twenty-six

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.”

And Brooke, stunned, could only watch as Molly turned and walked away.