Starstruck. Lauren Conrad
Madison smiled gently, as if this were a very stupid question. “To see and be seen,” she said. “Think of all the girls on juice cleanses who still show up for lunches on Melrose. They just push their salad from one side of the plate to the other. But they’re there, Kate, and so are the paparazzi.”
“Point taken,” Kate said. “But she could just go get coffee somewhere if she wants to be seen. Or, like, walk anywhere along Robertson.”
“You act like wasting seventy-five dollars matters to her,” Madison reminded Kate. “When in fact it means as much to her as a grain of sand does to the Sahara.”
“Right. I forget that kind of thing because I’m not rich and famous.”
“Well, you might be one of these days,” Madison said. And then she winked at Kate. “Almost as famous as me.”
Kate laughed. Madison suddenly seemed like she was warming back up again. Maybe, thanks to that pink cocktail she was sipping, she’d magically hit a turning point in her personal emotional drama. Then maybe she’d stop with the whole weird and cagey act she’d been working for the last few weeks. Maybe there was hope for her and Kate to be friends.
Gaby piped up with some sort of inanity, and Kate was trying to decide whether it was worth paying attention to her or not when she noticed that Carmen’s best friend, Drew Scott, had arrived.
He loomed in the doorway, dwarfing everything around him. He was wearing a pressed blue Oxford, but Kate could see a tattoo peeking out near his wrist, right above his vintage Casio watch. He caught her eye and winked.
“Ladies,” he boomed, striding toward them with a giant grin on his face. “Is anyone here drunk enough to kiss me yet?”
Kate and Carmen both laughed as he plopped down right between them and put an arm around them both.
“Gaby is, I’m sure,” Madison said under her breath.
Kate snickered. Drew certainly had the tattoos to be Gaby’s type.
“What’s with the button-down?” Carmen asked Drew, plucking at his sleeve. “French cuffs and everything. Have you gone square on us?”
“You look like Jesse James’s accountant,” Kate added. She was happy to see him and even happier that his arrival meant she no longer had to sit next to Carmen.
“Uh, I’m still waiting for the kisses.” Drew laughed.
Kate saw Carmen smile, and then, as easy as anything, she leaned over and planted a giant one on his face, right near his mouth. Kate bit her lip. Drunk or sober, she was way too shy for something like that.
Drew turned to her. “Nothing from the left? Spurned by the singer-songwriter! In that case, I’ll take matters into my own hands.” And before Kate could say a word, he planted a sweet, warm kiss on her cheek.
Immediately she blushed and put a hand up to her face. “Gotcha,” Drew said, grinning and pleased with himself.
“Y-you,” she sputtered. She swatted him on the arm, and he laughed.
“Sorry. Had to take a little liberty there. I just came from a work party. That Miller64 must have gone to my head.”
“Wow,” Carmen said. “You guys really live it up at Rock It! Records.”
“You know it.” Then just as quickly as he’d sat down, he was up again. “Who wants another drink?”
“Oh, I’m sure someone will come by to take your order,” Carmen said.
Drew waved her off. “Ladies, I’m here to service—I mean, serve you.”
Carmen rolled her eyes at him.
“You’re sweet,” Gaby said to him.
“It’s true,” Drew said. “I’m probably the sweetest guy ever.” He held up a hand to stop Sophia’s syrupy cooing. “But I’m manly, too. I’m, like, masculine and tough. But I’m really, really nice. Right, my Carm?”
Carmen—“his” Carmen, whatever that meant— smiled at him. “You’re the best.”
Drew held out his arms. “So now who wants to kiss me?”
Sophia and Madison were laughing, and both Gaby and Carmen were smiling up at Drew, and even Kate felt the glimmer of a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
How quickly the atmosphere in the room had changed! And they had Drew to thank for it. He’d simply walked into the room, happy and confident, and had magically, goofily diffused the tension. There was no more silence. No more staring down at your own feet. Suddenly everyone was talking and giggling and acting as if they’d been besties forever.
Kate could really learn something from Drew, she thought. She needed to lighten up. Take things less seriously. Remember that life was fun. Fun! To not enjoy it was not only stupid, it was downright irresponsible.
When Drew returned from the bar, Kate reached forward and raised her glass. “To friends,” she said. Because that’s what she hoped they all were (even if they got mad at one another now and then). Or could be. Or could act like, for the next hour anyway. Besides, Trevor loved a good “cheers” moment; any toast always made the episode. Kate might as well beat Madison to it this time.
Everyone lifted their glasses and clinked them together. “Friends,” they repeated. “Friends.”
Stepping out of what had been a long and scaldingly hot shower, Carmen Curtis pulled a plush bathrobe around her, cinched its waist, and slid her feet into fuzzy slippers. She gave her dark hair a quick towel-dry and then walked into the living room of her trailer.
Calling it a “living room” was generous—it was about a hundred feet square, aka about half the size of her bathroom at her parents’ house—but Carmen was thrilled to have it. Her own movie trailer, with her name on the door and everything! It wasn’t glamorous, but it was all hers. She didn’t have to do anything but sit inside it to feel like she’d hit the big time already.
Or lie down inside it, she thought, flopping onto the cushioned bench under the window. She was utterly exhausted. Today’s shoot had gone over by three hours, putting it at a thirteen-hour day, and her call time tomorrow was six a.m.
She was tempted to take a nap, but instead she reached into the pile of magazines and newspapers that the PAs regularly replenished for her. Reading a trashy tabloid could be just as rejuvenating, right? Plus, she was curious to learn about the actress Samantha Mulder’s in vitro triplets and Lacey Hopkins’s latest scrape with the law. Heck, maybe there’d even be a mention of Madison Parker.
On the top of the stack was a copy of this week’s Gossip magazine. Glancing at it quickly, Carmen was startled to see one of the cover lines: LITTLE CC NO MORE, it said, right above a photo of her (dressed to the nines, thank goodness) shopping in Beverly Hills. The accompanying article was four paragraphs, all of which heavily quoted an unnamed “friend of the actress.” “Things are going really well for Carmen,” this “friend” reported. “But she’s stressed about all the pressure. She’s starring in The End of Love opposite Luke Kelly, who, in addition to being her current crush, is a more experienced actor. So she goes for a little retail therapy!”
Carmen bit her lip. “Current crush”? “A more experienced actor”? Normally her publicist was the source for these little pieces. But this definitely didn’t sound like something Sam would say. It was weird. She squinted at the picture. It wasn’t her best, but it wasn’t her worst, either. She could live with it.
Then she threw the magazine up in the air, rolled over onto her back, and kicked her legs in the air with glee. Live with it?! Hell! She was loving it! So what