Lauren Conrad - The Fame Game

As for a new show, I’m not supposed to say anything, but since you are one of my biggest fans . . . Yes, there is a new show in the works, and yes, of course, I am the star.

I hope you like the photo I’ve included. I think it’s one of my best. And don’t forget to follow me on Twitter @MissMadParker.

Love,

Madison

PS: Don’t ever give up on your dreams, and don’t ever expect anything to be handed to you. I know I didn’t—and look at me now!

Chapter 1 - A Step Forward Chapter 2 - A Good Sign Chapter 3 - Eyes Wide Open Chapter 4 - Hardly Star Treatment Chapter 5 - Your Rock ’n’ Roll Side Chapter 6 - Making Nice Chapter 7 - Basically a Native Chapter 8 - Struggle. Drama. Meltdowns. Chapter 9 - People Like Us Do Not Wait in Lines Chapter 10 - More Than Just a Story arc Chapter 11 - All Grown Up Chapter 12 - Carmen Cupid Curtis Chapter 13 - A Little Old for Stuffed Animals Chapter 14 - The Best Idea You Ever Had Chapter 15 - That Was Awkward Chapter 16 - Walk with Me Chapter 17 - The TV-Ready Next Big Thing Chapter 18 - Sparks Chapter 19 - Think Beautiful Thoughts Chapter 20 - Secret Lovers Chapter 21 - Little Miss Hollywood Chapter 22 - Bad Romance Chapter 23 - Keep Tabs on Your Costars Chapter 24 - Talk About The End of Love Chapter 25 - Everyone Wants to Be Famous Chapter 26 - The Good Ol’ Days Chapter 27 - Good Times, Good Times Chapter 28 - Part of a Larger Plan Chapter 29 - Lucky Girl Chapter 30 - How This Hollywood Stuff Works Chapter 31 - The Best of Friends Chapter 32 - The Birth of a Star Chapter 33 - Empty Chapter 34 - So Damn Catchy Chapter 35 - Nobody Loses Acknowledgments Books by Lauren Conrad Copyright About the Publisher Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Madison Parker had made Trevor Lord come to her this time. If he wanted her for his new show as badly as he said he did, what was a little Sunset Boulevard traffic between friends? Anyway, he’d just added another sleek new sports car to his collection—he might as well put it to use.

“The Fame Game needs you, Madison.” Trevor leaned forward in his chair, his eyes intent on her perfectly made-up face. “PopTV wants another hit show. And you and I know how to make that happen.” His voice was low, almost conspiratorial.

Madison took a sip of her coconut water. She’d already told her agent, Nick, she was going to say yes—the network had met her financial demands (only slightly begrudgingly), and a new TV show meant more magazine coverage and better endorsement deals—but she wanted to make Trevor work for it. He didn’t know that Madison’s Makeovers wasn’t getting picked up for a second season—no one did yet—and she wasn’t about to tell him. After all, the ratings had been totally decent by PopTV standards. Why else would Trevor Lord, the executive producer of L.A. Candy, and his cohort (aka minion) Dana be here at Soho House (which Madison had picked for its proximity to her apartment and its to-die-for seared-ahi salad, and because she liked to exercise her membership privileges as much as possible) to lure her away from it? Besides, this way she could have her publicist leak a story from “a source close to her” saying that Madison, not the network, had decided to end Madison’s Makeovers so she could film The Fame Game.

Trevor ignored the hovering waiter, who was trying to decide whether or not to refill the producer’s coffee cup. “Madison’s Makeovers is a great show, but it’s not about you. Aren’t you tired of telling people to get a haircut and lose twenty pounds? I mean, Self magazine tells them to do that every month.” Trevor finally glanced up at the waiter, but only to shoo him away. “Your talents are being wasted, Madison,” he said.

Madison raised a carefully plucked eyebrow. “Wow, Trev, you really know how to charm a girl.”

He offered the barest hint of a smile. “You know what I mean.”

Madison turned to Dana, who was, as usual, emanating super-stress vibes. Bluish bags sat below her eyes and her hair looked drier than a pile of autumn leaves. Talk about someone who could use a Madison makeover! She was such a contrast to Trevor, who always appeared effortlessly poised and polished, as if someone had taken a buffer cloth to him. Dana didn’t smile at her, and Madison swiveled back toward Trevor. “I don’t think I do know what you mean,” she said. “Why don’t you spell it out for me?” This was the best part of the process. Being wooed. And if anyone knew how to make a girl feel like the most spectacular thing that ever walked this planet it was Trevor. Unfortunately he could take it away just as quickly. So Madison was going to draw this moment out. Savor it.

“You crave drama. You love to be the center of attention. You want all eyes on you, Madison Parker.” He sat back and folded his arms across his broad chest.

Madison sniffed, unimpressed. Trevor couldn’t come up with anything better than stating the obvious and then acting as if he’d made some brilliant discovery? He thought he was so slick!

Admittedly, during the filming of L.A. Candy, Madison had needed Trevor. He was the one who had the power: He chose the story lines; he decided who got the most airtime. But now? Trevor needed her. Madison knew from Nick that without her, PopTV wouldn’t green-light The Fame Game.

Madison gazed off toward the far side of the restaurant, as if contemplating the view (the Pacific Design Center, the primary-colored structures standing out amid the surrounding white buildings and green trees), and then snapped her blue eyes back to Trevor. “I’m the star?”

“Always,” Trevor said with a smile. “Your fans want to see you.”

Madison couldn’t suppress a small return smile. Of course her fans wanted to see her. For two seasons of L.A. Candy, Madison had shared her life, her ambitions, and even her painful, once-secret past with them. At first Madison had been furious—like, almost homicidally so—at her sister for revealing the trailer-park roots that she’d worked so hard to hide. But once the tabloid storm blew over, she realized that her hardscrabble past had only made her more popular. More relatable. She hadn’t exactly forgiven Sophie (or Sophia, as she now insisted on being called), but she no longer wanted to cut off her air supply at first glance.

“It’ll be similar to L.A. Candy,” Trevor went on. “You and some other girls.”

He said this as if it hardly mattered, but immediately Madison stiffened. “What other girls?” she said coolly.

She understood that this was how these shows worked—the producers got together a group of supposed friends, or a crazy, dysfunctional family, or a bunch of outrageous coworkers at a quirky salon/construction site/tattoo parlor—but she had no interest in sharing the spotlight. She’d done that in L.A. Candy. She’d put in her time, and now it was time for Madison Parker to take center stage. It was her turn to shine.

Trevor shrugged noncommittally. “PopTV likes the format of four girls on the verge of making it.”

“Oh, Trev,” Madison sighed, as if speaking to a child who couldn’t possibly understand. “I’ve already made it. I’m no longer on the verge.”