“What’s going on?” I ask once we’re safely tucked away in a corner, forcing myself not to look back at Dante.
Heather’s weathered face softens. “Honey, I flew in from LA this morning. Didn’t feel right doing this over the phone, not after all these years.” She straightens her Chanel jacket. “Diamond Essence is pulling your campaign.”
The words hit me with a physical force I wasn’t expecting. My throat constricts. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The pixie cut, darling.” Her perfectly manicured hand gestures to my head. “Those shortsighted bastards are claiming ‘brand dissonance’ with their precious ‘long, flowing hair’ aesthetic.”
A hysterical laugh escapes me, but inside something cracks. “Are you kidding?”
“Those people don’t deserve you anymore. We had a damn good run with them, but honestly—” She leans in conspiratorially, like she did when I was an overwhelmed teenager at my first premiere. “You’ve outgrown them. You’re heading into your thirties, starring in prestige pictures. This film? It’s going to change everything. You had the right idea pushing for this, and now that Langford is gone, it’s right.”
My fingertips feel numb. The adrenaline from the stunt is crashing, leaving me hollow. “They really just want to drop me?”
“You need partnerships that reflect where you’re going, not where you’ve been.”
“But we’ve already shot everything—the commercial, the social media campaign,” I protest.
“The coverage we ran from this set two weeks ago was a mixed bag. Good news is that the burlesque photo situation is dying down—yes, rather slowly, but Geraldine’s working her usual magic there.”
I shift uncomfortably, my wet clothes clinging to my skin. It’s as if my body no longer belongs to me.
“Level with me, Heather. Is it just the haircut?”
“The image shift makes them nervous,” Heather says carefully, her eyes flicking to Dante and the crew. “The edge, the evolution, the romance rumors…it’s not their brand. Plus, that Susan article is getting a lot of traction.”
I thought theStone Timeshad dropped my story since all the other press that covered my on-set press release ran their articles last week. But no.
Susan Martin dug everything she could out of my closet, weaving rumors about relationships with costars, directors, everything. My movies pulled apart and dissected. Every interview I’d ever given put under a microscope.
Geraldine had warned me against speaking to the press directly, but I did it anyway. I figured I’d get to tell my truth. But Susan doesn’t want my truth; she wants to make her career out of slandering mine. And I might’ve given her the ammo.
“Everything in her article was a lie,” I say, the words tumbling out too quickly to be convincing. It hurts more than I thought it would. The weight of everything I’ve been holding back presses down on me.
I think of Dante’s face after our kiss, the way he looked at me like I was both precious and strong. The vulnerability in his eyes was real, but it’s the power I can’t ignore. It’s not just the Hollywood story. It’s my story now.
As an executive producer, I have to keep moving forward strategically. My feelings for Dante are real, and maybe for now that’s all that matters. I can stay out of the media for the next five weeks while we finish filming, and when I reemerge, the public will have moved on to someone else.
“Of course it was. I’m working on getting the article pulled,” Heather says with diplomatic smoothness. “But Diamond Essence already signed on Summer Brown—nineteen, fresh from Tennessee, sweet as pie. Just like you used to be. Just like they wanted you to stay.”
The words sting more than I expected. Diamond Essence was my first national campaign, the one that helped me buy my house in LA. Their shampoo’s magnolia-peach scent still lingers in my master bath. I’ve become the woman I wanted to be, but saying goodbye to this chapter hurts more than I thought it would.
“They want that version of me back,” I snap, combing my hand through my wet pixie cut. The cut is mine—even if it’s costing me this campaign. Even if it might cost me more than that. “The sweetheart. But I can’t go back to being led. I’m finally the one doing the leading.”
“As you should be.”
Heather grabs my shoulders with the fierce protectiveness that’s guided my entire career. “Listen to me, kid. I’ve been in this town since Marilyn was doing test shots. You’re not only changing your look, you’re evolving. Making real moves. And some dinosaurs can’t handle evolution. But trust me, after this film drops, they’ll be begging to have you back. I’m already in talks with Starlight and Crown & Glory.”
“Those aren’t exactly Diamond Essence level…”
“The money’s different, yes. But here’s some wisdom from your ancient agent who’s seen it all: sometimes you have to lose the tiara to find your crown. Like you said yourself, you can’t stay America’s sweetheart forever.”
I nod, too stunned to think. Each change has brought me something amazing—the role, the confidence, the executive producer credit, Dante—but I’m losing things too, pieces of who I used to be, fragments I didn’t know I’d miss. The price of ambition weighs heavy.
“Being Hollywood’s new queen pays better than being America’s sweetheart. Trust me on this one, kid.”
“Right.” My jaw clenches.
After all, I’m an actress. And as my hands flex and unflex against my sides, I realize I need to give the performance of my life. I need to be someone who isn’t watching their world shift beneath their feet, someone who isn’t mourning the ghost of who she used to be as she celebrates who she’s becoming. Someone who knows exactly what she has to sacrifice to get where she’s going.
