Any breakup sucked, but going through one when you were a celebrity was ten times worse. Imagine every single incident in your life magnified, scrutinized, and published all over the world, usually portrayed in the most unflattering light and rarely accurate. The more scandalous the subject matter, the more the story took off. Over time I’d learned that people didn’t care if what was being reported was true or not; they simply enjoyed observing the chaos and carnage from the safety of their own mundane lives. For whatever reason, the public enjoyed watching celebrities suffer, and it reminded me just how out of touch with one another we truly were.
Ridding my head of those thoughts, I wondered how many times in the past Colin had cheated, and just how much of a fool I’d been. We’d dated for almost a year, and I thought we understood each other’s lifestyle, never being too possessive or jealous, never questioning each other’s actions. Both of us were in the entertainment industry, and while groupies tossed their dignity at him every night, I suppose I was naive enough to think he’d never take them up on their offers.
I suddenly had the urge to slap my own stupid face and freaking kill him. Right after I picked up the pieces of my shattered pride and aching heart.
Startling me, my phone vibrated against the coffee table. I watched as it danced, shaking all the tabletop items around it like they were in a bouncy house. It had been doing that almost nonstop since the news broke, and I let it.
I glanced down to see my manager’s name, Corryn, flashing on the screen. I pressed Ignore only to have the phone start vibrating again within seconds. My agent, Jayson, was apparently next in line on the check-on-Paige train. Pushing Ignore again, I wondered when they’d all get the hint to leave me alone. My publicist had called five times already and I probably should have answered her call, but honestly, this was Colin’s screw-up, not mine. If anyone should be talking to their publicist about saving face, it was him, not me.
My mother always warned me that people in this business were not as good-hearted as I tended to be. This industry was vicious and brutal, but it was also amazing, life-changing, and spectacular. I loved my job, and up until about thirty minutes ago, I thought I’d loved Colin too.
Mom also constantly reminded me that I was far too trusting, but I didn’t know how to be any other way. Being a Southern California native who spent most of my years living a normal childhood helped keep me grounded. My parents had normal lives, had worked normal jobs, and I had never planned on becoming an actress.
Fighting the urge to call my mom, I picked up the phone to dial my best friend, Quinn, instead. When the phone suddenly vibrated in my hand I almost dropped it, but quickly answered when I noticed Quinn’s name on the display.
“I was just going to call you,” I breathed out.
“Liar,” she scoffed, and I almost huffed out a laugh. Almost.
“I swear.”
“Verdict?”
I knew exactly what she meant. “There’s no way that video’s faked.”
“I thought the same thing,” she said, agreeing way too quickly.
“The other pictures too. They don’t look Photoshopped to you, do they?” There were also pictures taken of Colin with other women. Apparently the blonde had friends, and she didn’t mind sharing.
She sighed before admitting, “No.”
“Me either.”
“I can’t believe this shit,” Quinn bit out. “No. Scratch that. Actually I can, and I’ll kill his scrawny ass the next time I see him. Pack some clothes and get over here. You’re staying with me tonight.” She paused briefly, seeming to consider before asking, “Unless you want me to come there and stay with you? Is that what you want? I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll totally come to you. I’m an idiot—”
I forced my hazy brain to make a decision, then I cut her off. “No. Your place sounds perfect. I’d love to get away from here. It’s already a madhouse outside. Thanks, Quinn.”
“Of course. I love you. Drive safe.”
Quinn and I had bonded instantly on the set of my first movie when I was fourteen. She was a pro, had been acting since she was a little kid, and I’d been so nervous that I felt sick to my stomach when I arrived that afternoon. She had shared her french fries with me, reminding me that eating something was better than eating nothing when you were nervous and had to work until who knew when. I decided right then and there that any girl who would share her fries with a stranger was a keeper.
Plus, she was incredibly kind to me, and I envied the way she spoke her mind, no matter who she was talking to. Quinn Johnson never seemed afraid of anyone or anything, and I wanted to be more like her.
When production on our film wrapped, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see Quinn again, but to my surprise we became virtually inseparable. She was the one person in the world who really understood what I was going through. We shared experiences that other people couldn’t begin to relate to, and I was so happy to have her in my corner.
Tossing some comfortable clothes into an overnight bag, I wandered into my bathroom and gathered up my necessities as my phone rang yet again from my bedroom. I should have turned it off hours ago, but it wasn’t in my DNA to be rebellious and unreachable. The fact that I’d ignored most calls today was pretty out of character for me. Ever the obedient one, Paige Lockwood had always played by the rules.
I walked over to where my phone lay on my bed and checked the caller ID to see Colin’s name flashing across the screen. My stomach instantly churned and my heart seized. Willing my numb fingers to move, I pressed Ignore, half-tempted to throw the damn thing against the wall and watch it splinter into tiny pieces like my heart. Taking some calming breaths, I focused on each inhale and exaggerated exhale as he continued to call my phone, the calls finally stopping as my text message notification beeped.
It’s not what it looks like.
And then beeped again.
You know it’s fake. Those girls just want money.
Just talk to me, baby.
Please.
Baby? Lord give me strength if another man ever calls me “baby” again.
I rolled my eyes at his texts and wondered if he’d ever told me the truth in the last ten months. Thankful he was in another country and couldn’t show up here unannounced, I gathered what was left of my wits and my things, and headed out my front door. I made my way downstairs, knowing all too well what I’d be faced with once I was down there.
The dreaded paparazzi.
Thank God I’d had the foresight to choose a place in LA with a doorman, private parking, and twenty-four-hour concierge service. My parents suggested the concierge, and I’d been convinced that no such thing existed in Southern California. I’d never been happier than in this moment to be proven wrong by that simple fact. I loved the security and privacy that living here afforded me.
Lowering my sunglasses over my face, I stepped into the lobby and was immediately greeted by Sam, the concierge, his salt-and-pepper hair falling into his eyes. He quickly brushed the stray hairs away and walked with me toward the building’s exit.
“Good afternoon, Miss Lockwood.” His thick Latino accent filled the space between us and I marveled at how beautiful it sounded. I always did this around Sam, acted as if I were studying the very fabric of the language for a part or upcoming role. I never was, but he humored me anyway, talking purely for my enjoyment.
“The paparazzi are across the street. Right over there.” He gestured in the direction of a small crowd and I nodded in response, offering a tight-lipped smile as he continued. “They tried to come in, but I threatened to call the cops and have them all arrested for trespassing.”
“I really wish they’d pass some laws against this type of thing,” I said with a sigh.