The Fame Game (15 page)
Authors: Lauren Conrad
Trevor Lord was feeling very pleased with himself. This was not exactly a rare occurrence—he tried to find reasons to be pleased with himself on a daily basis—but this afternoon’s sense of self-satisfaction was a particularly sweet one.
The Fame Game
premiere was a month away, and already he had the seeds for a full season’s worth of plotlines: Madison’s family drama, plus her desperate and occasionally misguided attempts to make it to the next level. Madison’s ongoing makeover of girl-next-door Kate. The blossoming friendship between Carmen and Kate, which he could complicate (at least on-screen) by playing up the tension between Carmen and Madison. Carmen’s new role in what was sure to be a hit movie. And of course there was Gaby, who was ever a source of comedy (
Did she really say that?
) and speculation (
Has she gotten even more work done?
). Although it was getting harder to fake continuity with her, since her face and body were constantly changing. He had sat her down last week and requested she hold off on any more face work until they wrapped the season.
Yes, there were many things to be happy about. “We’re missing something, though,” he said to Dana, who was typing madly on her BlackBerry and didn’t look up. He cleared his throat. “We just need one more element.”
Finally Dana looked up. “Pardon?” she asked. “We need what?”
Trevor smiled at her. She worked so damn hard. He should give her a vacation someday. But he probably wouldn’t. “Romance,” he said. “The only thing this series is lacking is a love interest.”
Dana nodded. “Right. What about that Drew guy? Carmen’s friend?”
Trevor shook his head. “I thought he’d do something for us, but he’s a nonstarter.”
“Well, Jordan said—”
“Who the hell is Jordan?” Trevor interrupted.
“He’s on the crew,” Dana said. “He’s a location assistant. Anyway, he just mentioned that he saw Carmen looking pretty chummy with that Australian actor.”
“Australian?”
“You know, what’s his name? He’s going to be in the movie with her. God, all these actors look the same to me. Nick—no, wait—Eric—no,
Luke
. Luke Kelly.”
“Luke Kelly, huh? Very interesting.”
In fact, it was much more than interesting. It was all Trevor could do not to rub his hands together with glee. Luke Kelly, the next It guy and the lead opposite Carmen in
The End of Love
. Come to think of it, Colum McEntire
had
mentioned that the chemistry between those two had been undeniable. He smiled wolfishly at Dana. This was brilliant. If this was true (and frankly, even if it wasn’t) he had his romance angle, complete with a charming accent.
Yes, things were going well, for him and for the girls. Kate had done great at her second open mic, and Carmen had been so good in her audition that Trevor hadn’t even needed to twist an arm for her to get cast. Gaby was Gaby; she’d always say the wrong thing at the right moment and be fine. Then his thoughts shifted to Madison, the one he’d told would be his shining star.
Her audition had been terrible, and she and everyone else knew it. He’d had to beg for her to get a role, and he really did hate begging. But he’d gotten her one. It was small, but it was enough. Enough to keep Madison happy? Probably not, especially since he had to practically twist
her
arm to get her to that audition. But enough to keep fueling the rivalry between Madison and her more talented castmate, Carmen? Yes. And that was all that really mattered in the end.
One way or another, Trevor would make sure that sparks would be flying on
The Fame Game
.
“These are almost perfect,” Madison said. She plucked a minuscule piece of lint from the charcoal wool slacks her father wore and flicked it onto the floor. “I want a cuff on them, though,” she directed.
The salesman, his mouth full of pins, nodded and began to fold up the hem. Charlie stood stock-still, but he smiled at Madison in the mirror.
They’d spent a lot of time together since her visit to his motel, both on- and off-camera. Sue Beth had finally sent the box of his letters that she’d kept hidden, and Madison had read them all in one tear-soaked sitting.
(Dear Maddie, It’s fall so you must be getting ready to start sixth grade. I hope you have a pretty new dress to wear on your first day of school. . . .
My dear Mads, Your old man misses you so much! I bet you’re getting taller by the day. . . .)
After that, she’d been more willing to listen to his explanations and apologies. There was still a part of her that wanted to remain furious and unforgiving—but a larger part than that just wanted to have a father, no matter how imperfect he was.
After all, it wasn’t as if he’d left them to have some wonderful life of his own. He’d bounced around upstate New York and Pennsylvania, looking for work as a mechanic, which wasn’t easy without a trade certificate or a high school diploma. He’d made a go of it outside Pittsburgh for a while, but then he’d fallen in with a bunch of roughnecks. He’d been in a car with a couple buddies one night, just sitting in the back, drinking a Pabst and listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd, when the other two decided to rob a convenience store. He hadn’t even known what they were doing. He’d just been waiting for them to come back when they came dashing out with a bag full of cash. Before he knew it they were racing down the highway with two state troopers in pursuit.
“What could I do?” he’d asked her then, his eyes searching her face. “I copped a plea. I mean, I was there! No one was going to believe that I was just some innocent bystander. So I pled guilty and I served my time. And while I was in jail? Every single moment of every single day, I thought about you. You and your sister.”
The heart Madison had worked so much to harden softened yet again, and one of these days she was afraid it would just crack open. She knew that her dad had been in prison, but Sue Beth had never said that he’d been innocent. Poor Charlie: He’d paid for his stupidity with jail time and he’d paid for his absence from their lives with pain. He wasn’t a deadbeat dad; he was just the unluckiest guy she’d ever met.
“I should have taken you two girls with me when I left,” Charlie had said, “but I didn’t know how. Seemed impossible for me to take care of two little girls without their momma, and Sweetpea, I just couldn’t stay. Your mother—me—we fought a lot. I was afraid of what one of us would do to the other.” He shook his head sadly. “If I could do it all over again . . .”
After that, Madison began contemplating a life with her father. Maybe it could even include Sophie, who was still working that peace-love-harmony act. What if, after all these years, Madison could have a family after all?
She’d made up her mind: She was going to show Charlie that since he’d come back into her life, she’d let him stay there. For good.
The salesman stood and slipped the suit jacket over the blue dress shirt that Madison had picked out to match Charlie’s eyes. “Yes, the fabric is perfect,” she said.
She missed this type of shopping excursion. She used to go to men’s stores with her older boyfriends—well, the single ones; the married ones didn’t like to be seen in daylight with her—but she was in between boyfriends right now. She hadn’t been in Ted Baker for months.
“Very good,” the salesman said and began to pin the sleeves of the coat.
“Sweetpea,” Charlie whispered, motioning for Madison to lean closer. He lifted his arm and a tiny tag attached to the jacket sleeve fluttered near his fingertips. “Tell me this is the year that the suit was made and not the actual price.”
Madison smiled. The four-figure number was indeed the price, but this suit would last Charlie for a long time. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this one,” she said. Pride swelled in her chest that she could buy it for him.
“Doll, it’s a looker, but I don’t have anyplace to wear it,” Charlie said.
“I don’t know.” Madison watched his reflection in the mirror. “This suit would be perfect for a premiere.”
Charlie looked puzzled. “What premiere?”
“I was thinking that maybe you’d want to go to
The Fame Game
premiere with me.”
Charlie smiled then—a huge, infectious grin. When he didn’t look so pitifully beaten down, he was a handsome man. “Oh, Mads,” he said. “I’d love that.”
“Good,” Madison said and smiled at her father.
Madison handed her AmEx to the hovering salesclerk. “The suit,” she said to him, “and these three ties and shirts. Have them sent to this address.” She handed him one of her business cards with an address scribbled on the back. “How long will it take?”
“A week,” he said.
“Perfect,” Madison said. And that word felt truer than ever.
* * *
Her next surprise was the really big one. Though she’d thought about inviting the PopTV cameras along, or at least a paparazzo or two (
Madison and Dad kiss and make up!)
, she had decided, in the end, to keep the moment private.
She was supposed to drive Charlie back to the E-Z Inn, but instead she turned off La Brea onto Rosewood.
“Doll, I don’t know Los Angeles too well, but this doesn’t look like the way back to my place.” Charlie had lit a cigarette. Madison hated smoke (and the wrinkles it caused), but they’d agreed that he could smoke as long as the top was down.
“It isn’t?” Madison said, all fake innocence.
She pulled down a residential street lined with trees and manicured lawns. Her fingertips drummed the steering wheel with excitement. The place was absolutely perfect: a quiet neighborhood of modest, well-cared-for houses, close to Charlie’s job, Sophie’s apartment, and Madison’s own place. She turned into the driveway of a tiny brown bungalow. There was a white fence half-covered in roses and a front porch trellis practically dripping with bright fuchsia bougainvillea.
“Cute place,” Charlie said and took another puff on his cigarette. “One of your friends live here?”
“You could say that.” Madison smiled as she turned off her car. “C’mon.”
They climbed the front steps together and Madison pulled a key from her purse. She opened the front door to a sunlit room. The living room was modestly but tastefully furnished with a couch, an oversized chair, and a flat-screen TV. The dining area, attached to the bright kitchen, was big enough for a table of six. On the mantel, she’d placed an old photograph of her and Sophie and Charlie together. They were laughing, eating ice-cream cones.
“Do you like it?” Madison asked. Her dad wasn’t getting it. She smiled and a feeling of warmth flashed through her. Her father’s happiness was what she wanted right now most of all.
“What?” Charlie looked around the room. “Yeah, it’s really nice, but—” And that was when he saw the photograph. “Wait a second. Whose place is this?”
“Well, technically it’s mine,” Madison said. “But I want you to live here.”
Charlie gazed around the room in disbelief. “Here? You want me to live here?”
Madison nodded. “If it’s okay, I mean, if you want to, and you like it and—”
Charlie looked at Madison and then back at the picture of the three of them that he now held in his hands. “Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me. Not ever.”
His eyes glistened, and Madison watched as tears welled in them and then slipped down his cheeks. He ran the sleeve of his blue shirt over his face.
“Oh, don’t cry, Dad,” Madison whispered. “It’s just a little two-bedroom house. But it’s got two bathrooms, too, and a washer and dryer, a yard, a kitchen—”
“Wait,” Charlie said. His voice sounded almost sharp. Madison stopped and turned back to him. Oh no. He wasn’t happy—he didn’t like it after all!
“What is it?” she asked.
“Sweetpea, did you just call me ‘Dad’?”
A smile slipped over Madison’s face. She’d just called Charlie “Dad” without even thinking about it. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I did.”
Madison’s good mood lasted for all of about fifteen minutes after arriving at the photo shoot for
The Fame Game
ads. Seeing Carmen perched in her chair, getting her makeup done and looking so damn nonchalant with all the primping and fussing, made Madison clench her fists in resentment. That little celebuspawn had probably had her first hair and makeup session before her first birthday. She was just so
entitled
.
Even worse, seeing Carmen reminded Madison of the auditions for
The End of Love
. That particular day had involved the sort of humiliation that Madison Parker did not want to experience again. Sure, she’d gotten a role, but it was as The Girl Who Gets Killed in the First Five Minutes. (
That
was really going to beef up her IMDb page, wasn’t it?) She glanced over at Carmen again: the
lead
. Of course they’d given that role to her. Madison had never had a chance against Carmen “My Parents Own Hollywood” Curtis, and Trevor Lord had known that when he pitted the two of them against each other.
She smiled grimly. That was probably why he called his show
The Fame Game
: Like in a round of poker, there were winners and there were losers. Carmen Curtis had been born with a full house, while Madison Parker had to fight for every lousy pair and bluff her way through the game.
“Madison,” Laurel called. “We need you in makeup.” She pointed to a chair to the right of the set they’d be shooting on. “Have a seat.”
Madison sighed and walked over. Normally she would have had her own team do her hair and face—she didn’t trust the PopTV people to get her look right—but she hadn’t had time because she’d been with Charlie. She’d just have to cross her fingers and hope for the best.
As some gum-popping dingbat blew out her hair, Madison watched her castmates in the mirror. Kate and Gaby were dressed and ready to go. Wardrobe had put Gaby in a chiffony coral dress, probably to hide how thin she was. Kate was wearing a little red number that was sleek without being particularly sexy. (Wouldn’t want to knock her too far out of her cargo-pant and Gap tee look!) There was an orange dress hanging on a rack for Carmen. And Madison—the
star
—would be wearing gold.
Trevor arrived then, flanked by two assistants. “Ladies,” he said, “are we excited or what?” He took off his sunglasses and gave Madison a wink. Madison offered him a sultry smile in return. No, she didn’t think Trevor was attractive, but he didn’t have to know that, did he?
“We’re going to shoot you against this plain backdrop,” he informed them. “And then in the posters, we’ll make it look as if you’re standing in front of the Hollywood sign. Like you’re way up above the city, looking down on it all—but you’re also standing with your heels in the dirt. It’s a study in glamorous contradictions.”
Kate nodded, wide-eyed. She was eating up his BS. Gaby wasn’t paying attention, but there was nothing unusual about that. Madison glanced over at Carmen, who was getting a final touch-up.
“I like it,” Carmen said as her makeup person dusted her cheeks with a bit of shimmery powder. “Good concept.”
Suck-up
, Madison thought. Her own makeup person was lining her eyes with a smoky shadow. “Careful,” she warned. “Keep it close to the lash line. I don’t want to look like a raccoon.”
Carmen popped out of her chair and went to change into her dress. A moment later, she and Kate were over at the craft services table, picking at a giant tray of fresh fruit and laughing about something. Laurel joined them, and then all three shared some stupid giggle session.
Trevor walked over to stand behind Madison, and his eyes met hers in the mirror. “So, after the shoot, we’ll do the voice-over recording,” he said.
“Of course,” Madison said. “I’m totally prepared.”
“Great. I’m actually going to have everyone read—”
“What?” Madison interrupted.
“I’m going to have everyone read. I want to see whose voice makes the most sense—whose inflection is the most relatable.”
“You want to see whose inflection is the most relatable?” Madison repeated, aghast. “What the hell does that mean?”
Trevor gazed at her calmly. “It means I want to see who does it best,” he said.
Madison was speechless. He’d promised her the voice-over back when he’d asked her to be on the show. Whoever did the voice-over was the de facto main character—the
star
. The person through whose eyes the rest of the world would see Hollywood. Which meant that
it had to be her.
“But Trevor,” she began.
Trevor held up a hand like he knew what she was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it. Like he didn’t care that he was reneging on a promise. Honesty meant nothing to a TV producer.
Madison wanted to scream at him. She wanted to leap from her chair and tackle him. She wanted to tighten that ugly navy tie around his neck until he could no longer breathe. But she knew that this would get her nowhere. When he’d approached her back in June, Trevor had made it sound like
The Fame Game
was her show. But at the end of the day, it was always his show. And there was nothing she could do about it.