every time.
She remembered how Madison had moved in with her father but pretended to still live with Gaby. Could she do that? Live here in Topanga, where the air smelled like lavender and eucalyptus and the refrigerator was always stocked with organic salads? Everything would be so much easier.
“So, you guys,” she said, sparingly buttering a slice of baguette. “I was thinking about my . . . living arrangements.”
“Oh, I’m glad you brought that up,” Cassandra said. “Your father and I have been talking about it.”
They’re going to invite me back home, Carmen thought happily. That is so fantastic, because I am really sick of Sushi Express.
Cassandra beamed at her. (She was doing a lot of beaming tonight, wasn’t she?) “We are so proud of you for living on your own. You’re learning so much—more than you even know. Remember that both your father and I left home at seventeen.”
“Yeah, yeah, and you fell in love when you were twenty-one,” Carmen said. She knew the whole gooey, romantic story and she didn’t need to hear it again. She wanted to get to the part where her mom told her she should move back in.
“Anyway, we think that it’s exactly the right thing for you at this time in your life,” Cassandra said. “As much as we miss you, we feel that it’s important for you to be independent.”
Carmen, surprised, looked toward her father. He nodded.
“Independence,” he said. “It’s one of the greatest gifts a parent can give his child.” He paused to spear a piece of chicken. “Besides good looks. But your mother handled that, didn’t she?” He mugged for her, but Carmen couldn’t smile.
She felt like she was having trouble breathing. But she wouldn’t let them see that. “Sure,” she said. “Of course. That’s totally what I was thinking.”
She was too proud to ask them about taking the block off the credit card. She’d have to suck it up. Which meant she’d probably need to take back those Rick Owens boots she bought with Lily and Fawn a mere three hours ago.
It was ironic, Carmen thought. You spent your whole childhood wanting to be a grown-up, and then when you became one, you wished your parents would just keep on taking care of you.
And when they refused? Well, you were on your own.
She thought back to her afternoon with Fawn and Lily and felt grateful to them all over again. Thank goodness she had friends to count on.
Kate gazed out the window of Todd P. Barrows’s office in downtown L.A. She could see the Staples Center in the near distance, its red lights flickering in the misty, late January rain.
“Carrie Underwood played there the other night,” Todd said, appearing over her shoulder. “Didn’t quite sell out, though.”
Kate turned around to face her new manager. “How could you sell that place out? It must seat, like, fifteen thousand people.” She couldn’t imagine ever playing somewhere like that.
“Try twenty,” Todd said, steering her over to a chair on the opposite side of his desk.
Kate felt too agitated to sit, but she knew she needed to give PopTV “the most felicitous camera angle,” as Stephen Marsh had put it. So she sat down before he could send her a bossy text. (Kate found the new producer totally annoying, and couldn’t for the life of her understand why Sophia thought he was cute. Sometimes she wondered if the feeling was mutual—though she was pretty sure that was a wedding band on Stephen’s finger.)
Drew was seated in the chair next to her, looking oddly relaxed. He smiled at Kate, and she knew that if she were capable of being calmed down, Drew would be the one to do it. He’d brought her breakfast in bed that morning—Froot Loops, of course—and he’d offered his opinions on all nine outfits she’d nervously tried on, attempting to find the right mix of perky and punk. (Luke never would have had the patience for that: Drew was The Best.)
“Can I get you some water?” Todd asked. “Tea? Coffee?”
Kate shook her head so quickly it hurt her brain. She really needed to chill. “No thanks.”
Todd smiled. “Don’t be so anxious. It’s not like you’ve never been here before. Also, Drew—tell her about the beverage rule.”
Kate raised her eyebrows. Beverage rule?
Drew grinned. “Basically, anytime you take a meeting with someone, they’re going to offer you something to drink. And you should always say yes, even if you have no intention of drinking it. It’s polite.”
“That’s right,” Todd said, nodding. “We have interns whose entire job description is Beverage Fetching.”
Kate looked back and forth between them. She couldn’t tell if they were kidding or not, and she didn’t want to be a dope and ask. Todd was gazing at her expectantly.
“Um, I’ll have a water?” she said.
He clapped his hands. “Excellent,” he said. He pressed a button on his phone and told the voice that answered to bring him three bottles of Pellegrino. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now we can begin. Rumor has it you’ve got a new song I should hear.”
Kate nodded as she pulled Lucinda from her case. Keep calm, she reminded herself. This is an audience of two. Well, plus the PopTV camera crew, but she was used to them by now.
She’d already warmed up in the parking lot outside, so she dove right into the song. A melodic, catchy intro, and then the words: “I never had a day like this / I dreamed about a kiss like this / Whoever said dreams can’t come true / Has never met someone like you . . .”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Drew tapping his foot. Todd’s face, though, was blank.
“All the things I should have said / When I woke up next to you in bed / They didn’t matter anymore / Just hold me close and lock the door . . .”
When she was done, she set Lucinda back in her case and took two deep breaths before she looked up at her manager.
His expression was dark. He hit a button on his phone. “Hello? The Pellegrino?” he demanded. Then he turned to Kate and smiled. “That was great,” he said. “Smart, sassy, poppy. Perfect.”
As his words sunk in, she felt her phone buzz beside her in the chair. NICE WORK, Stephen had texted, thereby breaking Laurel’s rule against unnecessary texts during shooting.
“Yes,” Todd went on, “I’ve got some good news for you, Kate.”
“You do?” Her heart fluttered hopefully in her chest.
“We’re going to have you do a showcase. You’ve got a handful of great new songs, so you’re ready for it. We’re going to give the labels who’ve expressed interest a chance to see what you can do. Up close and personal.”
Kate sucked in her breath. “Wow, that’s amazing. I think? I guess I don’t actually know what a showcase means, but it sounds good.” She glanced over at Drew. His expression was unreadable.
“That’s what I’m here to tell you,” Todd said. He snatched the waters from the flustered-looking intern who’d finally come in, and then he explained the concept of the showcase.
Kate’s mind whirled as she listened. Todd’s management company would rent a fancy rehearsal room, complete with an engineer and a full stage. They would invite A&R executives from various labels, and Kate would perform two or three songs for each group of executives. And, to hear Todd tell it, by the end of the day, she’d have a record deal.
“That sounds . . . terrifying,” Kate said.