“Well, one has tomatillos and the other has tomatoes,” Luke said. “So, no, not really.”
“Whatever. You pick,” Kate said. She started to read an article about the demise of Sonic Youth.
Luke came into the living room with her burrito on a plate and a little cup of both kinds of salsa. “What’s up?” he asked. “You seem kind of off.”
She looked up at him. He was so handsome; his brown hair was sun-lightened and his eyes were the prettiest green she’d ever seen. His face was open, expectant. He didn’t want her to feel bad, she could tell.
But she did feel bad. She was mad at him for putting her in such an awkward position. Who hoped to be a star’s secret girlfriend? It was fine when it was their secret and they were in it together, alone. But now there were agents and publicists and tabloids and Madison and somehow their sweet little secret had turned into Kate being Luke’s dirty secret. She wanted to confront him about it, but she was afraid to—she wasn’t a confrontation kind of person. Plus part of her was hoping that he’d take her in his arms and make everything better. That he’d somehow make everything bad go away.
She shrugged. “I’m just tired,” she said. “Nervous about the premiere.”
Was Luke planning to go? she wondered. Would he be Carmen’s date? Because that would really add insult to injury.
He sat down on the ottoman near her, reaching out to circle her slender ankle with his hand. “It’s the Carmen thing, isn’t it?” he said.
She finally met his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “It’s . . . so much more unpleasant than I thought it would be.”
Luke’s hand on her leg was warm and gentle. “You’re not jealous, are you? Because there’s nothing to be jealous about.”
“No, I’m not jealous. I don’t know what I am. But I know that it doesn’t feel good that I can only be your girlfriend in the privacy of your house.”
Luke sighed. “We’ve been through this,” he said. “I’m just on the verge of really making it big. Maybe that makes me sound like a cocky bastard, but it’s true. Everything I’ve worked for is right within reach, I can see it. I don’t want to screw anything up.” He ran his hand up her shin, and she shivered at his touch. “And since I don’t know how this Hollywood stuff works myself, I listen to the people who do.”
“It just sucks,” Kate said.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” he said. “I know it sucks. I mean, it sucks for me, too.”
Kate plucked at a lifeless fern on Luke’s windowsill, thinking that it couldn’t possibly suck as much for him as it did for her. “Is it that I’m a nobody? Or that I’m about to be somebody, just not the kind of somebody that’s good for your image?” she asked. Because she understood that—Facebook congratulations from old friends aside—she was still pretty much an unknown. But after the premiere on Wednesday, she’d be the girl from The Fame Game. The girl that every other girl growing up in the Midwest and dreaming of stardom hoped to be.
Life was going to change overnight; she realized that. Soon the PopTV cameras would be only a handful among hundreds: paparazzi taking stills; TMZ reporters documenting her movements on video; fans snapping shots on their iPhones. People would ask her for her autograph. They would want to touch her, to make sure she was real.
Luke sighed. “It’s not about you,” he said. “It’s about what’s good for the movie, and my career. I was on the verge of making it once before, and one misstep sent the whole house of cards crashing down. And I had no control over it. That was the lowest point of my career, in my life, even lower than when I was an out-of-work actor, because I’d been so close to finally making it. And then I wasn’t. I can’t be there again. You understand, don’t you?”
Yes, Kate understood. All of a sudden she truly got it. She didn’t want to, but she did. “Yeah, I do. A career is more important to you than your feelings for me. And that makes you different from the person I thought you were.” She pushed aside her untouched lunch and stood.
“That’s not true,” Luke said, reaching for her hand.
She let him hold her lifeless fingers. “I came to L.A. because I wanted to follow my dreams. I didn’t think about fame or money or any of it—I just thought about making music. Isn’t that how you felt, too? About acting?”
“Of course,” Luke said. “I still feel that way. I act because I love it, not because I want a nicer house or a bigger motorcycle.”
“So do you love acting like Carmen’s your girlfriend? Is that rewarding, too?” she said angrily.
“That’s not fair,” Luke said, standing now, too. “It’s a career move, Kate. I know you’re not so naïve that you don’t realize that.” He moved to take her into his arms, and though Kate wanted more than anything to let him, she pushed him away.
“What’s not fair is you treating me this way,” she said softly. “You can either be with me publicly, or not at all.”
She felt her breath catch in her throat. She hadn’t meant to give an ultimatum like that. But she had, and she steeled herself for what he would say.
But he didn’t say anything. He gazed into her eyes, and then he leaned close. His lips met hers in a shock of warmth and softness. “Oh, Kate,” he whispered. “I like you. A lot. Why are you doing this?”
She sank into his kiss; she ached to be with him. “What’s it going to be, Luke?” she asked, feeling the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes because she already knew his answer but still hoped she was wrong.
When he didn’t speak, Kate knew she was right. She turned and walked out of his cottage, the tears already streaming down her face.
Chapter 31
The Best of Friends
It was seriously cramped inside the limo, Carmen noted with some annoyance. The PopTV cameraman was probably six foot five, and Drew was almost that tall; plus there was Fawn with her weird long dress train and her own video camera, which she kept pointing in Carmen’s face. And Luke, who had barely said a word since Drew not-so- subtly hinted that he was on Team Kate and he thought Luke was a douchebag (with the camera rolling—Carmen had accidentally-on-purpose kicked Drew for it). Carmen had hoped the limo ride to the premiere would calm her nerves, but so far it had done the opposite.
“Carmen Curtis, you look fantastic tonight. Tell me, who are you wearing?” Fawn said, pretending to be one of the dozens of reporters who’d be lining the red carpet.
“Give it a rest, Fawn,” Carmen said. She turned to look out the window, hoping that would be enough to get Fawn to leave her alone for a minute. In fact, she was wearing Nina Ricci, and Fawn knew it. At least Fawn had stopped trying to get Luke to “say things in Australian.”
Carmen watched the storefronts of Wilshire Boulevard slip by, their windows sparkling in the late afternoon sun. She knew what to expect from the coming hours—she’d been to more than her share of red-carpet events—but never one where she was a main attraction, and she didn’t know how she’d feel about it. Would it seem wonderful? Or just weird? She looked at Luke, who seemed seriously out of sorts, and thought: Just weird. For sure.
“You want a mint?” Drew held out one of the candies that seemed to reside in every limo she’d ever taken.
She turned to him and smiled faintly. He was wearing a tux but no bow tie, and because his tattoos were covered up he looked as preppy and conventional as could be. “No thanks,” she said, watching him unwrap it and then pop it into his own mouth.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “Fawn? Doctor Rose?”
Luke shook his head, and so did Fawn. “Oh, I don’t eat processed sugar. Ever. Or bread or dairy. And rarely salt or meat.”
“She’s following some diet Aja supposedly is on,” Carmen explained.
“I hope she’s here tonight,” Fawn said eagerly. “You had your publicist call hers, right?”
“Sure,” Carmen lied. “Of course.” She’d been in a photo shoot with Aja several months ago and they’d had a nice conversation—but that was that. She hadn’t called her.
�
��Almost there,” Drew said, chewing another mint.
Their driver had slowed down in the inevitable traffic jam caused by all the limos ahead of them slowing, then stopping, their doors opening to reveal Hollywood stars and starlets, dressed in their glittering finest.
Carmen took a deep breath. It was all beginning now. This was her night. She wished she could enjoy it.
Her parents weren’t coming until later, after the red carpet; her dad didn’t want PopTV filming him, and her mom didn’t want to run the risk of upstaging her. And in a way, she was relieved. This was her first real bid for independence, her best chance to come out from under their big, successful shadows. It would have been weird had they walked the press gauntlet with her. She had to do it on her own.
Or, not entirely on her own. As the driver opened her door, she saw her castmates already there at the start of the carpet, smiling and waving to the yelling crowd.
She made eye contact with Luke and he nodded once at her before opening the door and waiting to help her out of the car. “I’ll see you guys inside,” she said to Drew and Fawn, and then she took Luke’s hand and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The plan was for them to hold hands as he walked her to where her costars would be waiting. The plan was now making her feel ill.
Kate greeted her with a hollow smile, and Carmen wanted to reach out to squeeze her hand. Kate had called the other night to tell her what had happened with Luke, and Carmen had immediately driven to her apartment to comfort her. She’d even broken her pre–red carpet diet to share a pint of Ben & Jerry’s with Kate. Because appearances were important, but not as important as friends. But when Kate asked if Luke was going to be Carmen’s date to the premiere, and Carmen said yes, it felt like everything changed between them. Carmen didn’t think she’d done anything wrong, but it was starting to feel like she had.
And now they had to stand together on the red carpet and smile.
The camera flashes were like strobe lights at a disco. Carmen and Kate posed with their arms around each other as more and more cars pulled up, and more and more of the rich and famous climbed out. Even though her mind was elsewhere, Carmen was conscious of keeping herself turned partially sideways to the photographers, with her left foot planted in front of her right. She pointed her front toes to the cameras and placed her weight on her back foot. (All this to counteract the ten pounds the cameras added.)
She glanced over at Gaby, who was wearing a one-shoulder LBD that kind of looked like it was made out of a Hefty bag. But she was almost pulling it off, and she certainly looked happy with the attention. In a way, these were Gaby’s best moments: when she was just smiling, looking pretty, and not being asked to think about anything.
In another few moments, Madison showed up—of course she’d be the last to arrive—and even Carmen had to admit that she looked stunning in a midnight-blue column dress. She was also wearing the most brilliant diamond necklace Carmen had ever seen. Behind her came Sophia, clad in what appeared to be a turquoise sari, and Charlie Wardell, looking for all the world like he’d rather be back in prison than take another step on the red carpet. Madison posed with them for a minute or two, then made an elaborate show of hugging them both before she came over to join the other three girls. She placed herself next to Kate, and together they stood smiling, united, as if they were all the best of friends.
“Where’s your date, Carmen?” Madison said through her smile. “Is he double-booked?”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Had Kate told Madison the truth about Luke?
After a while, Laurel appeared to usher them along toward the Hammer Museum at the far end of the red carpet, where the party was already underway. Carmen paused to speak to various reporters (“So, tell us about your new beau!”; “What’s it like to work with Madison Parker?”), and her answers were gracious and vague (“He’s a great guy and I’m so excited to be working with him.”; “She’s quite the character. You’ll have to tune in to see . . .”). The camera shutters never stopped clicking.
Everything was going smoothly—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. This was her life, but it didn’t really feel like it. Reality TV, she realized, made everything just a little too unreal.
Above them the sky was darkening, and the lights of the museum glowed invitingly. The nervousness that Carmen felt had vanished. So what if Kate was mad at her? So what if Madison knew about Luke. Carmen needed to stop worrying about everyone else and start worrying about Carmen. She was in control. Her eyes were wide open, just like her dad said all those weeks ago.
Chapter 32
The Birth of a Star
The garden of the Hammer Museum looked like something from a fairy tale, Kate thought, or like the most expensive prom she could ever have imagined. Paper lanterns hung like brilliant, multicolored moons over tables decorated with sprays of lilies and roses. Waiters glided along, carrying trays of Champagne and appetizers. Music was coming from somewhere, but already the sound of laughter and conversation was drowning it out.
She reached for a glass of Champagne and took a small sip (she’d learned, thanks to the night of watching Gaby’s interview—or, more accurately, the morning after—that too much was not a good thing). She’d made it through the press gauntlet without tripping in her high heels or saying something stupid to an E! reporter, and now she had a little while to relax before the show really began.
Oh, who was she kidding—she had to play her song to the crowd! Relaxing was not an option tonight.
Gaby and her date—Trey? Jay? Kate couldn’t remember—were sticking close to her. They’d shared the limo to the museum, which had given Kate ample time to admire Trey’s (or Jay’s) new tattoo (a Chinese dragon on his calf, of all places) as well as learn about the various hair products that he used to keep his hair looking wet at all times. She forced herself to not think about Luke, and how if he’d been with her they would joke about this guy later, which of course was thinking about Luke. Luke who was coming with Carmen, which is why Kate was with Gaby. She knew she shouldn’t be mad at Carmen—her friend hadn’t really done anything wrong, but she couldn’t help feeling strange around her now.
Gaby’s contribution to the conversation was a long rave about Oscar Blandi’s dry shampoo, as well as occasional musings about which celebrities would be in attendance at tonight’s event. Gaby might not have a gift for words, but she had total recall for a celebrity guest list.
Kate had kind of wished she’d brought a book to read. Or had insisted that her mom and sister made the trip out. At least Natalie was around somewhere. Kate had given her invites to her, and no doubt Natalie was somewhere in this building wearing an amazing dress she’d made herself.
Now that Kate was here, she was feeling giddy. She hadn’t known what to expect of the party, but as far as she could tell, PopTV had gone all out.
She had gone all out, too. She’d never been this done up before. Her dress was gray silk charmeuse, with a deep V-neck and a slit up the leg. It was so light and smooth that it felt like water against her skin. Her makeup had been professionally applied, and her hair was fashioned into a soft, braided updo.
Much of this was thanks to Madison, who’d helped her pick out her look after Kate finished rehearsing her song the day before. (She actually had a backup band this time—and who cared that Trevor had instructed the band to “pep up the song”? She had a professional band performing with her!) The PopTV cameras were there, of course, so they could capture Madison’s advice for how to “slim the silhouette,” “elongate the neck,” and “accentuate what curves you have.” Kate wasn’t really listening to Madison’s various monologues, but it occurred to her that Madison must miss having her own makeover show; she seemed like she was really good at it.
While Madison directed her to try on various dresses, Kate thought about the last time they’d seen each other, when Gaby had lost her earrings and Madison had called Kate a boring little nobody. She knew Madison had been defensive abo
ut her father—that was the reason she’d lashed out, but did that excuse it? Kate had to admit that it bothered her still. She felt too nervous to bring it up, though. She hoped that they could just forgive and forget without ever talking about it.
“Yes, this is the one,” Madison had said when Kate tried on the Halston Heritage dress that she was now wearing as she gazed out over the glittering crowd. “It has a beautiful line and the color is great on your skin. It also makes you look at least four inches taller.”
“Um, isn’t that the heels?” Kate had asked, poking her patent-leather peep-toe pump out from below the gown’s hem. They were the highest heels she’d ever worn, and she was seriously worried she might break an ankle.
Madison shook her head. “Heels add height, but so does the cut of a dress.”
“So I look, like, eight inches taller total?” Kate had asked.
She was trying to be funny, but Madison didn’t laugh.
After the camera crew had gotten what they needed, Madison had abruptly turned to go, and Kate realized she was going to have to say something to clear the air. She didn’t want to make an enemy of Madison. That seemed like a bad idea for all sorts of reasons.
“Wait,” Kate had called. “I can tell you’re still mad about the other night. And I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Madison had turned around and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Kate to continue.
“It wasn’t fair of us to bring your dad into it. You know him, Madison, and we don’t. You say you trust your dad, and I’m sure that you’re right to. I’m really sorry if I ever suggested otherwise.” She smiled shyly. “Friends?”
Madison had paused at the door and looked at her for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to just keep walking away. She didn’t, though; she smiled. “Friends,” she’d said.
Now, Madison was over by the stage, introducing her father to one of the PopTV executives while Sophia hovered in the background (even though Madison had told Kate her sister’s name was Sophie, Kate still thought of her as Sophia—after all, she didn’t think of Madison as Madelyn, and that was her name), smiling and emanating love vibes. (Kate had to wonder how long that would last—she’d seen Sophia on L.A. Candy, and as far as she was concerned, people didn’t change. Not that much, anyway.)
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