The Fame Game, Starstruck, Infamous: 3 book Collection

Another surprise? She’d be reading with Luke Kelly, who was looking gorgeously ragged as Roman, her character’s love interest. They hadn’t talked since the night at Whisper, but apparently he had the role sewn up. She wasn’t sure what happened with Luke and Kate last week, but if Kate wasn’t interested, maybe Carmen could have a little fun with him. She’d made out with him one night a few months ago and wouldn’t mind doing it again. He smiled at her as she sat down, so nervous at first that her palms were icy and damp. “Bryn’s going to have nothing on you, mate,” he’d whispered.

She had hoped he was right.

And, as it turned out, he was.

“I mean, I could be crazy,” Carmen said, fiddling with the straw in her iced coffee. “Maybe I totally sucked.”

Luke shook his head. “No. You were amazing. Seriously, I had chills.”

“Oh please,” Carmen snorted. “They just had the AC up too high. Did you see my goose bumps?”

“Hey now,” Luke said, nudging her elbow playfully. “You can talk about how great you were, but then when I try to back you up you pretend like I’m full of shit? That’s low, Curtis.”

She laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “You know us actors. We’re all crazy.”

“Speak for yourself,” Luke said, feigning offense. “You’re the one with a reality show, which is its own special brand of crazy, right? I’m as sane as they come.”

“Whatever you say.” Out of the corner of her eye, Carmen could see a couple of girls staring openmouthed at Luke, trying to decide if he was in fact Doctor Rose, from Boston General. She wasn’t offended in the slightest that they didn’t seem to recognize her; in fact she preferred it that way. Carmen had always found it exhausting to be stared at by strangers. If it went on too long—whether it was in a grocery store or on a red carpet—she always felt the urge to run home and jump in the shower. Which, she knew, made her recent career choices somewhat suspect. “Don’t look now,” she said, “but I think you have some fans.”

Luke hunched his shoulders a little, as if this could shield him from their adoring gazes. “Are they coming over here?”

Carmen shook her head. “Don’t think so. They look kind of shy. I think they’re tourists.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m not up for it today. Can you frown at them a little? Look, I don’t know, possessive and intimidating?”

“I could kiss you again,” Carmen offered. “A little Roman and Julia reprise.”

“Uh—” Luke said, looking uncertain.

“What?” she demanded. “It’s not like we’ve never kissed before. Was it so horrible that you can’t bear to—?”

“No, no. Not at all. It’s just . . .”

“Wait! Oh my God, you’re blushing. You like someone!” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it happily. Her own love life was nonexistent, so she might as well live vicariously. (Making out with him would have to be strictly professional then.) “Tell me this instant or I will break your finger.”

Luke hesitated, then spoke. “That friend of yours. Kate.”

Carmen sat back and crossed her arms. “Shut. Up.”

Luke shrugged. “She hasn’t said anything to you?”

Carmen shook her head.

“Maybe I kept her too busy this week. What can I say? We hit it off. She’s down-to-earth. She’s talented. She’s totally not a typical Hollywood girl. And she’s beautiful, too, but she doesn’t seem to have any idea. Which I appreciate.”

“I will overlook the fact that she didn’t tell me and just be excited. Oh, this is awesome!” Carmen clapped her hands, genuinely thrilled. “I love her, and I totally put you guys together! You can just call me Carmen Cupid Curtis.”

Luke laughed. “All right, Carmen Cupid Curtis. How do you know her, anyway?”

Carmen looked at him in surprise. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Carmen was chewing an ice cube, and Luke tapped his fingers impatiently until she could speak again. “She’s on The Fame Game with me,” she said.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared under his dark bangs. “You’re kidding,” he said. “Wow.” He scratched at the scruff on his chin, looking confused and slightly perturbed. “Why didn’t she tell me that?”

“I don’t know,” Carmen admitted. “Shyness? Embarrassment? Midwestern reticence?” She poked him with her straw. “You don’t mind, though, right?” she asked.

Luke thought about this for a minute. “No,” he said finally. “I guess I don’t. But I still think it’s kind of weird that she didn’t say anything.”

“Fine,” Carmen said. “It’s weird. But so is a platypus.”

Luke shot her a look. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Carmen laughed and reached out to pinch his cheek. She was pretty convinced that Luke was really no slicker than Kate when it came down to it. They could be wide-eyed foreigners in L.A. together, making a successful go of it but being slightly baffled the whole time. “I’m just saying, what seems weird to you seems fine to someone else. No doubt the platypus thinks a kitten looks totally bizarre.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” Luke said. “Did they put something illegal in your coffee?”

Carmen grinned. She was feeling punchy but it was from her post-audition adrenaline. “Nope. Just high on life. But hey, let’s get out of here. I need to hit the gym, and you, Doctor Rose, have got a few autographs to sign.” She paused. “And Kates to kiss. Get it? You know, Kiss Me, Kate?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “You are crazy,” he said.

Carmen sighed dramatically. “Yes, but you love me anyway.”

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Madison wanted to know which PopTV genius had the idea to film at Santa Monica Pier, that tacky, run-down tourist trap jutting into the Pacific Ocean. Was Trevor trying to torture her by sending her to a place with gross food and grosser people? Or had he farmed out this shoot to Laurel, who seemed to enjoy watching Madison squirm?

Of course, the location wasn’t even the worst of it. Maybe, if she held her nose and wore her biggest, darkest sunglasses, she could tolerate being among the unwashed masses, their stupid carnival games and their greasy funnel cake carts. But could she face it with her sad-sack father and her sociopathic sister in tow? She wasn’t feeling her typical confidence.

Part of her bad mood came from her audition for The End of Love, which was weighing on her. She knew that some people accused her of having an overly inflated opinion of herself. Fine. But she wasn’t the type to lie to herself. In many things, Madison Parker was downright awesome. But in her reading with Luke Kelly, she had completely and totally sucked. The only saving grace was that the PopTV cameras were only permitted as far as the waiting room.

When Trevor pitched her this story line (it was more like he told her to go to the audition if she wanted screen time not with her freeloading family), she knew it wasn’t going to end well for her. She would look like exactly what she never wanted to be: an oblivious wannabe. Even if she could emote like Meryl Streep, there was no way in hell any director would take a chance on Madison. Nobody who came from reality TV had gone on to be taken seriously as an actress. (That girl from The Real World didn’t count—that was the ’90s, which was practically another lifetime.) But somehow she’d forgotten all that while she was learning her lines and rehearsing with Gaby. She’d let in a sliver of hope that she didn’t suck and that she’d have a chance, and for that she’d never forgive herself, or Trevor.

She cringed at the memory of stumbling over her lines. When she mispronounced the name of a minor character, she’d heard a snicker at the back of the room. She couldn’t relax at all; it was as if she’d split into two people, one of whom was trying desperately to do a decent job of reading the script and another who was hovering nearby, witnessing her failure. She wished she’d gotten her hands on some beta-blockers, or at the very least a Xanax, before the reading.

Now, as she turned around so the sound guy could attach a mike box to her bra strap, Madison tried to convince herself that she’d have another chance to do it better. She’d never acted before—surely Colum McEntire didn’t expect her to be perfect her first time!

Though, admittedly, in a way she’d been acting ever since she’d moved to L.A. Even before she was on L.A. Candy or Madison’s Makeovers or The Fame Game, she’d been pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She’d dyed her hair, spray-tanned her skin, and nipped and tucked in the places that needed it. Ever so carefully, she had constructed a new person; and, just as carefully, she had given that new person a fitting history.

Madison had dreamed up glamorous, wildly successful parents who were camera-shy, old-money jet-setters (which explained why no one could ever find them and put their pictures in a tabloid). She had told stories of a childhood spent mansion-hopping and teen years spent abroad.

Madison had been imagining better parents for herself ever since her days in Armor Falls. And, when she stopped to think about it, that was when she began her acting career, too. She’d acted as if she wasn’t embarrassed to be wearing the same pair of dirty jeans to school day after day. She acted as if she’d forgotten her lunch, when in fact there was no food in the house. She acted as if her mother was sick with the flu, as opposed to puking her guts out from a massive hangover (which Sophie, at least, always believed). She acted that she didn’t mind being unpopular, when every single day her loneliness was like a tiny knife piercing her heart.

Yes, Madison Parker was a born actress. Too bad she could only deliver lines that she herself had written.

Her BlackBerry buzzed, and she read Laurel’s text: LOOK TO UR LEFT.