“Well, if it works for her, I’m all for it,” Kate said. “But I bet she’s embarrassed at all this. I mean, wouldn’t you be?”
Carmen shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like she’s the first person to get confused about the right dosage of her medication.”
She shot Kate a look. Surely Kate hadn’t forgotten that she’d taken too much Xanax and turned into a walking zombie on national television. (Trevor would cut that line, no doubt, but Carmen hadn’t been able to resist.)
Kate only blinked at her, as if she really had forgotten.
“I’m actually really happy for her,” Carmen went on. “I think being at Hope was just what she needed. A break. Time to clear her head.”
Carmen wished she could have a break, too. Not at rehab, obviously, but say . . . a week at Miravel Resort & Spa? Having a few weeks off from filming had been great, but it wasn’t as if she’d been able to take a break from the rest of her life. From the tabloids, which continued to print lies about her, as well as some private truths. From Sophia, who had taken to calling her daily to talk about how cute their new producer was. And from Krew (or Date—they both worked), who were usually stuck together like Siamese twins.
Speak of the devil (or one half of it), Drew emerged from the bathroom. In a short pink towel.
Granted, he was out of the shot, but still—hadn’t he learned to take clothes into the bathroom? Wasn’t that one of the first rules of unofficial cohabitation?
He gave Carmen a small, apologetic wave. Kate hadn’t seen him, thankfully, so she was still focused on the scene. “I wonder if Madison will be there with us,” Kate said.
“Yeah. I wonder if Trevor’s going to be able to woo her back.”
Carmen knew that line wouldn’t make it to air, either, but it didn’t matter. Laurel had already informed them that they were going to shoot this segment several times. “So we have the right lead-in,” she’d explained. Since Gaby was getting out in two days and no one knew whether Madison would show up or not, they needed to cover their bases.
According to the reality of The Fame Game, Madison had taken a long vacation after finishing her community service. Some kind of Eat, Pray, Love thing, where she was finding herself and rededicating her life to . . . something or other. This explanation was buying Trevor time until he could get her back on the show. If he could.
For the first take, Kate and Carmen talked a bit about Madison’s vacation, and how she was still “in Mexico.” (This was awkward, because Madison had already been photographed at the airport last week returning from Mexico, and Gaby’s release date would be written about—so the timing wouldn’t work. But Carmen had her directions, so she followed them.) Next they shot a conversation in which they suggested that Madison, while back in L.A., was still too upset by Gaby’s overdose to face her. Finally, there was the cliff-hanger scene: Madison had told Kate she’d be there and had told Carmen that she wouldn’t. Which would it be? The world holds its breath!
That was the winner, Carmen thought, no question. Trevor could never resist a cliffhanger.
Drew passed by again, this time fully clothed and in view of the cameras. And Kate. Her eyes followed him into the kitchen, and there was a love-struck look on her face. “I wish Madison—and Gaby—could find a good guy,” she said.
Carmen put her head in her hands. Was it possible to die of annoyance? Because she felt like she might.
Then she looked up. “We could lend them Drew,” she said, smiling.
“We?” Kate asked.
Carmen shrugged. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” Kate asked, a slight edge coming into her voice.
God, what was her problem? Carmen stood up. “Well, anyway,” she said, pointing to her watch. “I’ve gotta go meet with my agent.”
“Yeah, that’s a wrap on this scene,” Laurel called, stepping out from behind Bret. “You are both free until the day after tomorrow, when we welcome Ms. Garcia back into reality.”
Carmen hurried into the bathroom to fetch her lipstick, thinking how those words were probably the last ones that would apply to whatever was going to happen to Gaby.
3
DON’T MAKE ME CALL THEM MYSELF
Trevor sucked grimly on an ice cube as he sat in the editing bay at PopTV Studios. Before him were half a dozen computer screens, and each displayed raw footage from the past few weeks of season-two shooting. Kate and Carmen shopping. Sophia trying to bend Kate into pigeon pose. Carmen on a phone call with her publicist. Kate and Drew curled up on her couch, recapping her most recent performance. Each clip made him want to—well, depending on his mood, either fall asleep . . . or jump out a window.
He spun around in his swivel chair, and Laurel eyed him nervously. He’d already thrown one fit today, and she was probably bracing herself for round two. He’d promoted her to executive producer, but the old listen-to-Trevor-when-he-freaks-out part of her job description remained.
“That Kate and Drew scene could be intercut with shots of Carmen looking wistful,” she suggested.
“Oh really?” he said facetiously. “I never would have thought of that.”
Trevor crunched the ice cube from his latte and fished another one from his cup. With Gaby in rehab and Madison AWOL, he was trying to make a show with half his regular cast. He’d managed to patch together the final few episodes of season one, using old footage of the main girls and some new footage featuring Sophia more prominently. What a nightmare that had been. He’d used an army of interns to comb through unused scenes, and there were too many continuity problems to count. Gaby had had a Restylane mishap (for a couple of days it looked as if she’d been punched in the mouth), Madison had put on a few pounds during the Ryan weeks (though it looked great on her), and Kate had taken a weekend trip to Palm Springs, but she might as well have taken a nap in a tanning bed (she came back looking more like a Jersey Shore reject than an up-and-coming musician).
Then the ratings came in, which showed a troubling dip; in particular, audiences did not respond well to Sophia’s bigger role. They liked her in the background well enough, but the moment she stepped into the spotlight, people starting changing the channel.
At least Gaby’s OD, while unfortunate for all sorts of reasons, had played out well on screen. He’d found footage of Madison and Gaby at a café, in which Madison looked worried about her friend, so he’d used that. He’d even been able to fall back on the footage of her storming out of the massage room that day, cleverly editing it so it looked like Gaby’s drug problem was what had made Madison so upset.
Yes, he had managed to create an excellent season finale, if he did say so himself. The shots of the girls in the waiting room, their eyes brimming with tears—well, that had been some seriously moving television.
There was a knock on the door, and Trevor barked out, “Who is it?”
Stephen Marsh, the newest Fame Game producer, poked his head in. “Hope is trying to renege on their offer to let us film on site,” he said.
Trevor glared at him. “Don’t let them off the hook,” he said. “And don’t make me call them myself,” he added. He turned to Laurel. “Make sure he handles this right, okay?”
Laurel nodded and followed Stephen out, and Trevor returned to his thoughts.
He’d given his girls a break over the holidays, but now it was time to get things rolling again. Carmen’s regular appearance in the tabloids was good for ratings (the fight with her mom was great, though it killed him that he hadn’t captured it on film), and he hoped it would last. Carmen was a smart girl; she knew what made good TV. The problem was, she didn’t always bother to make it. For instance, she seemed to be involved with Luke Kelly again, this time for real. Why couldn’t that guy just go away? He’d served his purpose for the show, and now he was simply a nuisance. He wasn’t even in the country, and yet he was monopolizing Carmen’s romance story line.
On the bright side, Laurel had suggested that the Kate-Drew hookup might be getting on Carm
en’s nerves. Trevor had moved Carmen and Kate into Madison and Gaby’s old place. He’d figured he’d get good footage of the show’s two rising stars living together—but he hadn’t predicted Drew’s near-constant presence. If Kate didn’t stop hanging all over him, Carmen Curtis—the privileged girl who’d always gotten her way—was going to snap.
It would take only a tiny little push. . . .
And Kate Hayes, while certainly not the most charismatic girl he’d ever filmed, was now huge in the Midwest. (If he ever sent her back to Ohio again, he felt certain she’d be carried away by a mob of screaming tweens.) Trevor felt confident that Kate’s appeal would only grow as she pursued her music career more fully in season two.
There was always good old Jay, too. For reasons that Trevor couldn’t fathom, Jay had become a fan favorite. Maybe there was something about his blend of frat-guy fart jokes and pseudo-philosophical BS that really appealed to the Fame Game audience. So, even though Gaby said they’d broken up because of one of her steps (she couldn’t remember which it was, but it had something to do with “taking personal inventory”), Trevor would make sure they had lots of run-ins over the next few months.
The only real problem was Madison Parker. The show needed her desperately. He knew she was back in town and that she was at least open to talking—or her agent was, anyway. What Trevor didn’t know was what it would take to get her back in front of the PopTV cameras. He supposed he’d find out soon enough how dearly he’d have to pay for her return.
4
THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL
“So where’s our third roommate?” Carmen asked, wandering into the living room and flopping down on one of the giant floor cushions.
Kate looked up at her, trying to decide if Carmen was being jokey or snide. “He’s at Rock It! I think. But I’m not sure. It’s not like I know where he is every second of the day.” Just most of the seconds, Kate added silently.
She and Drew had been dating since she got back from Ohio. It was as if everything had suddenly fallen into place. They didn’t wonder if dating would ruin their friendship, or if other people in their lives would complicate things too much (Carmen and Luke, ahem). They saw each other on the morning after Gaby’s incident, and they’d pretty much spent every day together since. It was, in a word, fantastic.
“Is his internship still going well?” Carmen asked.
“Totally,” Kate said. “He’s been promoted from intern to paid intern since he’s returned to school. It’s only minimum wage, but it’s something.” She smiled.
Carmen nodded. “Awesome,” she said, and then began picking at one of her fingernails.
Kate turned back to the fan mail that she’d been rifling through. On Drew’s and Trevor’s advice, she’d finally gotten herself a manager, Todd Barrows, who had forwarded on the large stacks of letters. Todd was an old pro (he’d repped $erena when she was starting out, and that girl had five songs on the charts). Kate was learning a lot about the music business from both him and Drew. Though their advice often contradicted each other’s.
She was also learning from her own experience. Such as: Success is not lasting, and it is never guaranteed.
That was a lesson she hadn’t enjoyed much. “Starstruck” was no longer on every playlist, and her follow-up song didn’t become the hit she’d hoped it would. She did not plan on being a one-hit wonder, and she’d been working like crazy to get another song ready to record. She was up until two the night before, and planned to be up at least that late tonight. (Laurel had even told her to take it easy: “Your under-eye bags are showing on camera. You either need more sleep or a good concealer,” she’d said.)
Kate picked up an unopened letter and tapped it against her palm. She knew that reading it would make her feel better; each note was a vote of confidence, and an ego boost. She still couldn’t believe that she, little Kate Hayes from Columbus, Ohio, was getting fan mail. So far she’d managed to write everyone back (teen girls from all over the world, plus a handful of sensitive boys), but as the stacks grew taller—and they would; they already were, despite her dip in the charts—she’d have to give up that goal. She had her Twitter account and her Facebook fan page, so she could stay connected, but she was going to feel guilty once she stopped answering letters.
“So what’s up with your music?” Carmen asked, having successfully removed her hangnail.
Kate sighed. “A lot—and also sort of nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, as you probably know, Trevor wouldn’t let me sign a record deal before, because he felt like it was a quote-unquote ‘season two story line.’ So he basically made me put my life and career on hold because it suited him and his show.”
“Which is also our show,” Carmen pointed out.
Kate waved this obvious fact away. “Of course, but back in the fall people were calling me. My song was everywhere, and now it’s only on that stupid Nokia commercial.”
“Hey! That stupid commercial paid for your Mini Cooper.”
“True,” Kate said, brightening. She loved that car. “Anyway, Trevor says I can sign a deal now, but all of a sudden, my phone’s not ringing.”
“Oh, you’ll have your pick of labels,” Carmen assured her. “Your songs are great.”
“Thanks,” Kate said. “Maybe people are still interested, sure. But it wasn’t any fun to put them off, you know? Imagine if Colum McEntire had told you he wanted you to star in his movie, and you were like, Yeah, sounds great, but can you please wait for three months, because my dad grounded me for shoplifting?”
Carmen laughed. “Ouch. You know I never actually stole anything, right?”
Kate looked at her in surprise. “You didn’t? And here I was, thinking Trevor must have an eye for the thieving type.”
“I can’t believe I never told you,” Carmen said. “I took the fall for a friend.”
“Wow, that was really nice of you.”
Carmen shrugged. “It seemed like the right idea at the time.” She sounded like she might have had second thoughts. “My dad was furious at me.”
“Honestly, I felt awkward ever bringing it up, but now that I know you didn’t do it, you have to tell me what really happened,” Kate said.
“It’s not really that exciting,” Carmen said. “I didn’t have to go to court like Mad.”
Kate laughed. “Thank goodness there was no ‘giving back to the community’ required of you! Because why on earth would you want to do that?”
“Yeah,” Carmen said faintly.
Kate wondered if she’d managed to offend her. Again. Why was it so hard for them to get along? It was like they couldn’t help pushing each other’s buttons. She’d simply meant that it was good Carmen didn’t have to go to court, but it had come out sounding like Kate thought she was a spoiled brat.
“Soooooo . . . ,” Kate said, after an awkward moment of silence.
“So Luke called,” Carmen said suddenly. “He said filming’s going great.”
“Oh! That’s great.”
Lately it seemed as if Carmen mentioned Luke about twenty times a day. Not that Kate minded—she was completely over him. Carmen and Luke could absolutely have each other . . . for the five minutes that they’d actually be into it. If there was one thing Kate had learned about these actor types, it was that they changed partners as often (at least) as they changed roles.
What she had with Drew, on the other hand, was real.
Kate tapped the unopened letter against her hand once more and then tore it open. She didn’t mean to read it while she and Carmen were in the middle of a conversation, but she couldn’t help but glance down.
—think it’s so, so unfair when people say you’re boring and stuff, because you’re the sweetest one of—
Kate looked back up, feeling deflated. Thanks for the backhanded compliment, Misty from Nebraska, she thought. As if she weren’t perfectly aware of the nasty things that got said about her—that she was a doormat, she was as exciting as
watching paint dry—some “fan” had to go and remind her.
She tossed the letter into the garbage. She’d start her policy of not writing back with Misty.
Carmen handed her another letter and then got up. “I’m heading to bed. Gotta get my beauty sleep before Gaby’s big day. Otherwise D-lish’ll post about how beat-down I look or something, and they’ll be right.”
“Night,” Kate called out. She gazed at the next envelope for a moment before opening it. It was sent from here in L.A., and the handwriting was small and exquisitely neat. J.B. from Studio City: The initials and the handwriting were familiar. He’d written her before, hadn’t he? Yes, and she’d sent him a signed head shot. He was probably writing to thank her—after all, not every TV personality would be so generous with her time and photos. She opened the letter, feeling rather pleased with herself for being so nice, and with J.B. for being so polite.
Dear Kate,
Thank you so much for the photo. I have it framed next to my bed. I’ve watched you since the very first episode of The Fame Game. You are a great talent, and you are better and more beautiful than anyone else on that show. I love your voice. It’s the voice of an angel.
Kate smiled. Now this was more like it. She read on.
I wish that your voice could be the first thing I heard in the morning and the last thing I heard at night. Sometimes when I see you on TV, and your blue eyes turn toward the camera, I swear that you are looking straight at me. Telling me that you see me, and you want to get to know me. Well, I want to get to know you, too. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I tell people you are my girlfriend—and who knows? Maybe someday you will be. I mean, look how close we live to each other.
Kate looked at the second page enclosed in the envelope. It was a map with what she assumed was his home circled and a line leading to a second location. She looked a little closer and realized it was their apartment. Sure, a few photographers had figured out where they lived after following them home, but Trevor had always assured them that most people didn’t know.