Still . . . why did she care what he thought of her?

"She'll be here at six sharp, right, Jane?" Trevor asked.

"Um, yes. Six sharp. Dana arranged that," Jane said. She had to stop it with the psychoa.n.a.lysis and focus on the party.

Trevor gave Jane a few more instructions, then said good-bye to her and D and took off. "Your boss is one good-looking man," D remarked.

Jane laughed. "D, he's, like, forty."

Jane surveyed the room to see what other area needed setting up. She noticed a small brown notebook lying on the floor nearby. She leaned over and picked it up. "This isn't yours, is it?"

D took the notebook from her and turned it over in his hand. "I wish! It's a Smythson, crocodile."

Jane's cell buzzed. She glanced at the screen and saw that it was Hannah. "D, I have to get this. See if you can figure out who it belongs to."

"No problem, sweetie."

Jane spoke briefly to Hannah, who was at OfficeMax and had a question about the poster. When she hung up, she saw that D was poring over the notebook with an intense expression. "D! I didn't tell you to snoop. I meant, look for a name or something," she teased him.

"Jane?" D looked up. "I thought your restaurant opening wasn't until next Tuesday."

Jane frowned. "It's not. Why?"

"Then why does Trevor have notes about the party from start to finish, like it's already happened?"

"Wait. That's Trevor's notebook?"

"Yep. He must have dropped it. Check this out." D slid the notebook across the table and stabbed his finger at an open page.

Jane stared at the entry, which was in Trevor's familiar, nearly illegible handwriting. It wasn't easy to read, but as far as Jane could tell, it said: SIRLOIN OPENING.

J arrives late, looks fl.u.s.tered (2030 min late).

F's reaction = perturbed.

H already there (push her call time 30 min earlier so she's on time).

J & H discuss expectations for night while doing a task (gift bags?).

Line from J: "What could go wrong?"

M enters through side door. (Make sure to have 1 camera on J.) J won't be expecting M b/c she's not working that night. (Earlier have M say she's going to be "out of town.") J upset that M is there.

F asks J to seat M.

Possible beat later: Chef offers girls a sample of special hors d'oeuvres (oysters, scallops?). Jane refuses (doesn't eat sh.e.l.lfish). Chef's reaction = insulted.

Jane gasped. WTF?

D was shaking his head. "Jane, this is just creepy. It's like you're his little puppet. He knows what you're going to do before you do."

Jane was so shocked that she could barely speak. "This . . . is . . . sick," she finally managed.

"Yeah. I mean, we all know reality TV isn't one hundred percent real, but this is crazy."

Jane began leafing through pages, growing increasingly disgusted. "OhmiG.o.d! He's got my 'scenes' for the next three weeks all figured out. A week from Monday, I'm apparently having lunch at the Sunset Marquis with Scar, and we're apparently going to run into Madison's sister."

"Seriously?"

Jane slapped the notebook shut. She couldn't take any more of this. She picked up her cell and scrolled through her address book.

"Honey, what are you doing?" D asked her.

"Calling him. He can't treat me like this. I'm a human being!"

"No, no, no!" D s.n.a.t.c.hed her phone away from her and tucked it into the inside pocket of his black velvet blazer. "Sweetie, you have to learn to fight fire with fire. I know you're upset, but Trevor will just talk his way out of it, and nothing's gonna change."

"But-"

"Hush! You know I'm right."

Jane fumed. D was right. But she couldn't just sit back and do nothing, could she?

D squeezed her hand. "The good news is . . . do you understand what you have here? You have the other team's playbook."

"Huh?"

"You know exactly what Trevor has in mind for you for the next three weeks. You can be a step ahead of him the whole way. Why not use that to your advantage?"

Jane nodded slowly. D was on to something. "Yes! You're brilliant!" she said, hugging him.

"Yeah, and you thought I was just a pretty face. Come on, girl. We've got some reading to do."

Chapter 22.

Fame and Fortune

"I'm obsessed with this," Sophie said, punching the keys on her new BlackBerry. "It's way better than my other phone. Or surfing the Web on Mom's piece-of-c.r.a.p PC. It was super-sweet of Trev to give it to me. I think he really likes me, don't you?"

"Don't get too excited. We all got one. For the show," Madison explained. She looked around, wondering where in the h.e.l.l the waitress was. She and Sophie were sitting at an outdoor cafe, waiting for the PopTV crew to show up. According to Dana's earlier email, they were going to shoot a quick scene of the two sisters discussing tonight's (yawn) surprise party for Scarlett.

"Check out this picture of me. Isn't it cool?" Sophie held up the screen for Madison.

Madison glanced at it. It was the same red-carpet shot from the video-game launch that had popped up all over the internet, with captions like: L.A. CANDY'S NEWEST HOTTIE! and SMOKIN' SOPHIA! She fake-smiled, trying to mask her annoyance. "Yeah, it's kind of a big deal that you're my sister."

Sophie smirked. "Oh, is that why the photographers were all over me at the party?"

Madison rolled her eyes. "Look, everything's going really well. Let's just focus on the plan, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Maddy?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"G.o.d, you are such a b.i.t.c.h today! What's the matter, did Derek stand you up again?"

"So what can I get you girls?"

The waitress had suddenly materialized at their table, pad in hand, her curious gaze bouncing between Madison and Sophie. Hopefully she hadn't overheard their conversation. "An iced soy latte, no sweetener, and make sure they actually use soy milk this time," Madison snapped.

"Got it. And for you?"

"I'll have an extra-large mocha ice-cream milk shake with whipped cream. And one of those really big chocolate-chip cookies," Sophie said, closing her menu.

"What are you, nine years old?" Madison said when the waitress had left.

"You're just mad cuz I can eat that stuff without getting fat."

Madison started to respond, then clamped her mouth shut. She wasn't going to let Sophie keep baiting her like this. "Soooo. Are you looking forward to the party?" she said in a faux-friendly voice.

"Yeah, I guess. Why are we going, though? You and that Scarlett girl hate each other, right? Or are you just pretending to hate each other for the cameras?"

"Uh, we're definitely not pretending. You and I are going because Trevor wants us there. Jane didn't invite us, so it's gonna be a big surprise. If anybody asks, we're supposed to say that Gaby invited us."

"Did she invite us?"

"Who knows? A PopTV a.s.sistant was handling the Evites, so Trevor probably just added our names or whatever. It doesn't matter. The point is, he wants a scene tonight when we walk into Coco de Ville, and everyone's gonna be like, 'Oh, no, what are they doing here?'"

"Awesome!"

Madison shrugged. "Yeah, maybe . . . if you like crashing parties where no one wants you there."

"But we're not crashing if Trev asked us to come. He's the boss," Sophie pointed out.

Madison said nothing as she watched Sophie peering around the cafe, adjusting her new Gucci sungla.s.ses for what seemed like the hundredth time (the girl needed to take it easy with the "celebrity gestures") and pretending not to notice the half-dozen guys ogling her. She told herself that everything was going according to "the plan"; she had promised Sophie fame, wealth, and boyfriends in exchange for her silence, and it was already starting to happen. Sophie had been a huge hit at Playground. She'd had a ton of guys around her the entire time, and the reporters and photographers couldn't seem to get enough of her. Trevor was already talking about "maximizing Sophia's airtime."

So why did Madison feel awful? Like she'd been replaced?

She had been racking her brain trying to come up with something, anything, so she could regain the upper hand with Sophie. Being devious and manipulative were two of her finest qualities-normally. But the situation with Sophie was not normal, and the stress had taken a toll on Madison's creativity.

Madison Parker didn't do helpless. Yet that was exactly how she felt at this moment. G.o.d, how pathetic was that?

The waitress came by and set their order on the table. Sophie dug immediately into her disgusting shake and cookie. It really was unfair. How could she live on a diet of junk food and hard liquor and still look like that? Whereas Madison practically had to subsist on bottled water and carrot sticks-and spend hours a day at the gym-to maintain her size-0 body.

Sophie swiped her hand across her chocolate-stained lips. "Soooo. What's Jane's story, anyway? You guys used to be best friends, right?" she mumbled.

"That girl needs therapy. Sophie, don't talk with your mouth full."

"Who's that guy she dated? Justin?"

"Jesse. Yeah, she really screwed it up with him. I mean, he's super-cute and rich. He's the son of two of the most famous actors in Hollywood, and he's a total paparazzi magnet. If he'd been my boyfriend, I would have done it right. You don't fall in love with a guy like that. You think with your head, not with your heart. You date him, get the press, then end it, preferably with a scandal. And you move on," Madison said.

"Yeah, makes sense," Sophie said, nodding. She seemed to be considering something. "What about Gaby? She's your friend, right?" she asked.

"Gaby's okay. She's seems to be in major makeover mode. It's probably because she got a publicist and thinks she's super-famous now."

"What's a publicist?"

"Someone who gets you into magazines and stuff."

Sophie frowned. "But . . . my picture's all over the internet. And I don't have a publicist."

"Yeah, well, a publicist can do a lot more of that."

"Do you have a publicist?"

"Not at the moment."

"Hmm, maybe I should get one, too." Sophie picked up her BlackBerry and punched some keys. "So do you just Google 'publicist,' or-"

"Sophie, it wouldn't be a good idea for you to get a publicist," Madison cut in.

"Why not?"

"It just wouldn't."

Sophie c.o.c.ked her head, her eyes inscrutable behind the dark gla.s.ses. Madison had the sudden, sinking feeling that she had just misplayed her hand. Telling Sophie not to do something almost always had the opposite effect. Like that time when they were kids and Madison told Sophie she could play with any of her dolls except for her special ballerina Barbie (and Madison never saw that Barbie again) . . . Anyway, Sophie was likely to go out and get herself a publicist now, which would not only triple the obnoxious amount of press coverage she was already getting (for being a new face on the show? BFD), but might increase both their risks of exposure, especially since Sophie seemed to have a very, very hard time keeping her d.a.m.ned mouth shut.

Madison glanced impatiently at her watch. Where was the PopTV van, anyway? She had to get home and get ready for the party. She really wasn't looking forward to the night ahead, but there was no escaping it . . . and besides, if she was going to play the bad-girl-slash-social-pariah (again), she might as well do it wearing her hot D&G strapless and her new black satin Loubs.

Just then, a well-dressed young guy approached their table. Madison sat up a little straighter. She knew the drill; she turned down men as a hobby.

But his eyes weren't on her . . . they were on Sophie. And Sophie was eating it up, smiling coyly and playing with her hair. Madison slid down in her chair and pretended to check her watch again. Ugh. The girl really was an attention wh.o.r.e.

On the other hand . . . maybe Madison was looking at this all wrong? Maybe Sophie reaping so much attention (from men, Trevor, the media) was actually a good thing? Up until now, Sophie held all the cards because Madison had everything to lose. But now . . . Sophie had everything to lose, too. She was starting to get a taste of fame and fortune and the perks that came with them: nice clothes, fancy cars, guys with money, VIP access. She wasn't an idiot. There was no way she was going to bring Madison down. Because if she did, she was going down, too. In flames.

Madison smiled-not a fake smile, but a real smile, her first one in days.