Sugar and Spice (5 page)

Chapter 7
Not Just a Friend

“So I got an email from Aja’s assistant this morning, and Aja really likes the idea of having her engagement party at the Venetian,” Jane said. “The question is, how do we use that space? We’re talking five hundred guests.”

Jane glanced at Hannah across the conference table, eager for her response since she was always full of great ideas, especially when it came to big celebrity events. Unfortunately, Madison—whose response Jane had
zero
interest in—opened her mouth instead, saying, “The Venetian? That place is lame. The Palms is way better.”

Jane gritted her teeth and forced herself to turn to Madison. Of course Madison would say this, because the Venetian had been Jane’s suggestion, and the Palms had been Madison’s—
and
because they were on camera.
Trevor and Dana must be loving this,
Jane thought, knowing that one or both of them were out in the hallway, listening in on their headsets. “Thanks for your input, Madison, but Aja definitely wants the Venetian,” she said firmly. “Soooo. What do you guys think?”

“I think we need to have a sit-down with Aja and persuade her to go with the Palms,” Madison persisted. “I’m friends with the events person there and I’m sure he’ll give us a fantastic deal.”

Hannah regarded Jane, her brown eyes full of worry. Jane shared Hannah’s unspoken sentiments—how were they going to keep this meeting from degrading into
The Madison Show
? Because lately, Madison seemed to have perfected the art of hogging the cameras, shamelessly baiting Jane with snide, bitchy comments, and in general focusing any and all attention on Madison Parker. She had been at Fiona Chen Events for only a week, and already she was dominating the shoots there with her provocative remarks, on-camera meltdowns, and, of course, her formfitting, cleavage-baring outfits. Worse, Madison’s reign of terror was not limited to
L.A. Candy.
Jane had no idea how many more times she could stomach seeing Madison on
The View
and other shows, rehashing her teary-eyed, Oscar-worthy rendition of “I thought she was my friend and now she’s blaming me for everyone finding out that she slept with her boyfriend’s best friend.
She’s
the one who did something terrible, not me!” Jane knew that her publicist, Sam, was working hard on a media counterstrategy. Unfortunately, the press—and the public—couldn’t seem to get enough of Madison’s poison.

Madison opened her mouth to say something else—then hesitated when her cell vibrated on the conference table. “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” she mumbled, scooting out of her chair. As she rushed out of the conference room, Jane noticed her reaching down her dress, presumably to turn her microphone off. What was
that
about?

Then Jane’s own cell vibrated. It was a text from Dana:

CAN U AND HANNAH PLZ DISCUSS MADISON’S IDEAS?

Great. This was Dana’s code for
Can you and Hannah please say mean, nasty things about Madison while she’s out of the room?
Not that Jane didn’t want to. But there was no way she was going to play into Dana’s (and Trevor’s and Madison’s) hands on this. She really
was
going to have to talk to Trevor about Madison—soon.

“I was thinking that maybe we should do a Caribbean theme,” Jane said brightly to Hannah. “You know, because Aja grew up in Martinique?”

Hannah nodded enthusiastically. “I love it! Maybe we could do something with—”

There was a knock, and the door opened. A young guy walked in. Jane’s eyes widened. A young, really
cute
guy. “Um, excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Fiona asked me to bring these over,” he said, setting some files on the table.

“Oh, yeah, thanks. Do you . . . I mean, are you new?” Jane asked him. She had never seen him around the office before.

The guy ran a hand through his curly auburn hair and smiled shyly. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Oliver. I just started today, as an intern.”

“Cool. I’m Hannah, and this is Jane,” Hannah spoke up. “How’s it going so far?”

“Great. Except I screwed up Fiona’s coffee order this morning. I have to remember that she likes it half-caf, half-decaf—”

“With a touch of soy milk and a level, not heaping, teaspoon of raw honey,” Hannah finished. She and Oliver laughed.

Jane laughed, too—she’d started out as Fiona’s intern herself, and she’d been there, done that—except that Hannah and Oliver suddenly seemed barely aware of her existence. They were looking at each other and happily sharing what had become
their
private joke, in that electric, intimate way two strangers had when they were . . . well,
connecting.

Hmmm,
Jane thought. This might actually be a
good
thing. As far as Jane knew, Hannah needed a love life. . . . And then Jane remembered that the cameras were still rolling. Was Oliver miked? Had he signed a release agreeing to be filmed? Did he realize that his little flirtation with Hannah would air in front of millions of viewers?

Poor guy, he probably has no idea what he’s in for,
Jane thought.

It was almost six o’clock when Jane found herself stuck on Sunset Boulevard, fighting bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. Braden had texted her earlier and asked if she had time to meet him for a “good-bye drink.” The good-bye part of it had almost made her heart stop (she hadn’t heard from him since they spoke on the phone during the PopTV party last week, and she had no idea what was happening in his life), but then she had read further and seen that he had scored a role on a feature film. He was flying out to Banff in the Canadian Rockies for the shoot tomorrow and wouldn’t be back in L.A. for a couple of months.

Now, heading over to Big Wangs, the dive where she (and Scarlett) had first met Braden last summer, Jane thought about him and the stormy path their friendship had taken since that time. That first time they met, Jane had felt that same immediate connection between her and Braden that she had sensed between Hannah and Oliver—a connection that never went away, even after she found out that he had a sort-of girlfriend, Willow, and even after Jane started dating his best friend. Still, it was no excuse for her to cheat on Jesse with him, and she would never forgive herself for that, not only because of the pain she caused Jesse but because of the insane media frenzy that erupted afterward. Jane had been publicly humiliated by the awful headlines and the pictures, and Braden even stopped speaking to her for a while.

Now, finally, she and Braden were back on track as just friends. (Or whatever they were.) He had been kind to her during her last, really awful weeks with Jesse when Jesse was drinking so much and treating her so badly. He hadn’t tried to take advantage of the situation or the situation afterward, when Jane and Jesse were officially broken up. Jane had been on her own for over a month now, and Braden hadn’t made a move. Not even close. They’d continued to exchange phone calls and emails and texts, but they hadn’t met up.

Did that mean Willow was still in the picture? Or that Braden simply had no interest in Jane “that way”? Why did she even care? She was happy being single; it was soooo much easier than having a guy in her life.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, unpleasant jolt; someone had bumped her car from behind. “What the hell?” she exclaimed, whirling around. She saw a flash of bright light, and then another—and then she realized that a guy in the passenger seat of the car in back of hers, a black SUV, was snapping her picture. He had a professional-looking camera and lens. God, he and the driver were paparazzi!

She turned back to the wheel, prepared to step on the gas (the traffic was starting to clear), when the SUV bumped her car
again.
Feeling a surge of panic, she picked up her cell and speed-dialed Braden’s number.

Braden answered on the first ring. “Hey, I was just about to leave my apartment. Are you—”

“Braden!”

“Jane, what’s wrong?”

“These paparazzi are following me in their car. They keep hitting me from behind to try to make me get out of my car or something, and—”

“Where are you?”

“Sunset. I’m almost at Vine.”

“Okay, here’s what you do. . . .”

Braden told her to drive directly to his apartment, giving her the exact directions. “Once you get to the back of my building, go down into the parking garage,” he finished. “I’ll text you the security code. They can’t follow you in there. And then come up the elevator to my apartment.”

“Okay,” Jane replied shakily.

Hanging up, Jane did as Braden had instructed her, thankful that the gridlock had eased up enough for her to proceed down Sunset. In the rearview mirror, she could see the black SUV following, trying to edge into the lane next to hers so they could photograph her through a side window. She increased her speed, then made a sharp turn onto El Centro without using her signal. The SUV managed to keep up, but barely—now there were several cars between them. Good.

Five minutes later, she reached the back of Braden’s building. She entered the security code, the gate opened, and she drove in. Ten seconds after the gate closed, she heard a car screeching around the corner. She parked quickly between a couple of minivans and waited, craning her neck to see the action on the alley.

The black SUV cruised by slowly and didn’t stop. There were probably several parking garages on that alley, and the two guys would have no clue which one she had driven into, or if she’d simply kept going.

Jane grinned triumphantly.
Ha!

After making sure that her back fender wasn’t damaged (it wasn’t), Jane went up the elevator. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm down. She was fine. Her car was fine. Now she just wanted to put the whole thing behind her so she could enjoy the evening.

Upstairs, Braden opened his door before she could even ring the bell and scooped her up in a fierce hug. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” he demanded.

“I’m fine,” Jane reassured him. “Thanks so much for the escape route. It totally worked.”

“I should probably just have told you to call nine-one-one.”

“I thought about that, too—except, that’s probably what those guys wanted. To get pictures of me talking to the police, all upset.”

“God. Okay, well, come on in. You could probably use a drink.”

Jane followed him inside and realized that she had never been to his new apartment before. The last time she had been in Braden’s home was before Christmas, when he lived in Jesse’s gorgeous, sprawling house on Laurel Canyon, and she would run into him in the mornings sometimes. She was often dressed in one of Jesse’s big white shirts, and Braden usually only had on pajama bottoms. Which had been pretty uncomfortable.

“Nice place,” she remarked. “I love your decor. It’s very understated.” She grinned and bumped him lightly.

Braden laughed. “Yeah. I haven’t gotten around to buying much furniture.” He walked into the small galley-style kitchen and opened the fridge. “Beer? Wine? Soda?”

“I’d love a glass of white wine, if you have it.”

“Coming right up.”

Jane sat down on the blue futon sofa that along with a cluttered brown coffee table and a tall chrome lamp were the only furnishings in the living room. Braden joined her a moment later with two glasses of wine, elbowing away a pile of dog-eared scripts, copies of
Variety
, a half-empty bag of Doritos, and Clue.

“Sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting company,” Braden apologized. “So. How’ve you been?”

“I want to know about you first,” Jane insisted. “Tell me about your movie! I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks. It was totally last-minute. My agent called me a few days ago and said that Addison Preston was shooting an action movie and that one of his actors had dropped out because of a conflict. I read for the part yesterday, and he offered it to me last night. Crazy, right?”

“Last night? Wow, are you even packed?”

“Yeah, sort of. I can finish later tonight. After I destroy you in a game of Monopoly.”

Jane giggled and punched his arm. “You are so on!”

For the next few hours they caught up on each other’s news . . . and drank more wine . . . and ordered in Chinese . . . and played one round of Monopoly (Jane won) and one round of Clue (Braden won) . . . and then moved on to gin rummy. Jane couldn’t remember the last time she and Braden were so relaxed together. There was no drama tonight, no pressure . . . just two friends enjoying a cozy evening in.

During the second round of gin rummy, Braden happened to mention—like it was no big deal—that Willow had a new boyfriend who worked with her at
Alt
magazine. Jane took in this information as she exclaimed “gin!” and fanned out her cards; she tried to act totally casual about it, but inside, she felt her heart flutter. She wished the news didn’t affect her, but it did.

Before Jane knew it, it was almost eleven o’clock. She forced herself to rise to her feet, even though Braden’s futon couch was so comfy that she could just curl up right then and there. “I’d better go. I have to be at work early tomorrow,” she said ruefully.

“Yeah, no worries. I’m sorry I kept you up so late.”

“This was so much fun. I can’t believe you’re going away for two whole months.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll call you from there, okay? I’m pretty sure I’ll have cell reception and internet. If I don’t . . . well, I’ll talk to you in May or whenever.”

“Don’t be dramatic. You’re going to a movie set, not to war,” Jane teased him.

“Yeah, well.”

Braden gazed at her, and she saw something in his hazel-green eyes: something wistful, warm. She tried to turn away from his gaze, pretending to rifle through her purse for her car keys . . . but she found that she couldn’t. He was not just a friend to her—he had never been just a friend to her—and she knew now that she had never been just a friend to him, either. She raised her eyes slowly and met his gaze openly, honestly, letting him know in the heavy, charged silence between them how she felt about him. And then the next thing she knew, he was pulling her toward him, and she was standing on her tiptoes and raising her face to his, and they kissed.
What are you doing?
she asked herself. But she couldn’t stop . . . neither of them could. They sank down onto the couch, still kissing.