Charlie shook his head. “Oh no, honey, not like that, no. I was living here, trying to decide whether to change my name and run, or be with my daughters, or give myself up, or what. But then I saw the necklace and it all became clear to me. It was a way out.”
“I don’t suppose you stopped to think what it would mean for me,” Madison snapped. “How it would ruin my reputation. How I’d be the one to clean up your mess. Just like I did when you left us years ago.” She could feel her fists clenching. She wanted to stay cool, but it was impossible. She was so damn tired of being abandoned by her father.
“Maddy, you have to believe me when I say I had no idea the trouble I was causing. I honestly thought insurance would cover the necklace. I never would have done it if I knew . . .”
Charlie put his head in his hands. He was silent, and his shoulders shook.
He’s crying, Madison thought. The bastard is actually crying.
Ryan reached over and placed his hand over her clenched fist. “He’s trying to do right,” he whispered. “You mean the world to him, and you always have.”
“He has the worst way of showing it,” Madison said back, not caring if Charlie heard. She hoped that if she let her anger out, she could be done with it.
The doorbell rang again, and Ryan shot her a wary, almost nervous look. “I also told Sophia he was coming,” he admitted.
Madison pulled her hand away. “God,” she said, “you don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“He’s her father, too,” Ryan said gently. “She loves him. He loves her. Don’t you think she deserves to be here?”
Madison sighed and got up to let her sister in, praying that she hadn’t brought the cameras with her. Ryan had told Madison that he was working through his fear of publicity—he realized how quickly the attention went away, how small his story was compared to the big world of celebrity news—but she didn’t think he was ready for the PopTV crew. And nor was she. Not today.
She opened the door and braced herself for the onslaught. But it was only Sophie, who immediately rushed past her, arms outstretched, calling “Daddy, Daddy!”
She practically threw herself at Charlie’s feet. “Oh, I missed you so much. You have no idea how hard it’s been for us.”
Madison rolled her eyes to the ceiling and then nudged her sister with her foot. Not gently. “Get up, Soph,” she said. “You didn’t bring the cameras, so you can save the Oscar-worthy performance.”
Sophie looked up at Madison with narrowed eyes and then turned back to her father. “We really have been desperate for news.”
Charlie reached out and smoothed Sophie’s hair from her face. “I missed you, honey,” he said. “I thought about you every day.”
Madison sat back down at the table. “Maybe you could have sent another postcard,” she said pointedly.
“Hey, you guys are all together now,” Ryan said in an attempt to keep everyone positive. “Let’s take a second to appreciate that. A reunion.”
Sophie was still half on Charlie’s lap, but Charlie didn’t take his eyes off Madison. “Honey, I will spend the rest of my life regretting the hardship I’ve caused you. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make things better.” He wiped a tear from his cheek. “I want to be a part of your life. Please, please, will you let me?”
Madison didn’t say anything right away. She’d heard him say things like this before. Would she be a fool to believe him this time?
Yes, she would.
But she knew she was probably going to do it anyway.
She felt a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “If you want to be my dad,” she said, “you need to act like it. No more stealing. Ever. For one thing, it’s illegal, and for another, you’re horrible at it. Seriously.”
“I’ll tell everyone I took the necklace,” he said.
“No!” Madison cried. “What’s done is done.” She wondered if Charlie understood anything. She couldn’t go back to the press and admit she’d lied. It would ruin everything. She’d lied under oath! “It’s all been taken care of, so we leave it alone now.”
Charlie nodded. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“And another thing,” Madison said. “Family is not about running away. It’s about being there for people.” She looked over at Ryan, who was nodding.
She realized, maybe for the first time, how much he had been there for her. How, when they were together, he had been her family. She reached out and took his hand, wrapping her fingers through his. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
And when Ryan smiled at her, she leaned over the table and kissed him on the cheek.
It startled him, she could tell. But that was all right. She thought there was a chance they’d figure things out.
27
A BRIGHT SIDE TO EVERYTHING
Carmen had arrived early for her audition for Jordan Becker’s new movie, feeling confident and excited. Her agent had already had a promising off-the-record chat with the director. Supposedly Jordan thought Carmen could be the perfect rebellious teenage daughter of Maryn Wright and Tom Wade. Supposedly he’d been wanting to work with her ever since he’d seen her in The Long and Winding Road.
Carmen had needed good news like this to counteract the depressing realization of Fawn’s betrayal. For months (months!) her alleged bestie had Jimmy Landis on speed dial so she could feed him gossip. Carmen couldn’t believe how someone so close to her—and someone who still owed her, big time, for Tanktopgate—could be so cruel.
And then there was Lily. Turns out her only betrayal was telling Fawn about Carmen’s supposed interest in Jonah Byrne of Sadly Sarah. Carmen had frozen her out for no reason, and the poor thing probably still didn’t know why.
Laurel had been unsurprised when Carmen revealed that Fawn was the source of all the bizarre and false information. “Personally, I always thought she seemed a little backstabby,” Laurel had said.
“But why? I don’t get it,” Carmen had said.
“Who knows? But I’ll do a little digging,” Laurel promised. “Maybe we can get to the bottom of it.”
And Carmen had thanked her profusely, feeling guilty for ever having wondered if Laurel was the source of the intel.
Now, as the time for her audition approached, Carmen steeled herself. No more thoughts of Fawn, she told herself. Think only of the awesome role you’re about to get.
The cameras were ready now. “Speed,” called the sound guy. “Action,” called someone else.
And Carmen, with a clear and optimistic mind, began to walk. The PopTV cameras filmed her entering the studio and meeting Jordan. He had a very firm handshake and a warm smile. She couldn’t believe that he’d allowed PopTV to film. Should she take that as another sign of his confidence in her? Surely he wouldn’t want to appear on TV with an actress he didn’t respect. . . .
Carmen was going to read opposite two of his assistants, who would be reading the roles of Maryn, Tom, and assorted other bit players. It felt informal this way—almost like auditioning for her high school plays. Of course there were cameras all over, but she was used to them.
Carmen’s dad liked to talk about how he could hear less than five seconds of a band’s music and simply know they’d be a hit. It was like some sixth sense, he’d say—a secret voice whispering, These guys have it.
That morning, Carmen heard that secret voice whispering in her ear. It said, You’re going to nail this. And because of this, Carmen sat up straighter. Her voice projected louder. She became Stella Wray, the bright, troubled daughter of a dancer and an architect. Even though the assistants did a terrible job of reading their lines, Carmen hit every single one of hers. She felt so good about her performance she wanted to act out the whole movie right then and there.
When Jordan said that he’d seen enough, Carmen turned to him and smiled a megawatt smile. She couldn’t help it—she was suddenly elated.
This was what she wanted. A smart drama, with indie credibility and Hollywood money, s
tarring two of her favorite actors. If she got the role, she might just die of happiness.
“I’ll be talking to you soon,” Jordan said, enfolding her hand with his. “I have a good feeling about this.”
And Carmen did, too.
She felt like she was floating as she made her way to her car. PopTV made sure to capture her cheerful exit, complete with a few hopeful, optimistic looks directed toward the movie studio’s giant logo. (Carmen wondered what music Trevor would pick for those shots—Kate’s new song “Gonna Make It”? Or something that had climbed a little higher on the charts? She’d have to remember to watch the episode to find out.) Then she handed her mike pack to Laurel and waved good-bye for the day.
Safe in her car, Carmen pulled out her phone. Now that her career felt like it was getting back on track, she had some personal business to attend to.
First, she texted Lily. It was time to clear the air between the two of them. Past time, in fact; Carmen should have called her the moment she saw Jimmy’s name on Fawn’s screen. But she hadn’t: She’d spent too much time feeling sorry for herself over the bad press and the Drew situation.
She vowed she would make it up to Lily. She’d hook her up with new clients—starting with Cassandra (who needed a backup when her longtime makeup artist was unavailable). Meanwhile, the awful Fawn would be stuck doing voice-overs for feminine hygiene commercials until the end of time.
SORRY, CRAZY BUSY LATELY, Carmen texted. WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU SOON. LET’S TALK! BRUNCH?
Carmen took a deep breath. Now it was time to reach out to Luke. Face-to-face—to the degree that was possible when an ocean separated them. She reapplied her lipstick and ran her fingers through her shining hair before dialing his number. Then she set the phone on the dash and waited for him to pick up.
After a few rings, he did. His face was pixilated at first, and then it resolved into handsome clarity. “Hey, what a surprise,” he said. She couldn’t read his expression at all.
“Hey, yourself,” she said. Carmen took another long, deep breath. “Listen, I know we’ve sort of talked about this already, but I wanted to say again how sorry I am about the whole Drew mess. It was such a little thing—I don’t know how it turned into such a big deal.”
Luke smiled faintly. “I’ll admit I was hurt when I read about it. But I also know that I’m thousands of miles away, and I can’t expect you to be waiting for me—”
“But you can,” Carmen interrupted. “I mean, I don’t want to date Drew. I don’t want to date anyone but—” She was going to say “you,” but apparently it was Luke’s turn to interrupt.
“Well, actually,” Luke said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.” He looked away for a moment, and Carmen saw his strong profile on her screen. Then he turned back and met her eyes. “I’ve actually started seeing someone here,” he said.
Carmen gasped. “What?” Then immediately she tried to play it cool. “You are, huh? Wow, okay. Who is it?”
“My costar,” Luke said. “Antonia David.”
“Who?”
Luke didn’t seem to hear the question. “Neither of us were looking for anything, but then suddenly we really hit it off.” He shrugged helplessly. “I know you and I left things sort of . . . up in the air, and of course I’d never want to hurt you . . .” He trailed off.
Carmen honestly didn’t know how she felt, although she was definitely leaning toward hurt and insulted. But she didn’t want Luke to know that. “Wow, okay, no, that’s great, I’m really happy for you, totally,” she said. The words tumbled over themselves. She suddenly regretted calling him on FaceTime. She knew her expression wasn’t matching her words. (Apparently, when it came to life, Carmen wasn’t quite as good an actress.) “I mean, it’s not like we can actually date when we’re across the world from each other.” She laughed, but to her it sounded hollow.
“I really think you’re great, Carmen,” Luke said.
She nodded. “Sure, of course.” Just not great enough, she thought. Not as great, say, as Antonia David. Carmen didn’t even know who Antonia David was. She made a mental note to Google stalk this chick later.
She flipped her hair back and offered Luke a bright smile. “Well, I should get going,” she said. “Places to go, people to see . . .”
Luke smiled back. Was there a hint of sadness in it? Carmen wished there was, but she sort of didn’t think so. “Take care of yourself, love,” he said.
As she drove toward her apartment, Carmen began to cry. The day had started out so perfectly, and then Luke had to go and ruin it. It wasn’t even that she loved him, or was waiting for him to come back to her (not really)—but rejection sucked. There were no two ways about it.
She pulled down the photo-booth strip of the two of them that she had tucked into the visor and tossed it onto the floor. She would delete his number as soon as she got home. (She should have done it immediately, but now she was driving, and she wasn’t risking an accident or ticket over that on-set floozy.) She thought of his cute little place in Venice and wished that all of his plants would die.
A week ago she would have called Fawn, but that backstabber was on the do-not-call list, probably for the rest of her life. Carmen could have tried Lily again, but since she iced her out without telling her why, it would seem a little weird to barrage her with texts and phone calls. (But why hadn’t Lily responded to the text she’d sent? Lily kept her iPhone charged and on her person constantly, and her normal response time was about ten nanoseconds.) Carmen bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t ruined things with her, too.
At least Carmen and Kate had patched things up, thanks to Madison’s intervention. (Carmen was still marveling over that unexpected turn of events.) But she didn’t want to test their shaky friendship by calling to complain about Kate’s ex. And since Carmen hadn’t seen Drew walking around in a towel for weeks, and all her leftovers had remained untouched, she had to wonder if things weren’t a little off with Krew lately.
She tried to reassure herself that none of this was her fault. This was a crazy, high-pressure life, and not everyone was cut out for it. She remembered Drew’s reaction when she first told him about being approached by Trevor Lord. Drew had said it was a bad idea, and that Carmen was “above” reality TV.
She wasn’t “above” anything, she’d argued. A TV network thought she was interesting enough to feature on a major show—how was that anything but flattering? She wanted to make her own way, and The Fame Game had seemed like a great way to do it. And it was! But sometimes it seemed like living this sort of second life had swept away all her real friends. And at the same time, it had made her wonder: If they were so quick to go, were they real friends in the first place?
Carmen pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building, tired but still agitated. She decided that a quick soak in the hot tub would make her feel better. Maybe she could persuade Kate to come sit by the pool with her and share a glass of wine. (There were probably a hundred people living in Park Towers, yet no one but the Fame Game girls ever seemed to use the pool. It was weird, but Carmen liked it that way.)
She was walking up to the entrance when a figure stepped out from behind one of the giant potted palms. Carmen flinched—was it Kate’s stalker again? She thought he’d moved on!
But, no, it was Fawn, with a desperate look on her face. “Carmen,” she began, “I’m so sorry. I can explain—”
Carmen glared at her. “I really don’t want to talk to you.” She’d hear the explanation—if there was one—from Laurel.
“Please, Carm,” Fawn said. “Just listen to me.”
“There’s literally nothing you can say that I want to hear,” Carmen said coldly. “Now please leave. This is private property, and you are trespassing.” When Fawn made no move to go, Carmen added, “I’ll go get security. They’re playing cards in my apartment.” It wasn’t true anymore, but what Fawn didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
And then she swept past Fawn and headed for the elevator. Sh
e didn’t have to turn around to know that Fawn was leaving. As the doors closed she watched Fawn’s car pulling away.
Good riddance, she thought. Then she smiled, thinking of tampons dancing the Macarena, and the last words she’d ever hear from Fawn: Who says your period can’t be fun?
28
THAT IS GENIUS
Trevor had delivered the notice earlier that morning. Stephen Marsh: the last producer hired and the first to be fired. Trevor was never certain it would work out with Stephen—after all, he’d been hired as a favor to Trevor’s boss—but he certainly couldn’t have predicted the mess Stephen would get himself into in a matter of months.
His less-than-impressive job performance aside, he was actually sleeping with a member of the cast.
“No points for guessing who,” Trevor had said to Laurel.
“The blond sociopath,” Laurel said.
At that, Trevor had laughed mirthlessly. Laurel loved to remind him of the other fun news he’d gotten recently: Sophia’s personality test results had come in, and she was somewhere between borderline personality disorder and histrionic personality disorder.
In layman’s terms, she was either bat-shit crazy, or utterly desperate, or both. Trevor had nodded as he read; yes, this diagnosis certainly explained some things.
He had decided to wash his hands of her, too. With Gaby back on track (mostly) and her parents dispatched back to their McMansion, Trevor was relieved to not have to hunt for an additional cast member. In fact, Gaby’s story line was getting bigger and more interesting. He’d finally gotten her an audition for Dancing with the Stars, and he was already filming her practicing. She was surprisingly talented—and unexpectedly dedicated. She’d practiced for five hours straight the other day. And while she might have been slipping with her sobriety recently, her commitment to dancing had nipped that potential problem in the bud. Trevor also had gotten her into a new therapy group, at her parents’ insistence, which was probably helpful, too. How he wished he could film that!
Fame Game 03: Infamous Page 16