Полная версия
Infamous
To Max Stubblefield.
Little of what I have today would be possible without your guidance and friendship. Thank you for always sticking by me . . . and for being “singing guy.”
CONTENTS
Dedication
1 - A Turn for the Better
2 - The Rules of Unofficial Cohabitation
3 - Don’t Make Me Call Them Myself
4 - The Voice of an Angel
5 - How to Make an Entrance
6 - Cue the Hollywood Hunks
7 - Going Nowhere but Up
8 - Whoever Said Dreams Can’t Come True
9 - The Nature of the Business
10 - Larger Than Life
11 - Things Are About to Change
12 - An Entirely Different Person
13 - A Regular Cupid
14 - The Time of My Life
15 - Spicing Up a Story Line
16 - Bigger. Better. Brighter.
17 - A Little Red Carpet Thing
18 - A Short Communication Break
19 - Don’t Worry, Babe, I Still Like You
20 - Pretty Good While It Lasted
21 - A Star Waiting to Shine
22 - You Get One Chance
23 - A Lover, Not a Fighter
24 - Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You
25 - A Long, Emotional Road
26 - Look What the Cat Dragged In
27 - A Bright Side to Everything
28 - That Is Genius
29 - A Little Bit Brighter
30 - A Lot of History
31 - The Source of So Much Drama
32 - Another Chance
33 - Totally Unexpected
Epilogue - Moments in the Sun
Acknowledgments
Books by Lauren Conrad
Copyright
About the Publisher
Madison Parker poured two large glasses of iced tea and walked, slightly slower than usual, to the table in her sunny kitchen nook. “I have sugar,” she said, placing the glasses on two shell-pink linen cocktail napkins, “if you want any sweetener.”
Kate Hayes raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Madison noted that her friend must have finally started taking some of her beauty advice. Kate’s brows were perfectly tinted and shaped, as if she’d just stepped out of Anastasia Beverly Hills. Good-bye, strawberry-blond caterpillars, Madison thought. You won’t be missed.
“You have actual sugar?” Kate asked. “I thought you were a Splenda-only kind of girl?”
Madison sat down across from her. Carefully. The recovery from her most recent cosmetic procedure had taken a little longer than she’d hoped. She looked fantastic, but she still felt a bit sore. “I think it was left here from the previous tenant,” she allowed. “Along with that hideous mirror in the bathroom.”
Kate glanced around at the small apartment, as if she hadn’t been here a dozen times checking in on post-op Madison. Kate was the only person Madison had been willing to see, so she was Madison’s source for take-out sushi, issues of the weekly mags, and information on shoots for the new season of The Fame Game. Like how bad it was going. How flat the scenes were, how empty the fake-impromptu dinner parties. And Madison loved hearing it.
“Was that spider plant left over, too?” Kate asked, nodding her head in its direction.
“No,” Madison admitted. “That’s mine.”
She followed Kate’s gaze. The spider plant was dying, and—there was no getting around it—the apartment was pretty depressing. The kitchen was the nicest room in the whole place, which was ironic for a person who rarely ate and who definitely never cooked.
She’d moved into it the day after her sudden exit from The Fame Game, because it was cheap (for L.A., anyway) and available.
This lack of foresight, real-estate-wise, was only one of the things Madison had come to regret. The days immediately after her on-camera explosion at the hospital were dark ones. She hadn’t fully understood what PopTV meant for her, either personally or professionally. So, for the first time in her life, she was utterly alone, with absolutely nothing on her iCal.
Nothing but the remainder of her community-service hours, that is. Since she couldn’t face Ryan Tucker (her ex? her former friend-with-benefits?), Madison claimed a sudden onset of life-threatening pet-dander allergies and requested a transfer from Lost Paws.
Connie Berkley, the straight-talking paper-pusher from the L.A. County court system, granted it grudgingly, and Madison spent the next two weeks picking up beer cans, cigarette butts, and fast-food wrappers in a Los Feliz park. She had to wear bad sneakers and a hideous Day-Glo orange vest, and the three other people working with her were beyond offensive. But at least none of them were named Ryan. At least none of them had taken her heart and stomped on it.
Every day she came home, sweaty and hot, to an apartment filled with pretty but generic furniture she’d gotten free from Crate & Barrel (she promised them she’d do an “at-home” shoot for one of the weeklies). There was no Gaby to greet her, and there were no cameras to film her. If it weren’t for Kate, and for her dog, Samson, Madison would have been seriously depressed.
When she felt especially sorry for herself, Madison did her best to remember how things could always be worse. For instance: She hadn’t OD’d by mistake, the way Gaby had, and she wasn’t now in a locked-down rehab facility. (No at-home shoots there!) Gaby had been in treatment at the Hope Medical Center in Malibu for almost six weeks now. No doubt she was going to countless individual and group therapy sessions and getting really good at Ping-Pong.
Or was it mental hospitals where they played Ping-Pong? Madison would have to ask her, if it didn’t sound too rude.
They’d been in touch a few times since Gaby’s OD, but the Hope staff had confiscated Gaby’s cell phone and limited her computer time, so their interactions had been brief. Also, the moment Madison finished up her community service, she’d hopped on a plane to Mexico to regroup. It was her own personal emotional rehab.
She didn’t tell anyone she was going (except for Kate, who had agreed to dog-sit Samson); she simply vanished. And it felt great.
In a small town an hour outside of Cabo, Madison took long walks on the beach, ignored Trevor’s five thousand phone calls, and came to a major decision. She was not done with reality TV, but she was definitely done with trying to play nice. She’d been burned by Charlie, Ryan, and Sophie (twice). It was about time she remembered that a girl couldn’t trust anyone but herself.
“Madison,” Trevor’s voice mails always said, “we really have to talk.”
She took great pleasure in deleting each one. She’d talk to him when she was good and ready.
But all too soon, it was time for her to return to L.A. While Madison could plot her comeback beneath a palapa on a Mexican beach, she could hardly accomplish it from there.
When she arrived back at LAX, Madison’s very first phone call had been to her go-to plastic surgeon. It was time for some laser lipo, because those carbs she’d eaten when she was “happy” with Ryan were still hanging around her midsection. Dr. Klein, who had a keen nose for business (and had coincidentally done Madison’s nose), had given her a deal in exchange for her participation in his “I’ll never tell” press release. (“I look great after a visit with Dr. Klein. Where did he operate on me? I’ll never tell!”)
She smiled, thinking about it. She could probably work a similar deal with Dr. Burton the next time she needed a Botox touch-up. (She was definitely looking forward to the day when she was done paying off Luxe for the necklace Charlie stole; it was humiliating to barter for cosmetic procedures.)
“Earth to Madison,” Kate said, waving a hand in front of her face.
Madison turned to her. “What? Were you saying something?”
“I’ve only been asking you the same question for, like, five minutes,” Kate said, looking slightly insulted.
“Ask me again. Sorry, I’m listening.”
Kate took a sip of her tea and then got up to find the sugar. “Are you going to go see Gaby when they let her out? We’re all going to be there, you know. And that means the PopTV crew will be there, too.”
“May I remind you that I quit the show?” Madison asked.
Kate rolled her eyes. “No need. I was there,” she said. “But the day she gets out will be a big deal. And anyway, don’t you miss being on camera? Airtime is kind of like . . . well, air to you.”
Madison hadn’t filmed anything for six weeks now—of course she missed it. Whoever said diamonds were a girl’s best friend hadn’t stopped to consider a camera. “Not really,” she said dismissively.
Then Kate, who was still looking for the sugar, noticed the Gossip magazine that Madison just happened to leave out on the counter. “Hey, is that the issue you’re in?”
Madison nodded, unable to keep a small, satisfied smile from her face. The moment her bruises had vanished, she’d set up a photo op on the beach in Malibu and paired it with an exclusive sit-down with a reporter from Gossip. She’d talked about her “rewarding” community service, and how it made her rethink her priorities. She had skillfully dodged the reporter’s questions about trouble on the set of The Fame Game. Since Trevor hadn’t included her “I quit” outburst on the season finale, no one really knew what was going on with her. With only a couple episodes of season two having aired, the rumors were swirling, and Madison liked it that way. The less she said, the more people wanted to know.
The best part of the article was the end, in which the writer suggested that if Madison Parker were to leave the show, The Fame Game would be a total snoozefest.
“Community service made you ‘reexamine your celebrity lifestyle,’ huh?” Kate asked, looking up from the magazine. “You learned how ‘vitally important’ it is to give back?” She laughed. “You’re amazing, Mad, you really are.”
“I try,” Madison said. “Do you like how I dropped in the verrry subtle Carmen Curtis reference?”
Kate’s eyes scanned down the page. “‘“More young celebrities should perform community service,” Madison says, as she sips her green tea,’” Kate read aloud. “‘“No one should be above the law, whether they steal a car, a diamond necklace, or a designer top.”’” Kate looked up, her eyes wide. “Madison. That’s not exactly subtle.”
Madison shrugged. “Carmen doesn’t read those things anyway, and I doubt you’re going to tell her about it, even if she is your new roomie.”
“True . . . ,” Kate said. Trevor had made her and Carmen move into Madison and Gaby’s apartment; it was all set up for filming, and otherwise it would be sitting vacant. Madison knew that Kate wasn’t entirely happy with this arrangement. She wasn’t sure why Kate and Carmen had such a hard time getting along (though maybe it had something to do with their habit of picking the same guy to be involved with, whether he was a handsome Aussie actor or a tattooed musical intern . . .).
Samson trotted into the room and flopped down at Madison’s feet. She leaned over and gave his head a rub. “You’re my community service, aren’t you, boy? If it weren’t for my selfless heart, I’d have ordered myself a cute teacup Chihuahua like Paris Hilton’s.”
Kate choked on her tea.
Madison shot her a look. “What?”
“Sorry,” Kate said, wiping her mouth and smiling. “‘Selfless’ is maybe not the first word I’d use to describe you.”
“Of course not,” Madison said. “That would be ‘fabulous,’ right?”
“Oh, totally,” Kate agreed. “So, fabulous Madison, are you going to show up for Gaby’s release or what? Because I, personally, would really love to see you there and I’m sure Gaby would too. I guess Sophia’s supposed to be Madison two-point-oh these days, but I gotta say, it’s not exactly working out. I miss filming with you. It’s not nearly as much fun since you left.”
Music to Madison’s ears! “I want to be there for Gaby, but I’m not sure about the timing. . . .” She paused, relishing the moment. “Okay, confidentially? I do plan on coming back. I’m waiting for Trevor to meet my terms.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “Really? Oh my God, that is the best news ever.” She seemed like she might be on the verge of rushing over and giving Madison a hug.
Madison held up a hand. She liked Kate, she honestly did, but she was just never going to be the huggy type. Also, she was still sore. She got up and dumped the remains of her tea into her spider plant. (Extra nutrients, right?)
“Yes,” Madison said, smiling contentedly. “I think things are about to take a turn for the better.”
Despite her words, though, Madison did worry a little that Trevor might hold a grudge because she’d ignored him for so long. But so be it. Could Trevor really blame her? He of all people should know that all was fair in love, war, and reality TV.
Carmen tried the bathroom door—locked—and then knocked loudly on it. Yes, there was another bathroom in the apartment she shared with Kate, but that one didn’t have the tube of her favorite lipstick sitting on the counter.
“Hang on a minute,” called a voice. A male voice.
Carmen sighed. Drew. Again.
A month ago she’d been complaining that she hardly ever saw her childhood best friend, and now it seemed like he was everywhere she turned. At the breakfast table, eating her cereal. On the living room couch, watching a Lakers game. In the bathroom, holding her cosmetics hostage. Like Carmen’s dad sometimes said: Be careful what you wish for.
She flounced back into the dining room where the cameras had been set up. Kate was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of Froot Loops. She went through two or three boxes of it a week; she had the appetite of a twelve-year-old boy. Lucky for her, she seemed to have the metabolism of one, too.
“Cameras roll as soon as I finish this,” Kate said. Trevor’s aversion to filming them eating was well known. “I was starving.”
“No rush. I was kind of hoping to get my lipstick. . . .”
“You look beautiful, as always,” Laurel called.
Carmen laughed as she sat down at her designated seat at the table. “Like I can trust you,” she said. “You just want to get started.”
Laurel shrugged. “What can I say? Time is money.”
In another few moments, Kate was done, and Bret the camera guy had taken his usual place behind his Sony Hi Def, but Drew had still not emerged. Carmen was annoyed she hadn’t been able to get to her lipstick. Now she’d look washed out, which was fine when they were filming early-morning scenes, but less fine when it was 11 a.m. and she was otherwise ready to face the world. Her floral silk button-down practically demanded a coat of NARS’s Funny Face.
Kate brushed a Froot Loop crumb from her shirt and offered Carmen a small smile.
Carmen smiled back, though she was still annoyed, and then took a sip of her tea. (Drinking on camera was totally fine, of course.) “So, do you think Gaby’ll be different?” she asked Kate, exactly as she was supposed to.
“I think she’ll be in a better place,” Kate said.
Carmen laughed. “‘A better place’? I thought that was what you said when someone died.”
Kate looked mildly affronted. “You know what I mean. Like, emotionally.”
“Sorry,” Carmen said. “I was kidding.” Then she bit her lip and gazed down into her mug.
She’d been excited to move in with Kate for a couple of reasons—(a) she had no other place to live at the moment; and (b) she thought they might finally fully make up—but so far it’d been harder than she’d hoped. They kept offending each other in the little ways. Carmen, for example, had invited a few friends over without telling Kate. Then Kate had eaten all of Carmen’s leftover lo mein. Carmen had shrunk one of Kate’s two decent sweaters in the dryer, and then Kate had made some snide comment about Hollywood royalty not knowing how the real world worked. . . .
They still liked each other, they really did. But for some reason they were having a hard time showing it.
Carmen wondered if things would ever go back to the way they had been before Luke Kelly walked into their lives. Of course, Carmen was really glad that he had, but he definitely complicated things. Pre-Luke, Kate and Carmen had been great friends, and Carmen was realizing more and more how hard those were to come by.
She looked up again. Time to get on the ball and give the camera something. “Gaby sent me a letter a couple of weeks ago,” Carmen said. “She said she was learning how to let go of unhealthy influences and finding her inner strength. She said her mantra was ‘Healthy Choices.’” Then she giggled; she couldn’t help it. “I think that’s a brand of soup.”
“Well, if it works for her, I’m all for it,” Kate said. “But I bet she’s embarrassed at all this. I mean, wouldn’t you be?”
Carmen shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like she’s the first person to get confused about the right dosage of her medication.”
She shot Kate a look. Surely Kate hadn’t forgotten that she’d taken too much Xanax and turned into a walking zombie on national television. (Trevor would cut that line, no doubt, but Carmen hadn’t been able to resist.)
Kate only blinked at her, as if she really had forgotten.
“I’m actually really happy for her,” Carmen went on. “I think being at Hope was just what she needed. A break. Time to clear her head.”
Carmen wished she could have a break, too. Not at rehab, obviously, but say . . . a week at Miravel Resort & Spa? Having a few weeks off from filming had been great, but it wasn’t as if she’d been able to take a break from the rest of her life. From the tabloids, which continued to print lies about her, as well as some private truths. From Sophia, who had taken to calling her daily to talk about how cute their new producer was. And from Krew (or Date—they both worked), who were usually stuck together like Siamese twins.
Speak of the devil (or one half of it), Drew emerged from the bathroom. In a short pink towel.
Granted, he was out of the shot, but still—hadn’t he learned to take clothes into the bathroom? Wasn’t that one of the first rules of unofficial cohabitation?
He gave Carmen a small, apologetic wave. Kate hadn’t seen him, thankfully, so she was still focused on the scene. “I wonder if Madison will be there with us,” Kate said.
“Yeah. I wonder if Trevor’s going to be able to woo her back.”
Carmen knew that line wouldn’t make it to air, either, but it didn’t matter. Laurel had already informed them that they were going to shoot this segment several times. “So we have the right lead-in,” she’d explained. Since Gaby was getting out in two days and no one knew whether Madison would show up or not, they needed to cover their bases.
According to the reality of The Fame Game, Madison had taken a long vacation after finishing her community service. Some kind of Eat, Pray, Love thing, where she was finding herself and rededicating her life to . . . something or other. This explanation was buying Trevor time until he could get her back on the show. If he could.
For the first take, Kate and Carmen talked a bit about Madison’s vacation, and how she was still “in Mexico.” (This was awkward, because Madison had already been photographed at the airport last week returning from Mexico, and Gaby’s release date would be written about—so the timing wouldn’t work. But Carmen had her directions, so she followed them.) Next they shot a conversation in which they suggested that Madison, while back in L.A., was still too upset by Gaby’s overdose to face her. Finally, there was the cliff-hanger scene: Madison had told Kate she’d be there and had told Carmen that she wouldn’t. Which would it be? The world holds its breath!
That was the winner, Carmen thought, no question. Trevor could never resist a cliffhanger.
Drew passed by again, this time fully clothed and in view of the cameras. And Kate. Her eyes followed him into the kitchen, and there was a love-struck look on her face. “I wish Madison—and Gaby—could find a good guy,” she said.
Carmen put her head in her hands. Was it possible to die of annoyance? Because she felt like she might.
Then she looked up. “We could lend them Drew,” she said, smiling.
“We?” Kate asked.
Carmen shrugged. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” Kate asked, a slight edge coming into her voice.
God, what was her problem? Carmen stood up. “Well, anyway,” she said, pointing to her watch. “I’ve gotta go meet with my agent.”
“Yeah, that’s a wrap on this scene,” Laurel called, stepping out from behind Bret. “You are both free until the day after tomorrow, when we welcome Ms. Garcia back into reality.”
Carmen hurried into the bathroom to fetch her lipstick, thinking how those words were probably the last ones that would apply to whatever was going to happen to Gaby.
Trevor sucked grimly on an ice cube as he sat in the editing bay at PopTV Studios. Before him were half a dozen computer screens, and each displayed raw footage from the past few weeks of season-two shooting. Kate and Carmen shopping. Sophia trying to bend Kate into pigeon pose. Carmen on a phone call with her publicist. Kate and Drew curled up on her couch, recapping her most recent performance. Each clip made him want to—well, depending on his mood, either fall asleep . . . or jump out a window.
He spun around in his swivel chair, and Laurel eyed him nervously. He’d already thrown one fit today, and she was probably bracing herself for round two. He’d promoted her to executive producer, but the old listen-to-Trevor-when-he-freaks-out part of her job description remained.
“That Kate and Drew scene could be intercut with shots of Carmen looking wistful,” she suggested.
“Oh really?” he said facetiously. “I never would have thought of that.”
Trevor crunched the ice cube from his latte and fished another one from his cup. With Gaby in rehab and Madison AWOL, he was trying to make a show with half his regular cast. He’d managed to patch together the final few episodes of season one, using old footage of the main girls and some new footage featuring Sophia more prominently. What a nightmare that had been. He’d used an army of interns to comb through unused scenes, and there were too many continuity problems to count. Gaby had had a Restylane mishap (for a couple of days it looked as if she’d been punched in the mouth), Madison had put on a few pounds during the Ryan weeks (though it looked great on her), and Kate had taken a weekend trip to Palm Springs, but she might as well have taken a nap in a tanning bed (she came back looking more like a Jersey Shore reject than an up-and-coming musician).
