“But it happened yesterday. How is it news already? And also—who told? There were only three other people in that room!” And not one of them was Lily, she thought. Carmen looked questioningly at her friend.
Fawn put her fork down. “Oh my God, it was that girl—the one on the steps,” she said. “Remember? She heard everything you were telling me.”
Carmen shook her head. “I am so sick of this. Why is everyone up in my business?”
“It’s pretty harmless, darling,” her mother said.
“It’s not like anyone is accusing you of shoplifting anything,” Philip added, shooting a look at Fawn.
Fawn seemed not to notice. “Personally, I don’t understand why everything you say is so interesting to the gossip blogs,” she said huffily. “Every time I check D-Lish it’s, like, Breaking News: Carmen Curtis Drinks a Glass of Water.”
“The one about your supposed kombucha addiction was actually kind of funny,” Cassandra said.
“Kombucha,” Philip said, making a face. “Can’t stand the stuff. Tastes like salad dressing.”
“I don’t know what kind of kombucha you were drinking, Dad, but it’s not supposed to taste like that. It’s delicious.”
“Maybe it was salad dressing,” Cassandra said. “You know how absentminded you can be, dear.”
Philip pretended to be offended. “I’m not absentminded; I’m deeply focused.”
“But not deeply focused on whatever you’re doing at that particular second,” Cassandra said. “Remember, Carm, the time he grabbed that glass of what he thought was lemonade?”
“And it was cold chicken stock,” Carmen said. She and her mother had plenty of stories about the things Philip had eaten or drunk mistakenly.
Philip raised his glass in a toast. “To the beautiful women who tease me mercilessly,” he said.
Carmen clinked her glass against his and he winked at her. In a way, these were the times she felt the luckiest. Not when she was having her picture taken on the red carpet, or seeing her face on a two-page spread in Nylon, but when she was with her family, and they were laughing, and, barring some weird press rumors, everything seemed like it was all right with the world.
The ringing of a phone cut through their laughter. Carmen reached out to Fawn’s iPhone and snatched it away. “No phones at the dinner table,” she said. “Family rule.”
She glanced down and saw Jimmy Landis’s name flashing on the screen. The same name of the reporter whose byline always accompanied the stories about her on D-Lish. Carmen felt the breath leave her lungs in a rush. “Why is Jimmy Landis calling you?” she demanded.
But by the look on Fawn’s face, Carmen knew exactly why he was calling.
25
A LONG, EMOTIONAL ROAD
Kate held the letter lightly in her hand, turning it over and over but not opening it. She’d recognized the handwriting instantly; her stalker had sent her another love note. She knew she ought to hand it to one of the security guys and ask him to open it. Or else—and this was probably the better idea—she should simply throw it away.
But it was so strange to her that he kept writing, when he’d been chased down the street by SoCal Security after appearing on the Park Towers grounds. She was kind of fascinated by his dedication and persistence. She knew now that there was no way he’d ever get close to her—not with Rick and Mitch and the rest of the security team hanging around 24/7. So why didn’t he give up? They were never going to be boyfriend and girlfriend the way he so desperately hoped.
Kate sighed. Speaking of boyfriend and girlfriend . . . she rolled over onto her back and stared glumly at the ceiling. She hadn’t seen Drew in days, and she was starting to wonder if those terms even described the two of them anymore.
He’d told her that he had a last-minute exam the morning of her showcase, and that he couldn’t call her because his phone had died.
She thought that excuse was believable but pretty lame, and told him so. The showcase would have gone completely differently if he’d only bothered to show up—she knew it would have. One single exam versus her entire future—was there really any comparison?
But, unfortunately, Drew didn’t see it that way.
“I can’t drop everything to be your cheerleader anytime you need me, Kate,” Drew had said, his voice clipped and angry. “You have to be able to do this stuff on your own. You have the talent—all you need is a little more confidence.”
“I don’t expect you to drop everything whenever I ask, but you knew this particular day was important,” she’d retorted. “And you said you’d be there.”
“What was I supposed to do? Ditch my class and fail my exam?” Drew had asked. “It’s not just the Kate Hayes show, okay? I had a major test. I’m going to college. And I have a job. You seem to have a problem remembering that.”
When she didn’t say anything—she’d never heard him speak so harshly before and was taken aback—Drew began to apologize. He was such a nice guy, he couldn’t help it.
“No, no, you’re right,” she’d said, waving him off. “It’s okay.”
She was lying, though; it wasn’t okay. She understood that he had a point, but she couldn’t forgive him. And they’d hardly spoken since.
But she had to admit, as she got up and went to the kitchen for another spoonful of Chunky Monkey, that the person she was most mad at was herself. She had been dreaming of a career in music ever since she started guitar lessons in grade school. She’d worked hard for over a decade, and she’d been given fantastic opportunities. But she’d let her crazy, stupid stage fright get the better of her almost every single time. It was infuriating.
She wondered if she should try that EFT tapping business again, or the yoga class for stress relief that PopTV had filmed her taking during Operation Eliminate Stage Fright. Those things had helped a little, hadn’t they? And Kate couldn’t overdo it on acupuncture or yoga the way she could—and had—on Xanax.
She wished she had someone to talk to about it all. She knew Madison would be more than happy to listen, but Kate sort of wanted someone who wasn’t part of the Fame Game, both real and metaphorical. She would have loved to talk to her old roommate, Natalie, for instance. Natalie had always been such a reliable friend, not to mention a good source of advice. But Kate didn’t think she ought to unload all her problems on her when she hadn’t even called to say hello in weeks.
Kate had been playing phone tag with her sister, but Jess wouldn’t be any help in this situation, either. She didn’t understand the world of reality TV at all, and her advice would come in the form of annoying sports metaphors. Kate did not want to be told to “keep her eye on the ball” or some such athletic-sounding encouragement that didn’t apply to anything in her life.
As Kate dipped her spoon into the ice cream carton, she looked down and realized she’d consumed almost an entire pint that afternoon. That meant probably fifty trips into the kitchen, each time to sneak one tiny bite.
She put the ice cream back in the freezer and tossed the spoon into the sink. She needed to get out of the apartment. Immediately.
“Madison’s not here,” Gaby said, blinking sleepily at Kate. Then she smiled, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. You caught me napping. My therapist says that naps are a time of, like, rejuvenation and healing.”
“Sounds nice,” Kate said. “And they’re a lot better for you than what I did, which was eat almost an entire carton of ice cream without realizing it. Apparently I have the self-control of a four-year-old.”
Gaby laughed. “I don’t know when Mad’ll be back. But you want to come in anyway?”
Kate was disappointed that Madison wasn’t home. She’d come to rely on Madison’s unique yet often relevant perspective. But she didn’t want to hurt Gaby’s feelings by turning around and going back downstairs. So she followed her into the penthouse, marveling again at its size. It was very clean, unlike her own apartment, and Madison was always changing some item of decor or another. (She knew this d
rove Trevor crazy because of the continuity issues it created, but she didn’t seem to care. Or maybe that was the point.) Today there was a new, huge mirror in the shape of a sun above the mantel. Kate caught a glimpse of herself and wondered, once again, if cutting all her hair off had been such a great idea.
“So what’s up?” Gaby asked, sitting back down in the place she’d clearly been napping.
Kate perched on top of a brightly printed Missoni pouf. “I’m a little stressed,” she said. “But what else is new?” She gave Gaby a careful look. “What about you? How are things . . . since, you know?”
Gaby pulled her hair into a ponytail, then let it fall to her shoulders, and then pulled it back again. She looked at her hands as if they belonged to someone else. “Sorry. I also have a lot of nervous energy. I guess it wasn’t clear to anyone, though, because of the pills.” She began to braid her dark hair. “But I’m actually doing really good,” she said. “Things are different, of course, but they’re better. I don’t wake up unable to remember what I did the night before, so that’s good.”
Kate nodded. Yes, retaining memory was definitely a step in the right direction. But she wasn’t sure Gaby was staying quite as sober as she was supposed to. “Did I hear that your parents are in town?”
Gaby frowned—or tried her best to, through the Botox. “They’ve been threatening to pull me from the show, but so far I’ve managed to keep them from doing it.” Then she gazed at her toes and sighed. “I mean, sometimes it’s actually a lot harder for me than I like to admit, but that doesn’t mean I want to give it all up.”
She looked so lost in that moment that Kate almost got up and hugged her. Instead she said softly, “Gaby, if you’re really that unhappy, why don’t you leave? Is it really worth the pain?”
Gaby hugged one of the throw pillows against her chest. “Yes,” she said, her voice strong again. “This is what I want, Kate. Do you know what people would give to have this opportunity? Everything. All I need to do is hold it together through the end of filming.”
Kate said, “Actually, what you need to do is hold it together for the rest of your life, Gab. Filming isn’t a reason to stay sober. Taking care of yourself is.”
Gaby laughed. “I know. I’ve never been very good at that, I guess.”
Kate didn’t say anything. She was glad that Gaby seemed to grasp what she’d done to herself in the name of celebrity. But would she cancel the cosmetic surgeries she’d lined up post-season? Would she stop seeing Jay? Because it seemed to Kate like not popping pills was only the beginning of Gaby’s road to healing.
Kate stretched herself out on the carpeted floor, with her head on the pouf. It was a surprisingly comfortable position, and suddenly she was very, very tired. “What does your therapist say about naps again?” Kate asked sleepily.
“They’re healing, physically and emotionally,” Gaby said. She laughed. “We’ve got a spare bed, you know, if you can’t make it back to your place.”
Kate sighed. “I just want to close my eyes. . . .”
“You dropped something,” Gaby said.
Kate felt around on the floor and found the letter from her stalker. “Oh, right,” she said. “I was trying to decide whether or not to read the latest creepy stalker letter.”
“I always open my mail,” Gaby said. “But I don’t get as much as you guys. You should see the piles Madison gets.”
And so Kate opened her letter and scanned down the page. Halfway down, she paled.
“What?” Gaby asked. “What is it?”
Kate looked up at her. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So she read the letter out loud. “ ‘Dear Kate, Being in love with you has been a long, emotional road for me. But all good things must come to an end. My heart now belongs to Miley Cyrus. Best wishes.’ ” She met Gaby’s eye. “My stalker,” she said, holding up the letter. “I think he broke up with me.”
And then she laughed harder than she’d laughed in forever.
26
LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN
Madison made one final check of the room: the flowers arranged perfectly, the plate of bagels and croissants waiting on the dining room table. (Unlike their hostess, the guests didn’t worry about carb consumption.) The coffee was steaming inside the carafes Madison had ordered from Coffee Bean.
A text came in from Ryan. BE THERE IN FIVE. Madison took a deep breath. OK C U SOON, she wrote back.
A few days after she had called him, Madison and Ryan had begun spending time together again. Not much—but enough to make Madison wonder if things might be heading back toward the romantic. (Which she wanted? Didn’t want? Her feelings changed by the hour.)
They’d taken walks in out-of-the-way places and drives up PCH on sunny, windy days. It had been nice. Beyond nice, in fact. They joked and laughed and traded stories about their jobs. But they never talked about what was going on with Them. Ryan didn’t seem to be seeing anyone, and Madison certainly wasn’t into any of her Fame Game dates, but the situation remained unclear. Were they friends? A semi-couple? Or merely friendly exes? Neither spoke about it. They held hands sometimes, but they hadn’t kissed. As tempting as that sounded, it was a step Madison wasn’t ready to take.
Now Madison wiped an invisible speck of dust from the table. Everything looked perfect, and she was pleased. But she was also slightly annoyed at herself for caring, for going to all this trouble. Did the situation really warrant it? Should she feel so nervous and apprehensive?
Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Ryan was coming over for the first time in forever—and he was bringing Charlie Wardell, Madison’s father, with him.
How Ryan had found him, Madison still wasn’t sure. Something about Ryan’s dad having friends in high places. But if Madison knew anything about her father, it was that he didn’t frequent the high places—so really, that explanation told her nothing.
Not that it mattered. Charlie had been gone, and now he was back; that was what mattered. Apparently he had been holed up somewhere in Wyoming, living in a borrowed trailer and fixing engines for under-the-table wages. He was no longer on the run, but he wasn’t exactly looking to be found, either.
Madison had mixed feelings about Ryan’s meddling. He’d stuck his nose in her family business before, trying to broker peace between her and Sophie—which was sort of annoying. On the one hand, if it weren’t for him, who knew when she’d see her dad again? If ever. Maybe he’d show up on her wedding day, looking rumpled and apologetic and bearing a gift he’d shoplifted from Nordstrom. On the other hand, Madison’s relationship with her father was her business, and why her former boss and boyfriend thought he should make it his was baffling.
Madison sighed. There was no sense in going over it again. What was done was done.
And she could hear the two of them coming down the hall right now.
She opened the door before they could knock. Ryan looked handsome and perfectly clean-cut in a dark gray sweater, especially when compared with Charlie. Try as her dad might, he never looked like he hadn’t slept in his clothes for a couple of days. Of course, for all Madison knew, he had.
Ryan leaned in and gave her a warm hug. She squeezed him back tightly and breathed in his familiar, comforting smell of clean laundry and bar soap. She sort of wished they could stand like that, pressed together, forever. But it was time to deal with her father. She pulled away and turned toward Charlie.
He gazed at her with eyes that looked like they might overflow with tears. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he said softly. He stepped forward as if to hug her, too, but then hesitated.
“Please, come inside,” Madison said. Her heart was racing and she was finding it hard to breathe. She thought of herself as so tough—but seeing Charlie always, always reminded her that in some ways she wasn’t. That there was a part of her that would forever be little Madelyn Wardell from Armpit Falls, who only wanted her daddy to stick around and take care of her.
Charlie and Ryan sat at the dining room table a
nd Madison poured them coffee. (She silently wished she had a shot of whiskey to dump into hers.)
Charlie reached for a croissant and broke it into two, scattering crumbs all over his pants and the floor. He laughed nervously. “Seems like I make a mess wherever I go, don’t it?” he said.
“Literal and figurative,” Madison said. She couldn’t help it—she was so glad to see Charlie again, but she also wanted to reach across the table and strangle him.
Ryan, of course, was ready to play peacemaker. “Charlie and I have done a lot of talking,” he said. He looked at the croissants but didn’t take one. “And it sounds like he’s really turning things around. He’s got a steady job. He’s paid off his debts, and he’s saving money.”
Charlie nodded. “First time in my life I have a savings account,” he said. “Every penny in there has your name on it, Maddy.”
Madison sipped her coffee. “Thank you, but I don’t need your money,” she said. Her voice came out cooler than she meant it to.
“For the necklace,” Charlie said. He twisted his hands together nervously. “I suppose you figured this out, seeing as how you’re so smart, but I was in trouble. I had gambling debts that got so big they were going to bury me. That necklace—well, it freed me.”
Madison frowned. “But how? You can’t take something like that to a pawn shop. I mean, it’s not some half-carat solitaire from Kay Jewelers.”
Charlie gave a little laugh. “No, ma’am, you can’t pawn a necklace like that. But Leeann, who’s the wife of the guy I owed, she loves nothing better than diamonds. She’s like a crow—anything sparkly, she’s got to have it. So she took one look at that necklace and she said to her husband, ‘You tell Charlie we’re even now.’ And that’s what he did.” He gazed at Madison, his blue eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry I did what I did. But I knew she’d love that thing. I was never going to be able to come up with the money, but I could give her that necklace.”
“So you planned the whole thing,” Madison said, frowning.