Sweet Little Lies: An LA Candy Novel. Lauren Conrad

       5 CHRISTMAS EVE WITH THE HARPS

      “Could you pass the smoked trout, darling?” Scarlett’s father said to her mother.

      “Yes, of course, sweetheart. Scarlett, would you like another oyster with mignonette sauce?”

      “Umm…sure.”

      Silence followed, filled with only the clinking of silverware against dishes. Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at Dana, who was making a frantic rolling motion with her hands, which Scarlett translated to mean, Please keep the conversation going, already. Any second now, she would be sending Scarlett another text: CD U TALK ABOUT CHRISTMASES FROM YR CHILDHOOD? ANY FUNNY STORIES? WHAT ABOUT THE BEST AND WORST PRESENTS U EVER GOT? WHAT ABOUT…

      “So…skiing was awesome today, wasn’t it?” Scarlett managed as she slurped down another oyster without grimacing. (Why did they have to have the consistency of snot?) She would normally ignore Dana’s TMs, but she didn’t want to come across as being even more awkward and conversationally challenged than her parents.

      “Yes, excellent,” her father agreed.

      “A little crowded for my taste,” her mother said.

      More silence. Scarlett stared at the hideous all-white centerpiece (tall white candles, twinkling white lights, and a pair of fake white kissing doves nestled in a bed of white leaves and berries) and tried to think of something else to say.

      Oh, yeah, the tricycle incident. “Remember when you got me that yellow tricycle for Christmas?” she said, forcing a laugh. “When I’d already taught myself how to ride a bike? That was hilarious, right?”

      Her parents exchanged a confused glance. “I’m not sure I remember that,” her father said. “Do you, darling?”

      Her mother shook her head. “I don’t.”

      More silence. Scarlett stirred in her chair, picking at the food on her plate. Why had she agreed to this? she wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time. Letting the show film her with her parents, of all people, on Christmas Eve, of all days?

      But it had been so hard to say no—for Jane’s sake.

      Trevor had originally scheduled the cameras and crew to film Jane at home with her family on Christmas Eve. But as of yesterday, Jane was still missing. So when Dana had called Scarlett as soon as she’d landed in Aspen and asked if she wouldn’t mind filling in for Jane, what could she say? “No?” Well, actually, that was exactly what she said, but after many phone calls they had worn her down, not-so-subtly reminding her that she had a contract. A contract that she was willing to honor for the few remaining episodes of the season. After that…she wasn’t sure. Being on the show kind of sucked, in her opinion, and the (free) gorgeous apartment wasn’t worth the invasion of her privacy and all the other little annoyances. She and Jane could happily move back to their rat hole by the 101. Well, she could, anyway. She wasn’t sure how Jane was feeling about the show these days.

      Soon after agreeing to the Aspen shoot, Scarlett had gotten the text from Jane saying that she was okay and that she was heading up to Santa Barbara. She had tried to call her a few times since then, but Jane hadn’t picked up. Obviously, Jane wasn’t ready to talk to anyone just yet. Which meant that she definitely wasn’t going to be in the mood to have the L.A. Candy cameras in her face when she and her family sat down for their Christmas Eve dinner.

      So Scarlett had decided not to inform Trevor or Dana that Jane was no longer MIA—or that they should move their shoot back to Santa Barbara, as originally planned. She had decided to give her best friend another few precious hours of space and privacy. She had even elected to try to be nice to her parents and put on a good show for the cameras. She could see the finished episode now: “Christmas Eve with the Harps.” Gag! The way it was going, the scene would be almost silent, with only the sounds of utensils clinking against china. She guessed that would end up being perfect for the way Trevor was editing her—the silent, pretty girl and her silent, pretty family.

      See how much I love you, Janie? Scarlett thought drily.

      What made it even worse was that her parents clearly had no idea how to behave in front of the cameras. Although on this count, Scarlett was sympathetic. It was definitely surreal, trying to act normal (well, as “normal” as the Harps could be) in your home (or in your rented condo in Aspen) with a crew of eight rearranging your furniture, plastering paper over your windows, and bustling around with their high-tech equipment. And then recording your every word and gesture for posterity—at least until Trevor edited the hell out of them.

      The only—only—thing that was (almost) saving the day was the fact that Liam was here. Working, but still.

      “Are we ready for the soup course?” her mother said.

      “Fine with me,” her father replied. “Vichyssoise?”

      “No, lobster bisque. I had the caterer make it with skim milk, of course.”

      “Of course.”

      Scarlett slurped down another oyster (okay, so maybe they were kinda good) as she felt her cell vibrate in her pocket. Great, a Dana-gram. Obviously, the yellow-tricycle story hadn’t cut it.

      But when she glanced at the screen, she saw that it was a text from Liam.

      DID THEY HIRE THESE PEOPLE 2 PLAY YR PARENTS OR R U ADOPTED AND DIDN’T TELL ME?

      Scarlett stifled a giggle. She snuck a peek at Liam, who was behind the camera next to the massive stone fireplace. She could tell that he was trying to keep from laughing, too.

      Underneath the table, she quietly typed: NEVER SEEN THEM B4. IM JUST HERE 4 THE OYSTERS.

      Liam typed back: HOPE THEY TASTE BETTER THAN THEY LOOK!

      WHY R U HERE? DID DANA MAKE U WORK? Scarlett typed.

      A moment later, Liam typed back: BEN ASKED 4 THE DAY OFF AT THE LAST MIN SO I OFFERED 2 FILL IN.

      Oh, Scarlett thought.

      Staring at the bowl of lobster bisque that her mother had just set down in front of her (ew, pink soup?), Scarlett weighed Liam’s statement. Liam had offered to work on Christmas Eve. Did he do this because he had nothing better to do? Or because he was a really, really nice guy and he wanted to help Ben out? Or because he wanted to be in Aspen…to be near her?

      Stop it, Scarlett told herself. You’re being an idiot. Yeah, like the guy seriously gave up his holiday to work, just so he could watch your lame family eat pink soup and have nothing to say to one another.

      Her cell buzzed again. SO R U COMING 2 MY PARTY? Liam had typed.

      Scarlett smiled. “Maybe,” she said out loud, before she realized what she was doing.

      “Maybe what, Scarlett?” her father asked her.

      Scarlett glanced up sharply. Everyone in the room was staring at her, including Liam, who was obviously trying hard to keep a straight face.

      “Uh…yeah…that is, maybe I’ll have more of that, um, delicious soup,” Scarlett managed to say.

      Trying to recover her composure, she quickly tucked her phone back in her pocket. Texting with a cute guy in the middle of a shoot was way too dangerous!