HE HATED ME.
I hated me.
The world hated me.
The only person that actually tolerated me was my mom, probably because my paychecks made it possible for her to live the life of a rock star. Plastic surgery, new cars, houses in Mexico — she had it all because of me.
Because of the grueling schedule she’d forced me into when I was two and barely able to talk.
My first word was commercial.
My second was hotdog.
Mainly because that was the commercial I starred in, it was the first big paycheck my mom cashed.
“You’re gonna be famous, baby!” Mama hugged me tight, squeezing me until my lungs almost popped from the force. It was the first hug she’d given me in weeks. The first time she’d smiled in what felt like forever. And even at that age I knew, that if I could just keep her happy — that would be enough.
“Fun!” I giggled. “Fun, mama!”
“Mama will always be fun for you.”
It was a lie.
She was only fun when I did what she said.
I closed my eyes against the sting of tears as my lead-filled legs took me to the makeup trailer.
Luckily, Jaymeson hadn’t stayed to continue his rant, and Will was too pissed to follow me.
My chest clenched.
It wasn’t like I was tardy on purpose. I had trouble sleeping at night so often hid my cell under my bed. I’d relied on the hotel alarm.
And suffered for it.
You love your job. You love your job.
I hated my job.
My shoulders deflated.
But I literally didn’t know how to do anything else and was too afraid to say something to my mom — my drug-using, over-the-top, dramatic mom. The one whose psychotic ways nearly destroyed me a few years ago.
“There you are!” Gem, a makeup artist I’d worked with not long ago pulled me in for a tight hug then pointed to the chair, “So Jay wants us to go pretty light on the makeup today, you okay with that?”
In a daze, I simply nodded.
She’d hugged me.
My body was still in shock.
Buzzing from the contact.
Starving for more of it.
I hated the weakness that accompanied that hug, the little taunting voice in my head that said I wasn’t good enough for a simple caress.
The rapid beating of my heart that readily agreed.
Or the empty look in my reflection that I’d always believed it.
Will.
I shuddered.
“You okay?” Gem started swirling colors on her palette then dipped her brush in and swiped it across my jaw in an effort to match the shade of my tan skin. “You seem a bit off.”
I’d been off since that fateful day.
But I didn’t tell people that.
It was my secret to keep.
And his.
“How did I get so lucky?” Will’s lips grazed my ear as we walked toward the waiting limo. “To get you?”
I rolled my eyes as unease washed over me. “Stop, you know I’m the lucky one.” My heart was in my throat as I pasted on a smile and made eye contact with his bandmate, the one who’d given me the drugs still in the bottom of my purse, the drugs he promised would make me feel better after a drunken confession that I was depressed. Palms sweaty, I nodded to him.
His smirk made me feel dirty.
Like he was looking at me naked.
And I’d had my fair share of dirty.
I was underage Hollywood through and through.
But I’d never crossed that line into drugs territory.
I licked my lips and forced a heart-stopping smile up at Will. “You’re the best you know that?” I could see Andrew frowning out of the corner of my eye, his body language tense. He’d told me it was only a matter of time before I got tired of Will and chose him.
And I was out to prove him wrong.
Besides, it was just one hit, right?
One hit.
What would go wrong?
“All done!” Gem helped me to my feet and grinned. “I think you look beautiful.”
I hadn’t felt beautiful in a long time, and for some reason that compliment, the very real one from my aging makeup artist had me seconds from bursting into tears, so I did what I always did. I deflected, acted out, projected. “I get that a lot.”
She didn’t frown.
Instead, she stepped closer to me, put a hand underneath my chin, and tilted it up. “I just bet you do, sweetie.”
Not sure how to take it, I stumbled backward, barely remembering to grab my call sheet for the day, all while Gem smiled sweetly and waved like she was sending me off to school.
More like Hollywood Hell.
Jaymeson was spraying my brother with some sort of water hose, Lincoln yelped while Jaymeson told him not to be a bitch. Jaymeson’s wife, playing the role of the heroine, Pris laughed at the spectacle.
We were shooting a story based on the guys’ time in Seaside.
The first movie had been a blockbuster.
The second two were slated to make over seven hundred million domestic.
And lucky me. Will got me the part of the nemesis.
The enemy.
The most hated girl in America.
Me.
Angelica Greene.
Twenty-six years old and already being shoved toward retirement. Until this had popped up. How great after all, would it be, to play yourself?
Except I knew my place.
I’d been the villain.
Was always the villain.
Sure, I’d helped Jay get the girl over a year ago, but that one good deed wasn’t enough to pay for my sins. And it was a nightmare knowing that everyone believed the exact same thing.