to LAX,” Dana called out. Hmm, why doesn’t she just text everyone? Scarlett thought as the crew slowly started removing their equipment from her room.
Gaby pouted. “Why is this taking so long? I’m starving.”
“There’re some leftovers in the fridge, I think. Help yourself,” Scarlett offered. The show usually had chips and pretzels as part of their craft service, which was hardly “lunch.”
“’Kay.” Gaby jumped to her feet and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
Scarlett sighed again. This was such bullshit. If only Jane were here, things would be different. They’d be watching lame Christmas specials they had TiVo’d or doing last-minute shopping together at the Grove while fake snow fell around them. Scarlett could spend Christmas at the Robertses’ house instead of jetting off to Aspen; Jane’s family was actually normal (in a good way) and nicer than her own family. Mr. and Mrs. Roberts didn’t sit in total, icy silence at the dinner table, CNN in the background, cutting quietly into their forty-dollar rib-eye steaks. They didn’t spend more time on the phone with their patients than with each other. They didn’t psychoanalyze their children with comments like, So, Scarlett—do you think your choice to go to USC rather than Harvard or Columbia has to do with your unconscious fear of success?
Where was Jane, anyway? The note Jane had left for Scarlett in the apartment five days ago said that Madison had taken her to Mexico to get away, and that she’d be back soon. The problem was, Madison was the person who had orchestrated the whole Gossip scandal in the first place, and Jane had no idea.
Before disappearing with Jane, Madison had whispered in Scarlett’s ear that Jesse Edwards was the one who had leaked those photos to Gossip. So Scarlett had gone to Jesse’s house to deliver a few choice words she had for him, personally. When she got there, Jesse told her that Madison was the guilty one, that Madison had tried to convince him to leak the photos to Gossip, and he’d refused (despite being beyond furious about his girlfriend hooking up with his best friend). And Scarlett had believed him. He was a drunk, ungrateful, publicity-hungry man-whore. But on this one crucial occasion, he had been telling the truth. She was sure of it.
Desperate to track Jane down, Scarlett had asked Gaby if she knew the location of Madison’s parents’ condo…or had any contact info for the Parkers. But Gaby had been clueless, as usual. Although it was surprising that she wasn’t more informed, since she and Madison always seemed to be hanging out. Scarlett had also Googled the Parkers but had turned up nothing. Which was kinda strange, given the fact that they were supposedly zillionaire real-estate developers or whatever. Maybe they preferred to keep a lower profile than their daughter, who would happily attend the opening of an envelope if there were cameras there.
Whatever. As soon as Jane returned, the two of them were going to straighten out this whole stupid mess about Madison and the pictures. And they would work on getting their friendship back on track. So many things (and people) had come between them in the last few months: the show, Madison, Gaby, Jesse. Their lowest moment was probably when Scarlett had to find out about Jane hooking up with Braden from a damned website. She and Jane never used to keep secrets from each other.
Alone in the room, finally—the crew members seemed to have spread out into the hallway—Scarlett walked over to her desk, in search of her passport. She would need it if she ended up having to go to Mexico herself and drag Jane home. As she was rifling through the topmost drawer, she heard a voice behind her.
“Hey, you doing okay?”
Scarlett turned around. It was Liam, one of the cameramen. Well, not just one of the cameramen. Scarlett had had a secret crush on him for the last few weeks (speaking of secrets). It was secret because, according to the PopTV rules, the “talent” wasn’t allowed to get involved with the crew (not that a crush was the same as getting involved, but the former could always lead to the latter). It was a secret, too, because Scarlett didn’t really have crushes. She had a long and perfectly happy history of hooking up with guys once, maybe twice, and then never seeing them again. It had always worked for her. It was certainly better than relationships, like Jane’s disasters with Jesse and her high school boyfriend, Caleb Hunt, who had (in Scarlett’s humble opinion) strung her along long-distance when he started college and then broken up with her with some very original excuse like “I love you, but you deserve better.” (Scarlett’s theory was that Caleb had been cheating on Jane at Yale, but that was all it was—a theory. She’d never found any proof.)
Liam, her noncrush, was standing there watching her with a friendly, concerned expression. Wow, his eyes were so blue. The same shade of blue as the bandanna that held back his long, light brown wavy hair, and the same color as the soft, faded tee that accentuated his slender but well-sculpted torso. Scarlett had tried to ignore him all morning during filming. But now, alone with him in her bedroom, she found it was not so easy.
“Hey,” Scarlett said, turning back to her desk. “I’m great, thanks. I’ll be even better when this shoot’s over.”
“No, I meant because…Jane. I’m sure you’re worried about her.”
Scarlett hesitated. Liam was the only person on the crew who had been thoughtful enough to realize this. And she hardly knew him. In fact, they had barely said more than “hi” to each other since he joined the show in September. “Um, well, yeah.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. And this whole stupid media circus—it’ll blow over as soon as the next national emergency happens, like some It Girl gaining five pounds or Leda Phillips wearing something ugly to the Wuthering Heights premiere.”
Scarlett cracked a smile. He was funny…and nice…and cute. Great. “They remade Wuthering Heights?” she said lightly. “Why?”
“Dunno. Leda Phillips is Catherine, and Gus O’Dell is Heathcliff. So lame compared to Merle Oberon and Laurence Olivier, right? And even lamer compared to Emily Brontë’s novel.”
“Charlotte Brontë,” Scarlett corrected him.
“No, Emily. Wanna bet?” Liam held out his hand, grinning.
Scarlett frowned. Then she picked up her BlackBerry (courtesy of PopTV, so they could always reach her…gag) and looked up Wuthering Heights on the internet. Hmm. Emily Brontë. Damn!
So Liam was funny, nice, cute, and knew his Brontë sisters. It was a dangerous—and irresistible—combination, especially for a voracious reader like her. (She plowed through novels in their original Spanish or French or Italian, just for fun.) Actually, she had seen Liam reading some of her favorite books during breaks: One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Marquez one time, and Middlemarch by George Eliot another. It was one of the reasons she’d noticed him.
Darmowy fragment się skończył.