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Kate took a few steps closer to inspect the jeans. The wash was so dark it was almost black. She touched the seam lightly, then saw the price tag. “Oh my God,” she said. “They’re like two hundred dollars.”
“I know! They’re a steal!” Madison repeated, brushing a golden lock of hair from her face impatiently.
“But they’re just jeans,” Kate said.
Madison barked out a laugh. “You’re so funny, Kate.”
“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” she said, turning to look at a pretty printed blouse. The price tag on it was a mere $135. A bargain!
Madison came around the rack of clothes and snatched the blouse away from Kate. “No prints,” she said firmly. “Not yet. We’re going to start with the classics, but updated, with a twist.”
“You sound like Lucky magazine.”
“Mmmm,” Madison replied. She was distracted, thumbing through the racks of shirts and skirts. “I actually consider leopard print to be a neutral,” she mused, more to herself than Kate. “And you’re supposed to be sort of a rocker. . . .”
Kate hadn’t ever thought of herself as a rocker, that was for sure. But she didn’t protest. She took a long, fuzzy sweater off the rack and held it up. It was cream-colored and impossibly soft, and Kate could imagine curling up in it on her couch. She pressed it to her cheek. It felt like a teddy bear.
“Gaaah,” cried Madison, snatching it away. “What is this? A Snuggie?” She tossed it onto the padded daybed in the corner of the shop.
“But it’s a neutral,” Kate pointed out.
“It looks like a potato sack,” Madison said. “You’re not buying it.”
“Okay,” Kate said meekly. She decided not to touch anything else. She’d just let Madison, who was clearly the expert, handle the selections.
She was actually kind of enjoying herself, though. She was drinking a delicious chai latte, it was a lovely July day, and she was relaxed from the pedicure they’d gotten before the shopping began in earnest. Madison was being bossy, but in a helpful way, and frankly it was about time someone got Kate to shop somewhere besides the Gap. If Trevor thought the world would want to see a nice Midwestern girl go Hollywood fashionista, well, she was reasonably happy to oblige him.
“Just get me stuff that I can wash,” she called to Madison. “I don’t want to have to deal with dry cleaners.”
Madison looked up over the racks of clothes just long enough to roll her eyes.
Kate snickered. No one would ever accuse Madison of not having an opinion.
As Kate watched her castmate amass an armload of clothing for her to try on, she wondered if Madison was being nice because she felt like it or because she was supposed to, for a story line. Could her friendliness be genuine? Carmen would argue no. But Madison hadn’t been getting texts from Laurel, as far as Kate could see, telling her to pretend like she cared about someone besides herself. (Meanwhile Kate was getting them with embarrassing regularity: SMILE! And CAN YOU LOOK LESS BORED? And PULL HAIR AWAY FROM FACE.)
She’d surreptitiously glanced over at Laurel, who grinned and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Kate liked Laurel. And even more than that, she liked feeling that she had an ally behind those big black cameras.
Madison pranced over and thrust a silky navy sweater, skinny jeans, a gold belt, and a pair of dove-gray ankle boots at Kate. “Here,” she said. “Try these first.”
Obediently Kate rose and slipped into the dressing room. She pulled on the various pieces of the outfit and twisted her hair up in a loose knot to avoid any future blocking issues. When she pulled back the curtain and stepped out of the little room, Madison clapped her hands gleefully.
“Look at you! I wouldn’t recognize you. Skinnies and some booties and oh my God, it’s like you’re all grown up all of a sudden.” Madison looked pleased with herself.
Kate turned toward herself in the mirror and saw that Madison was right: She looked strikingly different. Sophisticated. Polished. Pretty. “Wow,” she said. “I feel like Carmen or something.”
Madison sniffed. “You’re much prettier than Carmen. It’s just that she knows how to maximize her assets, and you don’t. Not yet. But I’m going to teach you.” She held out another outfit. “Now try this one.”
Madison definitely had a good eye, Kate thought. As the clothes piled up on the dressing room benches she began to feel a mix of elation and dread. On the one hand, she was finally going to look like she had a sense of fashion. On the other hand, her bank account was going to take a serious hit.
And so it went for another two hours, with Madison selecting the clothes and Kate dutifully putting them on. After the first hour, Laurel and the crew were satisfied they’d gotten what they needed and had packed up to go film Gaby walking out of her dressing room a dozen times. Laurel said that was approximately how many takes it took for Gaby to get something right. To Kate’s surprise, Madison hadn’t bolted as soon as the cameras were gone.
“The boys are going to love you in that,” Madison said, nodding at the sea-green shift dress that Kate had donned. “It makes your legs look amazing.”
Kate blushed—both at the mention of boys and her legs.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Madison demanded, smirking. “Did you meet someone?”
Kate sighed. “I might have met someone at Whisper the other night. After you and Sophia left.”
Kate looked to see if the mention of her castmate’s sister elicited any kind of reaction, but Madison simply raised an eyebrow in interest and said, “Do tell.” God, she was good at pretending like nothing fazed her. Kate guessed that a couple seasons of being on reality TV could do that to a person.
Kate shrugged. “I don’t know that much about him, really,” she said. “But he’s an actor and he plays the bass, and he might be the cutest guy I’ve ever seen. His name is Luke, and he has these green eyes. . . .” She lost herself in remembering Luke’s charms. The way they’d found themselves talking and laughing about their childhoods. The way he gleefully agreed when she said that Justin Timberlake’s best work was that Liquor Mart song he’d performed on Saturday Night Live. The way he had put his hand on the small of her back when they were leaving the club. The way he—
Madison waved a hand in her face. “Whoa, hello?” she said, smiling. “I think we lost you there.”
“Sorry,” Kate said. “I was just thinking. . . .”
“Is he famous? Would I know him?”
“Not likely,” Kate said. “Sounds like he’s still trying to make it.”
“So you only met him once,” Madison said, and Kate nodded. “Well, we’ll have to change that immediately.” She paused. “Did you tell him about The Fame Game?”
“No. It didn’t occur to me,” Kate admitted. The cameras had been gone by then, and Kate
