Spoiled (33 page)

“Watch your head,” came a voice from above. Molly was so startled by this—she thought she was alone—that she
actually did jump, and cracked her skull against the underside of the metal desk.

“Ow,” she said, and crawled back out, rubbing her tender head.

She looked up. Shelby Kendall stood above her, sophisticated in a slim black cocktail dress, which Molly vaguely remembered
having seen in last month’s
Vogue
. Her hair was pulled back into a low, complicated knot. She looked about twenty-five years old.

“What do you want?” Molly asked.

“That looked painful. Should we take you to the hospital? An undetected brain hemorrhage can be fatal,” Shelby asked, oozing
false concern.

“I’m fine,” Molly said shortly. “Actually, I’ve got a lot to do.”

“I can only imagine,” Shelby said. “I won’t be long. When I was at Father’s office, someone asked me to deliver this to you.”

She held out a manila envelope. Confused, Molly took it and slid out a copy of
Hey!
that was clearly freshly printed. The cover was an alarming collage of celebrity cellulite, underneath an orange headline
screaming:
BUSTED: CELEBRITY BUMS!
But Molly’s gaze was diverted by a Post-it stuck to the front:

Page five is all us, Brooke! Look for this live online later tonight! Thanks for the scoop, and I can’t wait to work with
you again! Love, G.

“This is for Brooke,” Molly said, feeling like she was pointing out the obvious.

“Is it?” Shelby said. “My mistake. I was
sure
it was for you, considering…”

“Considering what, Shelby?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

A slow, cold smile crept across Shelby’s beautiful face. Molly’s spine quivered. She hated humoring Shelby, but she was too
curious to resist.

BERLIN BABE BREAKS HEART OF HOMETOWN HONEY
, the headline on page five announced, and beneath it, there was a grainy photo of her and Teddy at her locker, wrapped in
each other’s arms. Her face was to the camera and her eyes were closed, the expression on her face very relaxed and happy.
It was so intimate that Molly shivered. They looked like a couple. And the pièce de résistance: Danny’s yearbook picture sat
just beneath it. Molly remembered that he’d been really hung over that day thanks to a weekend jaunt out to the sand dunes,
but in the photo he was the picture of apple-cheeked innocence.

Molly’s breath caught in her throat, emitting a weird choking sound.

“I was sure you knew,” Shelby murmured.

Molly said nothing. She was reading the blurb:

Superstar actor/director Brick Berlin is one of Hollywood’s most notorious heartbreakers, and his brand-new daughter Molly,
16, is
following in his famous footsteps! The troublemaking student—who’s already struggled with alcohol—got caught getting down
and dirty with a hunky classmate (pictured above), leaving in the dust her hometown honey, Danny Johansson, 17. “Danny thought
he and Molly would be together forever,” said a source close to the former high-school sweeties. “When her mother was dying,
Danny was like hospice for Molly’s heart. He brought her sunflowers. He was her rock.” Sources confirm Danny had no idea they
were even on the rocks. “She’s a chip off the old Brick,” the source told
Hey!
“Looks like someone left her manners back in Indiana.”

It was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Molly sank down into the desk chair in front of her sewing machine
and felt it rotate gently until she was facing the window again. The landscape swam in front of her eyes.

High heels tap-tapped on distant hardwood floors, the sound growing nearer with every metallic
thwap
.

“Helllllllo?” Brooke called. “Molly? Time for final wardrobe review!”

Molly said nothing.

“Molly?” Brooke repeated, banging through the door. “Where
are
you? Aren’t you going to tell me to break a leg?”

“We should be so lucky.”

Even in the blurry reflection in the window, Molly could see Brooke start when she heard Shelby’s voice.

“Welcome to the party,” Shelby continued, grabbing the back of Molly’s chair and bodily revolving it until Molly and Brooke
were facing each other. “We have a present for you.”

NOTHING HARSHES A GIRL’S BUZZ
like being confronted by her mortal enemy wearing straight-off-the-runway Victoria Beckham. Brooke felt all her excited opening-night
butterflies drop dead in the face of Shelby Kendall standing behind Molly, looking as delighted as if she’d stumbled upon
a hot-oil treatment that also burned calories.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off researching part one of another half-assed special report that will never have a part two?”
Brooke asked.

“Brooke, give it up,” Shelby said. “We
know
.”

Brooke noticed then that Molly was staring emptily at the wall. Shelby snatched something from Molly’s grasp that was rolled
up so tightly Brooke couldn’t tell at first what it was.

Brooke went cold.
No way. No. It can’t be. Not tonight.

Slowly, she unrolled the magazine. Molly never looked up from her seat.

“This is not what it looks like,” Brooke said. “Molly, it isn’t, I swear.”

“
Just
like a Berlin,” Shelby said. “Can’t act her way out of an open paper bag.”

“You’re just trying to spoil opening night for us, and it’s not going to work.”

“
I
haven’t spoiled anything,” Shelby retorted. “You did an excellent job of that all on your own, wouldn’t you say?”

They both looked down at Molly, who Brooke feared might have gone catatonic. Was that a 911 emergency, or could she just get
Jake Donovan to wake her up by chucking her into the lake?

“Molly,” Brooke said again. “Look at me. Let me explain.”

Slowly, Molly lifted her head. Brooke saw a flash of fire in her eyes.

“It’s not what you think,” Brooke repeated. “You have to believe me.”

“She doesn’t
have
to do anything, except get you booted to military school,” Shelby said, kneeling next to Molly’s chair. “Molly, in spite
of everything you’ve said to me recently, I am obviously your only true friend in this scenario. Let’s get out of here, so
I can figure out how to help you fix this.”

“Fix this? Your father’s magazine
did this
,” Brooke retorted.

“Did what? Sent that picture to our intern in an e-mail
full of juicy little details? I’m pretty sure that was your doing, sweetie. Checkmate.”

“What is wrong with you?” Brooke exploded. “Can’t you just let this whole thing between us go? You already won! What more
do you want?”

“So, you’re conceding defeat?” Shelby pounced.

“As if. I’m just tired of it,” Brooke said. “Aren’t you? Listen, I’m sorry I saw your mom come over drunk that time, but that’s
no reason—”

Shelby rolled her eyes. “You two and your mommy issues.” She sniffed, looking from Brooke to Molly. “This isn’t some crappy
Brick Berlin movie where everyone has a deep-seated psychological motive.”

“Then what?” Brooke said. “Why are we doing this? Why are you always out to get me?”

“Because it’s fun, honey,” Shelby said, with a chilling smile. “What better reason is there?”

“Get out of here, Shelby.”

The voice was Molly’s. Brooke stared at her sister in surprise as she rose from her chair and squared off against their joint
enemy.

“I don’t know what part of our conversation the other day was so confusing for you,” Molly said. “But your tricks to divide
me and Brooke are not going to work. We are stronger together than we ever were before, not that I would expect someone like
you to understand why. Now get the hell out of my costume room and stay away from me and my sister.”

Brooke felt her mouth slide open a little, in shock. Shelby’s nostrils flared as she drew a sharp breath.

Molly moved to stand beside Brooke, her voice pure steel. “And if you so much as breathe in this theater, I’ll have Brick’s
security people arrest you for harassment.”

Shelby’s face went frighteningly smooth and expressionless. “You two deserve each other,” she said. “This isn’t over. And
you’re going to be
so sorry
when it is.”

With that, Shelby turned on her thousand-dollar Fendi heel and slithered out of the costume room.

“That. Was.
Amazing
,” Brooke breathed. “Man, I wish we’d been recording that. I want to play it at the cast party.”

Brooke wrapped her arms around Molly’s neck. “I
knew
you’d believe me. You have to understand, I—”

Brooke’s voice faltered as Molly threw off her arms and turned toward her, the spark in her eyes replaced with a chilly, furious
glint.

“Get away from me,” she said.

Brooke had been slapped exactly twice in her life: once by Jennifer, who was practicing for a scene in
Ransom of Rage
where her character had to fend off a handsy kidnapper, and once by Arugula when she’d accidentally kicked her in the crotch
while demonstrating a Tae Bo move. Each had stung, but neither felt remotely as bad as the verbal smack she’d just gotten
from Molly.

“But I th-thought…” she stammered. “Everything you said…”

“Shelby doesn’t deserve to get her way,” Molly said, attacking any stray piece of clutter in the room with almost crazy fanaticism.
“She wanted us at each other’s throats, and although I am very tempted to wring yours, I will
not
give that bitch the satisfaction.”

“I wasn’t lying, Molly,” Brooke said. “It’s really not what it looks like.”

“Isn’t it?” Molly retorted. “Let’s see, there’s the sunflower stuff, for starters. Only a few people know that, and you’re
the only one of them likely to have a tabloid reporter on speed dial.”

“I—”

“And oh, yeah, there’s the note patting you on the back for your collaboration. So unless you’re going to tell me you have
an evil twin, I’m really not sure what the hell else it could be.”

“But don’t you see, this is just like when I thought you gave Shelby those e-mails!” Brooke said.

“Yeah, except you actually
did
this.”

“No!”

“Great, so if I go home and check your Sent Mail, I won’t see this Ginevra person’s name in it?”

“Well, I mean… you will, but I didn’t
mean to
,” Brooke insisted.

“Oh, sure, just like a vampire doesn’t mean to leave puncture wounds,” Molly said, her voice getting even angrier.
“What I really want to know is, how did you spy on me that well without me knowing?”

“I didn’t! Arugula took the photo, because—”

“Oh, of course, Arugula,” Molly said. “I should’ve known. Well, good job, Brooke. You suckered me into falling for your sister
act
again
and went in for the kill
again
when I wasn’t protecting myself. You have officially made an idiot out of me.”

“That wasn’t an act!” Brooke cried. “I swear! Look, I was going to send the photo the night you went out with Brick. I was
so
jealous.
But I never sent it. It went out when I sent all those e-mails to my mother. I didn’t even know until Ginevra wrote back!”

Molly stopped. “Wait,” she said. “You’ve known about this? And you didn’t think you should say something?”

Dammit
.

“I didn’t know she was going to
do
anything with it,” Brooke protested. “She’s just some dumb intern. And she didn’t return any of my calls and e-mails, so
I just assumed…”

“You assumed an intern stumbled into a juicy scoop about Brick Berlin’s family and did
nothing
with it?” Molly said. “Please. You just decided you didn’t want to deal with this. Because that’s how you operate.”

Julie Newman poked her head around the door, then her eyes grew wide. “Um, I’ll get my wig later,” she said, backing away.
“Ten minutes to curtain, guys.”

Molly smacked her hands down on the Formica, displacing Julie’s wig and a few other accessories. Brooke’s breathing
was in time with her heart’s rapid pounding. She felt dizzy and wanted to cry. This was bad. This was
so
bad. And she already had her eyelashes on and everything.

“Half this stuff isn’t even me, Molly,” Brooke tried again, frantically flipping to the story and scanning it. “I never talked
about Laurel to her. She made it up! Do you really think I would use the word
insouciant
?”

“You know what?” Molly shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m so over it.”

Brooke inched toward her. “Wait, like… you’re
past
it?”

“No. Like, I’m sick of this place and you and your whole little gang of selfish schemers and liars,” Molly said. “I am not
a supporting character in your biography. I am a person. And guess what? I am done.”

“Don’t say that,” Brooke pleaded. “At least, let’s talk after the play.”

Molly laughed, but her laughter was scary—brittle and high.

“The play.
Of course.
Of course that’s more important to you,” Molly said. “You may have let
Hey!
call me a skank, but at least I’m not a whore for the spotlight.”