“Yes!” squealed Kate. “You were the handsome prince!”
“Guilty as charged,” Luke said, ducking his head modestly.
“Well, you were a very convincing prince,” she said. “I’m sure all the princesses were in love with you.”
“Kate Hayes! There you are!”
Kate looked over to see Carmen standing in the doorway to the patio, smiling tipsily at her. “I’ve been looking at you for forever,” Carm said. “I mean, looking for you. I thought you, like, got locked in a bathroom stall or something.” Carmen’s eyes flicked to Luke, who was leaning against a railing, looking relaxed and happy. “Um, I was going to go home. But you look like you’re having fun! So you should stay!”
Kate opened her mouth. She was having fun talking to Luke, it was true, but she was worried that she was reaching her limits of witty banter. What if they ran out of things to say to each other? Would Luke say good night and leave her standing alone on the patio? “No, I should—”
“Oh, stay!” Carmen cried enthusiastically. “Luke can take you home, can’t you?” She glanced over at her friend.
“Of course,” said Luke. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Great! ’Night, you two!” Carmen said, looking pleased with herself. She blew them both kisses and vanished.
Now what? wondered Kate.
Luke grinned at her. “I guess you’re stuck with me,” he said.
Stuck with Doctor Rose, she thought. Every girl should be so lucky.
Madison watched as her roommate poured a stream of disgusting, sludgy juice into a tall cocktail glass. Gaby had recently started some new juice cleanse that was originally prescribed as a therapy for people diagnosed with cancer. She’d heard it helped reduce bloating, though, and apparently she was on board for anything that promised to help her drop a few pounds.
There was a little left in the blender. “Want some?” Gaby asked, holding it up.
“No thanks,” Madison said. “It looks like raw sewage.”
Gaby frowned as she came over to join Madison in the living room. “It has kelp in it.” She put her feet—in big fuzzy bunny slippers—up on the coffee table. “And spirulina.”
“Still a pass,” Madison said. She leaned back against the custom-made silk cushions. The truth was, she was feeling out of sorts. She’d been blindsided by Sophie’s appearance at the club the other night, and she wasn’t happy about it. She knew that she’d have to grin and bear it, since it was obviously all part of Trevor’s plan. And even she knew her story line wasn’t exactly scintillating so far. Trevor had filmed her going to some events, taking a day trip to Vegas to appear at a Wet Republic pool party, and having a meeting with the woman who runs the Madelyn Wardell Foundation for Girls (her charity, which was still good for a photo op every now and then, and a tax write-off). Not exactly ratings bait. But Sophie was just as concerned with camera time as Madison was, if not more, which meant they were going to be elbowing each other out of the frame, metaphorically if not literally, for the foreseeable future. Maybe Madison could get a cover story out of the return of Poor Little Sophia Parker—“I just want the best for my little sister!” After all, Madison was perfectly capable of playing nice. And if Sophie wanted to play dirty, Madison was armed with plenty of stories about what a delinquent she was when they were growing up, and how Madison always came to the rescue.
Trevor had tried to fan the flames of Madison’s rivalry with Carmen, whom Madison admittedly thought was a no-talent silver-spooner. But if Trevor thought she was dumb enough to make an enemy of Carmen Curtis on national television, then he seriously underestimated her. The first move would have to be Carmen’s, and that bitch wasn’t budging.
“What time is it?” Gaby asked, sipping meditatively at her sewage juice.
Madison glanced at her phone. “Almost ten.”
“Oh, I’ve got to get to bed,” Gaby said. “Tomorrow’s my first on-camera interview for Buzz!”
“Who are you interviewing?”
“Lacey Hopkins,” Gaby said excitedly. “She just got out of jail.”
“What for this time?” Madison asked. The L.A. County Jail seemed to have a revolving door policy for Lacey Hopkins, a once promising young actress who’d gotten on the path to train wreck and was staying the course.
“I forget. But she was only in there for two days, even though it was supposed to be like twenty. I’m supposed to ask her what she ate and how she slept and if she made any friends and stuff.”
“I’m sure she’s besties with all those people by now,” Madison remarked. “Well, good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” Gaby said, padding down the hall to her bedroom. “See you in the morning.”
Madison got up and went to stand by the window. Outside she could see the traffic lights on the street far below changing from green to yellow to red. She reflected briefly on Lacey Hopkins, whose life had seemingly spiraled out of control. Lacey was weak, Madison thought. But she wasn’t. No, Madison Parker wasn’t the type to give one ounce of control to anyone, was she? And with that thought in mind, she texted Laurel.
There’s going to be a change in schedule. . . .
Madison slipped into her seat at Barney Greengrass and signaled the waiter to bring her some sparkling water. She was careful to keep her chair in the right position, which had been marked with a piece of neon gaffer tape on the floor; this would ensure the cameras had the perfect angle of her. Madison didn’t have a bad side, of course, but she did have a favorite one, and she made sure the camera guys knew it.
She was early, and she took the time to check her makeup, even though the cameras were rolling. She knew the footage would end up on the editing room floor, since solitary primping was not exactly the drama Trevor craved. She also quickly tweeted what lipstick color she was wearing. She’d started that habit a few months ago, after she did it on a whim one morning and then got retweeted by a bunch of beauty blogs. Her followers went up a lot that day. So now she made sure to give her fans all sorts of info about her look du jour.
Madison wondered, as she slicked another coat of gloss on her lips, how late Sophie would be. (She still couldn’t think of her as Sophia, although she usually remembered to call her that on-camera.) She’d been chronically tardy as a child: to school, to detention, to dinner, whatever. But maybe rehab had worked some miracle and taught her how to pay attention to a watch, Madison thought. Maybe there was some program about the Twelve Steps of Not Being a Rude Bitch.
She smiled to herself. If Sophie was bitchy to her, maybe Madison would use that line on her. See if she thought it was as funny as Madison did. She used to have a sense of humor, that kid, before she got so bitter about being left behind in Armpit Falls. No, she reminded herself. Always take the high road . . . at least while others are watching.
And who knew what sort of mood Sophie would be in today, or what her current game plan would be; besides Sophie’s appearance at Whisper, it had been six months since they’d seen each other. Madison had gotten a few random emails from Sophie, where she talked about embracing her inner sister spirit or something like that, but she hadn’t replied. Madison was going to try to play the benevolent big sister. She was going to express concern, family loyalty, blah, blah, blah.
She glanced up, hoping to catch the waiter’s eye again. But the restaurant was packed, filled with super-agents having lunch meetings and Beverly Hills housewives in too-sheer shirts picking at frisée salads, and the waiter didn’t notice Madison at all. She was all set to