“No. It didn’t occur to me,” Kate admitted. The cameras had been gone by then, and Kate hadn’t given them another thought. And it was such a weird thing to tell someone. Yeah, I’m a runner at this restaurant Stecco but secretly I’m about to be a reality TV star. She could never imagine saying something like that.
Madison nodded approvingly. “That’s definitely for the best. If he knew, he might not be into it. I mean, actors sometimes think that what we do isn’t legit. They think that memorizing lines makes them better than us.” She shook her head, as if in disbelief. “And if he is into it, then you have to wonder: Does he like you for you? Or does he like you for the camera time that you represent?”
Madison was kind of blowing Kate’s mind—and bursting her bubble. As if meeting guys in L.A. wasn’t already difficult enough!
“Trust me, Kate, you want to let this develop naturally.”
Let what develop naturally? Kate wanted to know. She wasn’t even sure she’d ever see Luke again. He might not call her, and she was definitely not the type to make the first move. “Okay,” she said uncertainly.
“You’re still a nobody,” Madison said gently. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way. But when the premiere airs? Say good-bye to anonymity and everything else you thought you knew about your friends and your family and your life.”
“Wow,” Kate said. “You make that sound sort of . . . scary.”
“It’s not,” Madison assured her. “It’s amazing. But it’s crazy, too. Anyway, do you have this guy’s number?”
“Yes, he put it in my phone before he dropped me off.”
“Good,” Madison said. “Can I borrow your phone for a second?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Kate said. “What for . . . ?”
“Thanks.” Madison quickly snatched the proffered phone, typed into it for a moment, and then returned it to Kate. “You have a date,” she said. “Tonight.”
Kate felt her mouth drop open. She had to hand it to Madison. That girl did not mess around.
When the knock sounded on her door, Kate still wasn’t ready, even though she knew her time was up since she’d just buzzed Luke into the building. She’d spent two hours trying to figure out which one of her new outfits to wear, but she couldn’t remember which jeans Madison had paired with which top and shoes. Did the ankle boots go with the skinnies, or was she supposed to wear the ballet flats? She just wanted everything to be perfect. She should have had Madison make her a cheat sheet.
The knock came again, louder this time.
“Come in,” she yelled. “I’ll be out in one second—” Maybe she should just give up and wear that old Gap sweater, the one with the stripes.
“I’m a little early,” Luke called. She could hear him coming into the living room. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she called back. She loved the way he talked. Was there anything cuter than an Australian accent? A baby koala, maybe. “Really, I’m almost ready.”
She hurried over to the mirror and was surprised to see that she’d actually managed to pull one of her new outfits together. She quickly ran a comb through her hair (Madison told her their next outing would include a trip to the hair salon), and then she went to find her date. Or whatever he was. She wasn’t actually sure.
“Hey,” Luke said, smiling at her. “You look great.”
“Thanks,” she said. “So do you.” He had on faded jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket. His longish brown hair looked tousled and windblown.
“Do you have a coat?” he asked.
“What for? It’s, like, eighty degrees outside.”
His grin stretched wider. “You’ll see. Just grab something warm.”
She went to the closet and grabbed an old leather jacket. (Too bad today’s shopping extravaganza had not included any new outerwear.) “Okay,” she said, pulling it on and hoping it didn’t totally ruin her look. “Jacket donned.”
She followed him down the hallway and out to the front of the building. The sun was beginning to set, and a warm breeze was rustling through the leaves of the potted bamboo that bordered the parking lot.
“Where are you taking me?” Kate asked.
“You’ll see.” He stopped and turned back to her. “Your chariot awaits,” he said.
She looked at him in confusion. Where was his car? Was he talking about the cab across the way? Then she noticed that he was standing in front of a gleaming black BMW motorcycle. “That?” she said. “You came here on that?”
He laughed. “Sure did.” He reached into a compartment on the bike and pulled out two helmets. He handed the smaller one to her. “Here you go,” he said.
She shook her head. “No way.”
He made a pouting face, revealing dimples. “Surely you’re not afraid of a motorcycle.”
“No, but I’m afraid of my mother, and her number-one house rule was no motorcycles,” she said.
“Let me tell you something interesting about a motorcycle,” Luke said. “You asked me where we were going. And I’ll tell you that it doesn’t even matter where we’re going, because you’re going to have the time of your life getting there.”
Kate felt her heart pounding lightly in her chest. It could have been the bike or it could have been Luke, it was hard to say. She took a deep breath, reached out, and reluctantly took the helmet from him.
“Now climb up and hold on tight,” he directed, slinging his leg over the leather seat.
Kate scrambled on behind him and leaned forward. Her arms wrapped around his waist. It felt strange and thrilling to be this close to him. She tightened her grip as he pulled out of the parking lot and into the street.
The wind whipped her hair as Luke took winding curves upward into the hills, and the sky turned brilliant shades of pink and violet as they passed Spanish mission–style homes and classic California bungalows surrounded by pockets of rustling palm and madrone trees. At first she tried yelling questions at him over the noise of the engine and the wind, but each time he turned his chin toward her, shook his head, and yelled, “I can’t hear you!”
She was nervous for what felt like ten miles, but by the time he turned right, pulled through a cluster of trees, and slowed the bike to a stop, Kate was ready to invest in a motorcycle herself. Although, she reflected, her own motorcycle would unfortunately not come equipped with a gorgeous driver.
Luke put the kickstand down and turned toward her. “Ever been up here before?”
“I don’t even know where we are.”
“Look behind you,” he said.
Kate turned around, and there, glowing in the fading light, was that iconic symbol of fame: the Hollywood sign. “Oh!” she exclaimed.
“Here, come on.” Luke grabbed her hand and they made their way to the edge of the turnout. The hill dropped steeply away toward the valley, but makeshift stairs had been carved into the rocky dirt and led to the giant white letters.
“There’s a place to sit down that way,” Luke said.
A few moments later they were close enough to the H to reach out and touch the whitewashed metal.
“This is so cool,” Kate said, turning her gaze between the giant letters and the sparkling grid of Los Angeles below them. She could see the Capitol Records Building and the lights from The Grove. She couldn’t see the ocean, but she knew where it was, because that was where the lights stopped and the darkness began. “Do you come up here a lot?”
“Not much anymore,” Luke said. “I used to, when I first moved to L.A. four years ago. Being up this high makes it all seem—I don’t know”—Luke scrubbed his hand through his hair—“more manageable or something.”
Kate nodded in complete agreement. Even with some success (and especially without any), L.A. could seem so overwhelming. Everyone here wanted something: money, fame, success; a starring role, a record contract; a chance at making his or her dreams come true. And it seemed like most people would do just about anything to get it.
“Do you ever wonder what it would
have been like if you’d stayed in Australia?” she asked.
“You mean, what if I was okay with being Australian successful instead of trying to be Hollywood successful?”
“I guess,” she said.
“I do wonder. My mother certainly doesn’t, though. She’s completely sure I made a horrible decision coming here. She thought that after things didn’t work out with Fight or Flight, I should’ve gone back home immediately.”
Kate had never heard of that movie when Luke told her about it the other night. Luke explained that of course she hadn’t because before it was released the star (who Kate definitely had heard of) was arrested for drunk driving and apparently said some completely misogynistic stuff to the female cop who’d pulled him over. And someone had filmed it. His name was poison after that and the movie went straight to DVD.
“Sometimes I even wonder what it would be like if I’d just gone to university, gotten a job, got a promotion, and settled down.”
“Yeah?” She sat on a step and Luke crouched next to her.
“It does seem like it would be easier sometimes,” Luke said. “Don’t you think?”
“Maybe, but you don’t get a view like this in Ohio.”
Luke was gazing intently at her, his green eyes smiling. “Yes, the view is definitely better around here,” he said.
She gave him a little punch on the arm. “Shut up,” she said.
He laughed. “I was just testing you. I want to make sure you don’t fall for any corny old line.”
“I’m not a total innocent,” Kate said. But she wondered how true this was. Ethan had been her first and last boyfriend; it wasn’t like she was chock-full of romantic experience. But did this, right now, count as romantic experience? Luke was flirting with her, but maybe he was just that way. She had Googled him earlier and saw him on the red carpet with a few different girls. Maybe he was one of those guys who got off on making girls like him. She really had no idea. She’d wanted to ask Carmen about him, but she didn’t want to bother her—Carmen had told her she was sequestering herself for a few days to prepare for some big audition.
Kate gazed out over the glittering landscape. “I want to be somebody,” she said suddenly, as if informing the lights of L.A. itself. “I want to write songs that matter to people.”
“Do you hear that, L.A.?” Luke yelled. “Kate Hayes is going to take you by storm! And so am I!” He stopped and smiled, then added, “Whenever I can get away from the GEICO commercials, that is.”
Kate laughed. “There’s no shame in a commercial,” she said. Thinking: And there’s no shame in reality TV, either. Right? “I mean, whatever pays the rent. And keeps your agent returning your calls.”
“Something like that.” Luke reached over and took her hand. He looked at her fingers as he spoke. “So, I didn’t ask before, but is there someone back in Ohio?”
Kate flushed, thinking of Ethan, whom she still emailed almost daily. When she was lonely, she missed him. Or was it just that she missed her home and everything that was familiar?
“That’s sort of a long pause,” Luke said, interrupting her thoughts. “Does that mean—”
Kate shook her head vehemently. “No,” she said. “There isn’t anyone.”
Luke smiled. “Good,” he said. And then he leaned forward and kissed her, with all of L.A. laid out at their feet.
Chapter 12
Carmen Cupid Curtis
Carmen felt like she was floating out of the building. She’d nailed her reading for The End of Love. She could feel it in her bones—the way her dad could feel a future Billboard chart-topper, or her grandma could sense rain coming on. It was as if, the moment she took the script in hand, every ounce of Carmen Curtis had evaporated. She had become Julia Capsen. She’d spent the last few days holed up in her room re-reading the script and the book the movie was based on, stopping only to take notes on Julia, the star-crossed heroine of the story (and, okay, to eat and sleep . . . and grab a quick brunch with Fawn that turned into brunch and a once-around the Runyon loop and a mani-pedi—Fawn was a terrible influence!). She had so believed in Julia’s futuristic, war-torn world that when the reading was over, Carmen was almost surprised to find herself in relatively peaceful 2012, in a simple bungalow on the studio lot.
Whether or not her excellent performance would result in a role, no one could say—but at least she’d shown Colum McEntire, the director, and all those PopTV Films people that she wasn’t just some entitled brat riding the coattails of her famous parents. After today, they’d have to acknowledge that her talent was all her own.
A few short weeks ago, Colum had been completely uninterested in auditioning her; rumor had it his eye was on Bryn Malloy, a distant cousin of his who’d starred in a bunch of teen-superhero movies and was ready for more gritty roles. But when Carmen had gone in for a meeting with her agent last week, Johnny had told her that there was a change in plans; she was going to read for the part after all. Because the PopTV cameras were rolling, she didn’t ask Johnny what had made Colum McEntire decide that she wasn’t just an L.A. party girl who liked to swipe clothes from designer boutiques. Besides, she was pretty sure she knew: the incredible persuasive powers of Trevor Lord.
Not that she’d minded one bit. In fact, she was downright grateful to that manipulative ratings hound. All she’d needed was a foot in the door, because once she was in, she knew she would blow them away. That was the thing: Everyone assumed she’d just decided on a whim to be an actress, and that she’d get bored and flit on to wanting to be a fashion designer or have her own record label or whatever. They didn’t realize she’d been taking acting classes for years, had always gotten the lead in school plays (except the musicals), and sometimes spent Saturday nights reading Shakespeare so she could parse the words and get at the emotions behind them.
The cameras had naturally accompanied her to the audition, and she’d tried not to show how nervous she was. She kept biting her lip, though, until Laurel texted her: EAT SANDWICH, NOT OWN MOUTH.
As she entered the bungalow, flanked by the PopTV cameras, she was surprised to find Madison in the waiting area, script in hand and her own camera in the corner. Madison looked up, and her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. It would probably be a full-on frown if it weren’t for the years of Botox injections, Carmen thought. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said, sitting down across from her castmate.
“Small world,” Madison said coolly. She was looking through an issue of Gossip, no doubt searching for some mention of herself in it.
Carmen hadn’t ever imagined that Madison had thespian desires. But maybe it wasn’t so surprising. The girl would do anything to be famous, and if hosting a makeover show wasn’t doing it for her, maybe being on the big screen would. Well, Carmen wished her luck with that. She was pretty sure she’d need it.
After a few more tense, silent moments, a short, gray-haired woman called her name, and Carmen went in to kick some acting ass. The cameras were relegated to the reception area.
Another surprise? She’d be reading with Luke Kelly, who was looking gorgeously ragged as Roman, her character’s love interest. They hadn’t talked since the night at Whisper, but apparently he had the role sewn up. She wasn’t sure what happened with Luke and Kate last week, but if Kate wasn’t interested, maybe Carmen could have a little fun with him. She’d made out with him one night a few months ago and wouldn’t mind doing it again. He smiled at her as she sat down, so nervous at first that her palms were icy and damp. “Bryn’s going to have nothing on you, mate,” he’d whispered.
She had hoped he was right.
And, as it turned out, he was.
“I mean, I could be crazy,” Carmen said, fiddling with the straw in her iced coffee. “Maybe I totally sucked.”
Luke shook his head. “No. You were amazing. Seriously, I had chills.”
“Oh please,” Carmen snorted. “They just had the AC up too high. Did you see my goose bumps?”
“Hey now,” Luke said, n
udging her elbow playfully. “You can talk about how great you were, but then when I try to back you up you pretend like I’m full of shit? That’s low, Curtis.”
She laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “You know us actors. We’re all crazy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Luke said, feigning offense. “You’re the one with a reality show, which is its own special brand of crazy, right? I’m as sane as they come.”
“Whatever you say.” Out of the corner of her eye, Carmen could see a couple of girls staring openmouthed at Luke, trying to decide if he was in fact Doctor Rose, from Boston General. She wasn’t offended in the slightest that they didn’t seem to recognize her; in fact she preferred it that way. Carmen had always found it exhausting to be stared at by strangers. If it went on too long—whether it was in a grocery store or on a red carpet—she always felt the urge to run home and jump in the shower. Which, she knew, made her recent career choices somewhat suspect. “Don’t look now,” she said, “but I think you have some fans.”
Luke hunched his shoulders a little, as if this could shield him from their adoring gazes. “Are they coming over here?”
Carmen shook her head. “Don’t think so. They look kind of shy. I think they’re tourists.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m not up for it today. Can you frown at them a little? Look, I don’t know, possessive and intimidating?”
“I could kiss you again,” Carmen offered. “A little Roman and Julia reprise.”
“Uh—” Luke said, looking uncertain.
“What?” she demanded. “It’s not like we’ve never kissed before. Was it so horrible that you can’t bear to—?”
“No, no. Not at all. It’s just . . .”
“Wait! Oh my God, you’re blushing. You like someone!” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it happily. Her own love life was nonexistent, so she might as well live vicariously. (Making out with him would have to be strictly professional then.) “Tell me this instant or I will break your finger.”
The Fame Game Page 9
