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“I’m twenty-fucking-five!” My voice bounces against the walls, causing it to sound louder in the small room. “I’m not past my goddamn prime.”
Kris raises her hands to try and calm me down. “I understand, but, Ava, they want to draw in the younger demographic. Courtney has close to a hundred million followers and is not afraid to remove her clothing. You know how it is.”
Of course, I know how it works. The more skin you expose, the more money is thrown your way, and therefore, the more followers you gain. I refuse to become that woman. My brand was built on me as a person, and it didn’t involve scandalous shots compromising my integrity. Sure, I may post a few bikini shots in summer, but it’s always done tastefully. If it weren’t, I’d have my father to answer to, and he is ruthless when it comes to business, especially when his daughter is involved.
Slamming my fist against the dresser, I raise my hands to my hair to remove the curlers. In a mad rush, my hair becomes tangled, infuriating me more. When all my hair falls loosely against my back, I yank my robe off, revealing the satin gold designer dress I wear underneath.
“Organize my flight back home now,” I demand while gathering my belongings. “Get my lawyers on this. This will not be the last they’ve heard of me.”
I refuse to stay in Miami a minute longer, ignoring Kris, who fails hopelessly at trying to calm me down. This isn’t the first time I’ve been bumped for someone younger, but it has been happening more often lately. Each time it does, my confidence shatters, and finding the strength to hold my head up high becomes harder and harder.
The pressure of this industry is too much at times. Unlike Millie, who studied law, my chosen profession is short-lived. What’s hot one minute may not be so hot the next, and tonight proved just that.
The flight from Miami gives me too much time to fester in my own thoughts. Thank God it’s a private plane, so I can avoid dealing with people. With the new year upon us, it’s the perfect time for resolutions or an opportunity to reinvent yourself. In fact, I even posted something on my social media account about how to build a new you in the new year.
The problem is, I can’t even practice what I preach.
My life is a mess.
When the plane lands at JFK, I welcome being back in New York. On the drive back to my apartment, I decide to surprise my boyfriend, Olivier. We’d gotten into a fight over tonight after he left Miami in a huff only this morning. We had recently moved in together—a decision which didn’t go down well with my father. According to Millie, Dad has trust issues and thinks Olivier is after my money. The thought alone is ludicrous. Olivier is a sought-after model who has his own money. Maybe not as much as me, but he isn’t broke and living on the streets. Together, we’re the perfect couple, and both our followers grew to double the amount when our relationship went viral. Designer brands are desperate to book us, anything from photoshoots to promoting their properties or products. It has been our busiest year, and frankly, Dad has no idea what he is talking about.
I retrieve my phone from my purse, dialing my sister’s number. The call connects as Millie and Ashton’s faces appear on the screen.
“How is my little man doing?” I ask, unable to hide my smile. “My gosh, Millie, he is so big now.”
“I know, right?” Millie grins while brushing Ashton’s bronze hair to the side with her fingers. “Time to give him a sibling.”
“Wait, you guys are actually trying?”
Millie nods with an enthused smile. “It’s even more fun when you’re purposely trying to fall pregnant.”
I laugh, then release a long-winded breath. “It reminds me of movies when you see the women all like, I’m ovulating, get home quick.”
“Yeah.” Millie chuckles softly. “Something like that.”
“Are you guys all there?”
Millie turns around, adjusting the screen until Will appears, waving hello. I can tell by his glassy eyes that the festivities started early. No surprises there, New Year’s Eve at my parents’ house is always a big deal.
“How’s my favorite sister-in-law doing?”
“You are so wasted,” I tell him while laughing. “You’ve never called me that. I think it’s Addy because she’s quiet and barely speaks to you.”
“You may have a point there.”
“Starting early, are we?”
“Dad brought out beer pong,”
he drags with an eye roll. “I don’t even remember the last time I played it. College, probably.”
“Beer pong… classy.”
“There’s no beer in it,” Millie informs me. “It’s Sambuca, and it’s lethal.”
The call is hijacked by Rocky, Eric, and my cousins. They’re all as loud and boisterous as each other, fighting for attention until Eric calls for order.
“Ava, darling, what time are you live?” Eric asks.
