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“You turned down Bruckburg, honey,” he says. “Plus three other career-defining scripts. And I heard through the vine that you fired your agent.”
I nod. “My father and I decided to cut our business relationship,” I say. “But the rest is just rumors.”
“So, you’re not quitting?”
“Just taking a break. I’ve been running nonstop since I was eighteen. I need a vacation,” I joke.
“That’s good to hear, Rox. This town wouldn’t be the same without you.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
He moves on down the line to my co-star. I continue forward through the haze of screaming fans and blinding cameras, wondering if that sounded as convincing as it did in my head.
The rumors of my retirement have followed me around ever since The Iowa Incident. Hollywood’s biggest starlet gets kidnapped and ends up fighting for her life in a hospital in Iowa City. The inevitable made-for-TV movie has already written itself. It all made for some good click-bait, but an international criminal organization got exposed at the same time.
Still, the only thing the gossip shows cared about was me.
Not the assassinated presidential candidate.
Not the world-wide manhunt for Snake Eyes agents who could literally be anyone.
No. Just Roxie Roberts and her sliced-up face.
I’m not that fucking important.
So, yeah. I’m retiring from this bullshit life the first chance I get. I just have to make it through one last night of red carpets and shining lights.
I look straight ahead, silently counting the number of steps I have left to take before I can finally duck inside the theater and escape out the back.
Again, I feel that wave of warmth down my spine. Fox’s eyes are on me. Somewhere in the crowd, he’s watching my every move. My valiant watchman.
I wish he’d let me watch over him, too. He’s been through so much in so little time. He’s seen and done things no one should ever have to go through.
It’s changed him. He won’t admit it. He avoids my questions about it. There’s a piece of him I can’t touch, not for lack of trying, but because he won’t let me close enough.
And it scares me.
He hasn’t slept through the night once since we came back from Iowa. He gets up and walks around the house in the dark as if he’s hunting ghosts. Maybe he is.
But he always comes back. He slinks into bed and lays an arm around me. I pretend to be asleep as his lips graze my forehead or my shoulder or my hand, whichever is closest. It’s like he doesn’t think I’m real and he has to touch me just to make sure.
“Give us one last smile, Roxie!”
I pause outside the theater and turn back around to give them what they want. The crowd waves and screams my name. Cameras flash, blurring my vision until I see spots.
One last smile.
I stretch my lips wide. I hold a hand high. In my head, I say goodbye. Adios. Sayonara.
The door opens ahead of me and my assistant, Lena, waves me inside. I pick up my pace, following her in and leaving the red carpet behind for the last time.
“Finally,” I murmur, exhaling hard.
Lena’s stiff lips twitch. She’s done her fair share of these things, too. Later tonight, I’ll tell her my plans to retire. Hopefully, it won’t come as too much of a shock to the poor girl, but I know plenty of colleagues who would kill for an assistant like her. She’ll find work again in no time. I’ll make sure of it.
She gestures me to the left. “This way,” she says. “They’re funneling the talent through the employee hall to steer clear of the lobby.”
“Awesome.”
