The Fame Game Page 7

  And she’d play her role in this story line as best she could. Barneys! Kate Somerville! Lunch at Joan’s on Third! Gossip with Madison! It would be fine. She was much better already at living on-camera. The first night she was filmed, when she’d moved into her new place—complete with a fake phone call her to mom—she kept looking right into the lens, whereas now, she sometimes found herself forgetting the camera was there (but only for a moment).

  Oops! She’d just looked. That’s what you get for being too cocky, she thought.

  But then she noticed something strange: Even though she, Carm, and Gaby were all on one side of the small, round table, the cameras were trained only on Madison.

  Huh? she thought. Do the PopTV people find Madison as fascinating as she finds herself?

  And then, materializing out of the club’s dimness, Kate saw a familiar shade of platinum approaching the table. She was stunning in a flowery, floaty dress, strutting in gold wedge sandals. She was none other than Sophia Parker.

  Oh, thought Kate. Wow. That’s what the cameras were waiting for. And maybe that’s why Laurel was acting so weird earlier.

  In that moment, Kate was no longer a cast member. She was at home, in her pj’s, watching this all unravel in the docusoap she had grown to love. Only this was so much better. This was the unedited version.

  One lens was focused on Sophia now, and one on her sister. Sophia let out a high-pitched squeal.

  “Oh my God, sis!” Sophia cried, holding out her hands. “What are you doing here?”

  Madison paled. The hand holding her pink drink trembled a little, and she quickly set the glass on the table. Kate saw her willing herself to smile. “Sophie . . . ah! I might ask you the same thing!” Madison stood up and gave her sister an air kiss on each perfect cheek. Then she stepped back. “You look good,” she said. “But what’s that in your glass?”

  Sophia beamed. “Nothing but Pellegrino, sis. Scout’s honor.” She drew an X over the plunging neckline of her dress.

  “Well, sit down with us,” Madison said, sinking to the couch.

  From her vantage point, Kate could see how rattled Madison was. But she was a pro—she acted as if running into the fame-seeking sister who’d humiliated her in front of the whole world was no big deal at all.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Sophia sat next to Madison and crossed one lovely leg over the other. “I’m Sophia,” she said to Carmen.

  Carmen introduced herself and everyone else, but Kate could see that Sophia didn’t care what their names were. Her blue eyes were bored, glassy. The only thing Sophia cared about was the cameras and whether or not they were turned toward her. When they were, her eyes came to life again.

  “So—how’ve you been?” Sophia asked her sister.

  “Amazing,” Madison said. “Totally amazing. But let’s talk about you. How was rehab? Did you get really good at Ping-Pong?”

  Sophia leaned back, laughing, so the cameras could get a good view of her ample cleavage. “Only the mental patients play Ping-Pong. The addicts—we read magazines. Speaking of which, I kept looking for you, Mad, but I never saw you.” Sophia’s smile was sly now.

  “Oh, I was in them, all right,” Madison said. “One of my fans must have cut out all the articles about me to put in her Madison Parker scrapbook. I’m told that happens a lot.”

  Nice, thought Kate. Madison was well trained in the art of the rejoinder, that was for sure.

  Sophia snorted. “Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly it. So—come on, tell me. What are you up to these days?”

  “Loving life,” Madison said simply. She finished her drink and then stood. “Well, it’s been fun, you guys. Soph, so great to see you again! But I’m going to head home. I’ve got a big day tomorrow. Gaby, you want a ride?”

  “Okay,” Gaby said, which was pretty much the first thing she’d said all evening. She’d been too busy scoping out the crowd for unaccompanied guys to flirt with.

  Madison air-kissed Kate, gave Carmen a wave, and then she and Gaby exited, one of the cameras following them. And of course once all the cameras left (after they got a sad-looking reaction shot of Sophia), Sophia did, too. She didn’t even bother to say good-bye; she just evaporated into the crowd.

  “Wow,” Kate said. “That was kind of uncomfortable.”

  “Yeah . . .” Carmen agreed. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl. Now, come on. Let’s get rid of the mikes and have some fun.” Both girls tugged off their microphones and spotted a PA to hand them off to. Then Carmen grabbed Kate’s hand and pulled her toward the bar. They hadn’t gotten more than ten feet before someone reached out and grabbed Carmen in a big bear hug.

  “Jake!” Carmen squealed, hugging the tall, dark-haired guy back. “Long time no see! How are you?”

  “Better now,” said Jake, winking. He was handsome in the way that so many Hollywood guys were: strong cheekbones, strong jaw, and strong arms. He was wearing a shirt that said Virginia Is for Lovers.

  As the two of them tried to catch up, yelling over the noise of the crowd, Kate shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Carmen had introduced her to Jake, but Jake only had eyes for Carmen. And Carmen was lapping up the attention, Kate thought. Maybe she’d been wrong about her and Drew.

  Jake bought them both drinks and they headed back to their table, where they were joined by another handsome, dark-haired guy named Drake (really), who could have been—but wasn’t—Jake’s brother. Drake kissed Carmen and shook Jake’s hand. “Bro,” he said, “haven’t seen you since that roast of whatshisname. How’s it going?”

  Drake settled in and Carmen once again introduced Kate, who smiled mildly, not expecting him to give her the time of day.

  “Kate’s my new friend,” Carmen said. “She’s an amazing singer. You guys have to see her.”

  “Cool,” Drake said. “By the way, I finally saw The Long and Winding Road. You were awesome.”

  And that was how it went for an hour: handsome but interchangeable guys rotating through their booth to greet Carmen and flirt with her, and Carmen happily flirting back. She kept trying to include Kate in the conversation, but she was the only one who seemed to care what Kate had to say. Eventually, bored of being the third (or fifth or sixth or whatever) wheel, Kate got up and went to find fresh air.

  Toward the back of the bar was a patio area, which was uncrowded and quiet. White lights twinkled in the jacaranda trees, and she thought she heard the murmur of a fountain somewhere. She breathed deeply, enjoying the solitude. The bass from the club registered with a dull thump behind her. She finished her drink and set the glass down in a planter filled with succulents.

  “They like it better when you give them a bit of the sauce,” said a voice behind her in a charming accent.

  She whirled around, mortified at being caught hiding her empty in a plant. “Uh—well—” She cleared her throat. There was yet another handsome dark-haired guy standing there. Seriously, was there a special on them tonight? “I was just setting it there for a minute.”

  He laughed and his white teeth flashed in the darkness. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the manager. But it does look like you could use another drink,” he said.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Don’t look so thrilled to be here,” he said, reaching out and giving her shoulder a friendly little poke.

  She took a step back, unnerved to be poked by someone she’d never met. “Do I know you?” she asked.

  He threw back his head and laughed for what seemed like a full minute. When he was done he said, “Maybe you don’t need another drink.”

  “Why?” she asked, puzzled.

  “I met you ten minutes ago. We were sitting at a table together? You know, with Carmen?”

  Kate flushed a deep red and was glad it would be too dark for this guy, whoever he was, to see that. “Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize—”

  “I’m Luke,” he interrupted, holding out a hand for her to shake.

  “
Oh, right, sure,” Kate said. “I’m—”

  “You’re Kate,” he said. “Kate from Columbus.”

  “That’s me,” she said softly. She was still mortified.

  “Well, Kate from Columbus, you wait one second. I’ll be right back.” He turned and went back into the club, and Kate was free to kick herself repeatedly for her stupidity. Luke was freaking cute—how was it that she didn’t remember him? Was he really so identical to Jake and Drake and Cayden and Jaden?

  In a moment, Luke returned, bearing a vodka soda for her and a beer for himself. “Don’t give this one to the plant,” he said, handing it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Clubs like this aren’t exactly my thing.”

  “Mine either,” Luke said. “But a friend of mine promotes this night and he made me promise to come.” He took a sip of his beer. “So what are you doing these days, my old friend Kate? Still in the biz?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Show business. Acting. Writing. Directing. Make-up . . .”

  “Stunts,” Kate heard herself say.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “I was Megan Fox’s stunt double in Transformers.” She tried to say it with a straight face but she could feel a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Do you think she jumped out of that burning building?”

  “You had me going there for a minute,” he said, laughing and toasting her. “You’re an actress.”

  “No, definitely not,” Kate answered. “I’m a musician. I mean, trying to be.” She blushed again. “Really I’m a, uh, food services technician.” He smiled at that. “That’s much more accurate to say, because that’s what pays the bills.” For some reason—perhaps because the cameras were gone—it didn’t even occur to her to mention The Fame Game. She hadn’t totally adjusted to her new life; she still felt like last month’s Kate. “Are you in ‘the biz’?”

  Luke nodded. “Yep. Just like ninety percent of the people inside this ridiculous club. I’m an actor.” He grinned. “Perhaps you’ve seen me in my star turn as Doctor Rose on Boston General?” The comic, needling way he said this told Kate, who had never seen Boston General, that he wasn’t actually one of its stars.

  “I’m not much of a TV person,” she admitted.

  “That’s okay,” he said, “I won’t hold it against you. But let me try another one: Did you see me in the bar scene in Inception? No? Okay, how about as that young lawyer from a competing firm in The Good Wife? No. Okay. Um, I usually don’t like to bring this one up, but since I’m striking out with everything else: Did you see me in that GEICO commercial, the one where the gecko goes to Disneyland?”

  “Yes!” squealed Kate. “You were the handsome prince!”

  “Guilty as charged,” Luke said, ducking his head modestly.

  “Well, you were a very convincing prince,” she said. “I’m sure all the princesses were in love with you.”

  “Kate Hayes! There you are!”

  Kate looked over to see Carmen standing in the doorway to the patio, smiling tipsily at her. “I’ve been looking at you for forever,” Carm said. “I mean, looking for you. I thought you, like, got locked in a bathroom stall or something.” Carmen’s eyes flicked to Luke, who was leaning against a railing, looking relaxed and happy. “Um, I was going to go home. But you look like you’re having fun! So you should stay!”

  Kate opened her mouth. She was having fun talking to Luke, it was true, but she was worried that she was reaching her limits of witty banter. What if they ran out of things to say to each other? Would Luke say good night and leave her standing alone on the patio? “No, I should—”

  “Oh, stay!” Carmen cried enthusiastically. “Luke can take you home, can’t you?” She glanced over at her friend.

  “Of course,” said Luke. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “Great! ’Night, you two!” Carmen said, looking pleased with herself. She blew them both kisses and vanished.

  Now what? wondered Kate.

  Luke grinned at her. “I guess you’re stuck with me,” he said.

  Stuck with Doctor Rose, she thought. Every girl should be so lucky.

  Chapter 10

  More Than Just a Story Arc

  Madison watched as her roommate poured a stream of disgusting, sludgy juice into a tall cocktail glass. Gaby had recently started some new juice cleanse that was originally prescribed as a therapy for people diagnosed with cancer. She’d heard it helped reduce bloating, though, and apparently she was on board for anything that promised to help her drop a few pounds.

  There was a little left in the blender. “Want some?” Gaby asked, holding it up.

  “No thanks,” Madison said. “It looks like raw sewage.”

  Gaby frowned as she came over to join Madison in the living room. “It has kelp in it.” She put her feet—in big fuzzy bunny slippers—up on the coffee table. “And spirulina.”

  “Still a pass,” Madison said. She leaned back against the custom-made silk cushions. The truth was, she was feeling out of sorts. She’d been blindsided by Sophie’s appearance at the club the other night, and she wasn’t happy about it. She knew that she’d have to grin and bear it, since it was obviously all part of Trevor’s plan. And even she knew her story line wasn’t exactly scintillating so far. Trevor had filmed her going to some events, taking a day trip to Vegas to appear at a Wet Republic pool party, and having a meeting with the woman who runs the Madelyn Wardell Foundation for Girls (her charity, which was still good for a photo op every now and then, and a tax write-off). Not exactly ratings bait. But Sophie was just as concerned with camera time as Madison was, if not more, which meant they were going to be elbowing each other out of the frame, metaphorically if not literally, for the foreseeable future. Maybe Madison could get a cover story out of the return of Poor Little Sophia Parker—“I just want the best for my little sister!” After all, Madison was perfectly capable of playing nice. And if Sophie wanted to play dirty, Madison was armed with plenty of stories about what a delinquent she was when they were growing up, and how Madison always came to the rescue.

  Trevor had tried to fan the flames of Madison’s rivalry with Carmen, whom Madison admittedly thought was a no-talent silver-spooner. But if Trevor thought she was dumb enough to make an enemy of Carmen Curtis on national television, then he seriously underestimated her. The first move would have to be Carmen’s, and that bitch wasn’t budging.

  “What time is it?” Gaby asked, sipping meditatively at her sewage juice.

  Madison glanced at her phone. “Almost ten.”

  “Oh, I’ve got to get to bed,” Gaby said. “Tomorrow’s my first on-camera interview for Buzz!”

  “Who are you interviewing?”

  “Lacey Hopkins,” Gaby said excitedly. “She just got out of jail.”

  “What for this time?” Madison asked. The L.A. County Jail seemed to have a revolving door policy for Lacey Hopkins, a once promising young actress who’d gotten on the path to train wreck and was staying the course.

  “I forget. But she was only in there for two days, even though it was supposed to be like twenty. I’m supposed to ask her what she ate and how she slept and if she made any friends and stuff.”

  “I’m sure she’s besties with all those people by now,” Madison remarked. “Well, good luck tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” Gaby said, padding down the hall to her bedroom. “See you in the morning.”

  Madison got up and went to stand by the window. Outside she could see the traffic lights on the street far below changing from green to yellow to red. She reflected briefly on Lacey Hopkins, whose life had seemingly spiraled out of control. Lacey was weak, Madison thought. But she wasn’t. No, Madison Parker wasn’t the type to give one ounce of control to anyone, was she? And with that thought in mind, she texted Laurel.

  There’s going to be a change in schedule. . . .

  Madison slipped into her seat at Barney Greengrass and signaled the wa
iter to bring her some sparkling water. She was careful to keep her chair in the right position, which had been marked with a piece of neon gaffer tape on the floor; this would ensure the cameras had the perfect angle of her. Madison didn’t have a bad side, of course, but she did have a favorite one, and she made sure the camera guys knew it.

  She was early, and she took the time to check her makeup, even though the cameras were rolling. She knew the footage would end up on the editing room floor, since solitary primping was not exactly the drama Trevor craved. She also quickly tweeted what lipstick color she was wearing. She’d started that habit a few months ago, after she did it on a whim one morning and then got retweeted by a bunch of beauty blogs. Her followers went up a lot that day. So now she made sure to give her fans all sorts of info about her look du jour.

  Madison wondered, as she slicked another coat of gloss on her lips, how late Sophie would be. (She still couldn’t think of her as Sophia, although she usually remembered to call her that on-camera.) She’d been chronically tardy as a child: to school, to detention, to dinner, whatever. But maybe rehab had worked some miracle and taught her how to pay attention to a watch, Madison thought. Maybe there was some program about the Twelve Steps of Not Being a Rude Bitch.

  She smiled to herself. If Sophie was bitchy to her, maybe Madison would use that line on her. See if she thought it was as funny as Madison did. She used to have a sense of humor, that kid, before she got so bitter about being left behind in Armpit Falls. No, she reminded herself. Always take the high road . . . at least while others are watching.

  And who knew what sort of mood Sophie would be in today, or what her current game plan would be; besides Sophie’s appearance at Whisper, it had been six months since they’d seen each other. Madison had gotten a few random emails from Sophie, where she talked about embracing her inner sister spirit or something like that, but she hadn’t replied. Madison was going to try to play the benevolent big sister. She was going to express concern, family loyalty, blah, blah, blah.