“Jane!”
“Over here, Jane!”
Jane whirled around, knocking her suitcase over. There were four in all: three photographers and a fourth guy with a handheld camcorder. They must not have noticed her at first.
“Jane, have you talked to Jesse?”
“How do you feel about the photos being released?”
“Is it true that you leaked your own photos?”
“Jane, why did you cheat on Jesse?”
They were shouting at her, their voices so much louder than the background noise of flight announcements and crying toddlers. Everyone around them turned to stare at her. She heard nearby murmurs—“Who is she?” “Ohmigod, is that the girl from that show?” “Jane! Isn’t she that actress?”—and saw people pulling out their cells and snapping pictures of her. Jane felt frozen in place—trapped.
Then she took a deep breath and remembered what to do. She picked up her suitcase, walked briskly past the shouting photographers and ogling crowd, and headed through the sliding glass doors in the direction of the taxi stand. With her hat over her eyes, her sunglasses in place, and her head held high…-ish.
“Jane, just one smile!”
“Come on, Jane…don’t you like taking pictures with your clothes on?”
They followed her all the way to the taxi stand, seemingly frustrated by the way she kept turning her face away from them. At one point they began holding their cameras only a few feet from her eyes and flashing. She could barely see where she was going.
It wasn’t until she got inside a cab, and they had pulled away from LAX and away from the photographers, that she allowed herself to slump down in her seat—and cry.
“Scar?”
No reply. Jane closed the door behind her and threw her keys on the hall table. The apartment was totally quiet: no TV, no music, no Scar conjugating Spanish verbs out loud. On the counter, Jane noticed an empty to-go cup from 7-Eleven. Ah, so the crew has been here filming, she thought. She was really, really glad she’d missed them. She didn’t need the cameras spontaneously documenting her “homecoming,” especially with her feeling so crappy and her face streaked with tears.
Jane thought about the ambush at the airport and felt a fresh wave of distress—and anger, too. She decided to hide out in her apartment until late, at least midnight, before hitting the road for Santa Barbara. It was the only way she could be sure not to be followed by more of them.
She walked into the kitchen and saw a big note plastered on the marble counter:
Janie, it’s 2 p.m., and I’m off to catch my flight to Aspen. I have my cell, so call me!!!!!!!! Love, Scar, 12/23
Jane realized that she had just missed Scar. In fact, maybe they were at LAX at the same time?
There was another note next to the first one:
To the person from Angelo’s Pet-sitting Service: Penny is in the last bedroom on the right. Plz feed her the fish food that’s next to her bowl.
Scar had added her cell phone number in case of an emergency.
Aw, Jane thought. That was so sweet of Scar to remember Penny. Especially since Jane had taken off for Cabo without remembering to ask Scar to take care of her (yet another thing she felt incredibly guilty about).
The kitchen was really clean: no dirty dishes in the sink, no empty pizza boxes piling up next to the trash can. In general, Scar tended to be much neater and more organized than Jane. (Except in the grooming and fashion departments, although Scar was so naturally stunning that she always got away with not brushing her hair, putting on makeup, or wearing anything other than jeans and a wrinkled tee. Jane, while pretty, required a little more effort.) Although, speaking of the trash can…Jane noticed dozens of Post-it notes and scraps of paper spilling out of it. She fished them out.
They were all messages from Scar to her, dated between five days ago and today:
Janie, call me!
I’m off to the library to return books. Back by 9 a.m.
I have to talk to you about Madison ASAP!
Your mom called.
Call me!
Trevor called like fifty times—can u call him back?
Fiona Chen’s office called.
At the gym (new personal trainer!), back noon. If you’re home wait for me!!!
Call me!
Starbucks, back in an hour.
Trevor called again.
Last exam for the semester, back by dinner.
Fiona Chen’s office called again.
Your dad called.
Filming at some stupid club, back by midnight.
Janie, call me!!!!!
And more of the same.
Jane’s chest tightened. Scar had obviously been worried about her and trying to connect with her at every opportunity. And Jane had completely blown her off. Okay, so she didn’t have cell reception or internet at Madison’s parents’ condo. She should have called or texted Scar from the Cabo airport or LAX or wherever.
She scanned the messages again, pausing on the one about Madison. What did Scar mean, she had to talk to her about Madison ASAP? That seemed so random. Jane knew that Scar thought Madison was a shallow, pretentious bitch who only looked out for herself. No emergency there. Like all of Scarlett’s opinions, she wasn’t shy about voicing it. But as far as Jane could tell, Madison had always been friendly to Scar, inviting her to parties, spa outings, and more. Scar was the one who turned her nose up at stuff like that. She prided herself on being different, apart, an outsider.
But that was Scar. She could sometimes be too intense and critical when it came to people, especially people in Jane’s universe. Jane knew Scar was just looking out for her, but still. Scar had been this way with a couple of Jane’s friends in high school, and with some of her boyfriends, too, including Caleb (Scar was totally against their long-distance relationship when he started college) and Jesse (whom she rarely referred to by his name, preferring “man-whore” and similarly flattering nicknames).
Scar was Jane’s best friend, though. And Jane was way overdue in reaching out to her. Her friendship with Scar wasn’t going so well these days. Like everything else in her life.
Jane pulled her cell out of her bag and quickly typed:
SCAR, IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN OUT OF TOUCH BUT IM BACK AT APT NOW AND ON MY WAY TO SANTA BARBARA. IM OKAY. LUV U, JANE
Jane hit Send and smiled to herself. That was that. She had made first contact after her self-imposed exile. That wasn’t so hard, was it?
Now she just had to do the same thing with her mom and dad and Trevor and Fiona and whoever else had left messages for her. Yeah, piece of cake, she thought.
4 YOU’RE DOING THIS FOR A GOOD REASON
Considering that it was Christmas Eve, the Blue Dolphin was surprisingly crowded. The blinking neon Santa Claus and the Christmas lights and fishing net that decorated the walls were more depressing than festive and did nothing to disguise its cheap vinyl booths, dingy pool tables, and lame jukebox. (Jimmy Buffett? Seriously?) It was the kind of place where a mostly older crowd could drink a lot of cheap beer, play darts, and yell at whatever game happened to be on the minuscule TV set above the bar.
It was also perfect for twenty-year-old Madison Parker’s purposes tonight. These