wondered if she’d managed to offend her. Again. Why was it so hard for them to get along? It was like they couldn’t help pushing each other’s buttons. She’d simply meant that it was good Carmen didn’t have to go to court, but it had come out sounding like Kate thought she was a spoiled brat.
“Soooooo . . . ,” Kate said, after an awkward moment of silence.
“So Luke called,” Carmen said suddenly. “He said filming’s going great.”
“Oh! That’s great.”
Lately it seemed as if Carmen mentioned Luke about twenty times a day. Not that Kate minded—she was completely over him. Carmen and Luke could absolutely have each other . . . for the five minutes that they’d actually be into it. If there was one thing Kate had learned about these actor types, it was that they changed partners as often (at least) as they changed roles.
What she had with Drew, on the other hand, was real.
Kate tapped the unopened letter against her hand once more and then tore it open. She didn’t mean to read it while she and Carmen were in the middle of a conversation, but she couldn’t help but glance down.
—think it’s so, so unfair when people say you’re boring and stuff, because you’re the sweetest one of—
Kate looked back up, feeling deflated. Thanks for the backhanded compliment, Misty from Nebraska, she thought. As if she weren’t perfectly aware of the nasty things that got said about her—that she was a doormat, she was as exciting as watching paint dry—some “fan” had to go and remind her.
She tossed the letter into the garbage. She’d start her policy of not writing back with Misty.
Carmen handed her another letter and then got up. “I’m heading to bed. Gotta get my beauty sleep before Gaby’s big day. Otherwise D-lish’ll post about how beat-down I look or something, and they’ll be right.”
“Night,” Kate called out. She gazed at the next envelope for a moment before opening it. It was sent from here in L.A., and the handwriting was small and exquisitely neat. J.B. from Studio City: The initials and the handwriting were familiar. He’d written her before, hadn’t he? Yes, and she’d sent him a signed head shot. He was probably writing to thank her—after all, not every TV personality would be so generous with her time and photos. She opened the letter, feeling rather pleased with herself for being so nice, and with J.B. for being so polite.
Dear Kate,
Thank you so much for the photo. I have it framed next to my bed. I’ve watched you since the very first episode of The Fame Game. You are a great talent, and you are better and more beautiful than anyone else on that show. I love your voice. It’s the voice of an angel.
Kate smiled. Now this was more like it. She read on.
I wish that your voice could be the first thing I heard in the morning and the last thing I heard at night. Sometimes when I see you on TV, and your blue eyes turn toward the camera, I swear that you are looking straight at me. Telling me that you see me, and you want to get to know me. Well, I want to get to know you, too. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I tell people you are my girlfriend—and who knows? Maybe someday you will be. I mean, look how close we live to each other.
Kate looked at the second page enclosed in the envelope. It was a map with what she assumed was his home circled and a line leading to a second location. She looked a little closer and realized it was their apartment. Sure, a few photographers had figured out where they lived after following them home, but Trevor had always assured them that most people didn’t know.
Kate looked up. “Uh . . . Carmen?” she called.
“Brushing my teeth!” she yelled from the bathroom.
“Can you come out here and look at this letter?”
A few seconds later, Carmen came and took the letter and the map from Kate, her eyes quickly scanning the pages. “Oh no,” she said as she read. “Ewww.” When she was done, she handed the letter back to Kate as if it were contaminated. “You need to tell someone about this.”
“It’s not some random weird thing I can, like, ignore?”
Carmen shook her head. “That guy sounds like a stalker and he clearly knows where you live. Where we live. My mom’s had about five hundred stalkers, and trust me, they’re bad news. You need to get rid of him, stat.”
“Really? I mean, sure, it’s kind of weird,” Kate said. “But it’s not like he wrote ‘I’m outside your window’ or something.”
“Kate, people can be crazy. They watch the show and see you in your bedroom talking about your life and think that they know you.”
“I think you’re overreacting,” Kate said. “He’s just some weirdo—”
“Yeah,” Carmen interrupted. “He’s a weirdo. And angry weirdos are exactly the kind of people you want to be careful around. They can be dangerous.”
Kate, admittedly, had been sort of freaked out by the letter. But something about Carmen’s response annoyed her. Couldn’t she simply have a rabid fan? Why did he have to be some sort of threat?
“I don’t think—”
“You don’t need to think,” Carmen interrupted. Again. “Turn the letter in to Laurel and she’ll give it to whoever heads security at the network. If anything, they like to have these things on file.”
Kate couldn’t help herself then. She was annoyed and she lashed out. “Maybe you’re jealous,” she whispered. “Maybe you wish you’d gotten a letter like this.”
Carmen stared at her in disbelief. “Girl, if you think that, you are even more out of touch than the creep who wrote you that letter.” Then she turned and stomped away.
Kate looked at the letter again. It was written on scented stationery.
Love always,
J .B.
P.S. Hope to see you very soon.
She shuddered, and then pulled out her phone and texted Laurel. Immediately after that, she texted Drew. CRAZY FAN LETTERS. CARM SAYS I SHOULD WATCH OUT. CALL ME?
But Drew did better than call her. He left Rock It! right away and drove to her apartment, even though she tried to tell him that it wasn’t necessary.
The moment she opened the door and saw him, clutching a spray of daisies, standing there so tall and strong and reassuring, she couldn’t believe she’d tried to convince him (and herself) that he shouldn’t come.
It ended up being one of the best nights ever. They streamed Walk the Line, the Johnny Cash biopic, on Netflix, and cuddled on the couch. As Kate rested her cheek against Drew’s warm chest, feeling his arm tight around her shoulders, she thought about the irony of it all: how the very day that Carmen seemed to think she could be in some kind of danger was also the day that she felt the most taken care of. The most safe.
Kate looked up at Drew, and he looked down at her. They smiled at each other—wide, silly, happy
