Page 5 of Seeking Her Studs

The whole thing makes me feel sick. I’ve played the media game my whole life as a child star turned “serious” actress, but this engagement took it a step further than I’m comfortable with. And if I don’t stop it, I’m worried about what will happen to me. I’ve always felt like I’m dancing at the edge of a cliff. But now it’s starting to feel like the cliff is collapsing under me. I need to find solid land. And that certainly isn’t in Hollywood. At least not for me.

I throw open the big oak door to my bedroom and head to my nightstand. There’s one place in the world I used to run to when my life felt like too much. Until I screwed that place up to. Gram might not be waiting for me anymore in Solace Springs, but there’s still a piece of her that is.

I reread the note she left for me in her will.

Hello my star,

It’s your cheeky Gram with a proposition. Although, if you’re reading this, then I guess you can call this my dying wish.

I’ve left you my Airstream camper. When I bought that thing, I was a young mom who just needed a roof over my head but instead found a home when I parked it in Solace Springs. You’ll never need to worry about a roof over your head, but maybe one day you will need a home.

And I don’t mean you can just hire someone to pick it up. I know you, my star. And this time, money won’t cut it. You need to get it working and make it liveable again all on your own. As an incentive, I’ve arranged for one more thing from me to be waiting for you when it’s all done.

With all my love,

Gram

P.S. You only have five years. I might not be in a rush anymore, but you’re not getting any younger.

Guilt ripples through me as it always does when I read this letter. I haven’t had the time to go back to Solace Springs to complete her wishes. And yeah, okay. I’ve been avoiding it too.

“Okay, Blaire. We came to an agreement. You need to wear this a little longer.” Patricia enters my bedroom holding out the obnoxiously big diamond ring in front of her like it’s the nose of a sniffer dog looking for a cadaver. I guess in this case, I’d be the cadaver.

“No.” I say, but she doesn’t even acknowledge my answer.

“We decided the best time for you guys to break up is shortly after the premiere. We’ll drop some hints in the media beforehand so it doesn’t come as a total shock to the public.”

“No.” I say again.

“That actually doesn’t sound so bad,” Mika looks at me pleadingly. I get it that this is his career. But it’s also my life. And for too long, I’ve thought that my career is my life and my life is my career. I’ve never known where the line is. But maybe I can still find it.

I ignore them and head to my walk-in closet. The space is as big as my bedroom because it often needs to fit an entire glam squad, so unfortunately they follow me with ease. I beeline to the wall custom-built for my bags and roll out my largest aluminum Rimowa suitcase.

I start throwing clothes into the suitcase in a hurry. This is something my stylist usually does, but I don’t have time to get her here. Because if I don’t leave now, I’m afraid I never will.

“We don’t have any trips scheduled. Why are you packing?” Patricia asks, finally looking me in the eye.

“I’m leaving,” I say as I head to my jewelry tray.

“Like hell you are,” Patricia’s tone finally matches her intentions, harsh and demanding. “We’ve got too much going on.”

“I can come with you!” Mika offers.

“Oh, some vacation photos would be gold.” Frederic chimes in. “Perfect way to propose. Tenerife, perhaps?”

I don’t even bother to respond as I pull out a jewelry travel case.

“Just at least tell me where you’re going.” Patricia steps closer to me.

I scan my jewelry, trying to find what I’m looking for. Has it really been that long since I’ve worn it?

“At the very least, I’ll need to arrange security,” Patricia stands unnervingly close to me now.

I spot a smudge of tarnished silver pushed all the way back into the jewelry tray. One of my stylists must have wanted it out of the way, deeming it something they’d never even consider putting on me.

“And an assistant, a driver, your plane and pilot, a stylist, a makeup artist.” Patricia continues. She’s right. Ordinarily, this is the very least that I travel with.

But I’m not doing “ordinary” anymore.