Infamous

Then the ratings came in, which showed a troubling dip; in particular, audiences did not respond well to Sophia’s bigger role. They liked her in the background well enough, but the moment she stepped into the spotlight, people starting changing the channel.

At least Gaby’s OD, while unfortunate for all sorts of reasons, had played out well on screen. He’d found footage of Madison and Gaby at a café, in which Madison looked worried about her friend, so he’d used that. He’d even been able to fall back on the footage of her storming out of the massage room that day, cleverly editing it so it looked like Gaby’s drug problem was what had made Madison so upset.

Yes, he had managed to create an excellent season finale, if he did say so himself. The shots of the girls in the waiting room, their eyes brimming with tears—well, that had been some seriously moving television.

There was a knock on the door, and Trevor barked out, “Who is it?”

Stephen Marsh, the newest Fame Game producer, poked his head in. “Hope is trying to renege on their offer to let us film on site,” he said.

Trevor glared at him. “Don’t let them off the hook,” he said. “And don’t make me call them myself,” he added. He turned to Laurel. “Make sure he handles this right, okay?”

Laurel nodded and followed Stephen out, and Trevor returned to his thoughts.

He’d given his girls a break over the holidays, but now it was time to get things rolling again. Carmen’s regular appearance in the tabloids was good for ratings (the fight with her mom was great, though it killed him that he hadn’t captured it on film), and he hoped it would last. Carmen was a smart girl; she knew what made good TV. The problem was, she didn’t always bother to make it. For instance, she seemed to be involved with Luke Kelly again, this time for real. Why couldn’t that guy just go away? He’d served his purpose for the show, and now he was simply a nuisance. He wasn’t even in the country, and yet he was monopolizing Carmen’s romance story line.

On the bright side, Laurel had suggested that the Kate-Drew hookup might be getting on Carmen’s nerves. Trevor had moved Carmen and Kate into Madison and Gaby’s old place. He’d figured he’d get good footage of the show’s two rising stars living together—but he hadn’t predicted Drew’s near-constant presence. If Kate didn’t stop hanging all over him, Carmen Curtis—the privileged girl who’d always gotten her way—was going to snap.

It would take only a tiny little push. . . .

And Kate Hayes, while certainly not the most charismatic girl he’d ever filmed, was now huge in the Midwest. (If he ever sent her back to Ohio again, he felt certain she’d be carried away by a mob of screaming tweens.) Trevor felt confident that Kate’s appeal would only grow as she pursued her music career more fully in season two.

There was always good old Jay, too. For reasons that Trevor couldn’t fathom, Jay had become a fan favorite. Maybe there was something about his blend of frat-guy fart jokes and pseudo-philosophical BS that really appealed to the Fame Game audience. So, even though Gaby said they’d broken up because of one of her steps (she couldn’t remember which it was, but it had something to do with “taking personal inventory”), Trevor would make sure they had lots of run-ins over the next few months.

The only real problem was Madison Parker. The show needed her desperately. He knew she was back in town and that she was at least open to talking—or her agent was, anyway. What Trevor didn’t know was what it would take to get her back in front of the PopTV cameras. He supposed he’d find out soon enough how dearly he’d have to pay for her return.

“So where’s our third roommate?” Carmen asked, wandering into the living room and flopping down on one of the giant floor cushions.

Kate looked up at her, trying to decide if Carmen was being jokey or snide. “He’s at Rock It! I think. But I’m not sure. It’s not like I know where he is every second of the day.” Just most of the seconds, Kate added silently.

She and Drew had been dating since she got back from Ohio. It was as if everything had suddenly fallen into place. They didn’t wonder if dating would ruin their friendship, or if other people in their lives would complicate things too much (Carmen and Luke, ahem). They saw each other on the morning after Gaby’s incident, and they’d pretty much spent every day together since. It was, in a word, fantastic.

“Is his internship still going well?” Carmen asked.

“Totally,” Kate said. “He’s been promoted from intern to paid intern since he’s returned to school. It’s only minimum wage, but it’s something.” She smiled.

Carmen nodded. “Awesome,” she said, and then began picking at one of her fingernails.

Kate turned back to the fan mail that she’d been rifling through. On Drew’s and Trevor’s advice, she’d finally gotten herself a manager, Todd Barrows, who had forwarded on the large stacks of letters. Todd was an old pro (he’d repped $erena when she was starting out, and that girl had five songs on the charts). Kate was learning a lot about the music business from both him and Drew. Though their advice often contradicted each other’s.

She was also learning from her own experience. Such as: Success is not lasting, and it is never guaranteed.

That was a lesson she hadn’t enjoyed much. “Starstruck” was no longer on every playlist, and her follow-up song didn’t become the hit she’d hoped it would. She did not plan on being a one-hit wonder, and she’d been working like crazy to get another song ready to record. She was up until two the night before, and planned to be up at least that late tonight. (Laurel had even told her to take it easy: “Your under-eye bags are showing on camera. You either need more sleep or a good concealer,” she’d said.)

Kate picked up an unopened letter and tapped it against her palm. She knew that reading it would make her feel better; each note was a vote of confidence, and an ego boost. She still couldn’t believe that she, little Kate Hayes from Columbus, Ohio, was getting fan mail. So far she’d managed to write everyone back (teen girls from all over the world, plus a handful of sensitive boys), but as the stacks grew taller—and they would; they already were, despite her dip in the charts—she’d have to give up that goal. She had her Twitter account and her Facebook fan page, so she could stay connected, but she was going to feel guilty once she stopped answering letters.

“So what’s up with your music?” Carmen asked, having successfully removed her hangnail.

Kate sighed. “A lot—and also sort of nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, as you probably know, Trevor wouldn’t let me sign a record deal before, because he felt like it was a quote-unquote ‘season two story line.’ So he basically made me put my life and career on hold because it suited him and his show.”

“Which is also our show,” Carmen pointed out.

Kate waved this obvious fact away. “Of course, but back in the fall people were calling me. My song was everywhere, and now it’s only on that stupid Nokia commercial.”

“Hey! That stupid commercial paid for your Mini Cooper.”

“True,” Kate said, brightening. She loved that car. “Anyway, Trevor says I can sign a deal now, but all of a sudden, my phone’s not ringing.”

“Oh, you’ll have your pick of labels,” Carmen assured her. “Your songs are great.”

“Thanks,” Kate said. “Maybe people are still interested, sure. But it wasn’t any fun to put them off, you know? Imagine if Colum McEntire had told you he wanted you to star in his movie, and you were like, Yeah, sounds great, but can you please wait for three months, because my dad grounded me for shoplifting?”

Carmen laughed. “Ouch. You know I never actually stole anything, right?”

Kate looked at her in surprise. “You didn’t? And here I was, thinking Trevor must have an eye for the thieving type.”

“I can’t believe I never told you,” Carmen said. “I took the fall for a friend.”

“Wow, that was really nice of you.”

Carmen shrugged. “It seemed like the right idea at the time.” She sounded like she might have had second thoughts. “My dad was furious at me.”

“Honestly, I felt awkward ever bringing it up, but now that I know you didn’t do it, you have to tell me what really happened,” Kate said.

“It’s not really that exciting,” Carmen said. “I didn’t have to go to court like Mad.”

Kate laughed. “Thank goodness there was no ‘giving back to the community’ required of you! Because why on earth would you want to do that?”

“Yeah,” Carmen said faintly.

Kate wondered if she’d managed to offend her. Again. Why was it so hard for them to get along? It was like they couldn’t help pushing each other’s buttons. She’d simply meant that it was good Carmen didn’t have to go to court, but it had come out sounding like Kate thought she was a spoiled brat.

“Soooooo . . . ,” Kate said, after an awkward moment of silence.

“So Luke called,” Carmen said suddenly. “He said filming’s going great.”

“Oh! That’s great.”

Lately it seemed as if Carmen mentioned Luke about twenty times a day. Not that Kate minded—she was completely over him. Carmen and Luke could absolutely have each other . . . for the five minutes that they’d actually be into it. If there was one thing Kate had learned about these actor types, it was that they changed partners as often (at least) as they changed roles.

What she had with Drew, on the other hand, was real.

Kate tapped the unopened letter against her hand once more and then tore it open. She didn’t mean to read it while she and Carmen were in the middle of a conversation, but she couldn’t help but glance down.

—think it’s so, so unfair when people say you’re boring and stuff, because you’re the sweetest one of—

Kate looked back up, feeling deflated. Thanks for the backhanded compliment, Misty from Nebraska, she thought. As if she weren’t perfectly aware of the nasty things that got said about her—that she was a doormat, she was as exciting as watching paint dry—some “fan” had to go and remind her.

She tossed the letter into the garbage. She’d start her policy of not writing back with Misty.

Carmen handed her another letter and then got up. “I’m heading to bed. Gotta get my beauty sleep before Gaby’s big day. Otherwise D-lish’ll post about how beat-down I look or something, and they’ll be right.”

“Night,” Kate called out. She gazed at the next envelope for a moment before opening it. It was sent from here in L.A., and the handwriting was small and exquisitely neat. J.B. from Studio City: The initials and the handwriting were familiar. He’d written her before, hadn’t he? Yes, and she’d sent him a signed head shot. He was probably writing to thank her—after all, not every TV personality would be so generous with her time and photos. She opened the letter, feeling rather pleased with herself for being so nice, and with J.B. for being so polite.

Dear Kate,

Thank you so much for the photo. I have it framed next to my bed. I’ve watched you since the very first episode of The Fame Game. You are a great talent, and you are better and more beautiful than anyone else on that show. I love your voice. It’s the voice of an angel.

Kate smiled. Now this was more like it. She read on.

I wish that your voice could be the first thing I heard in the morning and the last thing I heard at night. Sometimes when I see you on TV, and your blue eyes turn toward the camera, I swear that you are looking straight at me. Telling me that you see me, and you want to get to know me. Well, I want to get to know you, too. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I tell people you are my girlfriend—and who knows? Maybe someday you will be. I mean, look how close we live to each other.

Kate looked at the second page enclosed in the envelope. It was a map with what she assumed was his home circled and a line leading to a second location. She looked a little closer and realized it was their apartment. Sure, a few photographers had figured out where they lived after following them home, but Trevor had always assured them that most people didn’t know.

Kate looked up. “Uh . . . Carmen?” she called.

“Brushing my teeth!” she yelled from the bathroom.

“Can you come out here and look at this letter?”

A few seconds later, Carmen came and took the letter and the map from Kate, her eyes quickly scanning the pages. “Oh no,” she said as she read. “Ewww.” When she was done, she handed the letter back to Kate as if it were contaminated. “You need to tell someone about this.”

“It’s not some random weird thing I can, like, ignore?”

Carmen shook her head. “That guy sounds like a stalker and he clearly knows where you live. Where we live. My mom’s had about five hundred stalkers, and trust me, they’re bad news. You need to get rid of him, stat.”

“Really? I mean, sure, it’s kind of weird,” Kate said. “But it’s not like he wrote ‘I’m outside your window’ or something.”

“Kate, people can be crazy. They watch the show and see you in your bedroom talking about your life and think that they know you.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Kate said. “He’s just some weirdo—”

“Yeah,” Carmen interrupted. “He’s a weirdo. And angry weirdos are exactly the kind of people you want to be careful around. They can be dangerous.”

Kate, admittedly, had been sort of freaked out by the letter. But something about Carmen’s response annoyed her. Couldn’t she simply have a rabid fan? Why did he have to be some sort of threat?

“I don’t think—”

“You don’t need to think,” Carmen interrupted. Again. “Turn the letter in to Laurel and she’ll give it to whoever heads security at the network. If anything, they like to have these things on file.”

Kate couldn’t help herself then. She was annoyed and she lashed out. “Maybe you’re jealous,” she whispered. “Maybe you wish you’d gotten a letter like this.”

Carmen stared at her in disbelief. “Girl, if you think that, you are even more out of touch than the creep who wrote you that letter.” Then she turned and stomped away.

Kate looked at the letter again. It was written on scented stationery.

Love always,

J .B.

P.S. Hope to see you very soon.

She shuddered, and then pulled out her phone and texted Laurel. Immediately after that, she texted Drew. CRAZY FAN LETTERS. CARM SAYS I SHOULD WATCH OUT. CALL ME?

But Drew did better than call her. He left Rock It! right away and drove to her apartment, even though she tried to tell him that it wasn’t necessary.

The moment she opened the door and saw him, clutching a spray of daisies, standing there so tall and strong and reassuring, she couldn’t believe she’d tried to convince him (and herself) that he shouldn’t come.

It ended up being one of the best nights ever. They streamed Walk the Line, the Johnny Cash biopic, on Netflix, and cuddled on the couch. As Kate rested her cheek against Drew’s warm chest, feeling his arm tight around her shoulders, she thought about the irony of it all: how the very day that Carmen seemed to think she could be in some kind of danger was also the day that she felt the most taken care of. The most safe.

Kate looked up at Drew, and he looked down at her. They smiled at each other—wide, silly, happy grins. It was great.

And then they kissed, and that was even better.

In the parking lot of Hope Medical Center, the girls were miked and directed to stand near the building’s portico awaiting Gaby’s arrival. The sun felt blazingly hot; L.A. was in the middle of a freak January heat wave, and Carmen hadn’t dressed appropriately for it.

“I wonder if Gaby’ll get some kind of diploma,” Kate said. “My cousin’s kid got a diploma from her daycare.”

Wow. Was Kate trying to sound as dense as Gaby? “I got a diploma from driving school,” Carmen offered.

“All I got was a key chain that said ‘Stay Alive—Drive Fifty-Five.’ I mean, how old do you think that thing was? The speed limit hasn’t been fifty-five since before I was born.”

Carmen laughed. “It’s vintage! Maybe it’s worth something.”

“Doubtful. Anyway, I threw it away.” Kate squinted at the rehab. “When are they releasing Gaby?” she wondered.

“They probably already did,” Carmen said drily. “And Laurel’s making her wait on the other side of the door until Sophia arrives and we can film.”

“Did I hear my name?” Sophia hurried up to them in a cloud of lavender essence and kissed them both on the cheek. “So good to see you,” she said, giving Carmen’s arm a squeeze. “I wish Madison could be here, too.”

Yeah, I’ll bet you do, thought Carmen.

“This is such an important moment,” Sophia went on, beaming at them.

“Didn’t you spend some time in this place?” Carmen asked, referring to Sophia’s own rehab stint, which had begun not long after she’d joined the cast of L.A. Candy.

“No, I went to Promises,” she said breezily. “I learned so much there. It was a fantastic experience, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Any minute now, ladies,” Laurel called.

Carmen smoothed a strand of hair away from her face. She’d forgotten how much of filming was standing around, waiting. Movies were a thousand times worse in this regard, but at least you got a trailer to hang out in.

A long black town car pulled into the lot, right next to the PopTV van. A moment later, the back door opened and Trevor emerged. He gave the girls a nod and a half smile.

“What is Trevor doing here? He never comes to shoots,” Kate said.

“Only the really big ones,” Carmen corrected her. She wasn’t surprised to see their executive producer here. Not out of concern for Gaby, of course, but for the footage. This would be a crucial scene for the show, so it made sense that he’d want to keep a close eye on how it went.

She watched him as he walked over to Stephen Marsh, the new producer, and she was about to ask him if they could start filming before all their makeup melted off when she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a flash of red.

She looked back toward the town car and watched, in shock, as Madison Parker emerged from the backseat, in a fantastic scarlet Dolce, looking tan, thin, and triumphant. (A bit overdressed, but still—stunning.)

Sophia gasped.

Carmen watched with grudging admiration as Madison approached them. The girl sure knew how to make an entrance.

“Oh, shit,” Sophia whispered.

Carmen turned to her with a smile. She, for one, was glad Madison was back. They might not like each other that much, but no one could argue that Madison didn’t make things interesting. “Like my dad always says,” Carmen whispered back, “be careful what you wish for.”

“—And once, I ate thirty hot dogs in fifteen minutes,” bragged the blond, blue-eyed guy sitting across the table from Madison at Fig & Olive. “My friends were like, ‘Dude, you should take it professional.’”

Madison flagged down the waiter, who was obviously unnerved by the PopTV film crew he’d been instructed to ignore. “Vodka and soda,” she said, the instant he was within earshot. “A double—and the sooner the better.”

Trevor hadn’t wasted any time getting her back on camera, once they’d settled on terms. He’d come crawling to her in the end, appearing on her doorstep all smiles and promises; she’d simply handed him an envelope from her lawyer, which contained her new, extensive demands listed on four pages of creamy white paper.

Trevor may have put his foot down at Madison’s request for white peonies at every location (hey, it had worked for J.Lo), but she’d put that in there precisely so he would have something to refuse. It was business negotiations with a dash of psychological warfare. It helped that she knew from Kate how much Laurel and Trevor wanted her in the Gaby’s-release scene. The look of unhappy surprise on Sophie’s face when she saw her was an added bonus.

She would move in with Gaby again (in the Park Towers penthouse), do her best not to freeze out Sophie, and do a better job of tolerating the presence of Jay whenever Trevor sent him over. She’d also agreed to develop a romance story line. Not because she was searching for romance—she was done with that business (do you hear that, Ryan Tucker?)—but because she wanted screen time. There simply weren’t enough dates during season one, and both she and Trevor knew it. So: Cue the Hollywood hunks.

Such as Greg, the blond, blue-eyed surfer type, currently boring her to death with a story of the “time he hooked up with Lindsay Lohan” and a bad Jon Hamm impression. Yes, she was going to need more than patience to get through this date.

This documented date.

Madison managed to smile at the drink when it appeared, and then transferred that smile to Greg’s strong-jawed face. It was really too bad he couldn’t keep his gorgeous mouth shut.

“So,” she said, “how long have you lived in L.A.?”

“About two years now,” Greg said. “I moved here from Nebraska.”

“And what do you do here?” Madison already knew the answer. It was the same thing that almost everyone who moved to Hollywood from flyover country did. They acted—and by “acted,” they meant they bartended by night and auditioned by day.

“I’m an actor,” Greg said, putting a giant hand into the paper cone of truffle fries and pulling out a fistful.

“Really? What would I have seen you in?”

Greg paused for a moment. “A few, uh, independent shorts. I also do a little modeling on the side.”

“So, right now, you aren’t exactly a working actor?” She smiled slyly.

Again, Madison knew very well the answer to this question. If Greg had a paying acting job, he would not be sitting across the table feigning interest in dating someone he had nothing in common with, hoping to gain the exposure that would result in his being “discovered.”

“We’ve all gotta start somewhere, don’t we? Not everyone can get paid to be on PopTV getting frozen yogurt and shopping with her friends,” Greg said through his own sly smile.

Madison sat up straighter. This date wasn’t going anywhere and she knew it. Trevor would never air the footage if it continued like this.

“Let’s order you another drink,” she said, patting his hand. “And then you can tell me what it’s like to attend acting classes all day while still being supported by your parents.”

Greg’s eyes got wide. “Excuse me?” he said, looking caught off guard.

Madison winked at him.

Behind Greg’s head, she could see Julian the camera guy focusing in. She suspected he felt sorry for Greg.

“Dude,” Greg said, “I don’t know what your problem is, but . . .”

“I don’t have a problem. I’m simply curious how you are an actor if you don’t actually act.”

“I’m acting right now,” he said sharply. “I’m acting like I actually want to be on this date with you, even though you’re a total bitch.”

Madison smiled calmly. “And once again you aren’t getting paid, so this must be right up your alley.”

Then she stood up, grabbed her Celine bag, and exited stage left. Sure, she’d agreed to go out on dates—but she’d made no promises about staying out.

“Okay, let’s take a look at the latest candidates for the job of Tolerable Dinner Date.” Kate slid in a DVD vaguely labeled AUDITIONS 1/2013 and then hurried to join Madison on the couch.

Madison put her feet up on the coffee table and settled in. That was the good part about a bad date: A girl could get home early. “Gab, can you please turn down the tango music?” she called.