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Then Laurel asked Jackson if he’d dated girls in L.A., and if he considered himself a romantic, and what he was looking for in a girlfriend.
“I like to bring a girl flowers,” Jackson said. “I like a girl to look good, so I don’t mind shopping with her.”
Then he went on to talk about how close he was with his mother, and how he loved kids, and how he was protective of his female friends—even his exes (only two!). “I mean, feminism hasn’t quite caught up to our basic biology,” Jackson said. “I think that women, no matter how strong they are, still want someone who can take care of them. And I want to be that guy.”
By this point, Madison was ready to fling up her hands and flee the room. “This guy is one hundred percent lying,” she said. “Like a girl with half a mind can’t see through his lines? Next!”
“I thought he seemed really nice,” Gaby said softly.
“No way,” Kate said, shaking her head. “Mad’s right. That guy was making everything up. He’s probably not even from Wisconsin.”
Gaby shrugged. “Well, I don’t like nice guys that much, anyway.”
She got up and did a quick little dance routine around the living room, and Madison took the opportunity to once again appreciate her new place. Trevor’s penny-pinching plan to put Kate and Carmen into Madison’s old apartment had certainly backfired: By the time Gaby got released from rehab, Kate’s former pad had been rented out to a pair of Las Vegas newlyweds. The only available apartment big enough for filming was the penthouse, which had four large bedrooms, three giant bathrooms, and a soaking tub so enormous Madison could practically swim laps.
“Ready for bachelor number two?” Kate asked, poking Madison with the Vogue magazine she’d been flipping through.
“I guess,” Madison said.
Next they listened to an interview with a BMX biker—not because Madison would ever date him, but because he was comic relief—and then they sat through a conversation between Laurel and a Seattle native named Brian, who was in his first year of law school at UCLA. He seemed perfect until it was revealed that he didn’t like dogs. Madison picked up Samson and gave him a giant kiss on the nose. “We can’t have that, can we, Sammy?” she cooed.
“This is harder than I would have thought,” Kate noted. “Like they say, ‘Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.’”
“Maybe Trevor’s picking jerks on purpose,” Madison mused.
“Payback for the drama?” Kate asked, smiling. “The quitting?”
“Yeah, and for the extensive, expensive rider,” Madison answered. She still felt a little thrill every time she thought about her revised contract. Her (and her trusted attorney’s) powers of negotiation had served her well over the years, from landing her first menial job in L.A. to securing her latest triumph, a campaign with an up-and-coming British makeup line (time to grow her brand on the other side of the pond!).
“You want to borrow Jay for a night, Mad?” Gaby asked.
Madison tried not to scoff. “Um, no thanks,” she said, unable to hide her disapproval.
“My counselor said he didn’t think Jay was good for me, but Trevor says he’s fine. And I feel like Trevor’s always looked out for me,” Gaby said.
Madison couldn’t precisely agree with that. When had Trevor looked out for anyone but himself? (Which, of course, was a trait Madison respected. Especially since her recent efforts to look out for other people had resulted in criminal charges.)
“Just admit that you still like him,” Kate said, poking Gaby with a toe.
Gaby nodded. “Yeah, I totally do. What can I say? I like bad boys. Also, oh my God, you should see the new Harley he got.”
Madison remembered when she felt that way about bad boys, too. Then Ryan Tucker—responsible, sane, generous Ryan Tucker—had changed everything.
Damn him.
As much as Madison wanted him out of her mind, Ryan simply wouldn’t go. When she’d been with Greg earlier, she’d found herself wishing desperately that he would vanish, and that Ryan would appear in his place. Even if that meant the camera had to vanish, too.
(#ulink_64ef8e87-f23e-5ef7-91d6-02c3b325b2f2)
Carmen dipped her spoon into her frozen yogurt, carefully mixing in the bits of Heath Bar. She hadn’t been to Yogurtland in months, and she wanted to savor her first bite.
“You gonna eat that or just gaze at it lovingly?” Fawn demanded. She was halfway done with her Death by Chocolate cone already.
Lily laughed. “Carmen knows how to pace herself, unlike some people.”
“Whatever,” Fawn said, taking another big lick. “It’s going to melt all over her blouse.”
Carmen put the spoon in her mouth and closed her eyes. Salted caramel. Delicious.
Kate had been home when she left and had asked what she was up to, as if she wanted to hang out, but lately Carmen felt happier and more at ease without her. So she’d lied and said that she was going straight to her parents’ house. But things were never tense with Fawn and Lily like that. Once those two had gotten over their initial mistrust of each other, they’d all hung out constantly. It was fun. Easy. Silly. Of all the amazing things that had come from scoring the lead role in The End of Love, getting Lily as her makeup artist was among the top. Lily had turned into a great friend.
“Whatever yourself, Fawn,” Lily teased. “You look like a binge eater over there.”
Fawn stuck out her tongue, all gooey with chocolate. “So I hear the bitch is back,” she said, changing the subject.
“Yeah, and believe it or not, it’s actually better this way,” Carmen said. “I mean, Mad and I aren’t exactly BFFs, but without her, things got kind of boring.”
“You should have had me on more,” Fawn said. She seemed to think that Madison’s absence meant there would be more screen time for her. And she wasn’t subtle about it.
“Right, totally,” Carmen said, keeping her voice neutral. She hadn’t told Fawn that the powers-that-be thought she was around too much already. Lose the shadow, Trevor had told Carmen. She doesn’t play. They seemed to like Lily better, but Lily wasn’t particularly interested in being in front of a camera. She was more like Drew that way—or like how Drew used to be. Fine being in the background, but not interested in being a main story line.
Anyway, Carmen liked having friends who weren’t on the show. It was good to be able to hang out without needing to cover a list of talking points. With no cameras around (except for Lily’s iPhone, which was like another appendage), she didn’t have to worry about public embarrassment if she spilled a bit of yogurt on her new top, which she’d just done. Oops.
“So I did makeup for Mona Moore yesterday,” Lily said, chewing on the end of her straw.
“Oh, I love her talk show,” Carmen said as she attempted to wipe up the spot on her top with a napkin.
“Me too. She always has such crazy conversations with her guests. They tell her everything! That one where Gemma Kline basically confessed to being anorexic? That was insane! But FYI, Mona herself is completely lying about her age,” Lily said. “If she’s thirty-five, then my mom’s twenty.”
“So when she was born, she was already pregnant with you!” Fawn giggled.
Lily nodded. “Exactly.”
Carmen savored another bite of yogurt. There was no way this was fat-free. “That’s totally creepy, Fawn,” she said.
“No shit,” said Fawn. “So’s Gemma Kline. Have you seen that movie where she gets that awful disease and she turns all blue and stuff? I thought it was her best work, but maybe it’s because I enjoyed seeing her suffer.”
Carmen hadn’t seen it. She didn’t go to movies that much anymore. She knew she ought to, though. She ought to see what her competition was up to. For instance: What films had the girl who was currently shooting with Luke done? Carmen had no idea.
“So . . . what’s up with you lately, Fawn?” she asked. “Any new voice-over work?”
“Oh, I’m keeping busy,” Fawn said evasively.
“Faaaawn,” Carmen said. She knew Fawn wasn’t particularly proud of her voice-over jobs. “Come on. You can tell us. We’re friends, remember? Friends.”
Fawn gazed down at the remains of her yogurt cone. “I taped a tampon commercial,” she admitted.
Carmen and Lily both squealed with delight. “Oh my God,” Carmen said, “tell me it wasn’t the one where, at the end, the tampons all line up and dance the Macarena.”
Fawn turned scarlet. She wouldn’t look at them. “I plead the Fifth,” she said.
Carmen threw her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Hey! Don’t ever be ashamed of acting work,” she said. “(A) it pays, and (B) you’re on your way.”
“To where, though?” Fawn asked, looking suddenly more vulnerable than Carmen had ever seen her look.
Carmen gave her a squeeze, “To the top, hon,” she assured her. “To the top.”
Then she grabbed the hands of both of her friends. “We’re all going nowhere but up. Am I right?”
“Please, God, let her know what she’s talking about,” Fawn said to the ceiling.
“Nowhere but up,” Lily repeated.
Of course, that wasn’t what the tabloids were saying about Carmen (and they weren’t saying anything about Lily or Fawn). This week’s exaggeration: WITHOUT HER LEADING MAN, CARMEN CURTIS IN ROMANTIC FREE FALL. The headline was a pun on Luke’s new movie, in which he played a World War II parachutist. The cover showed a photograph of Luke Kelly and his hot new costar looking very cozy (it was for a scene so it didn’t bother Carmen) and next to it was a photo of Carmen talking on the phone, looking depressed. She knew exactly when it was taken—she’d seen the paparazzo lurking behind a newspaper stand. And she’d looked that way because she was listening to an old friend’s breakup story.
I’m looking sympathetic in that shot, you idiots! she wanted to yell. Not depressed!
It was really, really annoying. But by this point, Carmen was almost used to the mix of half truths and blatant lies. Sure, D-lish had gotten her lunch order right the other day—CARMEN CURTIS LOVES THE EGGPLANT PIZZA AT LAUREL HARDWARE!—but what about their claim that she’d gained five pounds in Luke’s absence? (It was only two!) And the bits about how “Little CC” and “indie darling Kate Hayes” are having “tense times”—that really bummed her out. How did they know?
On the bright side, at least they hadn’t mentioned anything about her interest in Scientology—something she’d jokingly mentioned to Fawn (who’d been so absorbed in selecting lipsticks at Sephora that she’d probably taken Carmen seriously).
“I’m so glad I have friends like you guys,” Carmen said now. “Let’s hit Maxfield’s and burn off some of these calories with shopping.”
“I thought you were going to your parents’ house,” Lily said.
“Later,” Carmen said. “First, I’m going to spend a month’s rent on shoes.”
When Carmen got to her parents’ front door that evening, she paused and wondered if she should knock. Sure, she had a key—but she didn’t live here anymore.
She rang the doorbell, and a moment later her mother was standing in the doorway, backlit in golden light from the hall chandelier.
Cassandra laughed gaily. “Come in, you goose, and never ring the doorbell again. Doorbells are for canvassers and Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
“Uh, I forgot my key,” Carmen said.
She didn’t want to make her mother feel bad. Now that they’d made up (even if the tabloids were continuing to report otherwise), she was careful not to make things weird between them again. They’d had lunch a couple times since their fight, but tonight was the first time Carmen had been back to her childhood home.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Cassandra said. “I’ve got a giant chicken in the oven.”
Carmen followed her into the spotless white kitchen, fragrant with garlic and rosemary and lemon. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Having a place to call her own was great in a lot of ways, but the kitchen she shared with Kate never smelled like anything but burnt coffee or takeout.
Compared to her Topanga Canyon home, living in her Park Towers apartment felt like living in a hotel. One lacking room service and a maid.
Carmen swiped an olive and a cherry tomato and popped them both in her mouth at the same time, one salty and the other sweet. “Where’s Dad?”
“Stuck in traffic. He’ll be here soon.” Cassandra emptied a container of arugula into a big wooden salad bowl. “So, what’ve you been up to lately?”
“Well, we’re filming the second season, but other than that, I’m sort of taking a break. Figuring out what to do next. What about you?”
Cassandra shrugged. “Not much. A Stevie Nicks tribute concert at Club Nokia. That’ll be nice. I like playing the smaller clubs. Reminds me of when I was starting out.” She slid a baguette toward Carmen. “Would you slice this for me?”
Carmen obeyed, and then whisked a quick vinaigrette for the salad without being asked. Her mother always put too much garlic in her salad dressing.
“How’s Luke?” Cassandra asked as she rummaged through a drawer. “Where is that meat thermometer?” she muttered.
“He’s good. I think.” Carmen paused. “We talked the other day, but what with the time difference and the long shooting hours—”
“Distance can make keeping in touch difficult,” Cassandra said.
Carmen nodded. She missed Luke a lot, actually, and she wished she knew if it was more than she ought to. Things were so . . . unstated between them. Was he thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him? There was no way to know.
Unless, of course, she simply came out and asked him. But she didn’t have the guts. How ironic: In the role of Julia Capsen, Carmen swears her undying love to him. But as herself, she couldn’t ask if she was his girlfriend. “Well, I’m sure things will work out between you two,” her mother said with a smile.
That was Cassandra: always the optimist.
Of course, it was also possible that she simply wanted to change the subject. Because when Carmen made a vague noise of assent, Cassandra launched into some long story about a feud between two of their neighbors that had ended with one of them taking a golf club to the other one’s vintage Corvette.
The chicken was done and resting on the counter, and Carmen had heard more about her neighbors than she ever cared to know, when Philip Curtis burst in through the back door.
“Smells delicious in here,” he said. He gave Cassandra a kiss that lasted a bit too long for Carmen’s taste, and then came over and grabbed Carmen in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you, CC,” he said into her hair.
Carmen hugged her dad back. “I missed you, too,” she said. “You big oaf.”
He put his hands on his ample belly. “I’ll have you know that I’ve lost two and a half pounds in the last month,” he said.
“Careful, Dad, you might waste away,” Carmen teased.
“I know,” he said. “Hurry, let’s sit down and eat.”
At the table, Philip raised his glass in the same toast he’d been making for as long as Carmen could remember. “A toast to my amazing wife and daughter. May they remain forever beautiful and never grow tired of me.”
“Never,” said Cassandra, beaming at him.
“Where’s Drew?” Philip asked, turning to Carmen. “I thought he’d be here.”
Carmen sliced into her chicken. “I believe he’s spending the evening surgically reattaching himself to my roommate,” she said.
“Oh! Well then,” Philip said. He took a sip of wine. “I guess we’re the ones who’ll have all the fun.”
Cassandra smiled gently at her daughter. “Does it bother you?”
“No,” Carmen said breezily. “I’m super happy for him.”
This was about ten percent true. Maybe twenty on a good day. Her mother’s glance suggested that she might understand this. But thankfully, she didn’t press the issue.
Carmen leaned back against the leather cushion of her chair. It was so nice to be home. The rooms were big and beautifully decorated. The couches were soft and draped with cashmere throws. Her bathroom was still stocked with her favorite beauty products, and her childhood bed, with its pale blue quilt and pristine white sheets, was upstairs, practically begging for her to crawl into it.
Oh, and the chicken her mother had made tasted even better than it smelled. Even with all of L.A.’s finest restaurants minutes from her doorstep, Carmen would choose her mother’s cooking every time.
