Serves you right, you perverted old man, I thought.

Emily’s car was an old Corolla, and dingy enough on the inside that I didn’t feel bad about forgetting the old towel to protect her back seat. She burst out laughing. “It’s a good thing Sterling Royce has maid service every day. You’re kind of a terrible first-time dog mom.” She stopped the car by a park and reached for the leash. “But don’t worry, I’ll help you. That is, if I’m hired.”

“Shh, less noise, more quiet. And yes. You definitely are.”

Penny had a proper bathroom break and we drove back into the city, where we stopped again at a pet store for essentials before finally making it to my brand-new home at the base of Runyon Canyon. Emily helped set up everything and gave me her number before backing out of the drive. Quiet settled over the house, interrupted only by the soft clicking of Penny’s nails on the tile as she explored every space.

I sat on the kitchen floor watching her, thinking. Lucy was not the picture of discretion. She was a few years younger, and had been brought up in this odd Hollywood world, but I could see her possibly talking about what had happened if the opportunity arose. She and Rose were similar in that way; I wouldn’t put it past Rose to tell an interesting story if it meant keeping people’s attention. The way Lucy had called the paparazzi to get photos of my adopting the dog—would she publicly mention what happened last night?

The more I thought about the kiss, I wondered why I’d felt such a visceral sense of wrongness. Lucy was beautiful, absolutely. Her signature lips, with their prominent cupid’s bow, had been pillowy and smooth, slippery and wet. Maybe it was because it didn’t feel like she kissed me for me, but she kissed me for Sterling. How he watched and enjoyed it, probably. Or maybe it was just guilt—I wondered if Alex would consider a drunken kiss with a girl as cheating, or if he’d welcome it as Sterling did.

Alex.

I suddenly remembered the reason for my wanting to get into the hard liquor last night. The photo. I scrubbed at my face with one hand. My head was buzzing, like a thousand flies were trapped inside and agitating behind my ears. First things first: I needed to brush my teeth and take a shower. Then I went out and bought a car, feeling reckless and irresponsible as I picked out something cute on a whim—a new Audi that I chose because I liked the rear taillights, nothing more. I let Penny out one more time and then, figuring that there wasn’t anything she could destroy yet, locked her in the house.

Rose wasn’t there when I showed up at the apartment, but some of her belongings were lying scattered in the living room, ready for pickup. The apartment looked old and weathered. The carpet was well-worn in spots where we and previous tenants had traveled routine paths from the kitchen to the bathroom and the bedrooms farther in. The ceiling fan was still on and keening unevenly. We’d lived here for almost two years and so much had happened. Everything had been a whirlwind, from the first single leaping to the top of the charts to the tour and the promotions. We had all sprung from this little beige apartment; we, as Gloss existed now, had been born here. And for a brief moment, Viv’s dark, sad eyes swam to the forefront of my mind. She should’ve been here; she should be the one buying an expensive house on a hill and impulse-buying a car. Not me. I’d felt so buoyant before, but now my heart plummeted like a rock.

My thoughts were interrupted by a trill coming from my bag: Alex, wanting to see the new house. I hauled the full hamper to my hip, locked the door, and turned the key in at the front desk.

I was slow getting back to the house because I had to stop at the drugstore, so Alex was waiting for me at the front gate. After meeting Penny and rolling around with her on the floor, Alex toured the house, taking in the high ceilings, stucco accents, and gleaming floors. He tested every water faucet and flipped every light switch, peering into the fixtures and taking it all in. Penny followed him from room to room, tail sweeping back and forth furiously. “It’s a really nice place,” he said when he finally saw the last bit—the courtyard outside that was bookended by two separate wings of the house, studded with newly installed security cameras positioned every which way.

I shrugged halfheartedly. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

His expression was incredulous. “Fine? You could stick three families in here and it’s only fine? You bought your first house and you’re not excited at all?”

My eyes wandered through the courtyard, the trees bordering the lawn, the new Audi sitting in the long driveway that disappeared over a crest in the hill. Then the two-story buildings, capped with beautiful Spanish tile and warm pink stone that looked purple in the dark. But I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. “Let’s go inside,” I said, and Penny led the way back into the kitchen. I sat on a cardboard box and picked through my plastic laundry basket. Alex slid down the kitchen island and stretched his legs out across the floor.

“I don’t get it,” Alex was saying. “If you don’t love it, why did you even buy it?”

I pulled out the magazine that I’d bought at Walgreens. I flipped through to the dog-eared page slowly, deliberately. I had been shocked and angry before, and had almost been looking forward to this confrontation, but now that it was about to happen, my heart beat too loudly in my ears. I took a short breath. “What is this?”

“What’s what?”

I shoved the magazine at him and jabbed a finger at the glossy spread. “This.”

Alex’s eyes widened and he grabbed it. “Wait. That’s the—”

“Mm-hmm.” I crossed my arms.

“But. Hey. You don’t think that I—”

I leaned forward on my elbows, clasping my fingers together so that I wouldn’t hit him. “I do.”

“But Cass. There’s got to be a perfectly good explanation for this.”

“There is. Easiest one: you sold me out.”

“I can’t believe you’d even think that.” His tone turned defensive now. “And besides, I saw a lot of things I wanted to ask you about in those pictures. You sure look cozy with Stephen.”

“Um, wait. You’re going to turn around and lecture me? We already talked about this. That stunt at the MVAs—”

“Look. I get it. He’s a big star, you’re a big star. Whatever. And yeah, you told me nothing was going on, but you’re out all the time, and I barely see you—”

“It’s not my fault that I have to work!” I exploded. “You think this is fun for me? I’m always on. If I’m not on, I’m sleeping. You. Me. This is the only real thing I have, and if you can’t trust me—and I can’t trust you—what are we even doing together?”

“Hold on a minute. Are you saying that we should break up? Look, you can trust me! I just don’t know if I trust the people you’re with, and—”

“Oh, that’s rich.” I curled the magazine into a tube and smacked my hand with it. “You, who sold our pictures. Did they pay a lot? Are you good on beer money for the year? The decade?”

“Are you listening to yourself?” he said, right as I barreled on with, “Is it covering your tuition?”

“Now hold on a minute.” His neck had turned dark. “What are you trying to say?”

“That you’d make a lot of money selling a picture to a tabloid and you’d feel guilty enough to start bringing up some other guy like I’m cheating on you to cover it up! Which I’m not!” A flash pierced my mind: Lucy’s cupid’s bow coming toward me. Her blurry green eyes.

“Fine. Whatever. You’re not messing around. Okay.”

There was a long pause where we didn’t look at each other.

I said, “Fine.” Another long silence.

Finally, he said, in a softer voice, “I swear I didn’t sell them.” His voice carried a hint of irritation. “If you were so worried, why didn’t you develop the film yourself and give me only the approved ones?”

“Of course. This is all my fault.” I let my head drop to my knees and hugged my legs, trying to calm my shivering body. Alex put a warm hand on my back and rubbed it back and forth. I fought to gain control of my breath again. Penny nuzzled her wet nose into my hair and licked my forehead. Something inside of me broke again, and a laugh fizzled out of my mouth. “This is all so stupid.”

It wasn’t just the argument. It was everything: the house, the car, the dog, the album, the photo, the security cameras, the bodyguards, the tour, the workouts, the eating, the not-eating, the loudness that was so loud, the quiet that was too quiet, the cardboard box I was still sitting on, the boy sitting next to me on the kitchen floor.

“It is. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you sold it?”

He stopped rubbing my back. “That’s not what I meant.”

I didn’t say anything else.

“I know it’s been tough,” he said slowly, “and I’m sorry I didn’t know the rules about getting prints developed. And I know you get this way sometimes so I’m going to just let it go . . .”