The Fame Game (18 page)

Chapter 24
Talk About
The End of Love

Carmen watched with amusement as Kate gazed into her coffee mug with the sugar in one hand hovering over it. “Late night?” she asked, giving the question a suggestive tone. She knew Kate and Luke had been seeing each other practically every day. She could only assume this involved some sleepovers.

“Yeah, but not that kind.” Kate snapped out of her haze and actually began pouring the sugar into her coffee. “I had to close at work last night.”

Carmen laughed. “Stecco still treating you right, I take it? The restaurant to the stars making all your dreams come true?”

“Oh, totally,” Kate said sarcastically. “I think I want to work there forever. Even after I become a famous musician, I’ll still put in a shift or two every week. You know, just to keep in touch with my hourly-wage-plus-tips roots.”

“And I’ll be a famous actress and I’ll come in late at night with my entourage and make unreasonable demands,” Carmen said. “Like, an order of truffle fries made up of only the crispiest fries or a tea made out of orchids or goat milk cappuccino or something.”

“Ewww,” Kate said, wrinkling her nose.

Carmen and Kate were grabbing a bite at Swingers, a former greasy spoon turned retro-hip diner (complete with vinyl booths, old-school linoleum floors, and a giant jukebox) before Carmen had to go in for a table read for
The End of Love
. Swingers was supposed to be ironic and cool, but according to Kate it looked—ironically—exactly like any number of crappy truck-stop restaurants in Ohio. Except, of course, everyone at Swingers was highlighted and slightly better looking and everything shined a little more.

Carmen giggled as she looked over the menu. “Does a chili omelet sound bad?” she asked.

Kate nodded emphatically. “Almost as gross as a goat milk cappuccino. It’s like ordering a waffle taco or something.”

“Well, they’re supposed to be good here. And what I don’t finish I can give to Drew. He said he was going to try to drop by to say hi. Actually, he called me a loser but said he missed me, which translates to him showing up here and cleaning our plates.”

“What’s up with you two?” Kate asked.

“What do you mean ‘what’s up’?” Carmen felt the hint of a blush but willed it away. “Nothing’s up. We’re best friends.”

“Is Drew gay?” Kate asked matter-of-factly.

Carmen laughed. “No. Why? I can’t be friends with him if he’s straight?”

“Not saying that. I’m just saying he’s cute and funny and I totally thought you guys were dating when I first met you.”

“Well, we’re not. Maybe
you
should go for him—oh, wait, you already have a boyfriend.”

Now Kate blushed. With her complexion it was pretty easy to make that happen and Carmen loved doing it. But with the flush came something else—a look Kate tried to hide. Carmen looked down at her menu again and then up at Kate. She had to make sure the air was clear. “You’re sure this whole Luke thing isn’t going to bother you?” she blurted, her dark eyes searching Kate’s face.

Kate sighed, and Carmen knew that she was thinking back to the photo of Carmen and Luke that had shown up on
D-Lish
. Kate hadn’t been worried about the picture, or what it seemed to show—she’d believed Carmen’s story immediately. (“They took the picture the moment he was telling me about
you
,” Carmen had told her, which was the truth. “That’s why I grabbed his hand. I was just so happy.”)

But the aftermath, Carmen had to admit, had been a little weird. And had confirmed to her that not mentioning her makeout session with Luke had been the right choice. Clearly Luke hadn’t said anything about it and now Carmen would make sure he never did.

Kate had called Luke to tell him about his apparent romance with his leading lady, and they’d had a good laugh. But then Luke’s agent, Simon Leff, had called on the other line, and when Luke called Kate back, his tone had changed. Simon had told him that
Gossip
was planning to run a “Which
Fame Game
star is Luke Kelly dating?” story. The agent had been relieved that it wasn’t Madison or Gaby. But he was not exactly thrilled to hear that it was Kate.

So then Luke had had the awkward job of trying to explain to Kate why dating her publicly could spell bad news for his career.
It’s not you
, he’d said.
It’s the show. Simon says anyone who wants to be taken seriously as an actor should stay away from reality TV.
His exact words were, “Unless you’re already established or your name is George Clooney, you have to shut it down.”

Kate poured some more cream into her coffee but still didn’t drink it. “It’s like his agent thinks I’m a second-class citizen,” Kate said to Carmen. “I’m not good enough for his precious Luke.” She met her friend’s gaze. “But you are.”

Carmen ducked her head in embarrassment. “Oh, Kate,” she said. She did feel bad about it. According to Kate, Simon had informed Luke that unless
The Fame Game
girl he was dating was Carmen Curtis, then he had to deny being involved with anyone at all. Carmen was born on the A-list, Simon had pointed out, and she’d just landed the lead in what was sure to be a blockbuster. They were costars! Simon had practically yelled. It was perfect. They could pretty much write their own cover story, and you couldn’t
buy
that kind of publicity. Yes, Carmen was the kind of girlfriend Luke should have if he cared about his career.

“And he’s telling me this,” Kate said, “and my heart starts to beat really fast and hard and my palms start to tingle. It’s just like what I feel before going on stage. It’s a fear of what’s to come. Usually I’m afraid of what I’ll do wrong—but this time I’m afraid of what he’s going to tell me, you know? Like he’s going to break up with me.”

“But he didn’t break up with you,” Carmen reminded her.

“No,” Kate whispered. She didn’t look very reassured by that fact, though.

Carmen signaled to the waitress that they’d take two orders of pancakes. Screw the fitting she was scheduled for after the table read, she thought; they could both use some comfort food.

“I know, it’s so stupid,” she said, reaching out to pat Kate’s hand. “But everything in Hollywood is a competition. Where is the best party? Who is the most powerful person in the room? How do I get my name in lights? How do I get my name in
bigger
lights? People spend twenty-four hours a day worrying about the answers to those questions.”

“But Luke didn’t seem like he did,” Kate pointed out.

“No, but his agent does. That’s what Luke pays him for.”

“Right. So I said, ‘Your agent doesn’t approve of me.’ And Luke said, ‘No, it’s Madison Parker and her desperate attempts at fame. It’s Gaby Garcia, who’s become a total train wreck. Simon doesn’t think I should be associated with those people.’ And I said, ‘Oh, but it would be okay if you were associated with them because you were dating Carmen?’”

Carmen felt the weight of her friend’s wounded gaze. The whole situation sucked. Kate was the nicest, most sane person Carmen had met in a long time, and she didn’t want her to be hurt. Unlike so many people Carmen knew, who either resented her for her celebrity or tried to befriend her because of it, Kate didn’t care that Carmen was famous. In fact, she was practically oblivious to it. And Kate was a struggling singer-songwriter who knew exactly who Carmen’s dad was and what he could do for the right struggling singer-songwriter. Finding someone in Hollywood to whom fame and connections didn’t matter? It was like finding a unicorn—something you didn’t even think existed.

“It’s just because Luke and I are costars now,” Carmen said reassuringly. “Really, it has nothing to do with you.” She knew how hollow that sounded, though, and she sympathized with Kate.

“Wait—have you talked about this with him? So he’s not going to deny that he’s dating you?” Kate said. “Talk about ‘The End of Love.’ It’s going to be all ‘no comment’ from his publicist or whatever?”

Carmen shrugged, taking Kate’s flippant movie-title crack in stride. “That’s okay with me,” she said. “I don’t have a real boyfriend, so I might as well have a fake one. I mean, if it’s okay with you.” Her publicist had already urged her to go with the story. (And her mom had called from somewhere across the world to ask when Carmen was bringing her new man for dinner. They had a good laugh because they both knew that if Carmen was actually dating someone, Cassandra would be among the first to know.)

Kate put her head in her hands. “I guess it’s okay. I certainly don’t want to get in the way of Luke’s career. It’s just so weird.”

The waitress appeared and set two steaming plates of pancakes in front of them. Kate looked up in confusion.

“I ordered them,” Carmen admitted. “I thought we could use a little pick-me-up.”

“And what you don’t want, I’ll eat,” said Drew, appearing at Carmen’s elbow. He smiled at them both, looking handsome and slightly scruffy, as if he’d been up too late the night before. Which, Carmen thought, he probably had; her dad had been sending him around to lots of shows lately, looking for fresh talent ready to take the next step.

Drew slid into the booth beside her and smiled at them both. “And let’s order some bacon, too. Which you are buying, since I’m mad at you.” He jabbed Carmen in the ribs with a tattooed elbow.

“What for?” Carmen asked.

“For dating Luke Kelly and not telling your oldest, bestest friend about it,” he said, sticking out his lower lip and making a pouting face. “I had to hear about it from your dad.”

Carmen glanced over at Kate, who looked pale. She hadn’t touched her pancakes.

“From my
dad
?” Carmen asked. “First of all, it’s not even true, and second of all, what, is my dad gossiping about me at the watercooler?”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Not true? Really? Various publicists and gossip sites seem to say otherwise. I had to read up on it, see, after I heard.”

Carmen shook her head. “It’s not true. The truth is—”

“The truth is that
I’m
dating him,” Kate interrupted. “But no one is supposed to know that. In public he needs to have a better girlfriend, which is our Carmen here.” She was smiling, but Carmen thought she detected a note of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh, Kate,” she said.

Drew held up a hand. “Wait a second. The guy is dating you”—he looked at Kate—“but he’s pretending to be dating you?” He turned to Carmen.

“He’s not pretending to be dating me,” Carmen said. “He’s just not denying it.”

“Wow,” Drew said. “Wow.”

“Wow what?” Carmen asked.

“That’s . . . lame,” Drew said flatly.

Kate pushed her plate of pancakes toward him. “Here,” she said. “I’m not hungry.”

Carmen watched as Kate gazed out the window at the traffic on Beverly Boulevard. She felt bad for her, but Carmen was only trying to do what was best for everyone.

“You could pretend to date me,” Drew said to Kate. “If that would make you feel better.”

Kate turned to him and smiled. “Would you get a tattoo in my honor?”

“Just name the body part and font.”

Kate laughed. “Would I get special consideration at Rock It! Records?”

“Baby,” Drew said, “I’ve got a gold record with your name on it.”

And then they were both laughing, and Carmen joined in, hesitantly at first and then wholeheartedly. Everything was going to be all right, she told herself. Everything was going to work out just fine.

Chapter 25
Everyone Wants to Be Famous

Lugging her guitar, her ukulele, and an oversized cup of green tea, Kate entered the recording studio at Swing House, flanked by a PopTV camera and crew. Her heart felt like it was in her throat—how was she going to sing around
that
? she wondered.

A tall guy wearing various shades of denim from head to toe walked into the studio with one giant hand outstretched. “I’m Mike,” he said. “I’ll be at the soundboard in there, on the other side of those windows. We’ve got a vintage twenty-channel API along with a twelve-channel Cadac sidecar and multiple Neve and Calrec Mic Pres,” he said. “We’ve got Sam over there to deal with the mikes and cables, and we’ve got an intern, Laura, to boss around, too. So we’re all ready to roll.”

Kate, who was the queen of low-tech, lo-fi recording, nodded as if she expected nothing less. A twelve-channel Cadac sidecar? Of course! She couldn’t live without it! (
And what exactly was it?
) “Awesome,” she said. “Sounds great.” She hoped that Sam was good with the mikes and cables, because she certainly didn’t know what to do with them.

“You can go ahead and get yourself set up over there.” Mike smiled and pointed to the vocal booth. “And don’t be nervous,” he said, peering at her good-naturedly. “This is going to be fun.”

From the corner, behind the cameras, Laurel gave Kate a little wave. Kate couldn’t smile back, of course, but she did feel momentarily reassured. Laurel was rooting for her; that counted for something, right?

She took Lucinda from her case and stepped into the vocal booth, a small room off to the side of the main studio. A wooden door formed one wall and egg-crate acoustic foam lined the other three. Inside was an Oriental rug, a music stand, and a single stool. It smelled faintly like pot.

She sat on the stool and brought her guitar to her lap.

“All good in there?” Mike asked. “Comfy? You need anything?”

Kate shook her head, too intimidated by everything to speak.

“Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. We’re used to the whims of you creative types, and we cater to them pretty well.” Mike winked at her.

Kate wondered what he thought she’d like: the pot she was smelling? And a pile of Doritos and Good & Plentys? She did want a bottle of water, but she was too shy to ask.

And then Mike disappeared into the sound booth, and Kate was alone in her little vocal chamber. Alone, that is, until a PopTV cameraman wedged his way in and set up in the corner. “Don’t mind me,” he said with a smile. “Just pretend I’m not even here.”

That was easier said than done, though, considering he was practically sitting in her lap.

She took a deep breath and tried to focus. She’d spent hours working on her songs, especially the one about Luke, which she’d totally rewritten. She’d kept her guitar and her laptop right next to her for days, so when it finally came together—which was, ironically, during a commercial for
Boston General
—she’d picked up Lucinda and perfected the chords in moments, the way the melody looped around before settling down into a simple, catchy chorus. Then she’d typed out the lyrics in a burst of inspiration. The day after that, two more songs had come to her, as if suddenly writing was as easy as rolling out of bed.

If only everything else were so easy
, she thought.

She felt on edge, and it wasn’t just being in Swing House Studios. It was Luke, and it was Luke and Carmen, and it was the way it had begun to seem as if her life was no longer truly her own to control. She thought of Ethan’s most recent email: As usual, he’d sent a funny clip (two grandmothers singing Katy Perry’s “Firework”) and he’d asked how she was. Then he’d signed off.
TTYL
, he’d written.
Keep it real
.

Keep it real
. It was a generic good-bye—something he’d written to her a hundred times before. But this time it seemed to have a new meaning. It seemed almost like a command. Or a warning.

She was not keeping many things real these days.

Focus
, she told herself.
Get in the game here
.

Inside the control room, Mike put on a pair of headphones and indicated that she should do the same. She found a pair hanging on the wall and slipped them on.

“Can you hear me?” Mike said.

“Loud and clear.” His voice sounded so close it was like he was speaking right into her brain.

“All right, so why don’t you just strum a little bit, get yourself warmed up while I fiddle with some things in here. No need to record anything yet. Just take some time to get comfortable.”

“Sounds good,” Kate said. She strummed a little warm-up progression and then did one of her fingerpicking exercises. After a few moments she leaned toward the mike. “I think I’m ready,” she said.

Mike gave her the thumbs-up and smiled. Kate took a deep breath and began. The song was about her first date with Luke—when they’d ridden up into the hills. But she’d been working on it for so long that the lyrics kept changing and it was still about Luke, but it wasn’t the sweet love song she’d set out to write.

But when she came to it, she changed the second line—almost by mistake. She sang,
“We thought the Hollywood sign was on our side.”

No one else knew she’d made a mistake, so she kept going, singing the chorus:

In the control room Mike was nodding along to the beat, and Kate felt herself growing more confident, more free. She forgot about the PopTV cameras and lost herself in the song. She played it over and over, wanting to get it perfect but also wanting to explore all the possibilities within it: a slower tempo, a slightly different bridge, a hummed verse, a full stop punctuated by a series of four syncopated hand claps. She changed it many times, messing around with the chorus so at one point she sang “ready for the game” instead of “dreaming of better days,” which earned her a thumbs-up and a smile from Laurel. But through all the different takes that new line in the first verse stayed the same.

When she’d done a few other songs and her time was up, Mike came into the booth. He was eating a bag of M&M’s. “You’re sure you’re not a studio regular? Some secret session musician maybe?”

She shook her head. “The only recording I’ve done is on my laptop. Which is about a hundred years old.”

“I saw your YouTube video, you know,” Mike said. “It was really good. But you’re already better than that.”

She looked up at him, hope written all over her face. “You think so?” she asked.

He nodded. “I know so. That song? The one about Hollywood being complicated and confusing? That’s good stuff.”

Gee, thanks
, Kate thought, as Laurel ran over, smiling.
Glad my ridiculous Luke situation makes for good stuff.

“Oh my God, you were amazing!” Laurel squealed, putting her arm around Kate’s shoulder. “And Mike’s right about that song. Trevor’s still looking for the perfect song for the opening credits and I think you may have just recorded it.”

Kate flushed with pride. What if Trevor would actually use her music for
The Fame Game
? That would be incredible.

“I’ll get it mixed and mastered as soon as possible and send it to Trevor Lord,” Mike said.

“Well, I won’t get my hopes up,” Kate said, although she already had. “So we’re done for the day?” she asked, indicating the cameras.

“Yep. Got what we needed.”

As soon as Kate knew that the cameras weren’t rolling anymore, she felt herself deflate. She sank down on top of a big Fender amp and ran her fingers through her wavy hair.

“What’s the matter?” Laurel asked, peering at her with a worried expression. “You were seriously fantastic.”

Kate shook her head. She wanted to bask in the glow of performing well—of not being intimidated by all the gold records on the wall or the countless blinking lights on the soundboard. Trouble was, she just couldn’t.

Laurel knelt down in front of her and touched her knee. “Come on, something’s the matter. Tell me.”

Kate looked into Laurel’s wide, dark eyes. She didn’t know Laurel that well, and though they’d shared some laughs on
The Fame Game
sets, she wasn’t sure she could trust her. What if Kate told her what was going on, and then she went running back to Trevor with the news? She wished Natalie were here, or her sister or her mom, or even Ethan. Someone she’d known for longer than a month.

Laurel sat down and folded her long legs lotus-style. “Look,” she said, “I know this stuff can be really weird. And hard, too. It’s a whole different thing when you have to live your life in front of a camera.”

Kate nodded. “You know, I was thinking the other day: I used to be really into nature documentaries when I was a kid. The kind where some biologist with a camera would follow around a wolf pack for months, watching how they interacted, how they hunted, what they ate, and where they slept. I thought it was so cool. But it never occurred to me what the wolf might feel like, having a camera in his face all the time.”

Laurel laughed. “Of course, they
hid
the cameras from the wolves, though.”

“Right. Because they couldn’t sign releases,” Kate said. “And they kept flubbing their lines.”

Laurel’s laugh turned into a snort. “No, I think it was actually because the wolves might try to eat them.”

Kate waved this away. “Sure, whatever. But seriously, it’s not even the cameras. I’m getting used to them in my life. It’s the way they complicate
other
people’s lives. . . .”

Laurel frowned lightly. “What do you mean?”

Kate sighed. She just needed to talk to someone about it. Now. Which meant that Laurel would have to do.

“Is this about that
Gossip
story about Luke Kelly and which
Fame Game
girl he’s dating? The PopTV publicist said she was sending you a PDF of it. Your picture was only smaller because people don’t know who you are yet.”

“PDF not received, so no, it’s not about that. I mean, it is about which
Fame Game
girl Luke Kelly is dating but—”

“Yeah, we figured out it was Carmen,” Laurel said.

Kate shook her head, unable to stop her mouth. “No, it’s not Carmen. Luke is dating me. He’s only pretending to date Carmen.”

Laurel raised her eyebrows. “Shut your face!” Then, once she’d recovered, she added, “How is that working out?”

“Fine for them,” Kate said. “I just . . . I don’t know. I guess I’m just bothered by the fact that I’m not good enough to be Luke Kelly’s public girlfriend.” Suddenly, she turned to Laurel, eyes blazing. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” she demanded. “Especially not any of the producers.”

Laurel looked slightly taken aback by Kate’s fierceness. “Okay,” she said. “I won’t.”

Kate twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m mad, but I don’t know if it’s fair to be mad. And if it
is
fair, then who should I be more mad at? Luke, for pretending he’s with Carmen, or Carmen for going along with it?”

Laurel smiled sympathetically. “Honestly, I don’t think you should be mad at either one of them. They’re just playing by the rules of the game.” She took a sip from her travel mug and sighed. “Let me tell you a little secret about life in L.A.
None
of it is real, whether you’re on a reality TV show or not. Everyone is scheming, and everyone is looking out for number one.
The Fame Game
isn’t just the name of this TV show. It’s basically the theme around here. Everyone wants to be famous. And only a lucky few get to be.” She reached out and poked Kate in the shin. “Like
you
, Kate Hayes. You are one of the lucky ones.”

Kate nodded slowly. Carmen had given her a speech very much like this one. Kate knew she ought to be grateful. And she was, she really, really was. But she didn’t feel lucky. She felt weird. The chorus of her song circled around in her head.
Holding on as tight as we can before the bright lights shine our way . . .