Infamous

He shrugged. “I mean, personally? I think you should keep playing around town and building up your confidence. And I think you should have another handful of songs. You should have more of a demo album. Something to send to the A&R guys.”

Todd exhaled loudly. “So it can sit in a stack of four million other demo albums? No, they need to see Kate. I mean, look at her! Those blue eyes! That smile! They’re going to love her.”

Kate flushed. “I don’t know about that,” she said, then gave a nervous giggle.

“Well, you can think on it,” Todd said, looking pointedly and perhaps somewhat angrily at Drew, “but don’t think too long. In this business you have to strike while the iron’s hot!”

“I know,” Kate said. “I’d hate to miss my chance, but I also want to do this right. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Todd said to Drew, “See? Looks and brains. I mean, come on, Drew, you think she’s the bee’s knees. Why won’t everyone else? Don’t hide her light under a bushel. Remember: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Kate wondered if Todd was going to bust out any more clichés. Apparently, Drew had the same thought.

“I’m more the ‘a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’ type,” he said. “She has solid interest from two mid-sized labels. I don’t know that she should chase them off by going after the big guns with a showcase. But Kate, the decision is yours. Just remember, you only get one chance at a first impression.”

Kate bit her lip and knocked her toes against the leg of Todd’s desk. Should she do the showcase? Take the risk?

Her phone buzzed again. YES YES YES, Stephen had written.

Of course PopTV would want her to agree to it—a showcase would make for a much more exciting story line. They probably already had the space scouted and cleared.

She could almost imagine Trevor rubbing his hands together in excitement. Either she’d do great and get signed to a record label, which would majorly raise her profile—or else she’d utterly bomb, and then Trevor could make it a centerpiece of a “heartbreaking, bittersweet” (or some other BS) episode of The Fame Game.

She knew she owed it to her producers to say yes. She owed it to herself to do what was right for her career.

She stared down at her feet in their new Belle by Sigerson Morrison booties. Why should those things be mutually exclusive? If Todd said she was ready, shouldn’t she listen to him? That was what she was paying him for, after all. As amazing as Drew had been, he was just an intern. He still had a lot to learn about the music business. They both did.

She set her jaw. This was her career. Her life. She couldn’t keep sitting on the sidelines. “I say we go for it.”

She smiled at her decision and turned to Drew.

He looked significantly less pleased.

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Carmen fished a leather Gucci key chain from the bottom of her oversized purse and let herself into Luke’s cozy Venice bungalow. Then she dropped down on the worn olive-green couch and exhaled a sigh of relief. She was blissfully alone.

She hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity to keep an eye on Luke’s house while he was filming abroad. Even though she really liked him, and kind of owed him for letting her crash there, she didn’t like the idea of driving all that way to visit an empty house. (If he’d been lying in bed, waiting for her—that would have been a different story.) But back then Carmen hadn’t known that she’d be living with a couple who were currently in the most annoyingly lovey stage of their relationship, either. So in a way, Luke’s house had become something of a refuge.

Earlier that afternoon, when Drew came in after class and went straight to the refrigerator as if he had stocked it himself, and when Kate had hurried in and wrapped herself around Drew as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks, Carmen piped up and said: See ya! Gotta check on Luke’s!

So here she was, grateful for silence and solitude.

Missing Luke. Wondering how the filming was going, and if he was thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him. . . .

And wondering if she could live here instead of at her parents’, while pretending to still live with Kate and Drew. Was there any way Trevor would go for it? If not, could she hide it from him? There was no way he could know where she was all the time. (Though with the caravan of paparazzi that routinely followed her each day he’d quickly catch on.)

Carmen got up and poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen, and then gave some to the potted succulents by the sink (miniature jade plants, a cactus with a strange red protrusion on top, and a sad-looking aloe). She remembered eating breakfast with Luke as the sun poured in through the window. How he’d smile at her, all sleepy and rumpled. How the air held the delicious smell of coffee, and how sometimes the ocean breeze came whistling through the eaves. And how she’d smile back at him, still a little bit shy, and the next thing she knew he’d be pulling her onto his lap, his warm hands finding the buttons on her shirt. . . .

Carmen took a gulp of water. Those were the days, she thought, and she wished they could have lasted longer. Maybe the two of them could have figured out what was going on between them. As things stood now, they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but they weren’t not boyfriend and girlfriend. They were in a weird Limbo Land, which was a fine enough place to be when they were both on the same continent, but it got lonely with him thousands of miles away.

She knew it was good for Luke’s career, but she really wished he hadn’t booked that part last minute and jetted halfway across the world.

For the next three months.

Maybe part of the problem was that she didn’t have anything to do with herself lately. Not that filming The Fame Game wasn’t work—it was—but there was nothing else on her iCal but lunch dates and salon appointments. She’d gotten used to the crazy hours of movie shoots, and now that she wasn’t on set, the days seemed long and empty. Especially with Luke gone, and with Krew in her face all the time.

But she wasn’t ready to dive into another project, especially because she wasn’t finding the perfect Next Thing. She’d turned down a role in a romantic comedy because she’d hated the director’s previous movie, as well as a part in an animated feature because she felt it was too small. After all, she’d just starred in a guaranteed blockbuster. No more supporting roles for this girl.

These were, to use her mother’s term, “Champagne problems.” Problems someone like Fawn would kill to have. Which was why Carmen didn’t talk to her about them much: Fawn would try to be supportive and understanding, but as a person whose most recent job was the voice-over for an embarrassing tampon commercial, there would be limits to her sympathy. Carmen could imagine her staring in disbelief: You turned down a role in an Actual Movie? she’d shriek.