Six Months Later

ALEXANDRA groaned inwardly.

“So, tell us, Lexxi Rock,” Kyle O’Myron, the late-night talk show host began.

Whatever Kyle was about to ask would sting. It was clear to her. Alexandra stayed up often to watch his show. His light blue eyes would take on that same glint, and his lips would curve upward just before he pulled the proverbial rug out from under his celebrity guests.

Kyle took far too much pleasure in seeing celebrities squirm, which was the main reason the show’s ratings were always so high, and why she was a guest tonight. She tried to anticipate what he would ask. It was a live show, so all she could do was prepare to flash an unaffected fake smile.

“Earlier today, we learned that your boyfriend and country music star, Wilkes Barracks, made the news when he was seen, um—well, we’ll just call it ‘cozying up’ with debut actress Lydia Daniels.”

“What?” Already, she was shocked. I know I didn’t just hear what I think I heard, she thought.

“That had to come out of left field, didn’t it, Lexxi? You and Wilkes have been dating for a while now. Fans were hoping, crossing their fingers for the two of you to walk down the aisle. By the way, have you seen the footage of Wilkes and Lydia together down in Miami? Run the clip, Rod.”

He didn’t bother to wait for her to respond. He bulldozed ahead.

Alexandra held a breath and felt her pulse quicken. The wall of screens around the set displayed her shirtless boyfriend. It closed in on Wilkes, passionately kissing the buxom, raven-haired young actress, before a backdrop of rolling aquamarine waves and a blazing blue sky. The image was so out of character that for five seconds, only disbelief would register on her face. Her dark brown eyebrows winged up above widened eyes as her mouth dropped open.

Wilkes isn’t a passionate guy!

That can’t be my Wilkes.

As if reading her mind, the clip showed the same scene from a different angle. It was Wilkes all right.

“Son of a bitch,” she said under her breath, confused.

All this time Wilkes had kept her at arm’s length. Their relationship was cool at best, yet there he was setting off fireworks as he kissed that tramp?

Of course, the camera panned over to Alexandra, clocking her reaction in a side-by-side display with the cheating asshole and his actress skank of a sex partner. It took extra effort for her lips to twist in a semblance of a smile for the audience’s sake. On the inside, she was seething with rage. Her boyfriend of over a year had to have grown a pair of brass balls to embarrass her this way. He didn’t even have the decency to phone and dump her, or to give her the heads-up this footage was coming. And he was the one who drove her to the airport to fly in for this show!

Prick.

Alexandra had to assume he wanted her to see it as the feature video clip of this late night show, like everyone else in the audience. The timing of this revelation sucked. She was in the middle of recording an album, for goodness sake. She didn’t need a scandal. Wilkes could have at least waited until the album dropped—at which point any publicity would be good publicity.

“Damn you, Wilkes,” she said under her breath before addressing the footage. “Hmmm, uh, well…” she struggled to respond. “I think it’ll make a great song. In fact, I can’t wait to immortalize another failed relationship on my upcoming album, Kyle. And, good for Wilkes! You know? He’s obviously a classy guy, to have done something like this.”

Kyle tossed his head and laughed. His perfectly coiffed hair didn’t budge. Alexandra forced her contrived smile to remain in place. She was sure Kyle had been hoping for tears—springing that crap on her out of the blue.

Ugh, I hate my life sometimes!

Dressed in the purple and white polka-dot dress that complemented her knee-length purple hair, at least she looked like she had it all together. Looks were deceiving at the moment, but she was the one fans dubbed as an A-list rock superstar with the voice of an angel. Not Wilkes. With that in mind, she pressed on and waded through Kyle’s tough questions.

“There’s the Lexxi Rock America knows and loves, ladies and gentlemen!” he concluded. “Stay tuned. Up next, Lexxi will be performing for us live.”

The second they gave the call for a commercial break, she fled past the greenroom and stamped down a side corridor to her dressing room, grumbling under her breath the whole way.

“Make-up, Miss Lexxi?” a stylist called after her.

She needed to be back on stage in minutes, but ignored the woman. At this point she couldn’t care less if she came off like a diva.

Screw them all.

Alexandra slammed the door behind her and pressed her shoulders against the doorframe, finally letting out the scream she had been holding in on stage. The carpeted room was well-insulated, but the echo resounded in her bruised heart. By the time she was done pouring out the hurt, she struck up the courage to yank out her smartphone and call Wilkes. It went directly to voicemail.

Typical.

She growled into the phone, “Damn you, Wilkes. You fake, Luke Bryan wannabe bastard! How could you do this to me, and with Lydia Daniels of all people? I guess you two are meant for each other, you one-hit wonder. Don’t even try to get back with me. It’s over between us!”

She hit the end call button, wishing it was a rotary phone like the one her grandmother had, so she could get the satisfaction of slamming the handset into the cradle. She huffed and paced around the closet-sized space, unable to calm down or think of anything else. She couldn’t believe he had cheated on her.

Someone knocked and gave her the two-minute warning. Taking several deep breaths, she forced herself to regain her composure. Once she did, she opened the door and breezed back to the greenroom.

“I’m ready for my hair and make-up retouches now,” she told the staff coolly.

The show must go on.