Fame Game 03: Infamous (12 page)

22

YOU GET ONE CHANCE

“So, how’s the Next Big Thing doing this morning?” Kate’s manager asked as he met her in the parking lot of SIR Los Angeles. Todd Barrows looked even happier and more upbeat than usual. “Ready for your big showcase?”

Kate fingered the latch on Lucinda’s case. “I’m feeling good,” she said. “Strong. Excited.” She hoped that saying so would make it true. She was still feeling shaken by the appearance of J.B. On top of that, it felt like all her relationships were in an unpleasant state of flux. So it was kind of hard to focus on her music.

She knew she had to, though. This was everything she’d ever wanted. Everything she’d ever dreamed of, lying in her pink bedroom in Ohio. She’d worked for
years
for this. And it all came down to today. It was a lot of pressure, and as everyone who’d ever seen an episode of
The Fame Game
knew, Kate and Pressure didn’t have the best track record.

“That’s exactly what I want to hear, kiddo. Come along this way,” Todd said. “We’ve got the production stage all to ourselves.” He yanked open the door and motioned for her to enter.

Kate sucked in her breath at what she saw before her. Although Todd had done his best to explain to her what a showcase looked like, she hadn’t expected
this
. The room was huge: There was a stage on one end; a vast, empty floor in the middle; and a handful of couches scattered around in the back.

She could imagine how small she’d look onstage to the people sitting on those couches. There’d be no fans to cheer her on, no cluster of girls dancing, no one singing along to the chorus of “Love You Later.”

Kate had thought she was afraid of big audiences, but suddenly she understood that having a small one was going to be a lot scarier.

She glanced down at her watch. Where was Drew? Even though he’d recently gotten back from New York and was swamped with work, he told her he’d be here. She was counting on being able to look up from her playing to catch his eye. She’d come to depend on the confidence boost he gave her.

“So you’ll be up there, obviously,” Todd said, pointing to the large stage, as if she might have somehow missed it, “and the studio execs will be back here.” He gestured to the nearest couch.

“Do I really need all this . . . room?” she asked faintly. She remembered the claustrophobic sound booth she’d recorded “Starstruck” in with a pang of nostalgia. It had felt so small, so
safe
.

Todd nodded and gave her arm a friendly squeeze. “They want to see you onstage. It’s not only how you sing, Kate. It’s how you act when you’re up there. You’ve got the voice of an angel—we know that. But do you have star power? Do you have charisma? Can you light up a room?”

She sank into a couch. Those weren’t questions she wanted someone to ask her, not when she was fresh off being called Doormat all over
D-Lish
. (Although ever since she’d started taking Madison’s advice, comments like that had gotten a lot less frequent.)

“Of course you do,” Todd said, answering his own question. “That’s why we’re doing this. You’ve got something to prove, and today you’re going to prove it.”

He opened a leather binder and scanned down a page. “Fusion Music is first, then Dragonfly. Then we’ve got a break, then Merlin and GSA and Rogue Records. . . .”

Kate leaned down and took Lucinda out of the case. Her guitar, which she’d had since she was a
kid
, looked worse for the wear. She wished, for a moment, that she’d brought the shiny new electric one that
The Fame Game
had paid for. But she wasn’t as confident on an electric guitar, and her demo would show the executives what she could do with some electronic and technological help . . . right?

A sound guy wandered in, chewing gum. “You ready to set up?” he asked.

Kate nodded and followed him onto the stage.

“Don’t look so nervous, doll,” Todd called. “You’re going to be amazing. Oh, and if you’re hungry? I ordered hors d’oeuvres.”

“Awesome,” Kate said. “Because when I’m about to have a panic attack, all I really want is a mini-bagel.”

Todd held one out to her.

“I was kidding,” she said, forcing a laugh.

Kate had been sitting onstage, her guitar in her lap, for what seemed like ages before the first group from Fusion Music filed in. Todd made a brief but gushing introduction as the four executives (all men) helped themselves to the snacks that had been laid out and checked their phones one last time before settling in for a listen.

Kate gave one final desperate look at the door. Where was Drew? Was he going to be a no-show? Her heart was racing even worse than it usually did, and he was always the one to calm her down. She wished she could check her phone for a message, but it was on the other side of the room.

Todd cleared his throat, and Kate knew she had to begin, with or without Drew. She leaned into the mike. “Hi, I’m Kate Hayes,” she said, offering what she hoped was a confident smile. Then she felt like kicking herself, because of course they already knew that. “Thank you for coming,” she added. “I appreciate your time. And I hope . . . I hope you like the show.”

She took a deep breath and began to play. She’d decided to start out with a new song, because she wanted to surprise them. “
I’ve been pacing this old room all night / thinking about our final fight / wishing I could say just what I meant. / But words are hard just like your eyes / I’m so tired of all your lies / the energy I had has all been spent. . . .
”

“Over You” was supposed to be her power song, the one aimed at all the sad, mad teenage girls in the world. (Because what teenage girl
wasn’t
sad or mad at some point during the average day? Kate certainly was.)

In the second verse, the girl in the song realizes she has to stand up to her boyfriend, who then basically comes crawling back to her. It had seemed like such a good idea! It played to a market Kate knew she already appealed to.

But she could feel how the energy in the room had dampened. They didn’t like the song. Did they think it was too bitter? It was supposed to be badass—like Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter.” Kate had written it to be spirited and catchy. But maybe that wasn’t how it sounded to a bunch of middle-aged men. As she saw the first executive bring out his phone and begin tapping on it, her voice grew quieter and her playing became hesitant, and it was all she could do to finish the song she’d begun.

The next three songs went better, but far from great. And great, she knew, was what she needed to be.

Todd tried to reassure Kate after her set, when the Fusion Music people had shaken her hand and quickly vanished. “You were wonderful,” he said. “You were.”

“They hated me.”

“They didn’t. But maybe ‘Over You’ isn’t the best opener. How about something a little more . . . positive?”

Kate nodded. She placed her hand over her pounding heart, willing it to calm down. She’d made a mistake in picking her first song, she could admit that. But it didn’t have to affect everything. She could still pull this one out.

“You should feel confident,” Todd urged her. “Do not feel pressure. Pressure is for when you have to do something you aren’t prepared to do. But you are prepared for this. Now let’s kick some butt, all right?”

“You sound like my sister. Or her basketball coach,” Kate said.

Todd smiled. “Everybody wants to succeed. But the great musicians
expect
to succeed, and that includes you.”

“You’re still doing it,” she said.

He shrugged. “What can I say? Get up there onstage and score a three-pointer.”

But Kate’s second set, for Dragonfly, went even worse. She dropped her pick, flubbed the bridge on “Love You Later,” and by the time she finished her fourth song, she was on the verge of tears.

Todd, doing his best to hide his own shock, tried to do damage control. He told the A&R folks how brilliant Kate’s recordings were. “She’s having a rough day,” he said. “Her grandpa died. Here, have a mini-bagel.”

The executives nodded sympathetically but left looking grim, as if their attendance had been a colossal waste of time.

Which it was, Kate thought, feeling the tears come for real now. She’d done a terrible job. Everything was riding on today, and she was blowing it.
Where in the hell was Drew?

After Todd closed the door behind the Dragonfly group, he turned to her, his face dark. “I have a feeling that another pep talk isn’t going to do it for you today,” he said.

Kate wiped her cheeks and said nothing. The tears kept coming.

“So—I think we should cancel the rest of the showcase.”

If it was possible to feel relief and horror at the same time, Kate felt it now. “But—”

“I’m sorry,” Todd said, his voice taking on an edge. “You get one chance with these people, Kate. I’m not going to risk you blowing the next three sets.”

She sank down onto one of the couches, which sighed beneath her weight. How had she failed so badly? It was one thing to screw up an open mic, but a showcase? That was a whole other level of train wreck.

She wished she had a time machine. She needed a do-over.

She also wanted to crawl into her bed at home and have her mother soothe her. But she was across the country.

And Drew? He might as well be, too.

23

A LOVER, NOT A FIGHTER

Madison reached out and patted Kate’s hand. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think it was,” she said.

Kate shook her head and dug her hand into the bowl of tortilla chips. “It was worse. You’re on this stage, but it feels like you’re in some corporate conference room. No one’s having a good time. No one’s drinking a beer. There are no good vibes at all. These people aren’t there to party; they’re there to
judge
you.”

Madison moved the bowl out of Kate’s reach. Kate had eaten half a bag of Sesame Blues already, and if she kept going, she’d be too bloated to fit into those Joe’s jeans she always wore. “You’ve got to stop obsessing about it. You’ll have another chance to prove yourself.” She heard the front door open. “Here comes Carmen,” she said quietly.

Kate looked up and groaned. “Awesome. That’s exactly what I need.”

Madison knew that the roommates had done a good job avoiding each other recently (until now, apparently). She also knew that Kate was mad at Drew for missing her showcase, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that things weren’t going so great in Luke-and-Carmen Land either.

What a whole lot of trouble was brewing! And for once, Madison hadn’t been the cause of it. It was almost enough to make her feel nostalgic for the old days, when she made a practice of betraying Jane Roberts almost weekly.

Carmen stopped short when she saw them on the living room couch. “Oh—” she said, and made as if to turn around.

Madison held up a hand. “Wait, Carmen. Don’t leave.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because your roommate here is having a really rough time, and from what I gather things are not particularly amazing for you at the moment, either, so why don’t we sit down and hash things out?”

Both Carmen and Kate stared at her. Madison gave a faint smile, and Carmen narrowed her eyes at her, no doubt trying to determine what nefarious reason underlay Madison’s sudden burst of concern.

But Madison didn’t have a nefarious reason at all. Although she had a slightly self-serving one (nothing wrong with that!). She knew that if Kate and Carmen made up, the lack of drama in their story line would drive Trevor to look elsewhere for stories . . . for instance, to Madison herself.

But she genuinely liked Kate, and seeing her so down in the dumps was a bummer. And Carmen didn’t feel like a threat to her anymore: Her follow-up to her starring movie role, after all, seemed to be wandering around L.A. aimlessly, eating fro-yo with that annoying hanger-on Fawn.

Madison patted a cushion on the couch. “Have a seat, Carm.”

Looking very wary, Carmen reluctantly sat. Kate reached toward the chip bowl but Madison pushed it out of her reach again. “Look, you two,” she said. “You’re fighting over nothing. Kate, Carmen was drunk, and she’s really sorry about what she did. Right?” She looked over at Carmen, who nodded. “And honestly, Kate, Carmen kisses everyone.”

“Yeah, especially my boyfriends,” Kate said.

“I do
not
kiss everyone,” Carmen said.

Madison laughed. “Oh, face it, Carm, you’re a bit of a kissing slut. But that’s part of your charm.”

Kate snorted into her hand.

“That is so not true,” Carmen said.

Madison shrugged. “I’ve been reading about you making out with people for years,” she said. “Starting with your sweet sixteen at Chateau Marmont, when you tried to plant a big one on Leonardo DiCaprio.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “You kissed Leonardo DiCaprio?” There was awe in her voice.

And Carmen started laughing. Hard. And then harder, to the point where she was almost gasping for air. “I tried,” she gasped. “Oh my God, I’d forgotten all about that. He looked at me like he thought maybe he should call security.”

Madison clapped her hands. “I’m sure you seemed like such a threat in your glitter eye shadow and training bra.”

Carmen glanced down at her sizable chest, then made a wry face. “Uh, these girls haven’t been in a training bra since I was in sixth grade.”

Then Kate started snickering, too, and pretty soon the tension in the room was completely gone, and they were
all
laughing. Madison was looking at Carmen with new respect; it took guts to laugh that hard at yourself.

“The point is,” Madison said, when everyone had calmed down, “not that many people out there understand what we’re going through, being on a show like ours. We have to stick up for each other. Be there for each other.”

Carmen gazed at her thoughtfully. “You are really not the Madison Parker you played on
L.A. Candy
.”

Madison glanced at Kate. “It’s like I said to Kate: You have to play a role. But also, people change. Whatever. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But Carmen was right. She wasn’t the same Madison Parker, it was true. She was as ambitious as old Madison, but she felt different. Madison remembered vowing, as the season’s filming began, that she was going to be cold—but it hadn’t really worked out that way.

“I am really, really sorry I kissed Drew,” Carmen said, looking to Kate. “It was a moment of complete and total stupidity. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

Kate nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I told the crew that you had excessive gas.”

Carmen’s mouth fell open. “You did not!”

“No, I didn’t. But I’m going to if you kiss another one of my boyfriends.” Then Kate smiled. “And hey, by the way? Lay off those chips, Curtis. Too much sodium isn’t good for a growing baby.” Then she started cackling.

Carmen threw up her hands in defeat. “My ‘baby bump’!” she cried. “How could I have forgotten?” She shook her head. “God, the things people write about me. Did you know that Lily fed a story to
D-Lish
? I’m so glad I’m not hanging out with her anymore.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “Lily? But she seemed so nice.”

“Yeah, and Gaby’s boobs seem real,” Madison said. “Well, sort of. The point is, you can never know about people.”

“Did you confront her?” Kate asked.

Carmen shook her head. “No, I just can’t deal right now. I’m pretty sure she also told that I kissed Drew.”

For a moment, Madison wished she’d seen the kiss. It would have been such good currency! But she said, “It’s all part of the deal you signed on for. Truth or lies—what does it matter to a blogger, when all he cares about is page views? And what do you care, when all you really need is to stay in the spotlight?” She paused. “Although next time you really ought to wear something under a bias-cut dress. Everyone does. It’s called Spanx.”

“Duly noted,” Carmen said.

Pretty soon they were chatting like nothing had ever come between them, and Madison was giving herself a nice mental pat on the back. It was good when people worked things out.

Madison had some things to work out, too. Last week’s meeting with Jack Stanbro over at Gallery had been promising, but Jack was looking for a more detailed pitch. He wasn’t going to sign her on simply because she was Madison Parker. On the one hand, she was slightly annoyed by this—did anyone ask a Kardashian for a scripted pilot?—but on the other, she appreciated that he took her seriously enough to ask her to flesh out her ideas.

And then there was the Ryan situation. He’d called her several times since their lunch (exactly as she’d wanted him to), and she was holding him at arm’s length (exactly as she’d planned to). Things were going fine on that front. But he kept bringing up Charlie. Ryan said that he didn’t think Madison was capable of committing to a relationship until she repaired the one she had with her father.

To which Madison had replied: “Good luck finding that jerk.”

Her feelings about the situation were more complicated than that, but she didn’t want to go into them. She kind of wished they would go away. She wished her love for her father could have vanished right along with him. That would make everything so much simpler.

“Hey.” Kate was poking Madison in the ribs. “Did you see that other thing on
D-Lish
the other day—the one that said Carmen was dealing with a spray-tan addiction?”

Carmen’s face was in her hands. She looked up a moment later, her cheeks flushed. “This one’s not true! I swear, it is so insane. It’s like this one blogger totally has it in for me. He’s always the one to print the crazy stuff.”

Madison held up a hand. “Wait. Everything we’re talking about is posted by the same person?”

Carmen nodded. “My sworn enemy,” she said. “Jimmy Landis.”

“No, he’s not your
enemy
,” Madison said. “He’s someone’s contact.”

Carmen looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Someone is calling him with information about you. True, false, it doesn’t matter. There’s a source in your circle—probably Lily—and they are feeding stories to the writer. I used to do that all the time.” (Often for stories about herself—but that would remain her secret.)

Carmen began biting one of her fingernails. “You think Lily did
that
?” she asked.

Madison shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past anyone.”

“But why? What’s in it for her?”

“Sometimes people pay for info,” Madison suggested. “Or maybe Lily’s looking to get mentioned as a makeup artist to the stars? Who knows why people do what they do?”

“It wasn’t you, was it?” Carmen asked suddenly.

Madison began to laugh. “No. But I’m sure there were moments I would have enjoyed it.”

Carmen threw up her hands. “Oh, whatever, I don’t want to think about it anymore. Not right now. I’m too tired.”

“Fair enough,” Madison said. “But you should take care of it. And if you don’t want to, find someone who will.”

“Like you?” Carmen asked hopefully.

Madison laughed. “I’d love to help, but I’ve changed. The new Madison is a lover, not a fighter,” she said. And even if it wasn’t entirely true, she liked the way it sounded.

Later, when she left Kate and Carmen’s apartment, with the two of them curled on the couch and catching up on their latest news, Madison went upstairs and called Ryan. She’d had a change of heart. She was tired of playing games. Hadn’t he proven that he really did care, and that he wasn’t going to disappear? For once in her life she felt like she could trust someone—maybe she could let herself trust him
again. She couldn’t exactly say that to him, though, so instead she said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should talk to Charlie. Not that I know how to find him.”

“That’s the brave thing to do,” Ryan told her. “To be open to talking to him.”

She laughed. No, the brave thing to do had been to run away from home and make her way to Los Angeles, the city of dreams. The brave thing had been working as hard as she did to make those dreams come true. Some of them had, too. But she knew she still had a long way to go.