Authors: Lauren Conrad
The Fame Game (19 page)
Madison scrutinized, for one last time, the lunch that the Urth caterers had laid out on the dining room table and pronounced herself satisfied. There was tomato-basil soup, organic spinach salad, and a Mediterranean platter of grilled baby artichokes, hummus, tabouli, stuffed grape leaves, and olives. Everything looked fresh and delicious, garnished with Urth’s signature edible orchids. She smiled. Her father had probably never eaten this well in his whole life.
She was expecting him and Sophie any minute. The visit had been Trevor’s idea, but Madison had been happy about it. She’d gone from resisting Trevor’s efforts to get her family on film to welcoming them. Trevor wanted to get some footage of the family looking through old photographs? Fine! Great! Sophie had an album from the good ol’ days, such as they were, and Madison had a giant couch they could all sit on to look at it. As far as Madison was concerned, it was a win-win situation: She got to spend time with her dad, and she got to play the part of the forgiving daughter and big sister for the PopTV audience.
Sophie continued to be something of a wild card. She was still working the love goddess act—so perfectly, in fact, that Madison was tempted to believe it wasn’t an act at all. But her sister had always gone through phases (skateboarder, goth, rocker chick, burnout), and this was probably just a longer and friendlier phase than her previous ones.
Madison examined herself in the hallway full-length mirror (one of seven in her apartment, so she knew what she looked like in every room, in every light) and smoothed the front of her Joie top. She was going to have to see her colorist soon; there was the tiniest hint of dark roots in the part of her pale golden hair. She gave her nose a quick dot of powder and then went back to the table and plucked a spinach leaf from the salad.
“Aren’t they supposed to be here now?” Laurel asked.
Madison turned to her and to the camera crew that had set up in the corner of the room. She had gotten so good at ignoring them she’d almost believed that she was alone in her apartment. “Yes, but you know my sister. She likes to be fashionably late.” She held up her phone. “I’ll text her,” she said.
Laurel looked surprised; she wasn’t used to Friendly, Helpful Madison.
WHERE THE HELL R U? GET YR HIPPIE ASS OVER HERE
, Madison typed. (She couldn’t be 100 percent friendly, after all.)
And then, almost as if the text had magically summoned her guests, Madison’s security phone sounded. After she saw them in the little screen and buzzed them in, she glided over to the door and waited a full minute, aware that the cameras were now rolling. She opened the door with a big smile on her face.
“Namaste,” Sophie greeted her, leaning in to give Madison a kiss. She was wearing a lavender tunic over black leggings; a large crystal hung from a gold chain around her neck. “The divine in me salutes the divine in you.”
“Yeah, hi,” Madison said.
Behind Sophie, Charlie shifted from foot to foot nervously. He took a step forward and then paused; it was obvious that he couldn’t decide whether to hug Madison or kiss her or what. Madison reached for his arm and led him into the apartment. “Come on in,” she said.
“Wow,” Sophie said, taking in the lunch spread. “Nice.”
“Organic,” Madison announced. “You guys want to eat now or hang out for a few minutes first?”
“Let’s eat now.” Sophie sniffed at the soup. “This isn’t made with chicken stock, is it? You know I’m a vegetarian.”
“Oh really,” Madison said skeptically. “How enlightened of you. Well, it’s vegetarian, don’t worry.” She turned to her father. “Here, take a plate. You look hungry.”
Charlie took the proffered plate and stood over the table. He pointed to a stuffed grape leaf. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Dolmas,” she told him. “It’s rice and herbs and spices wrapped inside a grape leaf.”
“Oh.” Charlie still sounded confused. He hovered for a while and put a few dollops of things on his plate. Madison ladled some soup into a bowl for him and gestured for him to sit down at the far end of the table, next to Sophie, who already had a heaping plate of food.
She herself was too wired to feel hungry—plus she didn’t like to eat on-camera. Chewing was so . . .
unbecoming
.
“So, how are you liking your new house?” she asked her dad, taking a sip of hibiscus tea.
Charlie smiled. “It’s wonderful, Sweetpea. I wake up in the morning in that comfortable bed and feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
“Good,” Madison said. “It’s about time you felt lucky.”
“When are you going to rent me a house, sis?” Sophie asked. “My apartment is too small. There’s no space to do yoga.”
Madison gave a ladylike little snort. “Um, right after I finish paying off your rehab.”
Oops
, she thought,
must remember to play nice.
Sophie looked hurt. She was so pretty and so pitiful, all at the same time—the cameras were going to love that.
“Just kidding!” Madison said brightly. “I’m sure we can find you a better place soon!”
She glanced over to her father, who was only picking at his food. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t you like it?”
Charlie met her eyes sheepishly. “Honestly, Sweetpea, I don’t know what any of this stuff is. You’re looking at a guy who lives on burgers and microwave popcorn.”
She reached over and patted his hand. “Just try it. It’s all good, and it’s all good for you. You’ve got to get used to taking better care of yourself.”
“Mmmhmm,” Sophie said, her mouth full. “You should try yoga too. It’s so rejuvenating.”
Madison’s BlackBerry buzzed and she glanced down at the screen. FAMILY MEMORIES!! Laurel had written.
Right. Okay. Madison quickly racked her brain for some happy childhood memory, one that wouldn’t feel like a complete non sequitur. The problem was, there weren’t that many to choose from. There was the time they got that puppy—but then their mom made them give it away because it peed on the floor. Or what about that Christmas when they got canned food from the local food bank in their stockings?
She was striking out on the nostalgia front—she should have given this more thought beforehand. Then suddenly she recalled a tumbling class that she and Sophie had taken when they were little. Yoga—gymnastics. Perfect transition.
“Remember how we took that gymnastics class at the Y?” Madison said. “How it took you, like, two months to learn how to somersault?”
Charlie laughed. “Oh, and then once she did? She wouldn’t stop with the somersaults. She did them up and down the hallway.”
Instead of getting defensive, Sophie smiled, too. “Oh my God, I did them until I was practically sick to my stomach. I got so dizzy!” Then she paused, as if something had just occurred to her. “You know, I bet I have pictures of that,” she said.
“Really?” Madison asked. Sophie had picked up the cue perfectly; as much as Madison hated to admit it, the girl was a natural. “Where?”
“Actually,” Sophie said, pretending to be self-conscious, “I have an old photo album. I brought it because I thought it might be fun . . . you know, all of us together again?”
“Oh, bring it out!” Madison said.
Thankfully Charlie had left when Madison was still young enough to be naturally darling: before her blond hair darkened, before she gained weight, before her adult teeth came in completely crooked. It was a good thing Trevor hadn’t asked to show an album from Madison’s junior high or high school years; she would have died before allowing such a thing.
Sophie extracted a battered-looking album from her giant hemp-fiber bag and the three of them went into the living room to gather on the couch. Charlie brought his plate in and continued to pick at his food. Madison hoped he wouldn’t spill any tabouli on the carpet.
The camera came in close, focusing on the photographs. They were beginning to fade and turn yellowish, which gave the scenes a sort of golden glow.
“Oh, look,” said Madison, pointing to a picture of the two of them all bundled up in snowsuits. “Remember that storm? When school was canceled for, like, a week?”
“Totally.” Sophie nodded. “That was awesome.”
Charlie laughed. “Awesome for you two. I seem to remember having to dig the truck out from under six feet of snow. And then, after I dug it out, I got stuck on the turnout to the highway. Had to leave it there for two days.” He shook his head. “I guess looking back now it’s kind of funny.”
“What’s that saying? ‘Tragedy plus time equals comedy’?” Madison asked.
Sophie shrugged. “Who knows? But you sure knew how to rock snow pants, Mad. Too bad you live where you’ll never need them again.”
“We all live where we’ll never need them again.” Madison squeezed her dad’s arm.
Charlie stood. “Sweetpea, where’s your bathroom?”
“Go down that hall, and it’s the third door on your left.”
She watched her father walk away and was pleased to see that he’d bought a new pair of jeans. Those khakis of his had gotten seriously tired.
Sophie turned the page and came to a picture of their mother in a flowered dress. “She sure was pretty back then,” she said.
Madison nodded. Her mother had been the Rensselaer County Fair Queen three years in a row when she was young. It was sad, thinking about the way she’d let herself go. Madison would never,
ever
let that happen to her.
“Is that Licorice?” Sophie asked.
Madison peered at a dark blur in the corner of the picture. It could have been her old cat or it could have been a shadow. “Not sure,” she said.
“This is kind of fun, isn’t it?” Sophie asked.
Madison nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It actually is.”
Charlie came back into the room then, looking slightly embarrassed. “I opened the wrong door,” he said. “Ended up in your roommate’s room.”
“Oh, Gaby, right! Well, she doesn’t bite,” Madison laughed.
“Should we take her a plate of food?” Charlie asked.
Madison shook her head. “No, she’s on a juice cleanse.”
Charlie ran his hands through his hair. “I tell you, it’s a different world you girls live in out here.”
“Maybe it is,” Madison said. “But I’m glad you’re in it. So start liking it, all right?”
“How come your furniture is so much softer than mine?” Kate asked as she settled into an overstuffed chair at Madison and Gaby’s. “I swear, it’s like sitting on rocks over at my place.”
Madison handed her a glass of Champagne. “We needed extra cushioning for Gaby’s bony butt.”
Gaby poked her head into the room. “Really? You think my butt is bony? Thanks!”
Madison rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t supposed to be a compliment,” she said to Kate. “But whatever.”
The three of them had gathered to watch Gaby’s interview with Carmen from last week. Naturally the PopTV cameras were there to film their reactions. But Carmen wasn’t, even though the shooting schedule had said she would be. It was kind of weird, Kate thought. Shouldn’t Carmen see the airing of her interview on-camera, too? Wasn’t her reaction more important than Kate’s, for example, considering that she had had nothing to do with the segment? Well, she had to assume that Trevor had some reason for Carmen’s absence, and that she’d either never know what it was or she’d find out in a couple months when the episode aired. (Or she could just ask Carmen later, she guessed.)
The other weird thing about today was that the
Gossip
magazine piece had come out. It was the first public announcement of Kate’s involvement with
The Fame Game
, and now her email inbox and Facebook profile were crowded with messages—some from friends and family, and some from people whose faces she could hardly even remember. (Darcy Krapke? Hadn’t Kate last laid eyes on her back in the fifth grade?) It was exciting, having so many notes of congratulations and best wishes, but it was also sort of unsettling. Pretty soon everyone she’d ever known (and a lot of people she’d never met) would be watching her in their living rooms at night. What would they think of her? She shuddered. It was too much—she needed to pretend, for as long as possible, that it wasn’t happening. That was the only way not to freak out entirely.
And then there was Madison’s reaction after she read the article. She’d called Kate—which she
never
did—and said, “Welcome to the world of
Gossip
magazine! Hey, whatever happened with that guy you met at Whisper? What was his name?”
Kate had been so caught off guard that she didn’t answer for what felt like a full minute. Madison had asked the question so innocently, but the timing and the fact that she was asking it at all made Kate think there was nothing innocent about it. “Oh, um, yeah, it kind of fizzled out,” she finally managed, certain that Madison knew she was lying.
“It’s coming on, it’s coming on,” Gaby squealed, as the
Buzz! News
logo revolved in a glittering ball on the giant flat screen.
Madison settled in on an ottoman, but Gaby seemed too nervous to sit.
“Calm down,” Madison said. “The interview is always in the second half of the show. And we’re watching in real time so we can’t skip commercials.”
“Oh,” Gaby said. “In that case I’m going to go grab some water. Anyone want anything?”
“No thanks,” Kate and Madison said at the same time.
Madison turned to Kate. “So, how are the songs coming?” Her smile was bright and eager.
Kate couldn’t tell how sincere her interest actually was, but as long as she wasn’t asking about Luke, she decided to pretend it was 100 percent genuine. Madison had seemed so much mellower these days, and Kate was settling into kind of, sort of, actually . . . liking her. “Good,” she said. “I’ve got a bunch of new ones that I’m hoping to perform pretty soon. Maybe another open mic at Grant’s or something.”
Madison nodded. “You should get a real gig sometime. You know, where you don’t have to share the stage with a bunch of folk-song freaks.”
“Uh, yeah,” Kate said. “Maybe someday.” It would be nice, she had to admit; there was always a high percentage of weirdos at an open mic. It just came with the territory. “Once there was this guy who was working on a whole song cycle about bumblebees. . . .”
Gaby reappeared with a giant bottle of water. “Hey, where’s Carmen, anyway? Is she out with her new man?”
Kate glanced down at the coffee table, where the latest issue of
Gossip
was prominently displayed. She was sure Trevor had told Gaby to ask that question. She shrugged. “I haven’t heard from her,” she said. “I talked to her yesterday, but . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence.
Though Kate wanted to push the thought from her mind, she couldn’t help but remember yesterday afternoon, when Carmen and Luke had stopped by Stecco for lunch while she was working. Although “stopping by” wasn’t exactly accurate. It was all worked out in advance, of course—Luke’s agent had to give him the go-ahead to appear on the show (just once! just to talk about
The End of Love
!); the Stecco manager had once again okayed the filming as long as the entrance and sign were prominently displayed on air; the customers and employees who might be in the shot had all signed releases—but Kate had been unprepared for how uncomfortable she’d feel.
Carmen and Luke were seated at a table near the bar, so that Kate would be in the background in most of the intimate shots. Luke looked happy and handsome in a cream polo, and Carmen was stylish in a vaguely Indian-looking print blouse and skinny jeans. Kate, of course, was wearing unflattering black pants, a white oxford shirt, and a green-and-brown-striped tie. This fact alone made her want to crawl under the counter and curl up in a little ball.
But of course she couldn’t do that, could she? No, she’d had to serve them their water (no ice for Carmen, extra lemon for Luke) and smile while doing so.
“Hey, you guys,” she’d said brightly. “How awesome you could drop by! Your server will be by in a few minutes to take your order, but I’ll come back and check on you.”
Carmen had been her typical nice self, but Luke seemed slightly uncomfortable.
Good
, she’d thought.
He ought to be.
Their directions were to discuss their upcoming movie: who else would be cast, how long the shooting would take, what it might be like to work with Colum McEntire, who had a legendary hair-trigger temper, blah, blah, blah.
Kate watched them and eavesdropped as much as her duties would let her. Their interaction was all totally harmless. They were laughing a lot, but just the way old friends do. Of course, she thought, Trevor could take the footage and turn it into whatever he wanted.
L.A. Candy
had been full of “meaningful” looks and pauses and she now knew why: That moment when Carmen looked longingly at a piece of cake at the table behind them? The time when Luke accidentally brushed Carmen’s hand when they both reached for a breadstick? No doubt by the time the reels were cut and the scene edited, it’d look like the two of them were more in love than Romeo and Juliet had ever been.
Kate might have considered telling Laurel how having the two of them in her face made the whole situation even more unpleasant for her, but Laurel was off filming Madison at some fund-raiser or something, so she had not a single ally on the other side of the camera. There was also a small—very small—part of Kate that wondered at the timing of this lunch at
her
restaurant. Had Laurel said something to Trevor? Had Madison? Was Trevor actively throwing Carmen and Luke in her face because he knew it would be torture for her and wanted more drama or simply because he knew he could secure the location? Maybe he was even getting a little deep, showing the haves and the have-nots in one all-encompassing exchange.
Ugh.
Thankfully, it was over in an hour, and Kate could stop analyzing it as it was happening. When everyone was going their separate ways, Luke had mouthed, “I’ll call you tonight.” And, when no one was looking, he’d blown her a kiss. But it hadn’t really made her feel better.
“Hey,” Madison said now, jabbing Kate with a bare, pedicured foot. “Gaby’s about to be on TV! Get excited.”
Kate shook off the memory as best she could. “Sorry,” she said. “I was just wondering if I should text Carmen to see where she is.”
“Don’t bother,” said Madison, sinking into the couch. “Like Gab said, she’s off with her man of the moment.”
“What do you mean, of the moment?” Kate asked. Carmen didn’t seem like the serial dating type.
Madison shrugged. “I mean, come on, Luke Kelly is a total flirt. I give their relationship two months, tops.”
Kate frowned. Luke was a flirt? Where was Madison getting this information exactly?
She knows
, Kate thought.
And she’s just trying to get a rise out of me. Maybe she and Laurel worked this out together.
And then Kate realized the ridiculousness of Madison and Laurel teaming up to do anything and decided that if Madison knew anything it’s that Kate was dating an unknown actor named Luke, and now Carmen was dating Luke Kelly. . . . The rest was just a fishing expedition for her.
“By the time filming on the movie starts, they’ll be done,” Madison went on. “But they’ll probably pretend to still be together for the tabloids. Seriously, this has nothing to do with passion and everything to do with publicity. It’s so transparent.”
Kate downed her entire glass of Champagne in two swallows. Madison might not know the true story of Carmen and Luke, but she sure had sussed out the gist of it, she thought. Well, Madison was a pro.
A commercial came on and suddenly all three girls were staring at the TV. It was
their
commercial. Kate was transfixed as quick cuts of images of herself flew by (meeting Madison and Gaby at the pool! Carrying her guitar into Grant’s!). The trailer had a lot of her in it, but they’d packed in a lot of unfriendly glances between Madison and Carmen, too. It all happened so fast that Kate could barely remember what the text that flashed on the screen throughout had said. Something about “from the creator of
L.A. Candy
” and “a peek behind the scenes of what it takes to make it in Hollywood.” And then something about fame and those who are born with it (cut to Carmen on the red carpet) and those who are chasing it (Madison and Kate out shopping; Gaby walking out of her dressing room), and how staying in the game is only the beginning. Or something. Gaby was barely in the commercial, but she didn’t seem to mind because the second it ended, her show came back on.
“Look, oh my God, there I am!” Gaby squealed.
And sure enough, there she was on-screen, looking overly made-up and highly self-conscious. Beside her on the set, in a matching armchair, sat Carmen, smiling and obviously much more at ease.
“So, you’ve just been given the role of Julia in
The End of Love
. It’s your first picture with a major studio. How are you feeling about it?” asked the on-screen Gaby.
“Good solid opening,” said Madison supportively.
“Oh, I didn’t write the questions,” Gaby said. She was chewing on her nails.
No, of course you didn’t
, thought Kate. She watched the interview, but she wasn’t really listening. It was all so fake; she didn’t have the energy for it. She’d just seen herself on national TV for chrissakes and even that looked fake. What she did have the energy for, she thought, was another glass of Champagne. She reached over to the bottle that was open on the coffee table and poured herself a flute full of the sparkling liquid.
“Cheers,” Madison said, clinking her glass with Kate’s. “To—” She stopped, blinked, and then laughed. “To what? I have absolutely no idea.”
“To more Champagne!” Kate said, suddenly feeling a little better, as if the glass she’d just finished had gone straight to her head.
“You guys,” Gaby whined, “you’re not paying attention.”
“Sorry!” they said in unison and turned their attention to the screen, where they were treated to the sight of Gaby mispronouncing the word “relevance.”
When it was over, they clapped enthusiastically and Gaby took a modest bow. “I wasn’t horrible, was I?”
“Not at all,” Kate said, meaning it. “You were cute.”
“Oh, good,” Gaby said. Suddenly she frowned. “Did you see those earrings I was wearing?”
Kate shook her head. She’d barely paid attention to the interview at all; how could she be expected to notice Gaby’s accessories?
“Nope,” said Madison, pouring herself and Kate another glass of Champagne.
Wow
, Kate thought
. Did I really finish that second glass that fast?
“Well, they were diamond solitaires. Big ones. And I can’t find them anywhere.”
Kate leaned back in her chair and crossed her feet at her ankles. She was getting happier and more comfortable by the minute. She should
always
have Champagne! “Oh, Gaby,” she said lightly. “I’m sure they’re just in your room somewhere. Remember when you bought that pair of earrings twice because you thought you’d lost them?” Kate pointed to her own earlobes, from which the earrings in question dangled prettily. “I’m sure that’s what happened to them. Thanks again, by the way, for these. They’re my favorites.”
Madison laughed. “You
are
always losing things, Gab.”
“But I’ve looked all over the place for them,” she said. “And I can’t find them. And they were really, really expensive.”