Starstruck

“It’s so nice here,” she said softly. “It smells like roses and the ocean.”

  Ryan looked at her and his eyes were keen but warm. He seemed almost as if he wanted to say something, or to reach out and grab her hand. But he didn’t.

  “It’s better than Columbus, Ohio, right?” he asked teasingly. “Even if that’s where the cameras are?”

  “It’s definitely better here,” she said. “They don’t call that flyover country for nothing.”

  “Have you ever been to Ohio?”

  “No,” Madison said. “But I don’t need to. I’ve seen pictures!” Then she laughed at how snobby this sounded.

  “Right,” Ryan said. “So I guess I don’t need to listen to your stories anymore because I’ve seen you on TV.”

  Madison knew perfectly well that he was joking, but she felt a tiny stab of worry anyway. What if she was beginning to bore him? They’d never spent this long together before. What if this much Madison was just too much?

  Beside her, Ryan yawned and then shifted in his seat. This confirmed her fears. He’d had enough of her and wanted to go to bed.

  “Am I getting boring?” she asked. She tried to say it lightly.

  Ryan shook his head. “Sorry, it’s been a long week. I’m tired.” He stretched his long legs out, and Madison noticed that his feet were bare.

  She was exhausted herself, but she didn’t want the night to end yet. Not until she knew what was going on between the two of them. Just Friends didn’t go on weekend getaways together, did they?

  “We could go in....” she said softly.

  He shook his head. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’ll perk up.”

  “How are you going to do that?” she asked.

  Ryan turned to look at her. Madison met his gaze, holding her breath. In the fading light his eyes looked dark, almost black. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe this way?”

  He leaned toward her, and his fingers felt their way toward hers, and then they were kissing. No longer sleepy, no longer uncertain, they wrapped their arms around each other, under the roses and the stars.

  26

  WHAT I WISHED FOR

  Kate sat in a cab, across the street from the house in which she’d grown up. She’d sworn she was never going back to Ohio (except maybe for Christmas), and yet here she was. She wasn’t really sure how she felt about it. Besides … coerced. And nervous, because the 4.6 million viewers of The Fame Game (according to last week’s ratings) were about to see exactly where she came from.

  Her mother had placed two big planters of mums on each side of the front porch, the way she did every fall. The neighbor’s dog was barking as usual, and old Mrs. Hennick across the street was peering out her window, the way she did whenever she heard a car turn into their cul-de-sac. Kate’s world had been flipped upside down in the last few months, but here in her old neighborhood, everything was exactly the same. Seeing those gold and orange flowers, and that same dumb Thanksgiving flag her mother had hung by the door (a turkey wearing a pilgrim hat)—well, it made Kate feel kind of like a kid again. A kid with strawberry-blond pigtails and a big voice. A kid with a crazy dream to make it as a musician.

  She stirred restlessly in the backseat of the cab. The camera crew was set up and ready to film her arrival, but since they hadn’t quite finished blocking her shot, she had to wait. She hoped Laurel had alerted the neighbors about the disruptions; otherwise Mrs. Hennick would be dialing 911 any minute.

  Beside her, Laurel cleared her throat. “Allergies,” she explained. “Leaf piles.” She gestured toward the neat mounds of maple leaves that dotted the neighbor’s lawn.

  “Too bad I’m not Gaby, the walking medicine cabinet,” Kate joked. (Too soon?)

  “I’ll be fine,” Laurel said. “You about ready? We’re going to start in a few minutes.”

  Laurel had gone over all of Kate’s story points on the second leg of their cross-country flight. Kate knew that she was supposed to tell her mother about how she was struggling to balance her restaurant work (even though she’d already quit) while also pursuing her music career. Then she’d been told to talk about the new friends she’d made in Hollywood, and their different personalities and quirks.

  It was silly: They wanted her to talk to her mother as if the two of them hadn’t spoken since she moved to L.A., which of course they had. But as Trevor had reminded her, “If it didn’t happen on-camera, it didn’t happen.” So yes, she knew what to do. But she didn’t want to think about it, not yet. She had a few more moments of normalcy, and then she’d be on camera. Acting. Playing herself, but still acting.

  “We used to play hide-and-seek all around here, because of the cul-de-sac,” Kate said, a trace of wistfulness in her voice. She was gazing absently at an elm tree she used to hide in when she noticed a familiar blue car parked in its shade: a beat-up Subaru wagon with a Phish bumper sticker. She gasped.

  “What?” Laurel said. “You okay?”

  “That’s Ethan’s car. Tell me you guys did not call my ex-boyfriend,” Kate demanded.

  Laurel didn’t respond for a moment. Instead she took a long drink of her coffee.

  Kate lowered her voice, the way her mother used to do when she was disappointed in her. “I’ve been avoiding him for weeks, and now you’re just going to spring him on me? That is so incredibly uncool.”

  Laurel sighed. “I can’t always tell you everything, Kate. This is my job. I would never put you in a position that I didn’t think you could handle, but sometimes we just need a genuine reaction.”

  Kate flopped her head back against the seat.

  “I mean, come on,” Laurel said. “With the rest of the cast slowly immobilizing their faces with injectables, you’re kind of our last hope.” She laughed and gave Kate a nudge.

  But Kate didn’t find it funny. She hated feeling like everyone around her knew a secret and was just sitting and waiting for her to be blindsided. “God,” she said, “it’s like some kind of mean-spirited surprise party. And, like, there’s a giant cake, but instead of a hot guy jumping out, it’s my ex-boyfriend.”

  “It’s going to be fine,” Laurel said soothingly. “You’re going to be amazing. You’re a pro.”

  “Whatever that means,” Kate huffed.

  “It means that when it’s time to shoot, you shoot,” Laurel said. “Like right now.”

  Laurel gave her arm a quick squeeze and hopped out of the cab. She went around to the driver’s window and asked that he count to ten before pulling up to the house. She pointed to a PA standing in the street. “Stop right in front of him,” she directed. And then she vanished into one of the production vans.

  When the driver stopped at his mark, Kate took a deep breath, steeled herself, and got out of the cab. In a matter of seconds, she was opening the door to her childhood home and a life that now felt a million miles away.

  In the entryway hung the same pastel seascapes Kate remembered, and the air still smelled like the Crabtree & Evelyn potpourri her mother loved. The living room seemed smaller and dingier, but maybe that was because it was full of cameras, tangled extension cords, lighting equipment, and strangers.

  “Oh, honey,” her mother cried, coming out of the kitchen.

  Kate rushed forward to hug her. “Hi, Mom,” she said into her hair. Kate wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, and she could have kicked herself for thinking it, but she couldn’t help it: Has Mom gained weight?

  Her mom stepped away, holding her shoulders. “Let me look at you, my beautiful girl. Oh, I’ve missed you!”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” And God, what was with those mom jeans? The waist of them had to be six inches above her belly button. Didn’t she understand she was going to be on TV?

  “Come in, come in,” Marlene Hayes said, sounding flustered. “Are you hungry?”

  Kate followed her mom into the living room and set her purse on the rocking chair that she used to sit in as she waited for the school bus. “No thanks, Mom. I’m okay.”


  “Are you sure you don’t want me to make you a nice salad? I have some lovely arugula from Hillsdale Market.”

  “Sit, Mom,” Kate said. She heard the impatience in her voice. She didn’t want half of teenaged America to see her mother babying her.

  Her mother did as she was told. Marlene was obviously nervous, but she was handling herself pretty well, considering. “You have to tell me everything,” she said.

  What Kate most wanted to do was go upstairs and lie down. Then, after a nap, she’d come down and style her mother for her camera time. She thought of Cassandra Curtis, who was possibly the most glamorous forty-something on earth, and how Trevor had filmed her nibbling sushi at some fabulous Brentwood eatery. Couldn’t they have made Marlene Hayes look a little less … suburban?

  Kate tried to banish these superficial thoughts. Tried to pretend there wasn’t a camera three feet from her face, waiting for her to Tell All. What would she do if she and her mom were alone? Maybe she’d crawl into her lap, and have her gently smooth the hair back from her forehead the way she did when Kate was little. Maybe she’d sigh dramatically and tell her mother about all the insanity of her new life: how it was wonderful and awful and exciting and terrifying, and how sometimes, when she looked at herself in the mirror in the morning, she felt as if she were looking at a stranger.

  But the camera’s red light was blinking, and that wouldn’t be what Trevor wanted to hear. It wouldn’t be what Kate wanted to show, either.

  “Where do I begin?” Kate asked, laughing in a way that she hoped sounded sincere.

  “Well, gosh,” her mother said, “I don’t know.” But before she could make a suggestion (and hit her own talking points!), there was a knock at the door. Marlene turned around, trying to look baffled as to who might be stopping by. Kate felt her heart start to beat a little faster. They both knew who it was, but they had to pretend—for the cameras, yes, but even worse, to each other—that they didn’t. Her mother bit her thumbnail like a girl.

  “Aren’t you going to get it?” Kate asked. She wished, for a moment, that she had the guts to defy Laurel and say, Don’t answer it. It’s probably just the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

  “Ha!” Marlene’s laugh was a sharp bark. “Yes, silly me.”

  Ethan Connor looked better than he used to—that was the first thing Kate noticed as he strode, smiling, into the living room. He had let his dark hair grow so that it curled at the collar of his flannel shirt. He was tan from weekends spent on the river, and it seemed as if he’d grown an inch or two.

  “Well, look who it is,” he said, his voice booming. “Little Miss Hollywood.” He was thrilled to be in a room full of cameras—it couldn’t have been more obvious.

  She stood up and hugged him, being careful not to hit his mike pack. “Oh my God, Ethan! It’s been a while!”

  Ethan stepped back and looked at her. “And whose fault is that?” His voice was suddenly cool and his dark eyes glittered. “Certainly not mine.”

  He had walked in, Kate realized, ready for a fight. She wondered if he was actually mad at her (which, okay, he might have a reason to be) or if his anger was Trevor’s idea. Not that it mattered: She wasn’t going to get into it with Ethan in front of the cameras. She’d had enough on-screen drama lately.

  “Life has been soooo crazy,” she said, sinking back down in her chair and wiping her brow for effect. “I hardly know where I am or what day it is.”

  “I can help you with both of those things. It’s Tuesday, and you’re in Ohio. Your humble roots.” Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Speaking of roots, did you dye your hair?”

  Kate put a hand up to the crown of her head. “Just a little highlighting,” she said, flushing.

  Ethan gazed at her for a moment. “I think I liked it better before,” he said finally.

  She exhaled sharply. “Well, thanks for the input. I’m sure my colorist will care.” Whoops, she thought. You’re not supposed to fight.

  “It’s more than that, though. Did you get it straightened, too, or just wash it?”

  “So, Katie, dear, tell us about your new songs,” her mother interjected.

  Kate turned to her gratefully. Why couldn’t she have had ten minutes alone with her mother before PopTV started bringing in the exes? She was going to complain to Trevor about this. “Well, I’ve been writing a lot, and it’s been going really well.”

  “I’m sure it’s been going a lot better than your performances,” Ethan said. “So that’s good.”

  Wow, was he going to just keep putting her down or what? She would have brought up her awesome El Rey show, but since it hadn’t aired yet, it hadn’t happened. “So anyway, Mom, I’ve got basically an album’s worth of stuff, and I’m going to see what can happen with it.”

  “Oh, that’s so exciting!” Marlene said. “I hope you’ll play me some.”

  “Of course.”

  “Has Courtney Love been in touch lately?” Ethan asked.

  Kate rolled her eyes. “No,” she said.

  “Hmmm … probably off her meds …” he said.

  At that point, Kate had had enough. She wasn’t going to play nice any longer. “What is your problem, Ethan? Are you just going to sit there and insult me? Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. But that song wasn’t about you, okay? And I just didn’t feel like dealing.”

  Her mother stiffened on the couch. “Kate, that isn’t the way we talk to our guests.”

  “Have you been listening to what he’s been saying to me?” she demanded. “I wasn’t the one who walked into the room with guns blazing.”

  Marlene frowned. “No one said relationships were easy. There was a time you two were inseparable. And now look at you. Ethan may be a little prickly, but you, Katie, need to be polite.”

  “Excuse me?” Kate said.

  “You heard me,” her mother said. “Now sit tight. I’m going to go get the cookies I baked and we are all going to be a little better behaved.”

  Ethan and Kate stared at each other from across the room. “I suppose you’re enjoying this,” Kate said.

  Ethan’s posture softened. “Oh, Kate,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just—I don’t know. I miss you, I really do. But I guess I’m not doing a good job of showing it, am I?”

  Kate’s eyes widened. Was he sincere? Was he acting? Was he bipolar?

  She really had no idea. And frankly, at the moment, she didn’t want to know. She was jet-lagged and exhausted and, come to think of it, she actually was hungry. She stood up. “It was a long flight. I think I’ll go lie down for a little while,” she said. And carefully, so Trevor couldn’t accuse her of having a Madisonlike freak-out, she took off her mike pack and left the room, swiping two of her mom’s cookies on the way.

  “It was awful,” Kate said, picking at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers that she’d put on her wall when she was ten. “First there was the whole thing with Ethan, and then they made me film at the Columbus Zoo.”

  “I don’t know, zoos are all right, aren’t they?” Drew asked. The connection was bad, and his voice sounded strange and far away.

  “They had me at the penguin exhibit, so a crowd of gaping Ohioans could watch me toss fish to the poor things. It’s because I used to work there, but I never even did anything with animals. I sold hot dogs and lemonade!”

  “All right, that could have been better. What else?”

  She finally got a star unstuck and she flicked it onto the floor. “They made me go back to my old high school and say hi to my choir teacher. And tomorrow I have to sing at some party my mom’s friend is throwing. I would rather cut off my left hand than do that.” She went back for another star; she didn’t want their little greenish glow over her head anymore. She was too old for that stuff.

  Drew laughed. “But it must be nice to see your mom....”

  Kate nodded, as if he could see her. “Of course. It’s great. When she isn’t accusing me of having changed.”

  “Have you changed?” Drew wondered.

&
nbsp; Kate gave up on the stars and flopped back onto her ancient comforter. “I don’t know! Probably? But I had to. And why is it that whenever someone says you’ve changed, they mean for the worse?”

  Drew laughed. “I don’t know if that’s always the case.”

  “But it usually is,” Kate insisted. “And okay, I get it. Everything’s so different than it used to be, and it’s all supposed to be better. But it’s also much more complicated.” Violet, her childhood teddy bear, was propped on her desk; she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. “People get really weird when fame is involved.”

  “Yeah, like when your boyfriend wouldn’t be seen in public with you.” Drew’s voice had an edge to it.

  Kate felt a pang of sorrow—but not for Luke. She was over him; she knew that now. The pang was for her own self, because she’d gone along with it. “That sucked,” she agreed. “More things suck than I would have imagined.”

  “‘This is what I wished for / Just isn’t how I envisioned it,’” Drew said.

  “Huh?”

  “‘Famed to the point of imprisonment—’”

  Kate was laughing now. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m quoting Eminem,” Drew said matter-of-factly. “His wisdom is underrated.”

  “Wow. I’ve never heard you rap before.” She hugged Violet to her chest. There was a time in her life when she wouldn’t let the bear out of her sight. “I don’t know if I want to again, either.”

  “Don’t worry. I bust it out on rare occasions. Like when my Kate needs cheering up.”

  My Kate, she thought, squeezing Violet harder. What does he mean by that? He used to call Carmen “my Carm.” …

  “So are you coming home soon?” Drew asked.

  Home, thought Kate. Is L.A. really home now? “In a couple of days.”

  “Try to have more fun until then,” he urged. “Life isn’t as hard as you’re making it.”

  “I know,” she said, sighing. “You’re right, as usual.”

  She felt like she’d gotten off track somehow. Dazzled by the spotlights, she’d forgotten who she was and where she hoped to be going. Maybe being in Ohio was going to be better for her than she thought. Maybe she should thank Trevor instead of blaming him. Maybe she shouldn’t mind that her mom was so normal. Maybe she still had a lot to learn.