Starstruck

by Lauren Conrad

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Carmen said.

  “Well, that’s probably for the best,” her mother said. “Playing lovers while dating—that could get complicated. So. Tell me, then. Do you have your eye on anyone else?”

  “No,” Carmen said, feeling annoyed at her and Trevor both. “No. I’m way too busy.”

  “You shouldn’t work too hard, honey. You’re young—you need to go out and have fun!” Cassandra tossed her ebony hair and smiled her beautiful smile, and Carmen could sense the camera moving in for a close-up.

  She gritted her teeth. She was so sick of living in her mother’s shadow, so sick of having everyone think they knew her because they knew her mom. She should have changed her name, the way Nicolas Cage did; it separated him from his famous relatives, made him find his own way at least a little bit. (But then you couldn’t cash in on your name, a small voice whispered. Not that she had lately! But being a Curtis had definitely greased some important wheels—she couldn’t deny that.)

  Cassandra reached across the table and patted Carmen’s hand. “Carm? You’ve got a thousand-yard stare. What are you thinking?”

  Gently Carmen eased her hand away. But she smiled at her mother. She was not going to let her mother or Trevor back her into some weird corner that made for good TV. She was an actress, damn it, so she was going to act: act as if she was grateful to her mother for her on-camera support. Act as if she did miss Luke, but that she knew their breakup was for the best. Act as if this restaurant, which was the latest B-list celebrity hot spot, did not remind her of some tricked-out Sushi Express.

  “I’m just really tired,” she said. “I’d forgotten how hard filming is. The days are so long, and you’re always running over the scheduled shooting time, and even when you’re trying to relax in your trailer someone’s always poking their head in.” Luke was one of the worst offenders on that front, and he was still calling her “ex-looooover.” Not that she minded the company (and in fact, when he didn’t stop by, she missed him).

  “Look on the bright side,” Cassandra said. “At least you’re not moving from one country to the next every three nights.”

  Carmen closed her menu. She was going to have the seaweed salad and that was it. “Are you saying that touring is harder than filming? Because if you’re here to support me, let me point out that you are not doing a very good job.” She laughed, but she meant what she said. She was annoyed. Clearly Cassandra was feeling like she wasn’t in the spotlight quite enough lately, so she decided to borrow a piece of her daughter’s. Album sales did require promotion, after all!

  “Oh, no, silly,” Cassandra said. “I’m sure that filming is just as hard. I was only trying to think of one thing that might be easier about it.”

  “Gotcha. Well, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Do you want to talk about you and Luke? About how you’re feeling?”

  Carmen took a deep breath. She’d write the lines in her head as she was saying them. “You know, Mom, I feel okay. I mean, it’s not exactly enjoyable to break up with someone. Especially not when you have to work with them every day. But sometimes it’s for the best. Luke and I are still friends. We’re committed to that.”

  She sounded strong but not cold. All in all, she was happy with her response.

  Her mother nodded. “You’re a wise girl,” she said. “You always have been.”

  “Well, you and Dad raised me right, I guess,” Carmen said, offering a slightly forced smile.

  She was playing the Good Daughter to the hilt. She deserved a SAG award for this lunch.

  For the next half hour, she picked at her salad and made small talk with her mother. It felt weird. She was familiar with her mother’s behavior when she was “on,” but it had never been directed at her before. It was the Cassandra Show today, and Carmen was merely an extra. How many times had her mom managed to mention her album Everything or Nothing? Oh, only about five. Thousand.

  And then, when it came time to leave, Cassandra took off her microphone, graciously said good-bye to the starstruck crew, and made her grand exit, hounded by paparazzi all the way to her car. Only two of them stuck around to follow Carmen.

  18

  GOING ROGUE

  By the time Kate found parking, she was over an hour late for shooting the latest installment of Operation Eliminate Stage Fright. She could see the PopTV van parked outside of Ocean Park Hypnotherapy, and a small knot of bystanders had gathered, trying to figure out what was being filmed. The PAs stuck with the standard “we’re shooting a mayonnaise commercial” answer to avoid crowds. She had on her new pair of sunglasses, so she was able to slip past them unrecognized.

  Laurel and the PopTV crew were in the waiting room, which was decorated with giant crystals and pastel paintings of beaches at sunset. Their expressions ranged from bored to annoyed.

  “Kate,” Laurel said sternly, standing up with her hands on her hips. “Your call time was an hour ago. I’ve been calling you. Do you not have your phone on you?”

  Kate stopped short. When had Laurel become such a schoolmarm? “Um. It’s on silent. I had a hard time finding a parking spot.”

  Laurel took a sip of coffee, grimaced, and then said, “And you expect me to believe that you were driving around for an entire hour looking for one? Why wouldn’t you just call me? I could have had a PA find you a spot.”

  “Well, I might have gotten a slightly late start, and there was crazy traffic on the 10,” Kate admitted. She tried to scoot around Laurel. She hated to be reprimanded; it made her feel nervous and itchy.

  Laurel stopped her. “Look, I don’t want to have to talk to you this way, but this is your job, Kate, and it costs us thousands of dollars if people don’t show up. Next time you wake up late? Call and let me know.”

  Kate shrugged her off. “So I screwed up,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “The role of Fame Game screwup has already been taken by Gaby,” Laurel said drily. “Though being late is not actually one of her flaws. Don’t let it become one of yours.”

  Kate felt like this lecture of Laurel’s had gone on long enough. “I said I was sorry. I’m tired. So give me a break, all right?” She tossed her purse down onto a side table; it gaped open and a Luna Bar wrapper fell out. Rather than picking it up, she kicked it under a chair. She was annoyed that she had to tape this hypnotherapy episode—hadn’t the yoga and the acupuncture and the EFT BS been enough?

  Kate knew the answer to that, of course: No, they hadn’t. Trevor was going to make the most of Kate’s stage fright, turning a liability into a dramatic bonus. He’d film her performance at the El Rey tonight—which, thanks to the Xanax, would go great—and make it seem as if all this woo-woo crap had fixed what ailed her.

  But Kate knew what really worked: pills. She and Drew had gone to an open mic the other night in secret, and Kate had rocked it: three songs played to perfection and a standing ovation (well, half of one, since some audience members were too cool to get up from their seats). She’d never played that well in front of a crowd in her entire life.

  She couldn’t wait to tell Trevor that she was cured, but as it turned out, she didn’t even get the chance. Someone had posted a video of her on a local arts and culture blog, along with a glowing write-up of her performance. (Kate Hayes: dreamy lovechild of Carole King and James Taylor with some Katy Perry pop chromosomes mixed in?). And Trevor, whose spies had seen the article immediately (damn you, Google alert!), had been as annoyed as he was pleased. He was glad his star wasn’t going to die of a heart attack before a performance, but he didn’t like having to play catch-up. He didn’t like his girls going rogue.

  But Kate was getting tired of being at Trevor’s beck and call. Sure, he’d finally let her quit Stecco, but then he’d forced her into these stupid therapy sessions. And what about the dates she kept having to go on? Lately it seemed like every day Laurel sent her another email with a photo attached: What do you think of this guy? she’d write. Cute, right? He knows how to play
bass! Or He grew up in Indiana! Or He’s addicted to sushi, too! As if any of that mattered.

  Last night’s date had been some aspiring model who Trevor had met at his gym. The guy was cute, and the date was fine, but Kate definitely didn’t feel a connection with him. Nor had she felt one with the previous two guys, either. When she’d mentioned this to Trevor, he’d only shrugged. “Well, there’s more where they came from. Besides, even a bad date makes for good TV.”

  Which made Kate wonder: Did Trevor have a Rolodex of hot, single guys? And if he did, wasn’t that a little weird? Sure, she really could have used that back when she was looking for a prom date, but right now, she sort of wished he’d stop pushing the whole dating thing. Especially since some of the guys were a little strange. It almost felt like Trevor was sending her on dates he assumed would fail because he thought they’d be more entertaining.

  Laurel reached down and picked up the Luna Bar wrapper. “You dropped this,” she said.

  “Oh, you can throw it away,” Kate said breezily. “I don’t need it.” Then she gave Laurel a small, insincere smile that said Lecture me all you want, but don’t forget who’s the talent and who’s the crew here.

  Laurel narrowed her eyes. “Be careful,” she said.

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” Kate answered. “I’m great. I’m ready to go. Let’s get this show on the road!” She clapped her hands sharply, startling the camera guy. She laughed. “Sorry!” She was starting to have a little bit of fun. She hoped Barry, the hypnotherapist, wouldn’t make her too calm, because she was enjoying her newfound edge.

  The El Rey was bigger than Kate had expected, and everything—walls, carpet, seats, booths—was brilliant bloodred. A giant chandelier glittered above them, sending out sparks of light that danced around the room. Kate gripped Drew’s elbow, giddy with excitement. “Wow. I feel like I’ve time-traveled back to the 1930s,” she said. “This place is so cool.”

  “I know, it’s awesome, right? I love Art Deco. Carmen and I used to come here to see shows in high school all the time.”

  Kate was too nervous to wonder what qualified as “all the time.” Or if any of these shows had felt sort of like dates to Carmen or Drew. But anyway, she reminded herself, Drew was talking about high school. That was all of … well, less than a year ago for Carmen.

  Drew pointed them toward the sound technician, a pale, long-haired guy mostly hidden behind giant monitors. “Here—you have to meet Joe. He’s going to make you sound amazing.”

  Kate shook Joe’s cold hand. He looked as if he’d never set foot outside. Like he spent his days in a basement, listening to heavy metal, and his nights running sound inside the all-ages club.

  “So you’re the opener, huh?” Joe asked, sounding friendly but unimpressed.

  “The opener for the opener, actually,” Kate admitted.

  Joe nodded, now looking even less impressed. “Everyone starts somewhere,” he offered.

  Drew put his arm around Kate’s shoulders. “She’s going to the top,” he said. “You’re going to be able to say, ‘I knew her when …’”

  “Oh, yeah, man,” Joe said.

  Kate couldn’t tell if he meant it or not (and she ought to assume he didn’t), but she flushed anyway.

  “All right,” Drew said. “Nice to see you again, dude. We’re heading backstage.”

  “Right on,” Joe said, and flashed them a peace sign.

  Kate followed Drew down the edge of the long, red room to a door that led backstage. “Do you think he liked me?” she asked. “Do you think he thinks I’m a one-hit wonder?”

  “No, of course not. But he’s a pro. Even if he hated your guts, he’ll still make sure you sound amazing.” He paused before the door leading backstage. “This used to be a movie theater, you know,” he said, motioning her in. “Crazy that I saw Lana Del Rey play here last week, and tonight I’m going to see you.”

  Kate gulped. “Right!” she said, trying to sound brave. It was definitely time for her Xanax. Because that whole hypnotherapy thing she’d done earlier? That was a load of crap.

  Backstage, it was dim and cluttered. “When’s sound check?” Kate asked, leaning Lucinda against the wall and reaching into her purse for the little blue pill.

  “In a minute,” Drew said. “Relax, why don’t you?”

  Kate smiled and sat down on top of a speaker. “I’m trying,” she said, knowing the pill she’d just swallowed would help. But she wanted to stay just a bit nervous: It would keep her on her toes.

  When Joe was ready, the headlining band did their sound check. It was some Canadian group she’d never heard of, but obviously they were bigger than she was since it was their name on the marquee, not hers. After listening to them for a few minutes she’d decided that at least they weren’t as terrible as The Faze. Next came the opening indie duo—a guy on a guitar and a girl on a violin—and they did their sound check. When it was Kate’s turn, she got all of three minutes: She had time to plug her guitar into the amp, check to see that the sound came through the monitors, and make sure she could adjust the mike stand.

  “Joe didn’t give me much time up there,” she said to Drew when she stepped offstage.

  He nodded sympathetically. “Don’t worry. When you headline, you’ll have all the time in the world.”

  She scoffed at that. Her days as a headliner were still a long ways off.

  Before Kate knew it, it was time to go on. She waited for a moment, hidden behind the heavy red curtain, and then watched as it opened to reveal a room crowded with people. She felt her heart flutter, but—just as she’d expected—there was no hard knot of panic. She offered a small smile, and then began to play.

  She played six songs, two of them brand-new, and she didn’t forget a single word, didn’t flub a single chord. The audience sang along to “Starstruck,” and a lot of them seemed to have heard her YouTube version of “Lost in Love,” too, because she definitely wasn’t the only one singing the chorus.

  When it was over, the audience applauded thunderously, and Drew gave her a giant hug.

  “I knew you’d be awesome,” he said.

  “I didn’t mess up,” she said happily, hardly daring to believe it. “Oh my God, I love you, Dr. Garrison.”

  “Huh?” Drew asked.

  “Oh, nothing, never mind,” Kate said. “I’m starving. Can we please go get a burger?”

  Drew patted his stomach. “Of course,” he said.

  Gaby came running up to her and gave her a big hug. “Kate! Oh my God, you were amazing!”

  Jay gave Drew what Kate referred to as a “bro handshake” then said to Kate, “Way to go, Kate Hayes. You didn’t choke this time.”

  Drew gave her a look that said, Yes, this guy is the douchiest of douche bags. Then he grabbed Kate’s hand and squeezed it. “We’ve gotta head out.”

  “Where are you guys going?” Gaby asked.

  Kate would have told her, but she’d bring Jay along, which would definitely ruin her celebratory mood. So instead she pretended as if she hadn’t heard the question. “Thanks so much for coming, Gab,” Kate said as she let Drew pull her away from them. “See you soon, okay?”

  As they made their way out of the El Rey, Kate was suddenly mobbed by teenage girls. All of them were clamoring for her autograph, and as she signed their little books, they took pictures and begged her to follow them on Twitter.

  Drew hovered protectively by her side, and after the frenzy had gone on for while, he gently drew her away. “Thanks, girls,” he called, waving. “Kate Hayes loves you!”

  Kate turned back to the knot of giggling girls. “I do!” she yelled and waved over her shoulder. Then she looked up at Drew and smiled. She couldn’t tell if she was more exhausted or exhilarated. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

  19

  A NEW LEAF

  On Monday morning, Madison skipped the ninety-minute beauty ritual she’d been performing every day for as long as she could remember. Instead she washed
her face and smoothed on a bit of tinted moisturizer. She applied two thin coats of mascara and slicked the barest hint of pale pink gloss on her lips. Then she pulled her long blond hair back into a simple, loose ponytail.

  Traffic on the 405 was strangely light, and she got to Lost Paws twenty minutes early. She was sitting on the steps, sipping her green tea and watching the seagulls peck at a mound of old French fries, when Ryan arrived.

  An odd look came over his handsome face. “Welcome back,” he said. He glanced at his watch. “Turning over a new leaf?”

  She smiled politely at him, ignoring the implied insult of her past performance. No, she wasn’t going to take the bait, and she wasn’t going to bitch or whine. She was simply going to do her work and go home, and then come back tomorrow and do it all again. Today, she hoped, would be a day free of drama.

  Possibly her first. Ever.

  Ryan stepped past her and unlocked the doors, and she followed him inside. The smell of pee was, by this time, familiar to her. She hardly even noticed it anymore.

  “I’ll go ahead and get started,” she said, “if you want to tell me what I’m doing today.”

  “We have a bunch of dogs who need a flea bath,” Ryan said. “How’s that sound?”

  Of course, he didn’t actually care how it sounded to her at all; she understood that. “Sounds fine,” she said. “Show me the way.”

  He looked at her quizzically once more and shook his head. “Come on, then.”

  Madison spent the morning hosing down, soaping up, then rinsing off shivering dog after shivering dog. She was bitten twice, peed on once, and shed upon constantly. Her clothes were ruined. The wellies that Ryan had given her were full of water. Even with gloves on, she could feel her hands burning from the chemicals in the flea shampoo. But she didn’t make a single complaint. (If only the PopTV cameras could see her now!)