Fame Game 03: Infamous

by Lauren Conrad

  As his words sunk in, she felt her phone buzz beside her in the chair. NICE WORK, Stephen had texted, thereby breaking Laurel’s rule against unnecessary texts during shooting.

  “Yes,” Todd went on, “I’ve got some good news for you, Kate.”

  “You do?” Her heart fluttered hopefully in her chest.

  “We’re going to have you do a showcase. You’ve got a handful of great new songs, so you’re ready for it. We’re going to give the labels who’ve expressed interest a chance to see what you can do. Up close and personal.”

  Kate sucked in her breath. “Wow, that’s amazing. I think? I guess I don’t actually know what a showcase means, but it sounds good.” She glanced over at Drew. His expression was unreadable.

  “That’s what I’m here to tell you,” Todd said. He snatched the waters from the flustered-looking intern who’d finally come in, and then he explained the concept of the showcase.

  Kate’s mind whirled as she listened. Todd’s management company would rent a fancy rehearsal room, complete with an engineer and a full stage. They would invite A&R executives from various labels, and Kate would perform two or three songs for each group of executives. And, to hear Todd tell it, by the end of the day, she’d have a record deal.

  “That sounds . . . terrifying,” Kate said. She didn’t want to be ungrateful, but “terrifying” actually didn’t even come close to describing how it sounded.

  “It is,” Drew said. He sounded grave. “I’ve sat on those couches, watching bands perform.”

  “You’re going to be great,” Todd said.

  Kate looked to Drew. She wanted to believe Todd, but Drew knew her. He understood how she still struggled with stage fright. Even though she had come a long way, she still wasn’t always comfortable in front of a crowd.

  “What do you think?” she asked him. “Does that sound good?”

  Drew gazed out the window for a moment and then turned back to her. “Sure, it’s one way to do it. But there are other ways.”

  “Like what?” Kate asked.

  He shrugged. “I mean, personally? I think you should keep playing around town and building up your confidence. And I think you should have another handful of songs. You should have more of a demo album. Something to send to the A&R guys.”

  Todd exhaled loudly. “So it can sit in a stack of four million other demo albums? No, they need to see Kate. I mean, look at her! Those blue eyes! That smile! They’re going to love her.”

  Kate flushed. “I don’t know about that,” she said, then gave a nervous giggle.

  “Well, you can think on it,” Todd said, looking pointedly and perhaps somewhat angrily at Drew, “but don’t think too long. In this business you have to strike while the iron’s hot!”

  “I know,” Kate said. “I’d hate to miss my chance, but I also want to do this right. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  Todd said to Drew, “See? Looks and brains. I mean, come on, Drew, you think she’s the bee’s knees. Why won’t everyone else? Don’t hide her light under a bushel. Remember: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  Kate wondered if Todd was going to bust out any more clichés. Apparently, Drew had the same thought.

  “I’m more the ‘a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’ type,” he said. “She has solid interest from two mid-sized labels. I don’t know that she should chase them off by going after the big guns with a showcase. But Kate, the decision is yours. Just remember, you only get one chance at a first impression.”

  Kate bit her lip and knocked her toes against the leg of Todd’s desk. Should she do the showcase? Take the risk?

  Her phone buzzed again. YES YES YES, Stephen had written.

  Of course PopTV would want her to agree to it—a showcase would make for a much more exciting story line. They probably already had the space scouted and cleared.

  She could almost imagine Trevor rubbing his hands together in excitement. Either she’d do great and get signed to a record label, which would majorly raise her profile—or else she’d utterly bomb, and then Trevor could make it a centerpiece of a “heartbreaking, bittersweet” (or some other BS) episode of The Fame Game.

  She knew she owed it to her producers to say yes. She owed it to herself to do what was right for her career.

  She stared down at her feet in their new Belle by Sigerson Morrison booties. Why should those things be mutually exclusive? If Todd said she was ready, shouldn’t she listen to him? That was what she was paying him for, after all. As amazing as Drew had been, he was just an intern. He still had a lot to learn about the music business. They both did.

  She set her jaw. This was her career. Her life. She couldn’t keep sitting on the sidelines. “I say we go for it.”

  She smiled at her decision and turned to Drew.

  He looked significantly less pleased.

  9

  THE NATURE OF THE BUSINESS

  Carmen fished a leather Gucci key chain from the bottom of her oversized purse and let herself into Luke’s cozy Venice bungalow. Then she dropped down on the worn olive-green couch and exhaled a sigh of relief. She was blissfully alone.

  She hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity to keep an eye on Luke’s house while he was filming abroad. Even though she really liked him, and kind of owed him for letting her crash there, she didn’t like the idea of driving all that way to visit an empty house. (If he’d been lying in bed, waiting for her—that would have been a different story.) But back then Carmen hadn’t known that she’d be living with a couple who were currently in the most annoyingly lovey stage of their relationship, either. So in a way, Luke’s house had become something of a refuge.

  Earlier that afternoon, when Drew came in after class and went straight to the refrigerator as if he had stocked it himself, and when Kate had hurried in and wrapped herself around Drew as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks, Carmen piped up and said: See ya! Gotta check on Luke’s!

  So here she was, grateful for silence and solitude.

  Missing Luke. Wondering how the filming was going, and if he was thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him. . . .

  And wondering if she could live here instead of at her parents’, while pretending to still live with Kate and Drew. Was there any way Trevor would go for it? If not, could she hide it from him? There was no way he could know where she was all the time. (Though with the caravan of paparazzi that routinely followed her each day he’d quickly catch on.)

  Carmen got up and poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen, and then gave some to the potted succulents by the sink (miniature jade plants, a cactus with a strange red protrusion on top, and a sad-looking aloe). She remembered eating breakfast with Luke as the sun poured in through the window. How he’d smile at her, all sleepy and rumpled. How the air held the delicious smell of coffee, and how sometimes the ocean breeze came whistling through the eaves. And how she’d smile back at him, still a little bit shy, and the next thing she knew he’d be pulling her onto his lap, his warm hands finding the buttons on her shirt. . . .

  Carmen took a gulp of water. Those were the days, she thought, and she wished they could have lasted longer. Maybe the two of them could have figured out what was going on between them. As things stood now, they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but they weren’t not boyfriend and girlfriend. They were in a weird Limbo Land, which was a fine enough place to be when they were both on the same continent, but it got lonely with him thousands of miles away.

  She knew it was good for Luke’s career, but she really wished he hadn’t booked that part last minute and jetted halfway across the world.

  For the next three months.

  Maybe part of the problem was that she didn’t have anything to do with herself lately. Not that filming The Fame Game wasn’t work—it was—but there was nothing else on her iCal but lunch dates and salon appointments. She’d gotten used to the crazy hours of movie shoots, and now that she wasn’t on set, the days seemed long and empty. Especially
with Luke gone, and with Krew in her face all the time.

  But she wasn’t ready to dive into another project, especially because she wasn’t finding the perfect Next Thing. She’d turned down a role in a romantic comedy because she’d hated the director’s previous movie, as well as a part in an animated feature because she felt it was too small. After all, she’d just starred in a guaranteed blockbuster. No more supporting roles for this girl.

  These were, to use her mother’s term, “Champagne problems.” Problems someone like Fawn would kill to have. Which was why Carmen didn’t talk to her about them much: Fawn would try to be supportive and understanding, but as a person whose most recent job was the voice-over for an embarrassing tampon commercial, there would be limits to her sympathy. Carmen could imagine her staring in disbelief: You turned down a role in an Actual Movie? she’d shriek.

  Carmen sighed. Sometimes it seemed to her like the only pure, uncomplicated friendship she’d ever had was with Drew.

  Carmen watched as the water she’d poured into the jade made a puddle on the counter. How much H2O did these things need? She wished Luke had left her instructions.

  Of course, she could easily call him, couldn’t she? Hearing his voice might make her feel better. And maybe then his plants would stand a better chance of surviving.

  She got out her phone and clicked his number in FaceTime. In a moment, Luke’s giant eyeball appeared on her screen.

  “Ahh!” she yelped.

  Luke cackled and pulled his phone back so that she could see his whole handsome face, in a touch of movie makeup. “Sorry about that,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

  “I hope you don’t answer calls from your agent that way,” Carmen said.

  “I don’t video chat with my agent, love,” Luke said. “Do you?”

  Carmen shook her head. She’d had her agent ever since The Long and Winding Road, but he never seemed to do anything for her at all. Her mom kept telling her she needed a better one, and Carmen knew she was right. She knew, too, that it’d be easy to find a new agent with The End of Love coming out—but it was one of those business-y, bureaucratic-type things that she hated to think about. She wished her agent could find her a new agent.

  “How’s the shoot going?” she asked.

  “Good. Sandra Kopp is way mellower than Colum McEntire.”

  “Harvey Weinstein is mellower than Colum McEntire,” Carmen said wryly. “I mean, Harvey might shove people out of cabs now and then, but he doesn’t threaten to murder them.” She turned the phone toward the plants. “Say hi to your freshly watered plants. Do they look okay to you?”

  “They look great,” Luke said. “You only need to water them like once every two weeks, you know. Now turn the phone back around so I can look at your lovely face.”

  Carmen flushed and hoped he couldn’t see that. “Flatterer,” she said softly.

  “Flatterer, nothing. That’s the truth,” Luke said. “I wish I could see you right now. In person.”

  “Me too.” She so wished he’d say, Hey, I’ve got a break in shooting. Come for the weekend! Because she’d hop on that plane immediately, even if it meant more time in the air than it did with Luke. But he didn’t say it. And she was too uncertain to suggest it.

  “So—how are the ladies?” Luke asked. “Mad still causing trouble? Gaby doing okay?”

  Carmen noticed that he didn’t ask about Kate. “Everyone’s fine,” she said. “Madison is back, in case you hadn’t heard, and Gaby’s out of rehab and so far doing a good job of staying clean.” (If Luke didn’t ask about Kate, she wasn’t going to offer anything. No use in opening that can of worms.)

  “What about you? I read that you’re totally pining for me, going mad with longing. I think I saw a blurry picture of you looking forlorn. . . .” He snickered.

  Carmen wanted to bang her head against a wall. Luke was halfway around the world—shouldn’t he be out of D-lish range? “Ugh, it’s so freaking annoying! I mean, I do miss you, of course. But I did not gain weight, by the way, in case you read that part.”

  Luke waved it all away. “Don’t worry, love. No one takes any of it seriously.”

  “I know. It’s so tiresome, though.”

  “But it’s the nature of the business, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t recall reading about any forlorn looks or weight gain on your end. Just photos of you and your pretty new costar.”

  Luke shrugged. “People don’t pay as much attention to my figure because it’s not as nice as yours,” he said, ignoring the mention of his costar.

  Carmen flushed for the second time.

  “Well, love,” Luke said, “I have to run. They’re setting up my shot. Talk soon?”

  She nodded.

  He blew her a kiss, and she blew one back, and then he was gone.

  “Nothing ever gets stated, you know?” Carmen said. She and Lily were walking along the Venice boardwalk, past the T-shirt shops and pizza joints, past the buskers and sunburned hippies and tattooed punks. Carmen sort of hated the boardwalk, but both she and Lily had been in the neighborhood.

  Lily nodded. “It was like that with this guy I was dating. Actually, I don’t know if we were dating or just hooking up. See? It’s been over for six months, and I still don’t know what it was exactly.”

  Carmen smiled. “Maybe we should come up with a questionnaire. You can hand it to the guy at the end of the date, like one of those restaurant comment cards. ‘Your experience tonight was (a) an official date; (b) hangin’ out; (c) the first step to marriage, eternal happiness, et cetera; or (d) the price I gotta pay to get a little action.’”

  “Brilliant,” Lily laughed. “It would solve everything.”

  “Except that if I gave one to Luke he’d be like, ‘Huh? What’s this, love?’” Carmen said in her best attempt at an Australian accent.

  “Because he’s British he can say ‘love’ without precisely meaning it.”

  “He’s from Australia, actually. I’m surprised he doesn’t call me ‘mate.’” Carmen’s tone was slightly rueful. The conversation with Luke had been less reassuring than she’d hoped.

  Lily stopped at a rack of sunglasses and slipped on a bright turquoise pair straight out of the 1980s. “Here,” she said, holding out a set of mirrored frames. “See how they look on you.”

  Carmen shook her head. “I don’t need to put them on to know. They’ll look terrible.”

  Then she noticed the salesgirl staring at her and motioning to the cashier guy to look, too. Carmen averted her eyes. She was definitely used to being recognized, but today she didn’t want to be. She reached out and grabbed a black baseball cap pinned to the wall. “Here,” she said suddenly, handing Lily a twenty. “Do you mind buying this?”

  When Lily returned, wearing a pair of knock-off Wayfarers she’d purchased for herself, Carmen donned her black cap.

  “Incognito!” Carmen said happily. “Now no one will write in to D-Lish: ‘Carmen Curtis seen not giving money to sad, homeless guy on Venice Boardwalk!’”

  Lily said, “Now you can be as bad or as good as you want to be. In disguise.” She nudged Carmen playfully with her elbow. “Not to say that you’re ever bad, of course.”

  “Of course not. But how fun: I can eat an ice cream without reading about how I’m stress-eating. So—should we or shouldn’t we?”

  They were right near Venice Beach Ice Cream now, with its cute courtyard and green-tiled roof. Inside there was gelato practically begging to be eaten.

  “I always say yes to ice cream,” Lily said.

  When they emerged a few moments later, licking salted caramel cones, they agreed that ice cream was a thousand times better than fro-yo, and the next time they met up with Fawn, they should definitely go for the good stuff, calories be damned.

  “I should have asked for sprinkles, too,” Lily said. “My ice cream looks so naked. But anyway. Back to this Luke business. Are you sure things are really so up in the air? I mean, maybe he assumes you guys are toget
her. You were living together, after all.”

  “That was a matter of necessity,” Carmen said. “One could argue that I was using him for his couch.”

  She hadn’t been, of course; it had been an added bonus (not that she often slept on it). But then for some reason, a headline flashed in her head: Carmen Curtis and Luke Kelly: Relationship of Convenience?

  There’d be damning evidence for the article; after all, they’d been “dating” during the movie, and then they’d “broken up”—news that had brought them, and the movie, loads of publicity. Then, only a few weeks later, they were either dating, or “dating,” or being friends with benefits, while she was living with him because she had nowhere else to go. . . .

  Lily laughed. “You were not using him for his couch,” she said. “Perhaps for his hot body or those dreamy eyes.”

  And then Carmen heard herself say: “No, I wasn’t using him. But who knows what’s up with us? For all I know, he’s dating up a storm. I’m keeping my eyes open. I hear Jonah Byrne is newly single.”

  Lily’s mouth dropped open. “Jonah Byrne of Sadly Sarah?”

  Carmen nodded. “I met him a few weeks ago, and he gave me his number.”

  It wasn’t as if she’d actually planned to lie to Lily, but talking to Luke had reminded her of his last-season advice to plant fake information with her friends and contacts. And almost unconsciously, it had just happened. Maybe she should lie to a few others in her circle now, and then sit back and see if and when she read about it.

  10

  LARGER THAN LIFE

  Madison never thought she’d miss Laurel, but this new producer of Trevor’s had made her reconsider. Stephen Marsh was simultaneously bossy and unsure of himself, and he wore T-shirts with the strangest slogans on them. (TRUE INTENTIONS—what did that even mean?) Madison was waiting to make her entrance to Cabbage Patch for her lunch with Sophie, but Stephen kept stalling: First the lighting wasn’t right, then he didn’t like the look of the waiter that had been cleared to serve them, and it took half an hour for the restaurant to provide them with another.