Free Sugar and Spice by Lauren Conrad Page B

did, but I did. And you never even called.” She added, “You walk around in your Gucci shoes acting so much better than everyone . . . that’s two months’ rent, Maddy. You’re walking around on two months’ rent.”
    “I’m making millions?” Madison laughed bitterly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Every cent I’ve made from filming has gone to pay off my credit card debt. The debt I built up trying to keep up this . . . image. I’m basically broke.”
    “Don’t lie to me. I want my quarter million, and I want it now. Or I’m telling the entire world the truth. You’re not Madison Parker—you’re Madelyn Wardell.”
    Madison bristled. “Do . . . not . . . call . . . me . . . that.”
    “Why not? That’s your real name.”
    “Not anymore.”
    Sophie smiled meanly. “Yeah, well, I don’t think your fans are going to be too stoked when they find out you’re a total fraud. I’ve read the magazines and I’ve watched you on the talk shows. You’re running around pretending you’re some high-society heiress who went to boarding schools in Europe or whatever. Wait’ll they find out you’re a nobody who grew up in a trailer park in Armor Falls, New York . . . who ran away from home when she was fifteen and got a ton of plastic surgery so nobody would know how fat and ugly she was.”
    “Don’t talk to me like that!”
    Madison clenched her fists to keep herself from slapping Sophie. How dare she. How dare she! Sophie had no idea what she had been through all these years. Growing up in that depressing little town with a chronically drunk mom had been bad enough. On top of which she had been cursed with a weight problem, bad skin, mousy hair, and a big nose. Unlike Sophie, who had been born practically perfect, with her slim figure, massive boobs, gorgeous cheekbones, and naturally plump lips—not to mention her pale blond hair and luminous violet-blue eyes. It was so unfair.
    Madison always knew that she was meant for a better life. She may have been plain on the outside; but inside, she felt like a glamorous actress or model or pop star, just waiting to emerge from her shell. And so she had made plans, carefully squirreling away her babysitting money and her measly paychecks from Wendy’s. By her fifteenth birthday, she had saved enough for a one-way bus ticket to Los Angeles, plus a little extra to live on. When she left, she didn’t tell a soul.
    Once in L.A., Madison lied about her age and managed to get an under-the-table job sweeping hair and making coffee at a modest salon. The owner liked her and gave Madison her first decent haircut, highlights, and spray-tanning for free.
    By her sixteenth birthday, Madison was a full-fledged platinum blond; she was also thirty pounds thinner, mostly because she could barely afford groceries. At which point Sugar Daddy #1 came along—being forty-something and married, he was willing to overlook the fact that Madison wasn’t a perfect California beauty (yet)—and introduced her to the world of cosmetic surgery. It was his idea, paying for those initial treatments: lip-plumping, breast enhancement, nose reduction, cheeks. Seemingly overnight (although the recovery actually took days, weeks, even months), Madison was transformed from an ugly-ish duckling into a glorious swan—the swan she always knew she was, inside. It was the way it was supposed to be.
    And so began the upward climb—more (and better) sugar daddies, more (and better) procedures, more (and better) . . . everything. For her eighteenth birthday, she gave herself a new name: Madison Parker, after Madison Avenue and Park Avenue in New York City, where the rich and powerful people lived. It was a classy name, befitting her new image. She’d made it legal and everything.
    It had taken Madison years to get from there to here, from her miserable existence in Armor Falls to her fabulous new life in Hollywood. And now her psychotic little sister was threatening to take it all