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“Assholes.”
“For sure. I don’t have any idea how they came to be that way. I don’t know if my father was just a psychopath and brainwashed my mother. I don’t even know who my grandparents are.
“There were about forty people in the church. Twelve of those were our family. It was like being in prison. It was awful. So, when I turned eighteen, I packed a change of clothes and ran away.
“I went to LA, and I had to lie on job applications just so I could get some work to have money. I waited tables, I cleaned hotel rooms. Anything. One of the hotels was the Roosevelt, and I was singing in the hallway by my cart one morning. Donald, my manager, heard me and asked me if I’d come to LA to try to be a singer.
“I told him that I came to LA to find a life. It was really that simple. And that’s the last day I ever woke up wondering how I was going to eat or pay the rent. Donald took me in and helped me form a career that most people only dream of.”
“Good for you,” Levi says and reaches over to take my hand in his. “Now I understand why you don’t have any contact with them.”
“I do send them money.”
“What?” His voice is utterly calm, but every muscle contracts.
“I do.” I shrug a shoulder. “About a year after the music took off, I had a private investigator look into them. They never filed a missing person’s report on me. Ever. Because I also didn’t have a birth certificate. According to the county, I’d never been born. Which explains why no one came to find out why my siblings and I weren’t in school.
“When I was in LA and changed my name, I had to forge an original birth certificate. Anyway, they were still doing their thing, living in squalor. They’d had another baby. And all I could think was, those kids deserve something. I’m never going back there to physically help them. I can’t. But I did have the investigator call CPS to report the family, and I send money in the oldest siblings’ names, for them to help the others.
“They had to sign legal papers that state they can’t give money to the church. They can’t help our parents. It’s for the kids. And I don’t send it directly. It goes through my financial people, so I’m very hands-off.”
“None of them have left? Gone to look for you?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Star, could this stalker be one of them?”
That brings me up short. I blink, staring at Levi. Is it possible? I suppose it is. The older kids know who I am.
“It’s not impossible,” I concede, speaking slowly. “But they receive a lot of money, Levi. I can’t imagine they’d want—”
“If they’re angry at you for leaving, or for being a celebrity, or anything, they could do it. If they have mental health issues like your parents . . .”
“I hadn’t thought of that. I guess I could call my investigator and have him peek in on them. He does every couple years or so.”
“Give me his name,” Levi says, opening his phone. “I’ll call him.”
I should bristle at that. Eddie is under my employ, and he’s always been excellent at maintaining confidentiality. But the idea of taking another step back from my family is too enticing to throw away.
I open my phone, find Eddie’s info, and send it to Levi.
“There you go. We can call him together tomorrow, and I’ll let him know it’s okay to work directly with you.”
“It’s in my calendar,” Levi confirms. “If it comes down to telling them what’s going on here—”
“It won’t.” I cut him off and cross my arms over my chest. “Trust me, they don’t care. And I know it’s not about them anyway. This has been going on for a long time, and they’ve never mentioned my family.”
Levi doesn’t meet my eyes as he carefully sets his phone down, then links his fingers together and leans on the table.
“Excuse me?”
I swallow. Shit.
“Starla.”
“I’ve been getting emails for a few months.”
“How many months?”
“Six? Eight?”
“Christ.” He stands and paces around the kitchen. “You didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me?”
“They weren’t threatening until very recently. Just . . . weird. And I’ve never received photos like this until the one you saw of me and Meredith.”
“I can’t protect you if I don’t know everything.”
“Well, now you do.” I stand and prop my hands on my hips. “You saw the dick pics in this box. The proposal. This isn’t even a fraction of the shit that happens on Instagram. The shit that comes through the public email address. People are disgusting, Levi, and I’ve learned to filter out most of it. I ignore it.”
