Fame Game 03: Infamous

by Lauren Conrad

  Lily laughed. “Carmen knows how to pace herself, unlike some people.”

  “Whatever,” Fawn said, taking another big lick. “It’s going to melt all over her blouse.”

  Carmen put the spoon in her mouth and closed her eyes. Salted caramel. Delicious.

  Kate had been home when she left and had asked what she was up to, as if she wanted to hang out, but lately Carmen felt happier and more at ease without her. So she’d lied and said that she was going straight to her parents’ house. But things were never tense with Fawn and Lily like that. Once those two had gotten over their initial mistrust of each other, they’d all hung out constantly. It was fun. Easy. Silly. Of all the amazing things that had come from scoring the lead role in The End of Love, getting Lily as her makeup artist was among the top. Lily had turned into a great friend.

  “Whatever yourself, Fawn,” Lily teased. “You look like a binge eater over there.”

  Fawn stuck out her tongue, all gooey with chocolate. “So I hear the bitch is back,” she said, changing the subject.

  “Yeah, and believe it or not, it’s actually better this way,” Carmen said. “I mean, Mad and I aren’t exactly BFFs, but without her, things got kind of boring.”

  “You should have had me on more,” Fawn said. She seemed to think that Madison’s absence meant there would be more screen time for her. And she wasn’t subtle about it.

  “Right, totally,” Carmen said, keeping her voice neutral. She hadn’t told Fawn that the powers-that-be thought she was around too much already. Lose the shadow, Trevor had told Carmen. She doesn’t play. They seemed to like Lily better, but Lily wasn’t particularly interested in being in front of a camera. She was more like Drew that way—or like how Drew used to be. Fine being in the background, but not interested in being a main story line.

  Anyway, Carmen liked having friends who weren’t on the show. It was good to be able to hang out without needing to cover a list of talking points. With no cameras around (except for Lily’s iPhone, which was like another appendage), she didn’t have to worry about public embarrassment if she spilled a bit of yogurt on her new top, which she’d just done. Oops.

  “So I did makeup for Mona Moore yesterday,” Lily said, chewing on the end of her straw.

  “Oh, I love her talk show,” Carmen said as she attempted to wipe up the spot on her top with a napkin.

  “Me too. She always has such crazy conversations with her guests. They tell her everything! That one where Gemma Kline basically confessed to being anorexic? That was insane! But FYI, Mona herself is completely lying about her age,” Lily said. “If she’s thirty-five, then my mom’s twenty.”

  “So when she was born, she was already pregnant with you!” Fawn giggled.

  Lily nodded. “Exactly.”

  Carmen savored another bite of yogurt. There was no way this was fat-free. “That’s totally creepy, Fawn,” she said.

  “No shit,” said Fawn. “So’s Gemma Kline. Have you seen that movie where she gets that awful disease and she turns all blue and stuff? I thought it was her best work, but maybe it’s because I enjoyed seeing her suffer.”

  Carmen hadn’t seen it. She didn’t go to movies that much anymore. She knew she ought to, though. She ought to see what her competition was up to. For instance: What films had the girl who was currently shooting with Luke done? Carmen had no idea.

  “So . . . what’s up with you lately, Fawn?” she asked. “Any new voice-over work?”

  “Oh, I’m keeping busy,” Fawn said evasively.

  “Faaaawn,” Carmen said. She knew Fawn wasn’t particularly proud of her voice-over jobs. “Come on. You can tell us. We’re friends, remember? Friends.”

  Fawn gazed down at the remains of her yogurt cone. “I taped a tampon commercial,” she admitted.

  Carmen and Lily both squealed with delight. “Oh my God,” Carmen said, “tell me it wasn’t the one where, at the end, the tampons all line up and dance the Macarena.”

  Fawn turned scarlet. She wouldn’t look at them. “I plead the Fifth,” she said.

  Carmen threw her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Hey! Don’t ever be ashamed of acting work,” she said. “(A) it pays, and (B) you’re on your way.”

  “To where, though?” Fawn asked, looking suddenly more vulnerable than Carmen had ever seen her look.

  Carmen gave her a squeeze, “To the top, hon,” she assured her. “To the top.”

  Then she grabbed the hands of both of her friends. “We’re all going nowhere but up. Am I right?”

  “Please, God, let her know what she’s talking about,” Fawn said to the ceiling.

  “Nowhere but up,” Lily repeated.

  Of course, that wasn’t what the tabloids were saying about Carmen (and they weren’t saying anything about Lily or Fawn). This week’s exaggeration: WITHOUT HER LEADING MAN, CARMEN CURTIS IN ROMANTIC FREE FALL. The headline was a pun on Luke’s new movie, in which he played a World War II parachutist. The cover showed a photograph of Luke Kelly and his hot new costar looking very cozy (it was for a scene so it didn’t bother Carmen) and next to it was a photo of Carmen talking on the phone, looking depressed. She knew exactly when it was taken—she’d seen the paparazzo lurking behind a newspaper stand. And she’d looked that way because she was listening to an old friend’s breakup story.

  I’m looking sympathetic in that shot, you idiots! she wanted to yell. Not depressed!

  It was really, really annoying. But by this point, Carmen was almost used to the mix of half truths and blatant lies. Sure, D-lish had gotten her lunch order right the other day—CARMEN CURTIS LOVES THE EGGPLANT PIZZA AT LAUREL HARDWARE!—but what about their claim that she’d gained five pounds in Luke’s absence? (It was only two!) And the bits about how “Little CC” and “indie darling Kate Hayes” are having “tense times”—that really bummed her out. How did they know?

  On the bright side, at least they hadn’t mentioned anything about her interest in Scientology—something she’d jokingly mentioned to Fawn (who’d been so absorbed in selecting lipsticks at Sephora that she’d probably taken Carmen seriously).

  “I’m so glad I have friends like you guys,” Carmen said now. “Let’s hit Maxfield’s and burn off some of these calories with shopping.”

  “I thought you were going to your parents’ house,” Lily said.

  “Later,” Carmen said. “First, I’m going to spend a month’s rent on shoes.”

  When Carmen got to her parents’ front door that evening, she paused and wondered if she should knock. Sure, she had a key—but she didn’t live here anymore.

  She rang the doorbell, and a moment later her mother was standing in the doorway, backlit in golden light from the hall chandelier.

  Cassandra laughed gaily. “Come in, you goose, and never ring the doorbell again. Doorbells are for canvassers and Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

  “Uh, I forgot my key,” Carmen said.

  She didn’t want to make her mother feel bad. Now that they’d made up (even if the tabloids were continuing to report otherwise), she was careful not to make things weird between them again. They’d had lunch a couple times since their fight, but tonight was the first time Carmen had been back to her childhood home.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Cassandra said. “I’ve got a giant chicken in the oven.”

  Carmen followed her into the spotless white kitchen, fragrant with garlic and rosemary and lemon. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Having a place to call her own was great in a lot of ways, but the kitchen she shared with Kate never smelled like anything but burnt coffee or takeout.

  Compared to her Topanga Canyon home, living in her Park Towers apartment felt like living in a hotel. One lacking room service and a maid.

  Carmen swiped an olive and a cherry tomato and popped them both in her mouth at the same time, one salty and the other sweet. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Stuck in traffic. He’ll be here soon.” Cassandra emptied a container of arugula into a big woo
den salad bowl. “So, what’ve you been up to lately?”

  “Well, we’re filming the second season, but other than that, I’m sort of taking a break. Figuring out what to do next. What about you?”

  Cassandra shrugged. “Not much. A Stevie Nicks tribute concert at Club Nokia. That’ll be nice. I like playing the smaller clubs. Reminds me of when I was starting out.” She slid a baguette toward Carmen. “Would you slice this for me?”

  Carmen obeyed, and then whisked a quick vinaigrette for the salad without being asked. Her mother always put too much garlic in her salad dressing.

  “How’s Luke?” Cassandra asked as she rummaged through a drawer. “Where is that meat thermometer?” she muttered.

  “He’s good. I think.” Carmen paused. “We talked the other day, but what with the time difference and the long shooting hours—”

  “Distance can make keeping in touch difficult,” Cassandra said.

  Carmen nodded. She missed Luke a lot, actually, and she wished she knew if it was more than she ought to. Things were so . . . unstated between them. Was he thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him? There was no way to know.

  Unless, of course, she simply came out and asked him. But she didn’t have the guts. How ironic: In the role of Julia Capsen, Carmen swears her undying love to him. But as herself, she couldn’t ask if she was his girlfriend. “Well, I’m sure things will work out between you two,” her mother said with a smile.

  That was Cassandra: always the optimist.

  Of course, it was also possible that she simply wanted to change the subject. Because when Carmen made a vague noise of assent, Cassandra launched into some long story about a feud between two of their neighbors that had ended with one of them taking a golf club to the other one’s vintage Corvette.

  The chicken was done and resting on the counter, and Carmen had heard more about her neighbors than she ever cared to know, when Philip Curtis burst in through the back door.

  “Smells delicious in here,” he said. He gave Cassandra a kiss that lasted a bit too long for Carmen’s taste, and then came over and grabbed Carmen in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you, CC,” he said into her hair.

  Carmen hugged her dad back. “I missed you, too,” she said. “You big oaf.”

  He put his hands on his ample belly. “I’ll have you know that I’ve lost two and a half pounds in the last month,” he said.

  “Careful, Dad, you might waste away,” Carmen teased.

  “I know,” he said. “Hurry, let’s sit down and eat.”

  At the table, Philip raised his glass in the same toast he’d been making for as long as Carmen could remember. “A toast to my amazing wife and daughter. May they remain forever beautiful and never grow tired of me.”

  “Never,” said Cassandra, beaming at him.

  “Where’s Drew?” Philip asked, turning to Carmen. “I thought he’d be here.”

  Carmen sliced into her chicken. “I believe he’s spending the evening surgically reattaching himself to my roommate,” she said.

  “Oh! Well then,” Philip said. He took a sip of wine. “I guess we’re the ones who’ll have all the fun.”

  Cassandra smiled gently at her daughter. “Does it bother you?”

  “No,” Carmen said breezily. “I’m super happy for him.”

  This was about ten percent true. Maybe twenty on a good day. Her mother’s glance suggested that she might understand this. But thankfully, she didn’t press the issue.

  Carmen leaned back against the leather cushion of her chair. It was so nice to be home. The rooms were big and beautifully decorated. The couches were soft and draped with cashmere throws. Her bathroom was still stocked with her favorite beauty products, and her childhood bed, with its pale blue quilt and pristine white sheets, was upstairs, practically begging for her to crawl into it.

  Oh, and the chicken her mother had made tasted even better than it smelled. Even with all of L.A.’s finest restaurants minutes from her doorstep, Carmen would choose her mother’s cooking every time.

  She remembered how Madison had moved in with her father but pretended to still live with Gaby. Could she do that? Live here in Topanga, where the air smelled like lavender and eucalyptus and the refrigerator was always stocked with organic salads? Everything would be so much easier.

  “So, you guys,” she said, sparingly buttering a slice of baguette. “I was thinking about my . . . living arrangements.”

  “Oh, I’m glad you brought that up,” Cassandra said. “Your father and I have been talking about it.”

  They’re going to invite me back home, Carmen thought happily. That is so fantastic, because I am really sick of Sushi Express.

  Cassandra beamed at her. (She was doing a lot of beaming tonight, wasn’t she?) “We are so proud of you for living on your own. You’re learning so much—more than you even know. Remember that both your father and I left home at seventeen.”

  “Yeah, yeah, and you fell in love when you were twenty-one,” Carmen said. She knew the whole gooey, romantic story and she didn’t need to hear it again. She wanted to get to the part where her mom told her she should move back in.

  “Anyway, we think that it’s exactly the right thing for you at this time in your life,” Cassandra said. “As much as we miss you, we feel that it’s important for you to be independent.”

  Carmen, surprised, looked toward her father. He nodded.

  “Independence,” he said. “It’s one of the greatest gifts a parent can give his child.” He paused to spear a piece of chicken. “Besides good looks. But your mother handled that, didn’t she?” He mugged for her, but Carmen couldn’t smile.

  She felt like she was having trouble breathing. But she wouldn’t let them see that. “Sure,” she said. “Of course. That’s totally what I was thinking.”

  She was too proud to ask them about taking the block off the credit card. She’d have to suck it up. Which meant she’d probably need to take back those Rick Owens boots she bought with Lily and Fawn a mere three hours ago.

  It was ironic, Carmen thought. You spent your whole childhood wanting to be a grown-up, and then when you became one, you wished your parents would just keep on taking care of you.

  And when they refused? Well, you were on your own.

  She thought back to her afternoon with Fawn and Lily and felt grateful to them all over again. Thank goodness she had friends to count on.

  8

  WHOEVER SAID DREAMS CAN’T COME TRUE

  Kate gazed out the window of Todd P. Barrows’s office in downtown L.A. She could see the Staples Center in the near distance, its red lights flickering in the misty, late January rain.

  “Carrie Underwood played there the other night,” Todd said, appearing over her shoulder. “Didn’t quite sell out, though.”

  Kate turned around to face her new manager. “How could you sell that place out? It must seat, like, fifteen thousand people.” She couldn’t imagine ever playing somewhere like that.

  “Try twenty,” Todd said, steering her over to a chair on the opposite side of his desk.

  Kate felt too agitated to sit, but she knew she needed to give PopTV “the most felicitous camera angle,” as Stephen Marsh had put it. So she sat down before he could send her a bossy text. (Kate found the new producer totally annoying, and couldn’t for the life of her understand why Sophia thought he was cute. Sometimes she wondered if the feeling was mutual—though she was pretty sure that was a wedding band on Stephen’s finger.)

  Drew was seated in the chair next to her, looking oddly relaxed. He smiled at Kate, and she knew that if she were capable of being calmed down, Drew would be the one to do it. He’d brought her breakfast in bed that morning—Froot Loops, of course—and he’d offered his opinions on all nine outfits she’d nervously tried on, attempting to find the right mix of perky and punk. (Luke never would have had the patience for that: Drew was The Best.)

  “Can I get you some water?” Todd asked. “Tea? Coffee?”

&nb
sp; Kate shook her head so quickly it hurt her brain. She really needed to chill. “No thanks.”

  Todd smiled. “Don’t be so anxious. It’s not like you’ve never been here before. Also, Drew—tell her about the beverage rule.”

  Kate raised her eyebrows. Beverage rule?

  Drew grinned. “Basically, anytime you take a meeting with someone, they’re going to offer you something to drink. And you should always say yes, even if you have no intention of drinking it. It’s polite.”

  “That’s right,” Todd said, nodding. “We have interns whose entire job description is Beverage Fetching.”

  Kate looked back and forth between them. She couldn’t tell if they were kidding or not, and she didn’t want to be a dope and ask. Todd was gazing at her expectantly.

  “Um, I’ll have a water?” she said.

  He clapped his hands. “Excellent,” he said. He pressed a button on his phone and told the voice that answered to bring him three bottles of Pellegrino. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now we can begin. Rumor has it you’ve got a new song I should hear.”

  Kate nodded as she pulled Lucinda from her case. Keep calm, she reminded herself. This is an audience of two. Well, plus the PopTV camera crew, but she was used to them by now.

  She’d already warmed up in the parking lot outside, so she dove right into the song. A melodic, catchy intro, and then the words: “I never had a day like this / I dreamed about a kiss like this / Whoever said dreams can’t come true / Has never met someone like you . . .”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Drew tapping his foot. Todd’s face, though, was blank.

  “All the things I should have said / When I woke up next to you in bed / They didn’t matter anymore / Just hold me close and lock the door . . .”

  When she was done, she set Lucinda back in her case and took two deep breaths before she looked up at her manager.

  His expression was dark. He hit a button on his phone. “Hello? The Pellegrino?” he demanded. Then he turned to Kate and smiled. “That was great,” he said. “Smart, sassy, poppy. Perfect.”