Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Louisa picked up the can of hairspray and crop-dusted it over my head, shielding my face with her hand. I resisted the urge to sputter and cough.
“I thought you were against firearms,” my mom said. Louisa waved me off and I smiled, mouthing thank you, and headed for my closet.
“Well, I mean I don’t necessarily like guns, but I don’t make all the rules.” I unbelted my robe and let it drop to the floor, and then set the phone down on a shelf so I could slip on my dress as I spoke through the speaker. “My manager might insist that I have an armed bodyguard. There are a lot of loonies out there.”
“I thought you were the boss. Don’t you pay those people?”
I rolled my eyes. My mom didn’t get anything. “Yes, but I’m just the performer. I’m not the expert on every aspect of my career. I still need advisors, Mom.”
“But you don’t have to take every piece of advice they give. Tell them you’d prefer someone who’s strong, rather than armed. And you should see Tuck, honey. He’s so tall and broad. And he’s built like Thor, all muscle. He must have spent a considerable amount of time working out in the last six years.”
“Well what else was he gonna do?” I murmured.
“Again, cold, Em.”
My assistant, Destanie, pulled the door open, panic written all over her face. “Take that dress off,” she demanded. “Right now.”
“Who’s asking you to undress?” my mom asked.
“Hold on, Mom,” I said, taking her off speaker. “What is it?” I asked Destanie.
She held her phone to show me an Instagram post. “Layne Beckett is wearing that dress. Or close enough.” She rushed past me and started rifling through my dresses muttering, “I’m going to kill that bitch. I bet it got out that you were wearing an emerald green Ossie Francisco. Then she posts herself on Instagram wearing the exact same color dress? Trust me, it’s no coincidence. Oh no, she knew what she was doing. Look at that satisfied smirk on her face,” Destanie said, shoving the phone toward me before turning back to my collection of dresses. “She’s only dating Freddie Halston so she can show up everywhere you do.”
Layne Beckett was a singer, and Freddie Halston was an actor like my boyfriend, Charlie, so we did attend many of the same events, though I’d never formally met her. I wasn’t quite convinced she was so wrapped up in competing with me that she’d arranged her dating life around that effort, but the dress was a low blow. And from what I’d heard, it was exactly the type of thing she’d do. And so here I was, standing practically naked in my closet with only minutes to finish getting ready.
“Plan B,” Destanie was muttering as she ripped through my clothing rack. “Aha!” She pulled a red number out, holding it up. It was a gift from a newish designer that I’d forgotten about, still in the clear plastic garment bag it’d arrived in the month before. “Put it on,” she said. “The shoes will still work. I’m going to spike Layne’s drink with a laxative at the after-party,” she said over her shoulder, an evil tilt to her grin as she breezed away.
I let out a half-hearted laugh. She was kidding of course. The laugh died quickly in my throat. Wasn’t she?
I put my mom back on speaker and began unwrapping the red dress. “Sorry, Mom. Fashion disaster narrowly averted.”
“Oh my. Sounds serious,” she said. “By the way, where are you going? It’s late.” As if to prove it, she let out a loud yawn.
“To a premiere.” I began pulling the dress on. “This is when the nightlife starts in LA.”
Out in the living room, I heard a knock and then the loud buzz of multiple people entering my apartment. Charlie’s entourage.
“Nightlife,” my mom repeated as I slipped my foot into one spiked heel. “Nightlife here is when nature calls at three a.m.”
“Gross, Mom.”
My mom let out a tittering laugh, and Destanie popped her head around the corner, her gaze moving up and down my body before she gave the thumbs-up and gestured for me to hurry up.
I nodded to Destanie and then opened my mouth to ask my mom where exactly Tuck was sleeping but decided not to. He was probably in my old room, the one my mom and dad now used as a guest room. He was probably sleeping in my childhood bed. Which made me feel…weird. I pushed that hazy visual aside. “Hey, I’ve gotta go. Charlie’s here and a car’s waiting.”
“Tell Charlie I said hi. And please, please consider what I said. Tuck seems…lost. A second chance, Em. You have the power to give one, and I know you have the heart.”
“It’s not about heart, Mom.” It was about practicality. And safety, meaning not surrounding myself with dangerous criminals because my mom owed an old—dead—friend a favor. “But I’ll think about it,” I murmured as a knock sounded and Charlie leaned around the door.