Jane waited, wondering if her makeup looked okay (she had applied it in her car, while stopped at various red lights). Then Matt gave her the signal, and she walked through the doorway.
Hannah was at her desk, reading something on her computer monitor. When she saw Jane, she pushed back her long, honey blond hair and smiled, seemingly oblivious to the two camera guys who were shooting from opposite corners of the room. “Hi, Jane!”
“Hi, Hannah! Hey, are you feeling better?” Hannah had not only missed the season premiere party on Monday, but she hadn’t been at work yesterday, either.
“Much better, thanks.”
Jane set her stuff down on her desk, which was cluttered with piles of unopened mail, files, clippings—and the remains of her Pinkberry smoothie from the day before. Ew. Jane wasn’t always the neatest person, but she needed to get this desk under control ASAP. “Soooo,” she said to Hannah, tossing the smoothie and wondering distractedly where she had left her phone charger. “I’m, uh, supposed to meet with Fiona this morning. Are you sitting in on that meeting, too?”
Hannah’s brown eyes widened as she glanced at the cameras. “Um … no.” She glanced back at Jane. “Didn’t you get my message?”
“Message? What message?”
“I called you, like, half an hour ago, and—”
Isaac, one of the interns, appeared in the doorway. “Jane? Fiona’s ready for you now.”
“Uh … okay.” Jane stared at Hannah, wishing they could talk more. It seemed as though Hannah had wanted to tell her something off camera. If only Jane could text her, but her cell was dead, and she didn’t have time to sign in to her computer and get on IM. What was up? First Matt, then Naomi, then Hannah … everyone was acting so weird today.
Jane followed Isaac to Fiona’s office, wondering what, exactly, was in store for her. Maybe it was more than Fiona’s usual “we don’t tolerate lateness in this office” lectures. Maybe Jane was in serious trouble. But for what? She went through her mental checklist, making sure she hadn’t forgotten to do something important, like booking the DJ for an upcoming sweet sixteen party (for Leda Phillips’s daughter Clementine, who seemed to have inherited her mother’s alcoholism gene—better post extra security guards around the punch bowl and at the restrooms), or pinning down a venue for Miranda Vargas’s (fourth? fifth? sixth?) wedding. She hadn’t.
Matt was standing outside Fiona’s door, giving instructions to Jack and another sound guy. “Jane! Great. Cameras are already rolling, you can go right on in.”
“Okay.”
Inside Fiona’s office, there were three—not two—camera guys in place. Fiona herself was sitting at her desk, leafing through a file. Her sleek black hair and makeup were flawless, as always, thanks to the multiple stylists she always demanded before a shoot. “Jane, there you are. Please sit. How are you today?”
How are you today? Now Jane was really confused. Fiona Chen was pretty much the scariest, coldest boss in the history of bosses. Why was she making pleasant chitchat?
“I’m fine. Thank you.” Jane sat down.
“Good! Let’s get down to business, then. I have a new project I’d like to discuss with you. Aja has hired us to do her engagement party.”
“Aja?” Jane’s jaw dropped. So this was why today’s shoot was such a big deal.
“Yes. Aja. She wants it to be at one of the Las Vegas hotels. As you can imagine, this is a huge new account for us. Aja is an international pop star, and her fiancé, Miguel Velasquez, is one of the most popular rookies in Major League Baseball.”
Jane didn’t know a lot about sports, but she did know about the super-hot Miguel Velasquez. She used to have a huge crush on him, as did every other girl on the planet—and probably a few guys, too.
“I’m putting you in charge of this project. And I want you to meet your new coworker, who’ll be assisting, along with Hannah,” Fiona went on.
“My new coworker?”
“Yes. In fact, she’s here now. Why don’t you say hello?”
Jane heard the door open behind her. She turned around—and practically fell out of her chair as the familiar blonde in a black miniskirt, button-down blouse (with a few too many buttons undone), and sky-high stilettos sauntered in.
“What the—” Jane gasped.
Madison sat down next to Jane and slowly crossed her legs. “Hi, Jane! Isn’t this soooo awesome? We’re going to be working together!”
“No, no, no! There is no way in hell I’m working with her!”
Jane tried not to scream too loudly at Trevor as she paced back and forth across Trevor’s “temporary production space.” So this is why he was here today. She had suspected that something was up—but not this particular something, which was pretty much the worst something, ever. She rubbed her temples—she had a splitting headache—and she was this close to bursting into tears. Although she refused to give Trevor, or anyone eavesdropping outside the closed door, the satisfaction.
Trevor leaned back in his plush leather chair, his expression inscrutable. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think—” he began calmly.
“What? What are you talking about? You promised me, Trevor! You promised me I wouldn’t have to film any more scenes with her. And now you’re making me work with her, like, every single day? What the hell?”
“Look. I didn’t hire her. Fiona did.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Believe what you want, Jane.”
“Fine!” Jane stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath. She had no choice; Trevor was forcing her hand. “Then I quit!”
There. She had said it. It was the right thing to do—wasn’t it? So why were her hands shaking, and why did she feel like throwing up?
“Quit … what? The show? Do I need to remind you that you have a contract?”
“No, not the show. I’m quitting this job.”
Trevor folded his arms across his chest. “Jane. I’m sorry you’re upset. But Madison applied for an opening here and Fiona hired her. We had nothing to do with that, but of course we had to film it. If she had shown up for her first day of work and we had missed it, PopTV would have freaked.” He added, “I don’t blame you for wanting to quit your job. But look—if you do, it’s going to look bad to viewers. They’ll think you’re a spoiled brat who didn’t get her way.”
Jane started to say something not very PG to him, then clamped her mouth shut. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She knew the truth: Madison was a crazy, lying, manipulative bitch who would run over her own mother with a bus if it would make her rich and famous. But all those L.A. Candy fans out there didn’t know that, and if Jane left Fiona Chen Events, they would basically think that Madison had won. That Jane had skulked
