Lauren Conrad - Sugar and Spice

And last but not least, Trevor had arranged for her to get her amazing new job at Fiona Chen Events. Not that Madison gave a damn about being an event planner—she totally didn’t—but she was beyond excited about her big story line, working side by side with Jane on celebrity events and generating major frenemy drama. The idea of truly being one of the stars of the show—if not the star—made her feel almost dizzy with pleasure.

Of course, Madison had no idea how to actually be an event planner. But she figured Fiona didn’t care, since the old woman was just accommodating Trevor, anyway. Although it was not like there wasn’t anything in it for Fiona: Madison’s presence was going to mean increased visibility for the company, bringing a touch of much-needed glamour and style to the place, unlike boring, frumpy Jane and that mousy Hannah girl. Fiona’s client base was about to go through the roof, thanks to Madison.

A noisy black CRV pulled up to the curb, interrupting her thoughts. The car was at least ten years old, and badly in need of a new muffler. A thirty-something guy dressed in jeans and a navy polo stepped out.

“What took you so long?” Madison snapped at him when he joined her at her table.

“Traffic. Sorry.”

“What do you have for me?”

The waitress began to approach the table with an eager, helpful expression on her face, but the man waved her away and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a small manila envelope. He slid it across to Madison.

She hesitated only for a second before picking it up. She was finally going to learn the mystery blackmailer’s identity. Madison had hired the detective, Chris Reynolds, last month after the blackmailer gave her thirty days to come up with a quarter million dollars in exchange for keeping her past a secret. Chris had phoned her yesterday, telling her that he had tracked the person down and that he had a picture. Well, a mug shot, anyway. This was the moment of truth—and the beginning of the end of the dark cloud that had been hanging over Madison’s head. Nobody was going to take her fame or her (future) millions or her Maxim covers away from her—not after she had worked so hard to get them.

Madison ripped the envelope open with her thumbnail (one of the rhinestones on the letter F, for FAME!, came loose) and glanced at the picture inside. Shock rippled through her. “No way,” she said, staring at the picture. “No way!”

Chris leaned forward eagerly. “So you know who she is?”

“Oh, God. I don’t believe this,” Madison muttered to herself. “That bitch!”

“I take that as a yes, then.”

Madison’s head snapped up, and she focused her furious gaze on the detective. “Where’d you get this picture? Is she in L.A.?”

“The mug shot’s from a shoplifting arrest a couple weeks ago, in town, but they ended up letting her go. I won’t go into the details of how I managed to trace her email account. But bottom line, I also managed to trace a credit card, and as of yesterday, she was staying at one of the tourist hotels downtown. Unfortunately, it seems she checked out this morning. I’ve got an in with one of the front-desk clerks there, though. He thinks she’ll be in touch with him soon because she lost an earring and they’re looking for it in her old room.”

“Fine. Let me know as soon as you have a new address for her. I can take it from there.”

“Whatever you say. Do you have her real name? She’s been going under ‘Mildred Mains,’ but I’m assuming that’s an alias.”

“Mildred Mains? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Sounds like someone’s grandma, right?”

“She is.”

Madison told him who the girl was. Chris raised his eyebrows in surprise and gave a low whistle.

“Did you understand a single word Professor Friedman was saying?” Chelsea Phibbs asked Scarlett.

Scarlett swung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to her friend, who was in her French novels lit seminar. Chelsea was smart and spoke almost as many foreign languages as Scarlett. Almost. “Yep. Today’s lecture was all about the meaninglessness of human existence. Cheerful stuff.”

“How did you even figure that out?”

Scarlett grinned. “Because I’m so brilliant?”

“Ha-ha.”

“Plus, I’ve read The Stranger twice before. It’s kind of a cool book. Weird, but cool.”

“I guess. I read The Myth of Sisyphus in high school. I think I liked that better. It wasn’t as confusing, anyway.”

The two girls were walking down a tree-lined path outside of the Taper Hall of the Humanities. It was Friday afternoon and especially warm and balmy for late March.

“I’m off to linguistics,” Chelsea said, glancing at her watch. “What class do you have next?”

“I’m done for the day, but I have to go downtown for this, uh, photo shoot for, uh, Life and Style. ” Scarlett felt almost embarrassed saying this, especially to a bookworm like Chelsea who probably never read the tabloids.

“Ooh, photo shoot! You’re such a celebrity! Can I have your autograph? Please, please, please?” Chelsea giggled.

“Very funny. You know I have to do this, right? It’s part of my job.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey, it beats serving enchiladas.” Chelsea worked part-time at a Mexican restaurant near campus. “Soooo. What are you up to this weekend?”

“I’m having dinner with Liam and Jane and some friends from high school tonight. You want to come with us? It should be fun,” Scarlett said—although “fun” might not be the best way to describe hanging out with her boyfriend, her best friend, her best friend’s ex-boyfriend, and his best friend who Scarlett had hooked up with once several years ago, on Hendry’s Beach, just after someone’s going-away-to-college party. And maybe would have hooked up with again, if he hadn’t gone off to college himself.

“Sounds great, but I have to work till, like, midnight. Ugh. Maybe we can do something tomorrow? I’ll text you.”

“’Kay. Well, have a good time at work, señorita. Adiós!”

“Yeah. Have a good time posing for cleavage shots! Just kidding! ” Chelsea added hastily when Scarlett pretended to throw her book bag at her.

Scarlett headed in the direction of her car, which was parked in one of the student lots. As she fished through her pockets for her keys, her cell rang.

Liam’s name came up on the screen. Scarlett flushed with pleasure. She hadn’t talked to him all day, and she missed hearing his voice.

She stopped on the sidewalk and pressed Talk. “Hey!”

“Hey! What’re you doing?”

“I just got out of class. What are you doing?”

“Oh, making a lot of calls.” He sounded a little stressed. “Listen. I’ve gotta bail on dinner. My friend put me in touch with this director who might have some camera work for me. He wants to meet and talk, like, tonight.”

“Ohmigod, that’s fantastic!”

“You sure? I’m sorry. It’s bad timing, but he’s a busy guy, so I didn’t want to say no.”

“No, I totally understand.”

“I miss you. Are you busy right now? Do you want to grab food or something? I’m near the Grove but I could meet you wherever.”

Scarlett sighed. “I wish. I’ve got this photo shoot downtown.”

“Oh, yeah, that. Okay, well, I’ll call you later?”

“’Kay.”

“Bye.” Liam had hung up before Scarlett could add I miss you, too.

Scarlett stared at the phone in her hand, wishing she could just cancel the photo shoot and meet Liam instead. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to dinner, either, now that Liam wouldn’t be there.