Sugar and Spice_ An L.A. Candy Novel - Lauren Conrad [27]
“Are you out of your mind?” Madison snapped. “I told you before. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Not my problem. Later, bitch.”
Madison took a deep breath. “Wait. I have another idea.”
“Sorry, not interested.”
“No, listen!” Madison knew she was probably about to make a huge mistake, suggesting this. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t let Sophie go to the media. “You could be on the show with me,” she blurted out. “I could talk to Trevor. He’s the producer, the head guy. You could be my little sister, except we’ll get you a makeover so you don’t look like . . . that. Or like Sophilyn Wardell, either. You can have just enough work done so no one back home will recognize you.”
Sophie crossed her arms over her chest. “Why would I want to be on your stupid TV show with you?” she said.
“Because then you’ll have what I have. You’ll matter! And every guy on the planet will want to date you! And okay, so maybe I’m not a millionaire. Yet. But I will be, someday, if things keep going the way they’re going. You could have that, too!”
Sophie seemed to consider this.
“Well?” Madison said.
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
“Great! Come on, let me buy you another drink.”
“Fine.”
Sophie sat back down and signaled to the bartender, who was across the room wiping down some tables. Madison dug into her purse for some cash, wondering why her hand was shaking. She told herself to take some more deep breaths and chill, already. She had come up with the perfect plan to keep Sophie from spilling her secret to the entire world. Now all she had to do was persuade Sophie to agree; then she would finally—finally—be safe.
So why did she have a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach?
Chapter 10
So Who’s the Guy?
Scarlett studied the lunch menu at the übertrendy new vegetarian restaurant with the unpronounceable name, trying not to make faces at the prices for the entrees. (Twenty-four dollars for something called Green Tea-Infused Tofu?) PopTV was filming her girls’ lunch with Gaby today, and she planned to be on her very best behavior. Well, best-ish, anyway.
“Hey, Scarlett!”
Scarlett glanced up and spotted Gaby weaving her way through the tightly packed outdoor tables. She frowned in confusion. Gaby looked . . . different. Her light brown hair was longer. How had it grown six inches since STK, less than two weeks ago? It was also puffier and streaked with new ash blond highlights that screamed “look at my hair!” Her yellow minidress was trampy, unlike her usual pretty, tasteful attire. And her skin tone was several shades darker; either she’d spent some quality time in the sun recently, or she’d been hitting the self-tanning products in a major way.
And what was going on with her face? Her lips looked fatter, as though she’d had an allergic reaction to something. She was wearing an insane amount of makeup, too—nearly as much as Madison.
Scarlett recalled Gaby saying something recently about hiring a new publicist—Annette? Annabelle?—who wanted to “update” Gaby’s image. Too bad they went for “Hollywood fembot.”
“Sorry I’m late!” Gaby air-kissed Scarlett before Scarlett had a chance to stand up and give her a hug. Huh? When had they gone from hugging to air-kissing? Wasn’t that like going backward, friendship-wise?
Gaby sat down and set her massive gold Chanel bag on her lap. Scarlett did a double take. There was a tiny creature inside the bag. A tiny, ugly creature. “Uh, Gaby? What’s that?”
“What? Oh! That’s Princess Baby, my Chihuahua. I can’t believe you guys have never met!” Gaby scooped up the dog and thrust it at Scarlett. “Go on, Princess Baby, give your auntie Scarlett a big kiss!”
Scarlett turned away. “No, no! No doggie kisses! I don’t want to give Princess Baby my cold!” she improvised. She didn’t mind getting tongue-mauled by Tucker, but Princess Baby wasn’t her type.
“It’s time for her nap, anyway.” Gaby returned Princess Baby to her purse. “Soooo. How are you?”
“Fine. You look, um . . . different. I mean, you look great!” Scarlett reminded herself