“We’re going to slow things down a bit.” I chuckled into the mic as the screaming intensified. I always loved this part. The part where thousands of people were silenced just because I wanted them to be silent. The power was addicting — then again, nobody ever said fame didn’t change people.
I refused to be that person.
Maybe that was why I was the lead singer. I was the only one smart enough not to get caught up in all the shit that my bandmates found it impossible to stay away from. Like all the amazing sex I wasn’t having and the drugs I wasn’t taking because why ruin a good thing? And our band? The biggest boy band the world had seen — trust me, we were a good thing just waiting to get brought down a peg or two. Already we’d lost one member to rehab, and I’d be damned if we let it happen with the others.
It was our last tour stop, then I had a cameo in a movie soon after that. Who knew?
A young teen caught my eye. She couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen, though the way she wore her makeup and short skirt told me that her parents better put her on a tight leash before she ended up in trouble.
God, just listen to me!
At nineteen, I felt like I was pushing thirty.
I finished the last set with the guys, hardly remembering anything above the shrieking screams as security ushered us off the stage.
I was exhausted, but I knew what was expected before I could sleep. Autographs with every single tween who’d managed to beg their parents to pay the steep price, and there would be at least a hundred of them.
I inwardly groaned while Trevor gave me a look of disgust. He hated it as much as I did — but he faked it better than any of us. Maybe it was because he was a cocky piece of work and people expected him to be a bit rude, who knew? If I was the frontman he was a close tie, more second frontman than sidekick though he hated the label.
Andrew jerked off his headset and cursed. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”
My thoughts exactly.
It had been fun when we were fourteen.
It was a blast when we were sixteen.
But now that we were all pushing twenty and twenty-one, we wanted more to life, I knew that the lifestyle was getting to everyone, and I could see it in their eyes when they talked to friends back home, friends who were in college, friends who actually had lives.
Friends who wanted ours.
Without having any idea, the sacrifices made to have it.
We were basically shoved toward the dressing room and the backstage area where we were at least given snacks and something to drink while we waited for the screaming to erupt again.
The first girl that came through was quiet.
The second sobbed.
I gave her a tissue.
I think it made her cry harder.
It went on like that for two hours, until finally, the last girl walked through.
I narrowed my eyes.
She was older than thirteen — that same girl I’d seen from the stage, too pretty to be by herself and too damn innocent to be wearing such a short skirt.
Feeling like a total pervert, I looked away.
Only to see Andrew’s eyes bulging out of his head.
I elbowed him.
He coughed and elbowed Ty who in turn elbowed Trevor, yeah so all of us were elbowing, nobody was talking.
“Hi!” she said, her voice lit with excitement. “Not sure if that’s your guys’ way of saying hi or if you’re being weird.” She thrust out her hand. Her fingernails were covered in pink nail polish, bangles clanged against her wrist, and a small bird tattoo covered the expanse of pink skin just below the last bangle. My fingers twitched with the sudden alarming need to trace the black edges. “I’m Angelica—”
“Greene!” The girl who’d just walked out of the room shouted and then more shouts came with, “OMG! IT’S ANGELICA GREENE!”
Angelica Greene!
Angelica Greene!
And suddenly it hit me.
Why she looked so familiar.
She was the actress I was supposed to be working with on set next month.
With a smirk, she locked eyes with me.
And I knew, in that moment.
I was screwed.
The Aftermath
Present day
THE COOL SEASIDE breeze picked up, whipping my tight leather jacket around my biceps, making me squeeze my arms across my chest. Annoyance surged through my body, making my blood hot despite the cold weather.
Angelica fucking Greene.
Late.
Shocker.
I gritted my teeth and flashed an irritated glance at my Rolex.
Make that an hour late to set.
Jaymeson waved at me from the beach and lifted his arms up in question. Of course, Angelica gets the second chance of a lifetime working for Jamie Jaymeson — one of the biggest names in the industry, not to mention the youngest — and she’s late.
An hour late.
A pulsing headache throbbed behind my eyes; I pulled off my prescription sunglasses and blew out a breath between my teeth.