Part 10 (1/2)

Trevor opened it to a clean page and wrote: S & N. (Same episode as La Dolce Vita date.) Underneath, he wrote: (1) C & N came over to J & S's apt. last Wednesday for an intimate dinner party. Imply there is something between S & N. Need quote from J or S re ”double date.” (2) Do S & N have a history? Maybe dated briefly in high school? Shoot a scene with J & S to discuss. (3) Scene with S & N. Gym?

Of course, Trevor had no idea whether Scarlett and Naveen had any history. Regardless, he knew it would be difficult to persuade Scarlett to film alone with Naveen. He would have to sell it to her as production needing a scene of two people talking about Jane and Caleb-and who knew them better than their best friends? And if all else failed . . . well, the ”accidental” run-in always worked.

Someone knocked on his door. ”Trevor?”

He closed his notebook and tucked it away in a drawer. ”Yes?”

Madison walked in, looking less put together than usual in a pair of faded jeans, a pink hoodie, and minimal makeup. Trevor wondered whether she was feeling okay; maybe it was just another late night of partying? ”Good morning! You're right on time,” he greeted her, standing up.

”Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice. I . . . wanted to introduce you to somebody.”

Trevor raised his eyebrows. ”Oh? I thought it was just you and me today.”

”Sorry. I know. It's just that . . . well, it's kinda important.”

Madison stepped aside, and a young woman walked in. No, not just a young woman . . . one of the most stunning young women Trevor had ever seen. And that was saying a lot, considering his line of business.

Trevor studied her, scrutinizing every detail of her appearance, not as a guy checking out a girl (although no one would blame him for doing so) but as a producer checking out potential talent. She oozed sensuality, everything from her all-black outfit (leather skinnies, suede platform ankle boots, and a sheer, oversize T-s.h.i.+rt that showed off her slender yet voluptuous figure) to her features (big, brown eyes darkly rimmed with smoky eyeliner, full, lush, glossy lips, high cheekbones, and a sleek, shoulder-length platinum bob).

Madison spoke up. ”Trevor, this is my little sister, Sophia.”

”Your . . . sister?” Trevor did a double take. Hmm, okay, he could see a slight resemblance. Maybe. ”Nice to meet you, Sophia,” he said, extending his hand.

Sophia shook his hand, gazing at him with an expression that was at once seductive and contemptuous. How old was she? Seventeen, eighteen? She was too young to have adopted-and perfected-such a look. ”Hey,” she said in a low, throaty voice.

”Sophia, this is the guy I was telling you about. He's the producer of my show,” Madison said.

My show? Trevor suppressed a smile. ”Are you in town for a visit, Sophia?” he asked, indicating for the two girls to sit down.

”I was. But now I'm thinking of moving here, you know, permanently. L.A.'s pretty cool,” Sophie replied, casting a quick sideways glance at Madison.

Madison nodded. ”Yeah, she's staying with me for a while, until she finds her own place. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Trevor. Do you think it would be okay if she lived with me? I mean, could she be on the show, or . . .” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Trevor leaned back in his chair and regarded Madison, then Sophia, all the while keeping his face neutral. This was a totally unexpected surprise-Madison wanting to add her sister to the show, a sister he never knew existed, a sister whose looks were sure to boost ratings (at least with the eighteen to thirty-five male viewers.h.i.+p). It would also be helpful to have someone for Madison to recap scenes with other than Gaby.

But why now? Why hadn't Madison brought Sophia in to meet him before or at least mentioned the fact that she had a sister? Come to think of it, he didn't know a lot about her family or her background.

”Well, what do you think, Trevor?” Madison sounded anxious, on edge. What was up with her today?

”I think it's a great idea,” Trevor said finally, and he could actually see Madison's entire body grow slack with relief. Had she seriously been worried that he wouldn't let Sophia be on the show? Sophia, on the other hand, looked less relieved than smug. Her mouth curled up in a scornful half grin as she sat back in her chair, throwing her shoulders back and displaying her a.s.sets more prominently. The girl was intriguing.

”Isn't this awesome, Sophia?” Madison said, turning to her sister. ”We're gonna be on TV together!” Her voice cracked with tension.

”Yeah, awesome,” Sophia replied, picking at her manicure. ”Hey, Trev? How much am I gonna get paid? I'm a.s.suming it's a lot, cuz when I used to do modeling they paid me, like, ten thousand dollars a day.”

Madison shot Sophia a furious look. Sophia smirked at her. Hmm, more intriguing by the minute. Trevor wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure that Sophia had never modeled: She was a little too short, and a little too well-endowed, and besides, wouldn't he have heard of her or seen her somewhere if she commanded that kind of daily rate? So Sophia was a liar on top of everything else. And her dynamic with Madison was fascinating, too. Maybe there was a Season 2 story line there?

”Have you ever been on TV before, Sophia?” Trevor asked her.

Sophia shrugged, which Trevor took to mean no.

”Well, it's not a big deal. It's reality, so you just have to be yourself.”

Sophia began playing with her bottom lip-was that a nervous habit, or a gesture she used to get a guy's attention?-then smirked at Madison again. ”Be myself. Yeah, that's what Madison does. I'm sure I can do it, too.”

Madison looked away.

Definitely intriguing, Trevor thought.

Chapter 16.

Or Maybe You're Just Being Delusional, as Usual

”And . . . that is a wrap! You are tres, tres belle, ma cherie! I could take pictures of you forever!”

Scarlett smiled politely at the Maxim photographer, an overly energetic French guy named Maurice, as she rose up from the round, silk-comforter-covered bed. The view out the window of their hotel suite was stunning, although Scarlett was so exhausted from the nearly day-long shoot that she could barely appreciate it.

One of the nameless wardrobe a.s.sistants handed Scarlett a terry-cloth robe, which she slipped on over her ”outfit”: black lace La Perla lingerie and nude lace-up stilettos. Actually, this was one of many outfits she'd worn over the course of the shoot. First, they had shot her by the hotel pool in various bikinis (the stylist had let her pick her favorites from a rack of over fifty, all noticeably lacking in fabric on the back side) and a shocking amount of body oil. The second shot had taken place in one of the hotel's lounges, with Scarlett sitting at the bar . . . standing behind the bar making drinks . . . then actually stretched out on the bar. (She had insisted that they clean it, twice. She had been to enough bars to know that they weren't the most sanitary of places.) Their last location had been the suite, rented for the day by Maxim. Scarlett had overheard her hairstylist saying to one of the a.s.sistants that the five-thousand-a-night room was often occupied by newly single male celebs needing a temporary residence. The fact that it was just upstairs from a club that was frequented by hot girls who liked male celebs, single or not, was a bonus. The hairstylist had added that one of her clients had moved in during a nasty divorce and liked it so much he stayed for nearly a year. (Scarlett hoped it was at a discount.) When they first got up to the suite, the Maxim art director had explained to Scarlett that they wanted two shots there: one on the bed and one in the gla.s.s shower with the door all steamed up. Bed? Gla.s.s shower?

Scarlett had immediately turned to the PopTV publicist, Melissa, who had not said anything to her before about beds or showers; in fact, when Melissa originally told Scarlett about the Maxim gig, she said something about a ”cla.s.sy shoot” that showed off Scarlett's ”natural beauty,” and how it was all a ”great opportunity” to get Scarlett ”out there.”

Okay, so maybe Scarlett had promised to have a better att.i.tude about PopTV and L.A. Candy. But she wasn't an idiot, and she wished everyone would stop treating her like one. There was nothing ”cla.s.sy” about posing on a bed or in the shower. (The shower photo, ”the most important one of the day” according to the Maxim art director, was going to stretch across the first two pages of the article with HOT CANDY or some similar t.i.tle imposed on the steamed-up gla.s.s.) And there was nothing ”natural” about two inches of padding in one's bra cups. Obviously, PopTV had wanted the August cover for Scarlett because it was going to increase their show's male viewers.h.i.+p, and most guys weren't too interested in cla.s.sy or natural.

Scarlett had eventually agreed to the bed shot but not the shower shot. Aside from Liam and the rubber ducky next to her tub, no one was gonna see her like that, soaping up. Melissa, Maurice, the Maxim art director, the stylist, and a few others from the magazine on set gathered around to discuss what to do. Thirty minutes, four phone calls, and one bagel (s.n.a.t.c.hed from Scarlett's hand by Melissa: ”Eat after the shoot”) later, the shower shot was killed.

And now the bed shot was done. Finally. Scarlett said a hasty good-bye to everyone, thanked Maurice, and went to change. She was cooking dinner for Liam tonight, and she couldn't wait. Not the cooking-dinner part-her culinary skills had not magically improved since she and Jane had Caleb and Naveen over last week-but the Liam part. She hadn't seen him in days, due to their busy schedules, and she missed him big-time.

Unfortunately, she was also long overdue to have a conversation with him about . . . well, recent events. She wasn't looking forward to that part of the evening.

On her way out of the hotel, she saw a familiar figure sitting in the lobby, scrolling through her phone. A familiar, unwelcome figure. Should she try to sneak by and avoid a confrontation, or . . .

”Scarlett? What are you doing here?”

Scarlett sighed. No escape. ”Hey, Madison. So nice to see you, too. I could ask you the same thing.”

”I have a meeting. Maxim is doing a shoot here today, and it was the only time I had in my schedule. I'm talking to one of the editors about doing the August cover,” Madison said smugly.

”Oh, really? That's funny, because I just finished the shoot . . . for the August cover.”

Madison's eyes blazed. ”What? What are you talking about? The girl from the PopTV press department definitely said August.”

”Maybe she got it wrong,” Scarlett suggested. Or maybe you're just being delusional, as usual, she thought.