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      But Scarlett wasn’t quite so understanding. “Good thing they’re here to tell me how to pose for a picture. I couldn’t have figured it out without them,” she muttered. She glared at a PopTV assistant who was coming toward her with a powder brush; the assistant backed off.

      “Scar!” Jane whispered.

      “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m trying my best.”

      As the photographers continued shouting directions and taking pictures—why was it taking soooo long?—Jane kept her smile in place and resisted the impulse to touch her long, blond, wavy hair, which felt stiff and weird from the insane amount of hair spray the PopTV stylists had subjected it to. Nor was she totally comfortable in her black ruffle dress by a new designer named Mario Nuñez, which accentuated her five-foot-five, sort-of-in-shape figure nicely, but made her feel way older than her nineteen years. Nunez’s publicist had worked it out with Jane’s publicist: a free dress for Jane in exchange for publicity for Nuñez. (Jane could see the magazine caption now: “Jane Roberts rocks a Nuñez strapless at the L.A. Candy premiere!”)

      Before famed producer Trevor Lord chose her to be on his new reality TV show, Jane had no idea that so many “spontaneous” celebrity photos (“Anna Payne stocks up on pumpkin soap at Lush!” “Jared Walsh hand-feeds sushi to Brazilian supermodel Catarina at Geisha House!”) were actually prearranged by publicists. Of course, before L.A. Candy, Jane had been clueless about what really went on in Hollywood. Now that she was a celebrity (although she still had a hard time thinking of herself that way), her life had completely changed. She and Scar were no longer the anonymous girls from Santa Barbara who moved to L.A. seven months ago, Jane to intern with a top event planner, and Scar to be a freshman at USC. Back then, the girls didn’t wear nine-hundred-dollar designer dresses that they didn’t have to pay for, and paparazzi didn’t try to record their every move.

      “Gaby! Let’s get you in the picture, honey!” one of the publicists called out.

      Gaby Garcia, the third L.A. Candy girl, waved to the photographers as she walked up to Jane and Scarlett. “Hey, have you been inside yet? There are soooo many hot guys here!” she gushed.

      “Hey, Gaby,” Jane said. She liked Gaby, who could be a little spacey but was sweet and easy to hang out with. She looked pretty tonight in a pale mocha sequined slip dress.

      Scarlett wrapped an arm around Gaby’s shoulders. The two of them had become fast friends in the last few months, which Jane thought was kind of funny, because they couldn’t be more different. “Hey, stranger. What’s new?”

      “Not much. Oh, yeah, I got highlights!” Gaby patted her light brown updo and peered around. “Where’s Madison? Shouldn’t she be in the picture, too?”

      Madison. Jane pretended to adjust her dress in an attempt to mask her reaction to Gaby’s comment. She couldn’t let the photographers—or anyone else—see her lose her cool. If she and Gaby and Scarlett were going to discuss Madison at all, it was better to do so “backstage” behind a locked bathroom door, not on the red carpet where every word and facial expression was being noted, recorded, scrutinized.

      The fourth girl on the show, Madison Parker, was the last person Jane wanted to see tonight—or ever (although of course she was here, somewhere, so an encounter was inevitable). Three months ago, just before Christmas, Madison secretly leaked photos of Jane hooking up with her then-boyfriend Jesse’s best friend, Braden. When the story broke in Gossip magazine, Jane almost had a breakdown, and Madison pretended to be a good friend and came to her rescue, holding her hand through the entire painful, humiliating ordeal. Madison even let Jane move into her penthouse apartment after Jane and Scar had a big fight.

      After she found out what Madison had done, Jane packed her bags and moved back in with Scar, full of apologies. That was on Valentine’s Day, five weeks ago, and Jane and Madison hadn’t spoken since. Jane had told Trevor in no uncertain terms that she would not film any scenes with Madison ever again. She still couldn’t believe she had fallen for Madison’s act, or that she had chosen a backstabber like Madison over Scar, who had been her best friend since kindergarten.

      Scarlett squeezed Jane’s hand and turned to Gaby. “Madison’s probably getting an emergency Botox treatment,” she said, too low for anyone else to hear. “I guess her mom never told her that being a manipulative, lying bitch can cause wrinkles.”

      “Funny,” Gaby said, giggling awkwardly. She was obviously uncomfortable poking fun at Madison. Gaby and Madison were close, or they used to be, anyway. Jane wasn’t sure where things stood between them these days. Jane wondered if Gaby felt weird being friends with Madison, even though Madison hadn’t done anything to her personally, because Gaby was friends with Jane and Scarlett, too, and maybe she was worried about seeming disloyal to one or the other side?

      Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Dana, one of the PopTV producers, hurrying across the lawn toward them, clipboard in hand. The woman looked super-stressed, as usual. And she was dressed in all black again, except her outfit was more tailored and less faded than her standard attire. She had even put on makeup, which was saying a lot, considering that the most Jane had ever seen on her face were the remains of her morning muffin.

      “Okay, everyone, thanks, but I need to talk to the girls,” Dana said loudly, ushering Jane, Scarlett, and Gaby toward the end of the press line and off the red carpet. “Listen up, ladies. In”—she squinted at her watch—”ten minutes, Alli’s going to take you over to the back terrace so you can get miked for the intro segment kicking off the party. There will be people to touch up your hair and makeup. As soon as we’re done shooting that, we’ll move you over to the statue garden for a segment leading into the first commercial break. And then … let’s see … Jane, I’m going to need you to do another segment, to introduce Aja. Everyone’s lines will be up on the teleprompters, so don’t worry about that.”

      “Why can’t I introduce Aja? She’s, like, my favorite singer ever!” Gaby complained.

      “That’s fine with me,” Jane offered.

      Dana gave Gaby an impatient look. Gaby pouted and mumbled, “Okay, whateverrrrr.”

      “Ten minutes, all right?” Dana reminded them. “Alli will … What, Ramon?” she barked into her headset. “What do you mean Hannah’s got the flu? Well, is she throwing up? We need her to—” Dana hurried away. Hannah Stratton, who worked with Jane at Fiona Chen Events, was on the show from time to time. She and Jane were good friends, on and off camera. Jane hoped she was okay.

      “Sorry about Aja,” Jane apologized to Gaby, who simply shrugged and snatched a glass of champagne off someone’s tray.

      Jane felt bad (especially since she was pretty sure that it was another guest’s partially consumed champagne Gaby had just taken from a busboy, not a waiter). Jane wished that Dana and Trevor wouldn’t treat her as the star of L.A. Candy, since the show was supposed to be about the everyday lives of all four girls, equally. In the beginning, Dana had explained to Jane that viewers seemed to relate to her the most. But why? Okay, so maybe Scar intimidated people by being so beautiful (without even trying) and rocket-scientist smart. And maybe Madison used way too much makeup and hair bleach for the average viewer. What about Gaby, though? Why wasn’t she relatable? She was nice, funny, cute, and had a cool job at a PR firm called Ruby Slipper.

      “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you guys!” Gaby said suddenly. She handed her empty champagne glass to a random party guest, who glared at her, and fished through her black beaded clutch. “Here,” she said, holding out a business card. “This woman came up to me before. She said she’s a publicist, and she wants to talk about repping me.”

      Scarlett took the card from Gaby, and she and Jane studied it. It read, ANNABELLE WEISS, followed by an address on La Cienega Boulevard and some other contact info.

      “She sounds—” Jane began.

      “Sketchy,” Scarlett finished.

      Jane made a face.

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