Kate felt someone tap her on the shoulder and turned to see Carmen’s friend Fawn, who she’d met a couple times.
“Oh my God, you look amazing!” Fawn said while giving her an enthusiastic hug.
“Thanks,” Kate said, a little taken aback. Fawn had previously said about ten words to her.
“It’s cool that you were okay with the whole Carmen and Luke thing, considering,” Fawn said.
What the hell was she talking about? “Considering what?”
“Y’know, that they’d hooked up before you guys met.”
Weeks of having cameras in her face must have finally had an effect on Kate, because she barely flinched, even though what she was thinking was: What. The. Fuck?!
“Kate!” cried a voice, and Kate saw Laurel, dressed in a slinky red number, and for once not carrying a travel mug of coffee, hurrying toward her.
“Um, I’ve got to go,” she said to Fawn. “But I’m sure I’ll see you later!” Kate hoped to never see her again. She turned to Laurel.
“Kate, are you ready? You’re on in five.”
Kate felt her stomach practically explode with butterflies. “No?” she squeaked.
Laurel gripped her arm with long, cold fingers. “I’m nervous, too,” she said. “But everything is going to be amazing. Okay? Now, the plan is that Trevor will introduce you, and then you’ll play your song.”
Kate’s shock and anger dissipated as she had a moment of even greater panic—where was Lucinda?—but then she remembered that her guitar and all the backup instruments were waiting for her on the stage. (For the first time in her life she’d had a roadie to lug her guitar and amp around—in a way, that helped her feel like she’d made it already.)
It had been so crazy to get the phone call from Trevor the other day. For one thing, he’d never called her before, whereas Madison made it sound like he called her every night to tuck her in with a good bedtime story from her favorite gossip mag. For another thing, he’d said that Mike from Swing House had sent him the song, and he wanted to use it as the opening music for the series.
“Girls across the country are going to be singing ‘Starstruck’ on the way to school next week,” Trevor had said after he told her he was sending a messenger with a contract for her to sign. “It’s going to be your first hit. Did I mention you can buy the MP3 of it on iTunes starting tonight? Yeah, took care of that the other day.”
Kate just hadn’t known what to say. When she’d first heard the final version, she couldn’t believe it was her song. It was a far cry from what she’d recorded herself. Mike had layered in one of her ukulele tracks and added some drums, making the sound as lush as it did in Kate’s head. Plus, he’d used one of her joke takes in the chorus, about being ready for the game. At first Kate was annoyed but then realized it did make the song more appropriate for the show’s opening.
Laurel’s grip tightened on her arm. “Don’t worry, you’re going to kill it. And then the other girls will come up on stage, and you’ll stand there together and introduce each other and the episode. Got it?”
Kate nodded. She was staring at the stage, imagining herself already up there, singing and playing better than she ever had before. But she also couldn’t help remembering all the YouTube videos that Ethan had sent her over the last six months: the guy auditioning for American Idol whose only talent was holding a note so long that all the judges kept checking their watches; the kid who tried to sing “Happy Birthday” on Good Morning America but instead hyperventilated and passed out. She so did not want to be like those people. But her fingers felt stiff and her throat was tight with worry. And her heart hurt a little too. More from Luke’s betrayal or Carmen’s? She wasn’t sure.
“Seriously, you’re going to be great,” Laurel said, and Kate nodded, still staring at the stage.
A moment later, Trevor appeared on it, looking slick and intimidating in a pin-stripe power suit and a platinum Rolex that must have weighed at least a pound. He took the microphone and smiled, and the crowd immediately hushed.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen—and agents,” he said, and the sound of polite laughter rose up from the room. “I’m thrilled to welcome you to the premiere of PopTV’s next hit show, The Fame Game. Before we start the episode, I’m going to call up our newest star, Kate Hayes.” He smiled in Kate’s direction, and Kate felt the butterflies in her stomach doing cartwheels and somersaults. “You all have been in the room with her for half an hour now, and you probably didn’t notice her.”
Wow, thanks a lot, thought Kate.
“Maybe you said to yourself, Oh, there’s a pretty little redhead. I wonder what cop show she’s been an extra on. But ladies and gentlemen, tonight you get to witness the birth of a star. It starts tonight, and it continues all season long. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you . . . Kate Hayes!”
All eyes in the room turned toward Kate as she ascended the stairs to the stage. With each step, the hurt and confusion she felt hardened into something like determination—she would go onstage and kick ass. She was no longer Kate Hayes, that girl from that YouTube video. That girl was not good enough for Luke. Screw Luke. Once she was on her mark, the spotlights blinded her; the crowd was a dark blur. She reached for Lucinda and brought her into her arms as she sat on the stool at center stage. Behind her, the backup musicians quietly took their places.
She took a deep breath and willed the butterflies away. She could not afford to choke! She tried to imagine that she was in her room back in Columbus, and the only person watching her was Ethan with his video camera. Everything had been so much simpler back then, she thought.
Simpler, but also a lot less exciting.
She closed her eyes and felt her fingers touch the strings of her guitar. Here goes nothing, she thought.
Chapter 33
Empty
Madison didn’t normally sleep late—she had a regular 8 a.m. date with her trainer—but the morning after the premiere she didn’t wake up until 9. And then she lay around in bed, feeling generally pleased with life, for another half an hour. Outside the window she could see the brilliant red rosebushes that she knew Charlie carefully watered every day. She was glad she’d gotten him this house instead of a fancy apartment in the Marina; he took so much pleasure in having a yard.
Madison stretched out luxuriously against the 600-count Donna Karan sheets. Last night had gone almost as well as she could have hoped. She’d looked amazing, and she knew that when she logged on to her computer there would be hundreds of pictures of herself on gossip blogs and entertainment sites (Madison wows in midnight! Madison sparkles in Luxe Paris!). Her face felt sore from smiling, and her right hand was still stiff from all the autographs she’d stayed to sign.
The reaction to the show had been unanimously positive, and afterward people had rushed up to congratulate her, including an executive from PopTV Films and an actor on one of HBO’s series whom Madison had always thought was hot. He’d asked for her number and promised to call her next week when he got back from Cabo, where he and some friends were opening a restaurant.
Things had not been completely perfect, however. For instance, Carmen had gotten more lines during the introductions on the stage. Kate had flubbed the beginning of her song and had had to start over. (She really needed to get that stage fright under control if she ever wanted to make it in the music industry.) The whole evening Gaby had insisted on dragging around that moron, who kept telling Madison that she should date his best friend because he could tell she’d “totally love him.” As if she’d ever be seen with some cologne-drenched ex–frat boy with a Camaro and a collection of Ed Hardy shirts!
And while Charlie had smiled happily all night, he also seemed overwhelmed by the cameras and the hubbub. He’d been shy with the reporters: When he couldn’t avoid them completely, he had mumbled out answers to their questions. Madison had then had to translate: “He said it’s a dream come true, being back with his daughters! Yes, this is the first time he’s been to L.A., and yes,
he absolutely loves it!”
Sophie, of course, had been the opposite of Charlie; she’d tried to elbow in front of Madison at every opportunity she had. Apparently the whole one-love, peace-on-earth, all-is-mellow business didn’t translate to the press line. Although it hadn’t mattered much, because Madison was the one that everyone had wanted to talk to. She had smiled and flirted and hinted at upcoming story lines like the pro she was, and everyone had eaten it right up.
The only really bad thing—the thing that she was trying not to think about—was that Trevor had chosen Kate’s song for the opening of The Fame Game. How had he not run this by her first? It was beginning to feel like Jane Roberts all over again. But maybe Sophie’s sweetness-and-light act had rubbed off on Madison a little bit, or maybe being back with her dad had reminded her that there were other things in life besides fame. Madison wasn’t sure, but she didn’t have the urge to call Trevor up right now and scream into his ear.
She snuggled down under the covers for one last moment. She’d probably change her mind later. But right now she’d just go drink some coffee in the kitchen and relax a little. Then she could read Trevor the riot act. But for now, he could enjoy his morning.
Slowly, lazily, she swung her legs out of bed. As she got dressed, she decided that she should take Charlie to breakfast. It would be a celebratory meal—she might even allow herself a pancake. She pulled her hair into a smooth ponytail and brushed a little mineral foundation over her face. On her way to Charlie’s room she put on some lip gloss and reminded herself to tweet about the color later.
His door was closed, so she knocked. No answer. “Dad?” She turned the handle and peered inside. His room was perfectly neat, and his made bed was empty. She shrugged and turned toward the kitchen. Well, Charlie was an early riser, too. Probably he’d run out to get them bagels. Or even donuts. He knew she’d always loved donuts, even if she never ate them. Madison decided that when he returned with half a dozen crullers, she’d allow herself half of one.
There was a pot of coffee ready, and Madison poured herself a cup. She was beginning to feel the rumbling in her stomach (maybe she’d eat a whole donut) when her BlackBerry vibrated on the kitchen table. She glanced down at the screen: Luxe Paris. She sighed. She knew that she had to return the necklace, but she wanted to wear it for a little bit longer. It would make even her nightgown look Oscar-worthy. She let the call go to voice mail.
After she’d finished her first cup of coffee, she checked her voice mail and found that the jeweler had called three times already this morning. Wow—it wasn’t even noon on the morning after the premiere, and Luxe Paris was lighting up her phone like she’d stolen the diamonds and fled to Rio. The nerve! They’d gotten great press out of her wearing that necklace, Madison knew that for a fact. (And the earrings, too, but of course those were hers.) Next time she’d go with a more established jeweler if they didn’t stop harassing her.
She had a message from Trevor, too. No doubt he wanted to work his magic on her and try to make her complaint disappear.
She showered, drank a second cup of coffee, and finally picked up her phone when Luxe Paris rang again.
“Seriously,” she said, “you guys could let a girl sleep in.”
“Madison Parker?” said a cool, French-sounding female voice on the other end.
“Speaking,” Madison said. “Obviously.”
“This is Adele Pinchot from Luxe Paris. I’m afraid we have a situation.”
Madison sat up a little straighter; the woman’s tone was not friendly. “What?”
“We are missing some jewelry,” Adele said. “This was discovered in inventory late last night. The missing items were last seen when you and your father were—”
“Wait a second,” Madison interrupted. “Are you trying to say that—”
But two could play the interrupting game, and Adele cut in. “I’m saying that we reviewed the security tape, and it shows a man in a blue shirt holding a pair of earrings, and then slipping them into his pocket.”
Madison stood up so angrily that she knocked over her chair. “A man in a blue shirt? That could be fifty percent of the L.A. population.”
“The earrings missing were the same pair you were photographed wearing last night,” Adele continued.
“My father bought those earrings! He put them on a payment plan!”
“Ms. Parker, I can assure you—”
But Madison had already hung up the phone. She paced around the living room, still in her bathrobe. She wanted her dad to get back to the house right now so she could tell him about the insane people at Luxe Paris. How long did it take to get a dozen donuts? she wondered. She cursed the fact that she hadn’t bought him a cell phone yet. It was next on her to-do list.
She should get dressed, she thought, so she hurried into her room for a pair of jeans and a cap-sleeved sweater. (Madison Parker would never be so casual as to wear a T-shirt.) There, on the nightstand, was the blue suede box from Luxe. She pulled it to her chest, almost hugging it—if she had the money she’d buy this necklace today, although she wouldn’t want to give them the business after what had just happened. Well, she thought, setting the box down on the bed and lifting its lid, someday soon I will have the money, and I will spend it on diamonds from Cartier.
And then her heart seemed to stop: The earrings were lying there on the silk, but the necklace was gone.
Where were her diamonds—or, rather, where were Luxe Paris’s diamonds? She remembered putting them in the box last night after she and Charlie got home, after they’d had a cup of tea in the kitchen. Madison always put beautiful things back where they belonged: Her Louboutins lay nestled in their boxes; her silk clutches were wrapped in tissue paper on a closet shelf; and her gowns were hung in perfect rows, inside labeled canvas garment bags.
Fear coursed through Madison’s veins like ice. She walked into her bathroom and looked around the vanity. Think, think, think! She hadn’t even been tipsy when she got home. She hadn’t drunk anything at all, in fact, because Charlie didn’t drink and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
She scoured the bathroom, her room, the kitchen, everything. “Dad!” Madison cried out. “Dad!” Her voice grew desperate. She knew he wasn’t in the house, but she wanted him here, right now, to calm her down. To help her look. Where the hell was he? How long did it take to buy a box of fucking donuts?
She walked back into his room, and that was when she noticed what she should have seen before: The door to his closet was ajar, and the hangers were empty. There was no new suit, no chinos, no work boots, nothing.
She sank down on to the bed. She clutched at her heart, which was beating fast and hard in her chest. Gaby’s accusation flashed in her mind. Almost unconsciously, she dialed her sister.
“Have you seen Dad?” Madison asked, without even saying hello.
Sophie cleared her throat. She was obviously just waking up. “Since last night? No. You’re the one who lives with him.”
“He’s not here.” Madison closed her eyes and gripped the phone harder. “I need to find him. Now.”
“He probably just went out for a walk or something,” Sophie said sleepily. “Call me later when he shows up.”
“No. I’m coming over, so get dressed. I have to find him, and you’re going to help.” Her BlackBerry buzzed—Luxe Paris was on the other line. “Seriously, Sophie. Get your kombucha-loving ass out of bed. We don’t have much time.”
Chapter 34
So Damn Catchy
Trevor sat alone at a table for five on the Chateau Marmont patio, enjoying the sun, the September breeze, and a very large Bloody Mary. Normally he saved his cocktails until after 5 p.m., but today he had a reason to celebrate. The overnight ratings for The Fame Game had been fantastic—so great, in fact, that he’d called the girls this morning and told them to meet him for a congratulatory lunch. “Come break those pre-red-carpet diets in style,” he’d said. “The eggs Benedict are the best in the city.”
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br /> Everyone had jumped at the chance—everyone except Madison, who wasn’t picking up her phone. Trevor found this somewhat strange, especially since he’d been half expecting an early-morning call from her, reaming him out over having chosen Kate’s song for The Fame Game opening. Or for not devoting 75 percent of the first episode to her. Or for filming her from the left side too often. (She preferred the right.) Or for any number of other supposed slights, infractions, or missteps. Madison had always made sure to make her needs and preferences known. Calling her a squeaky wheel was putting it mildly. But she was a squeaky wheel who brought in an audience.
Trevor gazed contemplatively at a vaguely familiar starlet and her tattooed boyfriend, who were drinking coffee in the corner. He wondered if Madison was already on her way to the restaurant—if she was saving up her venom so she could dish it out in person. He wouldn’t mind; he had grown accustomed to it.
Somehow, though, he doubted this. Having Charlie around had softened Madison a little. It made her a more complex character, one that the audience could really sympathize with. And that was fine with Trevor—to a degree. He couldn’t have everyone being nice to each other all the time, though, or else he’d lose viewers faster than you could say Jersey Shore. No, he relied on Madison to be cutthroat. Or, at the very least, shamelessly self-serving. (He loved how she couldn’t quite keep the scorn from her face at events she deemed beneath her; it looked so good on- screen. He’d have to send her to the ribbon cutting for a new strip mall or a pool party sponsored by Summer’s Eve in the next few weeks. . . .)
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