The Fame Game

by Lauren Conrad

  “Ewww,” Kate said, wrinkling her nose.

  Carmen and Kate were grabbing a bite at Swingers, a former greasy spoon turned retro-hip diner (complete with vinyl booths, old-school linoleum floors, and a giant jukebox) before Carmen had to go in for a table read for The End of Love. Swingers was supposed to be ironic and cool, but according to Kate it looked—ironically—exactly like any number of crappy truck-stop restaurants in Ohio. Except, of course, everyone at Swingers was highlighted and slightly better looking and everything shined a little more.

  Carmen giggled as she looked over the menu. “Does a chili omelet sound bad?” she asked.

  Kate nodded emphatically. “Almost as gross as a goat milk cappuccino. It’s like ordering a waffle taco or something.”

  “Well, they’re supposed to be good here. And what I don’t finish I can give to Drew. He said he was going to try to drop by to say hi. Actually, he called me a loser but said he missed me, which translates to him showing up here and cleaning our plates.”

  “What’s up with you two?” Kate asked.

  “What do you mean ‘what’s up’?” Carmen felt the hint of a blush but willed it away. “Nothing’s up. We’re best friends.”

  “Is Drew gay?” Kate asked matter-of-factly.

  Carmen laughed. “No. Why? I can’t be friends with him if he’s straight?”

  “Not saying that. I’m just saying he’s cute and funny and I totally thought you guys were dating when I first met you.”

  “Well, we’re not. Maybe you should go for him—oh, wait, you already have a boyfriend.”

  Now Kate blushed. With her complexion it was pretty easy to make that happen and Carmen loved doing it. But with the flush came something else—a look Kate tried to hide. Carmen looked down at her menu again and then up at Kate. She had to make sure the air was clear. “You’re sure this whole Luke thing isn’t going to bother you?” she blurted, her dark eyes searching Kate’s face.

  Kate sighed, and Carmen knew that she was thinking back to the photo of Carmen and Luke that had shown up on D-Lish. Kate hadn’t been worried about the picture, or what it seemed to show—she’d believed Carmen’s story immediately. (“They took the picture the moment he was telling me about you,” Carmen had told her, which was the truth. “That’s why I grabbed his hand. I was just so happy.”)

  But the aftermath, Carmen had to admit, had been a little weird. And had confirmed to her that not mentioning her makeout session with Luke had been the right choice. Clearly Luke hadn’t said anything about it and now Carmen would make sure he never did.

  Kate had called Luke to tell him about his apparent romance with his leading lady, and they’d had a good laugh. But then Luke’s agent, Simon Leff, had called on the other line, and when Luke called Kate back, his tone had changed. Simon had told him that Gossip was planning to run a “Which Fame Game star is Luke Kelly dating?” story. The agent had been relieved that it wasn’t Madison or Gaby. But he was not exactly thrilled to hear that it was Kate.

  So then Luke had had the awkward job of trying to explain to Kate why dating her publicly could spell bad news for his career. It’s not you, he’d said. It’s the show. Simon says anyone who wants to be taken seriously as an actor should stay away from reality TV. His exact words were, “Unless you’re already established or your name is George Clooney, you have to shut it down.”

  Kate poured some more cream into her coffee but still didn’t drink it. “It’s like his agent thinks I’m a second-class citizen,” Kate said to Carmen. “I’m not good enough for his precious Luke.” She met her friend’s gaze. “But you are.”

  Carmen ducked her head in embarrassment. “Oh, Kate,” she said. She did feel bad about it. According to Kate, Simon had informed Luke that unless The Fame Game girl he was dating was Carmen Curtis, then he had to deny being involved with anyone at all. Carmen was born on the A-list, Simon had pointed out, and she’d just landed the lead in what was sure to be a blockbuster. They were costars! Simon had practically yelled. It was perfect. They could pretty much write their own cover story, and you couldn’t buy that kind of publicity. Yes, Carmen was the kind of girlfriend Luke should have if he cared about his career.

  “And he’s telling me this,” Kate said, “and my heart starts to beat really fast and hard and my palms start to tingle. It’s just like what I feel before going on stage. It’s a fear of what’s to come. Usually I’m afraid of what I’ll do wrong—but this time I’m afraid of what he’s going to tell me, you know? Like he’s going to break up with me.”

  “But he didn’t break up with you,” Carmen reminded her.

  “No,” Kate whispered. She didn’t look very reassured by that fact, though.

  Carmen signaled to the waitress that they’d take two orders of pancakes. Screw the fitting she was scheduled for after the table read, she thought; they could both use some comfort food.

  “I know, it’s so stupid,” she said, reaching out to pat Kate’s hand. “But everything in Hollywood is a competition. Where is the best party? Who is the most powerful person in the room? How do I get my name in lights? How do I get my name in bigger lights? People spend twenty-four hours a day worrying about the answers to those questions.”

  “But Luke didn’t seem like he did,” Kate pointed out.

  “No, but his agent does. That’s what Luke pays him for.”

  “Right. So I said, ‘Your agent doesn’t approve of me.’ And Luke said, ‘No, it’s Madison Parker and her desperate attempts at fame. It’s Gaby Garcia, who’s become a total train wreck. Simon doesn’t think I should be associated with those people.’ And I said, ‘Oh, but it would be okay if you were associated with them because you were dating Carmen?’”

  Carmen felt the weight of her friend’s wounded gaze. The whole situation sucked. Kate was the nicest, most sane person Carmen had met in a long time, and she didn’t want her to be hurt. Unlike so many people Carmen knew, who either resented her for her celebrity or tried to befriend her because of it, Kate didn’t care that Carmen was famous. In fact, she was practically oblivious to it. And Kate was a struggling singer-songwriter who knew exactly who Carmen’s dad was and what he could do for the right struggling singer-songwriter. Finding someone in Hollywood to whom fame and connections didn’t matter? It was like finding a unicorn—something you didn’t even think existed.

  “It’s just because Luke and I are costars now,” Carmen said reassuringly. “Really, it has nothing to do with you.” She knew how hollow that sounded, though, and she sympathized with Kate.

  “Wait—have you talked about this with him? So he’s not going to deny that he’s dating you?” Kate said. “Talk about ‘The End of Love.’ It’s going to be all ‘no comment’ from his publicist or whatever?”

  Carmen shrugged, taking Kate’s flippant movie-title crack in stride. “That’s okay with me,” she said. “I don’t have a real boyfriend, so I might as well have a fake one. I mean, if it’s okay with you.” Her publicist had already urged her to go with the story. (And her mom had called from somewhere across the world to ask when Carmen was bringing her new man for dinner. They had a good laugh because they both knew that if Carmen was actually dating someone, Cassandra would be among the first to know.)

  Kate put her head in her hands. “I guess it’s okay. I certainly don’t want to get in the way of Luke’s career. It’s just so weird.”

  The waitress appeared and set two steaming plates of pancakes in front of them. Kate looked up in confusion.

  “I ordered them,” Carmen admitted. “I thought we could use a little pick-me-up.”

  “And what you don’t want, I’ll eat,” said Drew, appearing at Carmen’s elbow. He smiled at them both, looking handsome and slightly scruffy, as if he’d been up too late the night before. Which, Carmen thought, he probably had; her dad had been sending him around to lots of shows lately, looking for fresh talent ready to take the next step.

  Drew slid into the booth beside her and smiled at them both. �
�And let’s order some bacon, too. Which you are buying, since I’m mad at you.” He jabbed Carmen in the ribs with a tattooed elbow.

  “What for?” Carmen asked.

  “For dating Luke Kelly and not telling your oldest, bestest friend about it,” he said, sticking out his lower lip and making a pouting face. “I had to hear about it from your dad.”

  Carmen glanced over at Kate, who looked pale. She hadn’t touched her pancakes.

  “From my dad?” Carmen asked. “First of all, it’s not even true, and second of all, what, is my dad gossiping about me at the watercooler?”

  Drew raised an eyebrow. “Not true? Really? Various publicists and gossip sites seem to say otherwise. I had to read up on it, see, after I heard.”

  Carmen shook her head. “It’s not true. The truth is—”

  “The truth is that I’m dating him,” Kate interrupted. “But no one is supposed to know that. In public he needs to have a better girlfriend, which is our Carmen here.” She was smiling, but Carmen thought she detected a note of bitterness in her voice.

  “Oh, Kate,” she said.

  Drew held up a hand. “Wait a second. The guy is dating you”—he looked at Kate—“but he’s pretending to be dating you?” He turned to Carmen.

  “He’s not pretending to be dating me,” Carmen said. “He’s just not denying it.”

  “Wow,” Drew said. “Wow.”

  “Wow what?” Carmen asked.

  “That’s . . . lame,” Drew said flatly.

  Kate pushed her plate of pancakes toward him. “Here,” she said. “I’m not hungry.”

  Carmen watched as Kate gazed out the window at the traffic on Beverly Boulevard. She felt bad for her, but Carmen was only trying to do what was best for everyone.

  “You could pretend to date me,” Drew said to Kate. “If that would make you feel better.”

  Kate turned to him and smiled. “Would you get a tattoo in my honor?”

  “Just name the body part and font.”

  Kate laughed. “Would I get special consideration at Rock It! Records?”

  “Baby,” Drew said, “I’ve got a gold record with your name on it.”

  And then they were both laughing, and Carmen joined in, hesitantly at first and then wholeheartedly. Everything was going to be all right, she told herself. Everything was going to work out just fine.

  Chapter 25

  Everyone Wants to Be Famous

  Lugging her guitar, her ukulele, and an oversized cup of green tea, Kate entered the recording studio at Swing House, flanked by a PopTV camera and crew. Her heart felt like it was in her throat—how was she going to sing around that? she wondered.

  A tall guy wearing various shades of denim from head to toe walked into the studio with one giant hand outstretched. “I’m Mike,” he said. “I’ll be at the soundboard in there, on the other side of those windows. We’ve got a vintage twenty-channel API along with a twelve-channel Cadac sidecar and multiple Neve and Calrec Mic Pres,” he said. “We’ve got Sam over there to deal with the mikes and cables, and we’ve got an intern, Laura, to boss around, too. So we’re all ready to roll.”

  Kate, who was the queen of low-tech, lo-fi recording, nodded as if she expected nothing less. A twelve-channel Cadac sidecar? Of course! She couldn’t live without it! (And what exactly was it?) “Awesome,” she said. “Sounds great.” She hoped that Sam was good with the mikes and cables, because she certainly didn’t know what to do with them.

  “You can go ahead and get yourself set up over there.” Mike smiled and pointed to the vocal booth. “And don’t be nervous,” he said, peering at her good-naturedly. “This is going to be fun.”

  From the corner, behind the cameras, Laurel gave Kate a little wave. Kate couldn’t smile back, of course, but she did feel momentarily reassured. Laurel was rooting for her; that counted for something, right?

  She took Lucinda from her case and stepped into the vocal booth, a small room off to the side of the main studio. A wooden door formed one wall and egg-crate acoustic foam lined the other three. Inside was an Oriental rug, a music stand, and a single stool. It smelled faintly like pot.

  She sat on the stool and brought her guitar to her lap.

  “All good in there?” Mike asked. “Comfy? You need anything?”

  Kate shook her head, too intimidated by everything to speak.

  “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. We’re used to the whims of you creative types, and we cater to them pretty well.” Mike winked at her.

  Kate wondered what he thought she’d like: the pot she was smelling? And a pile of Doritos and Good & Plentys? She did want a bottle of water, but she was too shy to ask.

  And then Mike disappeared into the sound booth, and Kate was alone in her little vocal chamber. Alone, that is, until a PopTV cameraman wedged his way in and set up in the corner. “Don’t mind me,” he said with a smile. “Just pretend I’m not even here.”

  That was easier said than done, though, considering he was practically sitting in her lap.

  She took a deep breath and tried to focus. She’d spent hours working on her songs, especially the one about Luke, which she’d totally rewritten. She’d kept her guitar and her laptop right next to her for days, so when it finally came together—which was, ironically, during a commercial for Boston General—she’d picked up Lucinda and perfected the chords in moments, the way the melody looped around before settling down into a simple, catchy chorus. Then she’d typed out the lyrics in a burst of inspiration. The day after that, two more songs had come to her, as if suddenly writing was as easy as rolling out of bed.

  If only everything else were so easy, she thought.

  She felt on edge, and it wasn’t just being in Swing House Studios. It was Luke, and it was Luke and Carmen, and it was the way it had begun to seem as if her life was no longer truly her own to control. She thought of Ethan’s most recent email: As usual, he’d sent a funny clip (two grandmothers singing Katy Perry’s “Firework”) and he’d asked how she was. Then he’d signed off. TTYL, he’d written. Keep it real.

  Keep it real. It was a generic good-bye—something he’d written to her a hundred times before. But this time it seemed to have a new meaning. It seemed almost like a command. Or a warning.

  She was not keeping many things real these days.

  Focus, she told herself. Get in the game here.

  Inside the control room, Mike put on a pair of headphones and indicated that she should do the same. She found a pair hanging on the wall and slipped them on.

  “Can you hear me?” Mike said.

  “Loud and clear.” His voice sounded so close it was like he was speaking right into her brain.

  “All right, so why don’t you just strum a little bit, get yourself warmed up while I fiddle with some things in here. No need to record anything yet. Just take some time to get comfortable.”

  “Sounds good,” Kate said. She strummed a little warm-up progression and then did one of her fingerpicking exercises. After a few moments she leaned toward the mike. “I think I’m ready,” she said.

  Mike gave her the thumbs-up and smiled. Kate took a deep breath and began. The song was about her first date with Luke—when they’d ridden up into the hills. But she’d been working on it for so long that the lyrics kept changing and it was still about Luke, but it wasn’t the sweet love song she’d set out to write.

  We thought we’d give this town a try, the first verse began.

  We saw the Hollywood sign up so high

  And we rode up into the sky

  Just you, the stars, and I. . . .

  But when she came to it, she changed the second line—almost by mistake. She sang, “We thought the Hollywood sign was on our side.”

  No one else knew she’d made a mistake, so she kept going, singing the chorus:

  Lovestruck, starstruck, dreaming of our better days

  Holding on as tight as we can before the bright lights shine our way

  Lovestruck,
starstruck, dreaming of better days

  In the control room Mike was nodding along to the beat, and Kate felt herself growing more confident, more free. She forgot about the PopTV cameras and lost herself in the song. She played it over and over, wanting to get it perfect but also wanting to explore all the possibilities within it: a slower tempo, a slightly different bridge, a hummed verse, a full stop punctuated by a series of four syncopated hand claps. She changed it many times, messing around with the chorus so at one point she sang “ready for the game” instead of “dreaming of better days,” which earned her a thumbs-up and a smile from Laurel. But through all the different takes that new line in the first verse stayed the same.

  When she’d done a few other songs and her time was up, Mike came into the booth. He was eating a bag of M&M’s. “You’re sure you’re not a studio regular? Some secret session musician maybe?”

  She shook her head. “The only recording I’ve done is on my laptop. Which is about a hundred years old.”

  “I saw your YouTube video, you know,” Mike said. “It was really good. But you’re already better than that.”

  She looked up at him, hope written all over her face. “You think so?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I know so. That song? The one about Hollywood being complicated and confusing? That’s good stuff.”

  Gee, thanks, Kate thought, as Laurel ran over, smiling. Glad my ridiculous Luke situation makes for good stuff.

  “Oh my God, you were amazing!” Laurel squealed, putting her arm around Kate’s shoulder. “And Mike’s right about that song. Trevor’s still looking for the perfect song for the opening credits and I think you may have just recorded it.”

  Kate flushed with pride. What if Trevor would actually use her music for The Fame Game? That would be incredible.