The Fame Game

  They’d spent a lot of time together since her visit to his motel, both on- and off-camera. Sue Beth had finally sent the box of his letters that she’d kept hidden, and Madison had read them all in one tear-soaked sitting. (Dear Maddie, It’s fall so you must be getting ready to start sixth grade. I hope you have a pretty new dress to wear on your first day of school. . . . My dear Mads, Your old man misses you so much! I bet you’re getting taller by the day. . . .)

  After that, she’d been more willing to listen to his explanations and apologies. There was still a part of her that wanted to remain furious and unforgiving—but a larger part than that just wanted to have a father, no matter how imperfect he was.

  After all, it wasn’t as if he’d left them to have some wonderful life of his own. He’d bounced around upstate New York and Pennsylvania, looking for work as a mechanic, which wasn’t easy without a trade certificate or a high school diploma. He’d made a go of it outside Pittsburgh for a while, but then he’d fallen in with a bunch of roughnecks. He’d been in a car with a couple buddies one night, just sitting in the back, drinking a Pabst and listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd, when the other two decided to rob a convenience store. He hadn’t even known what they were doing. He’d just been waiting for them to come back when they came dashing out with a bag full of cash. Before he knew it they were racing down the highway with two state troopers in pursuit.

  “What could I do?” he’d asked her then, his eyes searching her face. “I copped a plea. I mean, I was there! No one was going to believe that I was just some innocent bystander. So I pled guilty and I served my time. And while I was in jail? Every single moment of every single day, I thought about you. You and your sister.”

  The heart Madison had worked so much to harden softened yet again, and one of these days she was afraid it would just crack open. She knew that her dad had been in prison, but Sue Beth had never said that he’d been innocent. Poor Charlie: He’d paid for his stupidity with jail time and he’d paid for his absence from their lives with pain. He wasn’t a deadbeat dad; he was just the unluckiest guy she’d ever met.

  “I should have taken you two girls with me when I left,” Charlie had said, “but I didn’t know how. Seemed impossible for me to take care of two little girls without their momma, and Sweetpea, I just couldn’t stay. Your mother—me—we fought a lot. I was afraid of what one of us would do to the other.” He shook his head sadly. “If I could do it all over again . . .”

  After that, Madison began contemplating a life with her father. Maybe it could even include Sophie, who was still working that peace-love-harmony act. What if, after all these years, Madison could have a family after all?

  She’d made up her mind: She was going to show Charlie that since he’d come back into her life, she’d let him stay there. For good.

  The salesman stood and slipped the suit jacket over the blue dress shirt that Madison had picked out to match Charlie’s eyes. “Yes, the fabric is perfect,” she said.

  She missed this type of shopping excursion. She used to go to men’s stores with her older boyfriends—well, the single ones; the married ones didn’t like to be seen in daylight with her—but she was in between boyfriends right now. She hadn’t been in Ted Baker for months.

  “Very good,” the salesman said and began to pin the sleeves of the coat.

  “Sweetpea,” Charlie whispered, motioning for Madison to lean closer. He lifted his arm and a tiny tag attached to the jacket sleeve fluttered near his fingertips. “Tell me this is the year that the suit was made and not the actual price.”

  Madison smiled. The four-figure number was indeed the price, but this suit would last Charlie for a long time. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this one,” she said. Pride swelled in her chest that she could buy it for him.

  “Doll, it’s a looker, but I don’t have anyplace to wear it,” Charlie said.

  “I don’t know.” Madison watched his reflection in the mirror. “This suit would be perfect for a premiere.”

  Charlie looked puzzled. “What premiere?”

  “I was thinking that maybe you’d want to go to The Fame Game premiere with me.”

  Charlie smiled then—a huge, infectious grin. When he didn’t look so pitifully beaten down, he was a handsome man. “Oh, Mads,” he said. “I’d love that.”

  “Good,” Madison said and smiled at her father.

  Madison handed her AmEx to the hovering salesclerk. “The suit,” she said to him, “and these three ties and shirts. Have them sent to this address.” She handed him one of her business cards with an address scribbled on the back. “How long will it take?”

  “A week,” he said.

  “Perfect,” Madison said. And that word felt truer than ever.

  * * *

  Her next surprise was the really big one. Though she’d thought about inviting the PopTV cameras along, or at least a paparazzo or two (Madison and Dad kiss and make up!), she had decided, in the end, to keep the moment private.

  She was supposed to drive Charlie back to the E-Z Inn, but instead she turned off La Brea onto Rosewood.

  “Doll, I don’t know Los Angeles too well, but this doesn’t look like the way back to my place.” Charlie had lit a cigarette. Madison hated smoke (and the wrinkles it caused), but they’d agreed that he could smoke as long as the top was down.

  “It isn’t?” Madison said, all fake innocence.

  She pulled down a residential street lined with trees and manicured lawns. Her fingertips drummed the steering wheel with excitement. The place was absolutely perfect: a quiet neighborhood of modest, well-cared-for houses, close to Charlie’s job, Sophie’s apartment, and Madison’s own place. She turned into the driveway of a tiny brown bungalow. There was a white fence half-covered in roses and a front porch trellis practically dripping with bright fuchsia bougainvillea.

  “Cute place,” Charlie said and took another puff on his cigarette. “One of your friends live here?”

  “You could say that.” Madison smiled as she turned off her car. “C’mon.”

  They climbed the front steps together and Madison pulled a key from her purse. She opened the front door to a sunlit room. The living room was modestly but tastefully furnished with a couch, an oversized chair, and a flat-screen TV. The dining area, attached to the bright kitchen, was big enough for a table of six. On the mantel, she’d placed an old photograph of her and Sophie and Charlie together. They were laughing, eating ice-cream cones.

  “Do you like it?” Madison asked. Her dad wasn’t getting it. She smiled and a feeling of warmth flashed through her. Her father’s happiness was what she wanted right now most of all.

  “What?” Charlie looked around the room. “Yeah, it’s really nice, but—” And that was when he saw the photograph. “Wait a second. Whose place is this?”

  “Well, technically it’s mine,” Madison said. “But I want you to live here.”

  Charlie gazed around the room in disbelief. “Here? You want me to live here?”

  Madison nodded. “If it’s okay, I mean, if you want to, and you like it and—”

  Charlie looked at Madison and then back at the picture of the three of them that he now held in his hands. “Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me. Not ever.”

  His eyes glistened, and Madison watched as tears welled in them and then slipped down his cheeks. He ran the sleeve of his blue shirt over his face.

  “Oh, don’t cry, Dad,” Madison whispered. “It’s just a little two-bedroom house. But it’s got two bathrooms, too, and a washer and dryer, a yard, a kitchen—”

  “Wait,” Charlie said. His voice sounded almost sharp. Madison stopped and turned back to him. Oh no. He wasn’t happy—he didn’t like it after all!

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Sweetpea, did you just call me ‘Dad’?”

  A smile slipped over Madison’s face. She’d just called Charlie “Dad” without even thinking about it. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I did.”

  Madis
on’s good mood lasted for all of about fifteen minutes after arriving at the photo shoot for The Fame Game ads. Seeing Carmen perched in her chair, getting her makeup done and looking so damn nonchalant with all the primping and fussing, made Madison clench her fists in resentment. That little celebuspawn had probably had her first hair and makeup session before her first birthday. She was just so entitled.

  Even worse, seeing Carmen reminded Madison of the auditions for The End of Love. That particular day had involved the sort of humiliation that Madison Parker did not want to experience again. Sure, she’d gotten a role, but it was as The Girl Who Gets Killed in the First Five Minutes. (That was really going to beef up her IMDb page, wasn’t it?) She glanced over at Carmen again: the lead. Of course they’d given that role to her. Madison had never had a chance against Carmen “My Parents Own Hollywood” Curtis, and Trevor Lord had known that when he pitted the two of them against each other.

  She smiled grimly. That was probably why he called his show The Fame Game: Like in a round of poker, there were winners and there were losers. Carmen Curtis had been born with a full house, while Madison Parker had to fight for every lousy pair and bluff her way through the game.

  “Madison,” Laurel called. “We need you in makeup.” She pointed to a chair to the right of the set they’d be shooting on. “Have a seat.”

  Madison sighed and walked over. Normally she would have had her own team do her hair and face—she didn’t trust the PopTV people to get her look right—but she hadn’t had time because she’d been with Charlie. She’d just have to cross her fingers and hope for the best.

  As some gum-popping dingbat blew out her hair, Madison watched her castmates in the mirror. Kate and Gaby were dressed and ready to go. Wardrobe had put Gaby in a chiffony coral dress, probably to hide how thin she was. Kate was wearing a little red number that was sleek without being particularly sexy. (Wouldn’t want to knock her too far out of her cargo-pant and Gap tee look!) There was an orange dress hanging on a rack for Carmen. And Madison—the star—would be wearing gold.

  Trevor arrived then, flanked by two assistants. “Ladies,” he said, “are we excited or what?” He took off his sunglasses and gave Madison a wink. Madison offered him a sultry smile in return. No, she didn’t think Trevor was attractive, but he didn’t have to know that, did he?

  “We’re going to shoot you against this plain backdrop,” he informed them. “And then in the posters, we’ll make it look as if you’re standing in front of the Hollywood sign. Like you’re way up above the city, looking down on it all—but you’re also standing with your heels in the dirt. It’s a study in glamorous contradictions.”

  Kate nodded, wide-eyed. She was eating up his BS. Gaby wasn’t paying attention, but there was nothing unusual about that. Madison glanced over at Carmen, who was getting a final touch-up.

  “I like it,” Carmen said as her makeup person dusted her cheeks with a bit of shimmery powder. “Good concept.”

  Suck-up, Madison thought. Her own makeup person was lining her eyes with a smoky shadow. “Careful,” she warned. “Keep it close to the lash line. I don’t want to look like a raccoon.”

  Carmen popped out of her chair and went to change into her dress. A moment later, she and Kate were over at the craft services table, picking at a giant tray of fresh fruit and laughing about something. Laurel joined them, and then all three shared some stupid giggle session.

  Trevor walked over to stand behind Madison, and his eyes met hers in the mirror. “So, after the shoot, we’ll do the voice-over recording,” he said.

  “Of course,” Madison said. “I’m totally prepared.”

  “Great. I’m actually going to have everyone read—”

  “What?” Madison interrupted.

  “I’m going to have everyone read. I want to see whose voice makes the most sense—whose inflection is the most relatable.”

  “You want to see whose inflection is the most relatable?” Madison repeated, aghast. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Trevor gazed at her calmly. “It means I want to see who does it best,” he said.

  Madison was speechless. He’d promised her the voice-over back when he’d asked her to be on the show. Whoever did the voice-over was the de facto main character—the star. The person through whose eyes the rest of the world would see Hollywood. Which meant that it had to be her.

  “But Trevor,” she began.

  Trevor held up a hand like he knew what she was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it. Like he didn’t care that he was reneging on a promise. Honesty meant nothing to a TV producer.

  Madison wanted to scream at him. She wanted to leap from her chair and tackle him. She wanted to tighten that ugly navy tie around his neck until he could no longer breathe. But she knew that this would get her nowhere. When he’d approached her back in June, Trevor had made it sound like The Fame Game was her show. But at the end of the day, it was always his show. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Let’s get our pictures taken, shall we?” he said. His tone was light but his eyes were steel. They said to Madison: Do not fuck with me.

  Her makeup and hair were done, so she slipped on the golden dress that wardrobe had laid out for her. It was small comfort, having the prettiest dress out of all the cast members.

  Laurel positioned the girls in various groupings, and the camera shutter clicked madly.

  “Kate. Remember, no smile,” the photographer told Kate at some point. “This isn’t your senior class photo.”

  Madison snickered and Carmen shot her a look. Madison reciprocated. Pretty soon the two of them were all-out glaring at each other.

  “I like that,” Trevor called. “Does it play?”

  The photographer shook his head. “It makes their eyes look small. Come on, girls, think beautiful thoughts. They will make you look beautiful.”

  After a few more minutes, Laurel hustled up and rearranged them: Madison and Carmen standing back to back, arms crossed in the center. Then Gaby on one side and Kate on the other.

  “Love it, Carmen. Awesome, Kate,” Laurel said. “Gaby, can you try to move your face a little bit? Madison, can you look a little more alive?”

  More alive? What was she talking about? Madison was a pro at this. She’d been at more photo shoots than that little troll would ever be. She stood up straighter and gave the camera her best look: a mix of sultriness and defiance.

  “Mmm,” Laurel said, sounding less than thrilled. She was drinking from that stupid travel mug again.

  Madison repositioned herself slightly. She was still staring right into the camera lens, but now she was gazing down her nose at it. The look was meant to say: I am the shit and don’t you forget it. The shutters clicked. The lights were hot and Madison felt a touch of perspiration on her lip. Within seconds someone yelled, “Shine! Can someone powder Madison?” and the makeup assistant was patting her face.

  “My feet hurt,” Gaby whispered.

  “Smile through it,” Madison said. “It’s the only way.”

  The photographer called for a break—all the girls needed a makeup touch-up—and Madison watched as Laurel fluttered right over to Carmen and Kate, smiling. When did they get to be such besties? Madison wondered resentfully. She never thought she’d miss having Dana around, but now she did. Dana was always stressed and bitchy, but at least she was equal-opportunity bitchy.

  To take her mind off her interpersonal annoyances, Madison ran through the voice-over narration in her head. There are four of us, and we’re all trying to make it. We know it’s going to be a rough road; we know fame isn’t easy. But this is our time. And we’re ready to get in the game.

  Madison tossed back her platinum hair and readjusted her posture. Her spine was ramrod straight. She was ready for the cameras at all times. Because really, Madison thought, really it’s just my time. And I will win this game.

  Chapter 20

  Secret Lovers

  The Buzz! News studio looked sor
t of flimsy in real life, Carmen noticed, but then again, that was the way it always was. She’d been on enough sound stages to know that in Hollywood, nothing was really as glamorous as it looked on TV.

  Gaby was looking nervous, but also weirdly grown-up and professional in some kind of chic little silk blouse and tweed skirt ensemble. She kept popping pieces of sugar-free gum into her mouth.

  “Don’t worry,” Carmen assured her. “This is going to be easy. It’s just me, remember? Just me and one extra camera.”

  Gaby smiled tremulously. Her first on-camera interview, the one with Lacey Hopkins, hadn’t gone very well, and since then the Buzz! people had kept her behind the scenes. They’d made her kind of a PA, even though she was pretty useless for that, too. Although she did do a decent job of fetching people coffee.

  But as Laurel had reported to Kate and Carmen when they’d all met for drinks the other night, Trevor told Buzz! that they could film Kate making espressos over at Stecco. “The show doesn’t need two baristas. So get Gaby back on-camera, okay?” he’d said. And apparently they’d done what he asked.

  Some semi-handsome PA settled Gaby and Carmen into uncomfortable armchairs and took away Gaby’s gum wrapped in a tissue. They were surrounded by cameras, and even Carmen felt a little weird. She was being filmed being filmed, acting out an interview (for a reality TV show and a real TV show) about an acting job for a movie. Huh? It was like looking at endless repetitions of yourself in a mirror.

  “Okay, girls. We’re rolling in three . . . two . . . one,” someone called.

  Gaby looked down at her question cards and then back up at Carmen. Carmen could see her take a deep breath before she spoke. “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?”

  Carmen smiled glitteringly. “I’m so incredibly excited,” she said. But of course she didn’t want to seem too excited—she wanted to ooze poise and sophistication. “It’s such an incredible opportunity to work with Colum McEntire and the whole PopTV Films family.”