The Fame Game, Starstruck, Infamous: 3 book Collection

“That’s amazing,” Gaby said. “What part?”

“The lead,” Carmen squealed, and Gaby clapped her hands excitedly.

“This calls for a bottle of Champagne,” Gaby said, signaling the waiter. “Bring us some Dom,” she called. “We’re celebrating!”

Kate saw that Carmen’s entrance and the flurry of their excitement had brought attention their way; there was a trio of girls staring at them now, their faces revealing a mix of awe and longing. Kate gave them a little wave, even though, as far as they were concerned, she was a nobody. One of the girls raised her eyebrows in a Who the hell are you? expression. Kate smiled. Maybe, in a few weeks, after The Fame Game premiere, that girl would remember this moment and realize that Kate was someone famous, too.

Famous. She shook her head at the thought. It really was just too weird to imagine.

“—and so Colum was like, ‘You really surprised me. I wasn’t expecting to be so moved,’ and I was like, ‘You have no idea how thrilling this is,’” Carmen was saying. She was talking a mile a minute. The waiter had poured them all Champagne by then, but Carmen hadn’t even noticed.

“What about Madison?” Gaby asked hopefully. “Did she get a part?”

This stopped Carmen’s breathless monologue. She frowned lightly. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t think to ask.”

Kate glanced surreptitiously in Laurel’s direction. She would know, wouldn’t she? Laurel met Kate’s eyes and shook her head.

Poor Madison, Kate thought. Wherever she was now, she was not enjoying a bottle of celebratory Champagne.

(#ulink_68b09407-7e24-5552-af5a-cfabee29adc5)

Trevor Lord was feeling very pleased with himself. This was not exactly a rare occurrence—he tried to find reasons to be pleased with himself on a daily basis—but this afternoon’s sense of self-satisfaction was a particularly sweet one.

The Fame Game premiere was a month away, and already he had the seeds for a full season’s worth of plotlines: Madison’s family drama, plus her desperate and occasionally misguided attempts to make it to the next level. Madison’s ongoing makeover of girl-next-door Kate. The blossoming friendship between Carmen and Kate, which he could complicate (at least on-screen) by playing up the tension between Carmen and Madison. Carmen’s new role in what was sure to be a hit movie. And of course there was Gaby, who was ever a source of comedy (Did she really say that?) and speculation (Has she gotten even more work done?). Although it was getting harder to fake continuity with her, since her face and body were constantly changing. He had sat her down last week and requested she hold off on any more face work until they wrapped the season.

Yes, there were many things to be happy about. “We’re missing something, though,” he said to Dana, who was typing madly on her BlackBerry and didn’t look up. He cleared his throat. “We just need one more element.”

Finally Dana looked up. “Pardon?” she asked. “We need what?”

Trevor smiled at her. She worked so damn hard. He should give her a vacation someday. But he probably wouldn’t. “Romance,” he said. “The only thing this series is lacking is a love interest.”

Dana nodded. “Right. What about that Drew guy? Carmen’s friend?”

Trevor shook his head. “I thought he’d do something for us, but he’s a nonstarter.”

“Well, Jordan said—”

“Who the hell is Jordan?” Trevor interrupted.

“He’s on the crew,” Dana said. “He’s a location assistant. Anyway, he just mentioned that he saw Carmen looking pretty chummy with that Australian actor.”

“Australian?”

“You know, what’s his name? He’s going to be in the movie with her. God, all these actors look the same to me. Nick—no, wait—Eric—no, Luke. Luke Kelly.”

“Luke Kelly, huh? Very interesting.”

In fact, it was much more than interesting. It was all Trevor could do not to rub his hands together with glee. Luke Kelly, the next It guy and the lead opposite Carmen in The End of Love. Come to think of it, Colum McEntire had mentioned that the chemistry between those two had been undeniable. He smiled wolfishly at Dana. This was brilliant. If this was true (and frankly, even if it wasn’t) he had his romance angle, complete with a charming accent.

Yes, things were going well, for him and for the girls. Kate had done great at her second open mic, and Carmen had been so good in her audition that Trevor hadn’t even needed to twist an arm for her to get cast. Gaby was Gaby; she’d always say the wrong thing at the right moment and be fine. Then his thoughts shifted to Madison, the one he’d told would be his shining star.

Her audition had been terrible, and she and everyone else knew it. He’d had to beg for her to get a role, and he really did hate begging. But he’d gotten her one. It was small, but it was enough. Enough to keep Madison happy? Probably not, especially since he had to practically twist her arm to get her to that audition. But enough to keep fueling the rivalry between Madison and her more talented castmate, Carmen? Yes. And that was all that really mattered in the end.

One way or another, Trevor would make sure that sparks would be flying on The Fame Game.

(#ulink_3506c993-dbb0-53e5-9d1f-03d4a66d8c4e)

“These are almost perfect,” Madison said. She plucked a minuscule piece of lint from the charcoal wool slacks her father wore and flicked it onto the floor. “I want a cuff on them, though,” she directed.

The salesman, his mouth full of pins, nodded and began to fold up the hem. Charlie stood stock-still, but he smiled at Madison in the mirror.

They’d spent a lot of time together since her visit to his motel, both on- and off-camera. Sue Beth had finally sent the box of his letters that she’d kept hidden, and Madison had read them all in one tear-soaked sitting. (Dear Maddie, It’s fall so you must be getting ready to start sixth grade. I hope you have a pretty new dress to wear on your first day of school. . . . My dear Mads, Your old man misses you so much! I bet you’re getting taller by the day. . . .)

After that, she’d been more willing to listen to his explanations and apologies. There was still a part of her that wanted to remain furious and unforgiving—but a larger part than that just wanted to have a father, no matter how imperfect he was.

After all, it wasn’t as if he’d left them to have some wonderful life of his own. He’d bounced around upstate New York and Pennsylvania, looking for work as a mechanic, which wasn’t easy without a trade certificate or a high school diploma. He’d made a go of it outside Pittsburgh for a while, but then he’d fallen in with a bunch of roughnecks. He’d been in a car with a couple buddies one night, just sitting in the back, drinking a Pabst and listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd, when the other two decided to rob a convenience store. He hadn’t even known what they were doing. He’d just been waiting for them to come back when they came dashing out with a bag full of cash. Before he knew it they were racing down the highway with two state troopers in pursuit.

“What could I do?” he’d asked her then, his eyes searching her face. “I copped a plea. I mean, I was there! No one was going to believe that I was just some innocent bystander. So I pled guilty and I served my time. And while I was in jail? Every single moment of every single day, I thought about you. You and your sister.”

The heart Madison had worked so much to harden softened yet again, and one of these days she was afraid it would just crack open. She knew that her dad had been in prison, but Sue Beth had never said that he’d been innocent. Poor Charlie: He’d paid for his stupidity with jail time and he’d paid for his absence from their lives with pain. He wasn’t a deadbeat dad; he was just the unluckiest guy she’d ever met.

“I should have taken you two girls with me when I left,” Charlie had said, “but I didn’t know how. Seemed impossible for me to take care of two little girls without their momma, and Sweetpea, I just couldn’t stay. Your mother—me—we fought a lot. I was afraid of what one of us would do to the other.” He shook his head sadly. “If I could do it all over again . . .”

After that, Madison began contemplating a life with her father. Maybe it could even include Sophie, who was still working that peace-love-harmony act. What if, after all these years, Madison could have a family after all?

She’d made up her mind: She was going to show Charlie that since he’d come back into her life, she’d let him stay there. For good.

The salesman stood and slipped the suit jacket over the blue dress shirt that Madison had picked out to match Charlie’s eyes. “Yes, the fabric is perfect,” she said.

She missed this type of shopping excursion. She used to go to men’s stores with her older boyfriends—well, the single ones; the married ones didn’t like to be seen in daylight with her—but she was in between boyfriends right now. She hadn’t been in Ted Baker for months.

“Very good,” the salesman said and began to pin the sleeves of the coat.

“Sweetpea,” Charlie whispered, motioning for Madison to lean closer. He lifted his arm and a tiny tag attached to the jacket sleeve fluttered near his fingertips. “Tell me this is the year that the suit was made and not the actual price.”

Madison smiled. The four-figure number was indeed the price, but this suit would last Charlie for a long time. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this one,” she said. Pride swelled in her chest that she could buy it for him.

“Doll, it’s a looker, but I don’t have anyplace to wear it,” Charlie said.

“I don’t know.” Madison watched his reflection in the mirror. “This suit would be perfect for a premiere.”

Charlie looked puzzled. “What premiere?”

“I was thinking that maybe you’d want to go to The Fame Game premiere with me.”

Charlie smiled then—a huge, infectious grin. When he didn’t look so pitifully beaten down, he was a handsome man. “Oh, Mads,” he said. “I’d love that.”

“Good,” Madison said and smiled at her father.