Spoiled (7 page)

“Brookie, it’s not polite to be this late,” Brick scolded.

“I know, Daddy, but Ari’s wardrobe malfunction wasn’t going to fix itself. I’m
super
sorry!”

Brooke dropped Molly and sailed over to her seat, shaking out her napkin with the wide smile that her suspiciously fawning
Wikipedia page called “a beacon of hope for our future.” Molly tried not to stare, but it was difficult: Brooke may not have
been truly beautiful, but she was so well groomed that you’d never notice. The dress was designer, the eyelashes were false,
the hair was either abundantly natural or expensively synthetic, and the purse she’d brought to the table was a Chloé bag
Molly knew wasn’t on sale yet to the great unwashed masses. Molly glanced at her own comfy hoodie and kicked herself for treating
this like just another movie night with Charmaine.

“I can’t believe you’re really here! This is amazing! So tell me everything!” Brooke said in a mad rush of exclamatory speech.
“When did you get here! How was the flight! How do you like your room! Isn’t the view amazing! Your sweatshirt is fantastic!
Isn’t it fantastic, Daddy! So authentic! We are so glad you’re here!”

“Um, thanks,” Molly said, still shell-shocked by this perky onslaught, and unsure which of Brooke’s statements were actual
questions she was supposed to tackle. None of her varied and dramatic imaginings of Brooke included an attitude this, well,
nice
. “I’m really happy to be—”

“You are
so
welcome!” Brooke twittered. “Recognize my dress, Daddy?”

“Rodarte, right?” Molly offered, relieved to have something to contribute to this dinner after all. “
Vogue
loved that season’s collection.”

Brooke looked as surprised as if her tan had fallen off. “You read
Vogue
? Seriously?”

“I caught up on the flight,” Molly said. “It was a long trip from Indiana.”

“Look at you two. Bonding already,” Brick said fondly, and bit into a giant piece of steak.

“It’s like a dream!” Brooke bubbled, shooting Molly a blinding, toothy grin as she stabbed at a piece of yellowtail with the
crystal-encrusted chopsticks on her plate.

“So how’d you get a fresh Rodarte like that?” Molly pressed on, encouraged by Brooke’s smile. “Do you know the Mulleavys?
I just read that they’re from somewhere around here.”

Brooke’s laugh was the sound of a tiny bell on a storefront door. “So much to learn! They’re in Pasadena. That’s a whole other
area code!”

“I met them at Fashion Week when I was doing a movie with Juliette Lewis,” Brick explained. “They sent her a bunch of stuff,
but this one was too big for her.”

Brooke flared her nostrils. “More like, it’s far too stylish for someone who wears curtains on her head.”

“How
is
Fashion Week?” Molly wondered. “I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Daddy won’t let me, because—”

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can do about that!” Brick boomed at the same time, adding a dorky wink. “I bet we can
talk your school into calling it extra credit.”

Brooke slammed down the soy sauce with a tad too
much vigor. Molly chanced a long glance at her. Brooke’s enthusiastic welcome was an extremely pleasant surprise, but Molly
had read enough articles by the
Hey!
body language experts to recognize tension when she saw it. Brooke beamed at her again, though, so Molly decided to believe
that whatever was making her half sister so squirrelly had nothing to do with her arrival.

“I guess Fashion Week might be a little intense, right?” Molly asked to fill the silence. “Today in the car with all those
photographers was bad enough, and that was behind a window.”

“Oh, you got papped?” Brooke said with sympathy. “Isn’t it so inconsiderate? I mean, what if you’d had airplane spinach in
your teeth? Daddy, I can’t believe you let that happen to my sister.”

“They’re doing
My Fair Lady
at school this year, Molly,” Brick said, ignoring Brooke completely. “What are your feelings about theater?”

“I used to help my mom make the costumes for our school plays, but I can’t act at all,” Molly said. “Guess I got her genes.”

Yikes. It was probably too soon for DNA jokes. Molly shoved a piece of meat into her mouth so that she couldn’t talk again
for a while.

“Costumes are fantastic! So important,” Brick boomed. “An actor is naked without his clothes.”

“Don’t change the subject, Daddy,” Brooke said, her voice pure saccharine. “Don’t you think it was rude of you
to expose Molly to all those photographers before Saturday? She needs to be
prepared
for that kind of crazy frenzy.”

Molly swallowed hard. “So what
is
happening on Saturday, exactly?” she asked.

“Only the biggest social event of your life. Let’s see, we’ll have the entire junior and senior classes, some industry people,
and a bunch of photographers that we invited to help celebrate my sixteenth birthday.” Brooke beamed. “Daddy spared no expense.
He even got Fall Out Boy.”

“I spared
some
expense. She asked for Coldplay.”

“
Anyway
,” Brooke plowed ahead. “There’s an interview with
Hey!
, and everyone will be staring and taking pictures and watching everything we’re doing all night long. It’s kind of like being
on the biggest stage imaginable.”

Molly almost dropped her fork. “An
interview
?”

Charmaine would faint with joy at the idea, but Molly just wanted to faint, period. No wonder Brick hadn’t wanted to lay this
on her in the car. He hadn’t wanted to freak her out in a confined space.

Brooke reached across the table and squeezed Molly’s hand, which was slightly awkward because Brooke had to pry loose Molly’s
fingers from her water glass to make good on her gesture.

“Molly, if you’re not ready for this, maybe it’s unfair of us to ask you to come,” Brooke said, her voice oozing concern.

“Nonsense! She’ll be fine!” Brick insisted. “It’s just a few
snapshots and a quick chat with a reporter. No big deal! I was going to tell you all about it after dinner.”

“Daddy, if she’s not ready to be quoted in a major national magazine that’s read by millions of people who will be dying to
see what she’s wearing, we shouldn’t push,” Brooke scolded, releasing Molly’s hand so she could gesture wildly with her own.

“Um, well, except it’s kind of not that simple,” Brick hedged. “
Hey!
is sort of insisting. I guess we got a little overzealous trying to get in front of the story. Trip Kendall loved it so much,
he told me that unless he gets an exclusive on Molly, he’s nixing the whole thing and writing a piece about how Laurel died
poor in a shanty.”

Molly gasped. “But that’s a lie!”

“Trip is ruthless, which is why he runs the best tabloid in town,” Brick explained. “I was worried he’d exploit you unless
I gave him access, and now… I can’t afford to sue him with
Avalanche!
coming out next year.”

Molly felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to be interviewed by any magazine, especially not one that would take advantage
of her mother’s death. How had she not seen any of this coming?

Brick sighed. “Molly, I’m sorry. This is why I don’t usually deal with these bastards. When it comes right down to it, I’d
love to show you off to the world and give you a chance to say great things about Laurel. But Brooke is right—it’s a lot to
ask. So all you need to do is say the word and I will cancel this entire thing.”

“The entire thing? Like, the whole party?” Brooke all but shrieked.

“The whole party,” Brick confirmed. “It’s just not worth it if my daughter is basting in the juices of her own agony.”

Looking impressed with himself, Brick pulled out his BlackBerry again and started typing.

“Daddy, don’t be so melodramatic,” Brooke snapped. “All I meant about Molly being unprepared is that it was mean of you not
to tell her sooner. But she seems, um, smart, and I bet we could whip her into shape in no time.”

“We?” Molly asked. She felt numb.

“Of course! You don’t think I’d let Daddy send you out there unprepared, do you?” Brooke chirped, her tone so cheerful it
could sell tampons to a priest. “It’s what sisters are for!”

“Well, that is what every father wants to hear!” Brick brightened. “It would be so wonderful to see the fruit of my loins
come together in the same bowl.”

“Trust me. Just do everything I tell you, okay?” Brooke cooed supportively. “You’ll look fantastic, you’ll sound fantastic,
and it’ll all be over in a flash. Everybody wins,” she said, pausing and then dropping her voice into a very somber tone.
“Especially your mother, Molly.”

Molly looked up at Brick. Obviously, this story meant a lot to him, and Brooke was practically foaming at the mouth to help.
And Molly hated the idea of the rest of America getting the wrong idea about Laurel. If there was one thing worth being brave
for, it was her mother.

“You’re right,” Molly said finally, nodding. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Brick asked.

“If it’ll keep them from saying nasty things about my mom, then yeah.”

“That’s my girl!” Brick crowed. “It is very touching of you, Molly, to agree to this. In fact, it is a portrait of selflessness.”
He paused his fork in midair. “That would be a fantastic title for a book about all this,” he mused.

Molly smiled tentatively at him, then switched her gaze to Brooke, who was radiating warmth. Okay, so maybe she seemed like
she’d had one too many espressos. But after Molly had spent all this time fretting about the very concept of Brooke Berlin,
it was ironic that Brooke Berlin might be the one person who wanted to help her get through this.

“Just leave it to me,” Brooke said, and smiled wide.

“And
then
what happened?”

Brooke paused before answering, aware she had her friend on tenterhooks and needing to swap the phone to her other side. She’d
read in
Allure
that frequent ear-switching prevented oil buildup in her pores, and zits just wouldn’t do if The Intruder insisted upon taking
photos of her glamorous new family to send to all her monochromatic friends in the cornfields.

“Then I offered to be her best friend, of course. What’s
that old saying? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?”

Jennifer Parker was quiet for a second. “Wait, my agent told me it was ‘enemas.’ She is
so
fired. That was a
horrible
day. You should have seen the hose that they…”

“
Anyway
,” Brooke interjected.

“Right, right. So, tell me everything. Is there acne? Does she smell like the inside of a barn?”

“Well… no,” Brooke admitted. That had been the most offensive part. A hideous she-beast might’ve been easier to handle, but
instead Princess Podunk was resoundingly
fine—
no missing teeth, no nose hair, not even a monobrow to stoke the superiority complex Brooke had assumed would nurse her through
this entire catastrophe.

“But you should’ve seen the sweatshirt she had on—like she just tipped the cow herself,” Brooke snarked. “And her bangs! So
halfhearted.”

“The worst kind,” Jennifer whispered. “You are so brave, Brooke. If Brick only understood the sacrifice you’re making.”

“He’s too busy grinning like an idiot. It all makes me want to puke.”

“Do it if you have to, but don’t force it,” Jennifer warned. “When I was in that after-school special, my character used wooden
spoon handles and got splinters in her throat. That can be very uncomfortable.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. There was no response to Jennifer’s advice sometimes.

“I just can’t believe your dad is putting you through this,” her friend continued. “A secret love child… if it weren’t so
awful it would almost be romantic!”

“Are you serious? He’s turning this house into a freaking cable movie.”

“Cable movies are an excellent way for an actress to hone her instrument,” Jennifer said, reciting a line Brooke knew her
father had fed her years ago after her Disney sitcom got canceled. “Actually, this is all kind of like
A Pocketful of Danger
.”

“Is that the one where the dude from
CSI
kidnaps you?”

“Duh, no. It’s the one where Susan Lucci plays my mom, and someone tries to kill us right around the time her four illegitimate
children turn up.”

“You think this chick is going to try and kill me?” Brooke made a mental note to lock her shoe closet. Some of her stilettos
could be deadly in psychotic Midwestern hands.

“Probably not, although I guess you might want to build up immunity to arsenic, in case she’s seen my movie.” A hopeful note
crept into Jennifer’s voice. “
Do
you think she’s seen my movie?”

“That was a terrible movie,” Brooke said absently. “Um, except for your part.”

“Oooh, or maybe you could do what my character’s brother did in
Pain River
, when…”

“Jen, this is serious. It’s not something your IMDb page can fix,” Brooke snapped.

There was an audible gasp, which Brooke chose to ignore in favor of keeping things on her favorite subject: herself.