L. A. Candy by Lauren Conrad Read Free Book Online Page A

Lord sat at the corner booth—the best one in the room, next to the one Anna Payne had just disappeared from—barely touching his glass of eighteen-year-old Talisker Scotch. He was too busy watching tonight’s parade of poseurs. Still, he felt hopeful. Maybe this was the night. Maybe he would get lucky.
    “How about that one?” said the navy blue suit to his right.
    “Next to the Justin wannabe with the unfortunate bleached tips?” said the gray suit to his left. “She’s pretty hot.”
    “She’s kind of too hot for my taste; she’s trying too hard,” said the only woman at the table. She tended to go for all-American, farm-raised, and milk-fed on these occasions.
    Trevor gazed at the subject in question: size zero, glossy platinum (mostly purchased) hair down to her ass,black dress glued onto her Pilates-toned body. Why was it that when girls moved to Hollywood, they all eventually morphed into the same stereotype? Not that he wasn’t fond of that stereotype. It had its uses. But she was a little too obvious. Besides, he already had a size 0 with platinum hair and a Pilates-toned body—a better one.
    He turned to his companions and raised his eyebrows a barely perceptible millimeter. It was enough. They knew when he wasn’t interested.
    “What about her friend?” said Navy Blue Suit hastily.
    The woman shrugged. “Too affected.”
    Gray Suit pointed. “What about the one dancing near the DJ booth? Red hair, big boobs?”
    “Too plain,” the woman dismissed. “Boobs notwithstanding, that is.”
    The three of them continued analyzing more girls on their weight, hair color, and cup size. But Trevor was starting to tune them out. He picked up his Scotch finally and took a long, thirsty sip. It slid down his throat like a river of pure heat.
    While the three of them were comparing blondes versus redheads versus brunettes, and the DJ was playing “Jungle Love” by the Steve Miller Band, he spotted two girls trying to squeeze in at the bar. Petite, pretty blonde—not the run-of-the-mill Hollywood blonde, but softer, sweeter. She was exactly what he had been looking for. And she came with a tall, strikingly beautiful brunette friend who had a slightly exotic but not too exotic edge. Thetwo of them managed to get the bartender’s attention and were drinking and pretending to have a good time, but his razor-sharp instincts told him that they were nervous—awkward, even—knowing they didn’t fit in, unaware that it may have been a good thing.
    They were perfect.
    He rose from the table. “I’ll be right back,” he said in the general direction of the table. He didn’t wait for their response as he strode toward the bar, nodding and smiling at various people but not stopping to chat. This was not the time. He sidled up next to the brunette and caught the eye of the bartender, who knew without waiting to be told to hustle and pour him a Talisker with a splash of water, neat.
    The two girls were talking, their heads bent close. Trevor leaned over and said, “Hi. Are you enjoying yourselves?”
    The brunette glanced over her shoulder and fixed him with an icy stare. God, her eyes were amazing: intense green, like emeralds. Before she could say anything, the blonde grinned at him and said, “Yeah. It’s our first time here.”
    Trevor nodded. The blonde was exactly as he had guessed her to be: fresh, innocent, vulnerable. Perfect.
    “Do you two live in L.A.?” he asked them.
    “We do!” the blonde said, as if it were the best piece of news ever. “We just moved here from Santa Barbara, actually.”
    “I’ve been there a few times,” he said.
    “It’s beautiful there, huh?” the blonde gushed.
    The brunette still hadn’t said a word. Trevor took a sip of his Scotch, studied the two girls, and said, “So have the two of you ever thought about getting into the entertainment industry? Or maybe you’re in the business already—”
    The brunette cut in with “We’re not really interested in