The Fame Game, Starstruck, Infamous: 3 book Collection

“Oh, and why would I think that?” Madison asked. “You’ve had years to try to find me, and now when I’ve got my third show and some money in the bank this is the first time you try to contact me? You want me to believe it’s coincidental?”

“The first time?” Charlie looked from Madison to Sophie in confusion. “This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to contact you.”

Madison held up a hand. “Save it. No phone calls, no visits, not even a fucking birthday card—”

Charlie paled. “You didn’t get my letters?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, honey, I sent them every month at least. I never missed, except for that month I was in the hospital with pneumonia. That time I only managed a postcard.”

Madison stared at him. And then she turned toward Sophie, who looked genuinely clueless, too. Their dad was a liar and a deadbeat, and she knew he would say anything right now to win her over, which he’d obviously already managed with Sophie. But this was cruel. “Well I never got any letters.”

“Is he in there?” Madison demanded. The girl sitting at the desk outside Trevor’s office opened her mouth, but Madison didn’t pause for her answer. She strode past her, toward the closed double doors. She was not to be screwed with. Not like this, and not on national TV. No sir, she was not getting paid enough for this Wardell family shitshow.

“I’m sorry.” The assistant jumped up from her chair and raced around her desk toward Madison. “But you can’t just go in there, you can’t—”

“Like hell I can’t.” Madison shoved the door open.

Trevor’s back was turned. He was gazing out one of his giant windows, his Bluetooth blinking in his ear.

“How dare you pull that shit with me?” she started. “You want to make me a laughingstock? ‘Poor little Madelyn Wardell with her ex-con father and drunken mother and psycho sister.’ That is low, Trevor, even for you.”

“Joe, can I call you back?” Trevor asked mildly. He watched Madison as she stood there fuming. “Great, talk to you later.” He clicked off.

“You’re using me,” she barreled on. “I told you I’d go to that stupid audition for you, but my past is not some toy for you to play with, and it isn’t something I want dragged out in front of all of America. Didn’t we go over this with L.A. Candy? I am not Madelyn Wardell. I am Madison Parker. My family is not at your disposal whenever you feel like a ratings boost.”

Trevor smiled at her. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to a leather armchair. “Take a breath, Madison.”

She shook her head. She was going to remain standing, thank you. She was going to make Trevor understand that what he’d done was wrong. For one, it was an emotional ambush. For two, it reminded people that she was not the upmarket, uptown glamour girl she seemed to be, but instead, the ambitious, self-promoting daughter of upstate New York trailer trash.

“It’s one thing to bring back Sophie,” Madison said. “But my, my—” She absolutely couldn’t get her lips to wrap around the word “dad.”

Trevor shrugged. “You wanted to be the star of The Fame Game, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Well, guess what? The star has to be surprised.” He ambled toward his desk, that infuriating, mild smile still on his face. As if he had not a care in the world, he sank slowly into his chair and looked up at Madison. “Surprise,” he said.

Madison turned toward the window that overlooked Santa Monica. She felt the anger begin to deflate in her chest. Why did he always have to be right about these things? “You did this to Jane,” Madison said, shaking her head. “Of course.” And, ironically (and oh-so-fittingly), many of the surprises that Jane Roberts had faced were those that Madison herself helped create. How was that for karma?

“Makes for great ratings,” Trevor said. “I don’t have to tell you that, Madison. We don’t even have the footage back, but I know already that this episode—with you and your long-lost dad—will be one of our biggest. This story arc . . . Well, I couldn’t have written it better.” He pressed his fingers together under his chin, looking very pleased with himself.

But this is my life, Madison wanted to say. It’s more than just a story arc to me!

“This is how these shows work,” Trevor went on, his voice smooth and oily. “It’s a foolproof format. Find one seemingly sane girl and surround her with a whole lot of crazy. You want to be the star? You have to be the victim, too. Look, you’ve had a great year. You rebounded from the L.A. Candy finale. And, lawsuit aside, Madison’s Makeovers was a success. You’ve got thousands of fans, Madison. And they don’t just love to hate you anymore. They actually love you. Take advantage of that.”

Madison closed her eyes. Take advantage of it? Trevor wanted her to use her ugly past to create her perfect future. Was that even possible?

“Look,” Trevor said. He got up again and came over to place his arm on Madison’s shoulder. “You just worry about looking good. Let me worry about the story lines. I promised you’d come out on top, didn’t I?”

Madison nodded. The rage that she’d felt had disappeared, and now all that was left was confusion. And sadness.

“Well, do you trust me or not?” He gave her a little squeeze.

Without meaning to, Madison flinched. Knowing Trevor as well as she did, she could answer that question with two words: Definitely not.

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“What about these?” Madison asked, thrusting a pair of slim, indigo jeans in Kate’s direction. “These are J Brand.”

They were in American Rag, the first stop on their scheduled shopping spree, which Kate now knew was also step one in a Kate makeover plotline, although that wasn’t exactly how the day was panning out. The cameras had filmed Madison modeling a spangly frock and a pair of Rochas leopard-spotted mules, then a silky Chloé jumpsuit with strappy gold sandals. According to Laurel’s texts, it was time for Kate to do a little shopping herself.

IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR MAKEOVER, REMEMBER? Laurel had written. HAVE SOME FUN.

Kate took a few steps closer to inspect the jeans. The wash was so dark it was almost black. She touched the seam lightly, then saw the price tag. “Oh my God,” she said. “They’re like two hundred dollars.”

“I know! They’re a steal!” Madison repeated, brushing a golden lock of hair from her face impatiently.

“But they’re just jeans,” Kate said.

Madison barked out a laugh. “You’re so funny, Kate.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” she said, turning to look at a pretty printed blouse. The price tag on it was a mere $135. A bargain!

Madison came around the rack of clothes and snatched the blouse away from Kate. “No prints,” she said firmly. “Not yet. We’re going to start with the classics, but updated, with a twist.”

“You sound like Lucky magazine.”

“Mmmm,” Madison replied. She was distracted, thumbing through the racks of shirts and skirts. “I actually consider leopard print to be a neutral,” she mused, more to herself than Kate. “And you’re supposed to be sort of a rocker. . . .”

Kate hadn’t ever thought of herself as a rocker, that was for sure. But she didn’t protest. She took a long, fuzzy sweater off the rack and held it up. It was cream-colored and impossibly soft, and Kate could imagine curling up in it on her couch. She pressed it to her cheek. It felt like a teddy bear.

“Gaaah,” cried Madison, snatching it away. “What is this? A Snuggie?” She tossed it onto the padded daybed in the corner of the shop.

“But it’s a neutral,” Kate pointed out.

“It looks like a potato sack,” Madison said. “You’re not buying it.”

“Okay,” Kate said meekly. She decided not to touch anything else. She’d just let Madison, who was clearly the expert, handle the selections.

She was actually kind of enjoying herself, though. She was drinking a delicious chai latte, it was a lovely July day, and she was relaxed from the pedicure they’d gotten before the shopping began in earnest. Madison was being bossy, but in a helpful way, and frankly it was about time someone got Kate to shop somewhere besides the Gap. If Trevor thought the world would want to see a nice Midwestern girl go Hollywood fashionista, well, she was reasonably happy to oblige him.

“Just get me stuff that I can wash,” she called to Madison. “I don’t want to have to deal with dry cleaners.”

Madison looked up over the racks of clothes just long enough to roll her eyes.

Kate snickered. No one would ever accuse Madison of not having an opinion.