Fame Game 03: Infamous (2 page)

2

THE RULES OF UNOFFICIAL COHABITATION

Carmen tried the bathroom door—
locked
—and then knocked loudly on it. Yes, there was another bathroom in the apartment she shared with Kate, but that one didn’t have the tube of her favorite lipstick sitting on the counter.

“Hang on a minute,” called a voice. A male voice.

Carmen sighed. Drew. Again.

A month ago she’d been complaining that she hardly ever saw her childhood best friend, and now it seemed like he was everywhere she turned. At the breakfast table, eating her cereal. On the living room couch, watching a Lakers game. In the bathroom, holding her cosmetics hostage. Like Carmen’s dad sometimes said: Be careful what you wish for.

She flounced back into the dining room where the cameras had been set up. Kate was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of Froot Loops. She went through two or three boxes of it a week; she had the appetite of a twelve-year-old boy. Lucky for her, she seemed to have the metabolism of one, too.

“Cameras roll as soon as I finish this,” Kate said. Trevor’s aversion to filming them eating was well known. “I was
starving
.”

“No rush. I was kind of hoping to get my lipstick. . . .”

“You look beautiful, as always,” Laurel called.

Carmen laughed as she sat down at her designated seat at the table. “Like I can trust
you
,” she said. “You just want to get started.”

Laurel shrugged. “What can I say? Time is money.”

In another few moments, Kate was done, and Bret the camera guy had taken his usual place behind his Sony Hi Def, but Drew had still not emerged. Carmen was annoyed she hadn’t been able to get to her lipstick. Now she’d look washed out, which was fine when they were filming early-morning scenes, but less fine when it was 11 a.m. and she was otherwise ready to face the world. Her floral silk button-down practically
demanded
a coat of NARS’s Funny Face.

Kate brushed a Froot Loop crumb from her shirt and offered Carmen a small smile.

Carmen smiled back, though she was still annoyed, and then took a sip of her tea. (Drinking on camera was totally fine, of course.) “So, do you think Gaby’ll be different?” she asked Kate, exactly as she was supposed to.

“I think she’ll be in a better place,” Kate said.

Carmen laughed. “‘A better place’? I thought that was what you said when someone died.”

Kate looked mildly affronted. “You know what I mean. Like, emotionally.”

“Sorry,” Carmen said. “I was kidding.” Then she bit her lip and gazed down into her mug.

She’d been excited to move in with Kate for a couple of reasons—(a) she had no other place to live at the moment; and (b) she thought they might finally fully make up—but so far it’d been harder than she’d hoped. They kept offending each other in the little ways. Carmen, for example, had invited a few friends over without telling Kate. Then Kate had eaten all of Carmen’s leftover lo mein. Carmen had shrunk one of Kate’s two decent sweaters in the dryer, and then Kate had made some snide comment about Hollywood royalty not knowing how the real world worked. . . .

They still
liked
each other, they really did. But for some reason they were having a hard time showing it.

Carmen wondered if things would ever go back to the way they had been before Luke Kelly walked into their lives. Of course, Carmen was really glad that he
had
, but he definitely complicated things. Pre-Luke, Kate and Carmen had been great friends, and Carmen was realizing more and more how hard those were to come by.

She looked up again. Time to get on the ball and give the camera
something
. “Gaby sent me a letter a couple of weeks ago,” Carmen said. “She said she was learning how to let go of unhealthy influences and finding her inner strength. She said her mantra was ‘Healthy Choices.’” Then she giggled; she couldn’t help it. “I think that’s a brand of soup.”

“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 Carmen’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.

Kate looked up. “Uh . . . Carmen?” she called.

“Brushing my teeth!” she yelled from the bathroom.

“Can you come out here and look at this letter?”

A few seconds later, Carmen came and took the letter and the map from Kate, her eyes quickly scanning the pages. “Oh no,” she said as she read. “Ewww.” When she was done, she handed the letter back to Kate as if it were contaminated. “You need to tell someone about this.”

“It’s not some random weird thing I can, like, ignore?”

Carmen shook her head. “That guy sounds like a stalker and he clearly knows where you live. Where
we
live. My mom’s had about five hundred stalkers, and trust me, they’re bad news. You need to get rid of him, stat.”

“Really? I mean, sure, it’s kind of weird,” Kate said. “But it’s not like he wrote ‘I’m outside your window’ or something.”

“Kate, people can be crazy. They watch the show and see you in your bedroom talking about your life and think that they know you.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Kate said. “He’s just some weirdo—”

“Yeah,” Carmen interrupted. “He’s a weirdo. And angry weirdos are
exactly
the kind of people you want to be careful around. They can be dangerous.”

Kate, admittedly, had been sort of freaked out by the letter. But something about Carmen’s response annoyed her. Couldn’t she simply have a rabid fan? Why did he have to be some sort of
threat
?

“I don’t think—”

“You don’t need to think,” Carmen interrupted. Again. “Turn the letter in to Laurel and she’ll give it to whoever heads security at the network. If anything, they like to have these things on file.”

Kate couldn’t help herself then. She was annoyed and she lashed out. “Maybe you’re jealous,” she whispered. “Maybe you wish you’d gotten a letter like this.”

Carmen stared at her in disbelief. “Girl, if you think that, you are even more out of touch than the creep who wrote you that letter.” Then she turned and stomped away.

Kate looked at the letter again. It was written on scented stationery.

Love always,

J .B.

P.S. Hope to see you
very
soon.

She shuddered, and then pulled out her phone and texted Laurel. Immediately after that, she texted Drew. CRAZY FAN LETTERS. CARM SAYS I SHOULD WATCH OUT. CALL ME?

But Drew did better than call her. He left Rock It! right away and drove to her apartment, even though she tried to tell him that it wasn’t necessary.

The moment she opened the door and saw him, clutching a spray of daisies, standing there so tall and strong and reassuring, she couldn’t believe she’d tried to convince him (and herself) that he shouldn’t come.

It ended up being one of the best nights ever. They streamed
Walk the Line,
the Johnny Cash biopic, on Netflix, and cuddled on the couch. As Kate rested her cheek against Drew’s warm chest, feeling his arm tight around her shoulders, she thought about the irony of it all: how the very day that Carmen seemed to think she could be in some kind of danger was also the day that she felt the most taken care of. The most safe.

Kate looked up at Drew, and he looked down at her. They smiled at each other—wide, silly, happy grins. It was great.

And then they kissed, and that was even better.