Chapter 1
Veronica
A couple of months earlier…
“Veronica! Veronica! Look over here!”
“Miss Langley, what do you have to say to-,”
“Oh my God, Veronica Langley! Please sign my shirt!”
I smiled and placed one hand on my hip and projected, forming the perfect angle to which they can take a great shot of my look for the red carpet premiere of my latest movie. I looked absolutely fabulous from head to toe, Joan Rivers wouldn’t have been able to criticize my outfit if she were still alive.
I struck a couple more poses for the paparazzi before coming near the barricades holding the fans from entering. I smiled warmly at them and made sure to sign whatever they gave me, stopping a couple of times to let them take some selfies with me. One of them actually had the balls to ask if they could have my number so we could chat, and I laughed and told him he was adorable. I may be a star, but I was not an idiot. To give my personal contact details to a complete stranger, regardless if he or she was a fan of mine or not, was a total no-no. I’d be inviting potential stalkers to disrupt any semblance of privacy I’ve barely managed to scrounge up. And it’s not like I didn’t have enough problems already…
I blinked my eyes rapidly, forcing those thoughts out of my head. This was not the time to think about some crazy, messed-up stalker who’s out to get me.
I smiled wider and wiggled my fingers at the crowd with a small wave before walking inside the theater.
I looked around and saw a couple of reporters inside the venue. They’re probably the ones who got the exclusive rights to cover the event. Sasha, my PR agent, hadn’t told me of any last-minute changes in the lineup of interviews I had to do for the movie, so I guess I had nothing to worry about. I engaged my costar with some idle chitchat as our director got busy fielding questions about the movie, all the while hoping the minutes passed by faster so I could get out of these damn heels.
Yes, it took a while to make me look this good and these heels from Milano are part of the package, but the least they could do was make them damn comfortable for hour-long stands, right?
“Excuse me, Veronica?” I heard someone call out from behind me and I turned around to see a young girl in a black shirt labeled ‘CREW’ at the front and holding a lapel mic with one hand. “Please come this way for your first interview,” she said, holding her arm out to show me the way.
I frowned.
“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware I had an interview scheduled before the movie starts,” I told her, and she smiled thinly.
“We’re very sorry for the last minute changes, but something came up and we had to swap your schedule with Diana Agron’s.” she explained.
That was strange. It is not like Sasha not to inform me of changes beforehand, no matter how abrupt the changes were.
“Please allow me to contact my manager about this, to be sure,” I told her, but she shook her head and placed her hand on my back, lightly pushing me forward.
“Rest assured we have communicated this with your handler,” she said.
I’m probably just being paranoid. My best friend, Leila, always did say I had to lay off the coffee so I wouldn’t be so jumpy all the damn time.
I sucked up the bad feeling in my gut and smiled at her before letting her lead me to one of the doors. She opened the door and I spotted a solitary folding chair at the far wall of the room with a small round table next to it. The movie poster posted up against the far wall a bit haphazardly, as I noticed it being held by colored thumbtacks.
I looked around the room and although I spotted a couple of equipment like camera stands scattered around, the room was bare except for a few silver metal boxes.
There were a handful of people wearing the same shirt as the woman who escorted me here, but something didn’t feel right with them, as well. First off, the men were a little too buff to be crew members, and none of them were setting up the cameras or the light fixtures. They were just there, standing by the door or the two large windows covered in black plastic, the kind used for garbage bags. They looked more like they were guards rather than crew members.
Besides these muscled men, I spotted two people, a man with ridiculously coiffed hair and a woman with kinky jet blue locks that ended at her shoulders were seated on plastic chairs with their bags on their laps, fidgeting a bit in their seat. I made eye contact with the woman and she immediately looked away and started to scratch her arm but not before I caught the anxious look on her face.
I’m really not liking the vibe I’m getting right now.
She saw me looking at the windows and she laughed somewhat awkwardly, somewhat forced, and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she struggled to say something.
“To block out the light,” she stammered, and I nodded, even though I doubted her explanation.
I sat down on the chair and she snapped her fingers toward the crew setting up at the other end of the room. Two people immediately got up and headed towards us, one of them lugging a big metal black case. She opened it, contained tons of makeup, powder, brushes, and applicators. The other one took a comb and hair spray from his utility belt and all three got to work with their own task. They worked on my hair and touching my makeup while the first went to work fixing my lapel on my gown.
The door opened again and I saw my personal assistant, Mimi, come inside the room while she discussed something with a woman holding a couple of placards. She’s probably the interviewer.
It was odd I didn’t recognize her, nor was I familiar with the name of their channel. Call me arrogant, but I’ve been to plenty of interviews since I became an actress, and in that time, I’ve familiarized myself with the people who interview me and the stations, be it on TV, radio, or the internet. I didn’t want to sound snooty or superior to them, as I made it a point to get to know them off cam.
I took a glance at the card she gave me. Linda Drier, CandyMag. Her contact number and email address were at the corner of the card as well, but nothing was ringing a bell.
I heard someone clear their throat and I looked back up to see Linda smile at me and the makeup artists hurried over to her while Mimi tiptoed towards me, ducking at the last minute so she didn’t get hit in the face with a hair dryer.
“Hey, I’ll be getting a quick java drip from that coffee shop I saw earlier. You’ll be finished before the movie starts, right?” she asked, and I raised my eyebrow at her.
“Aren’t you going to explain anything to me?” I asked, waiting for her to tell me why my schedule was messed up. She merely shrugged and blinked at me.
“No. Why?” she said, completely oblivious. I narrowed my eyes at her.
I really didn’t understand where Sasha dug this one up because she sure as hell wasn’t qualified for the job. As far as personal assistants go, Mimi was at the bottom of the barrel. She screamed her ass off the first time she saw me and then proceeded to take a selfie…followed by several more each week so she could gain more followers on her Instagram account. As for doing her job, though...
Well, she left much to be desired.
When she was certain I wasn’t going to say anything, she fished her phone out of her pocket and smiled widely as she looked at the caller on the screen. I rolled my eyes. It was probably her darling boyfriend again. She turned around and left and I sighed before sitting up straighter as Linda signaled to the cameraman that we could start.
I answered her questions and made sure to bolster the film as much as possible in the limited time I had left. I kept checking my watch whenever the camera wasn’t panned on me and when I saw that it was almost time for the movie, I smiled and answered my last question.
Except when she fired off another question it made me very confused.
“I’m sorry, but aren’t we supposed to wrap this up now?” I asked, subtly reminding them I had to leave. Linda looked nervous and kept looking around the room.
“Oh, b-but I still have more questions for you to answer,” she said. I smiled indulgently although inside I was pretty much seething. I had already given up more than enough time for the interview, and I was starting to realize questions were merely being rephrased or asked previously.
“Maybe we could continue this after the movie,” I told her. I was so going to kill Mimi for this, I swear to—
“You can’t leave!” Linda said, her voice raising a pitch higher, and I furrowed my brows at her. I looked around as the burly crewmen got up from their posts and started to walk towards us.
That bad feeling I had in my gut earlier? It heightened ten-fold.