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"The Rise and Fall of America’s Darling: Inside Her Drug-Fueled Spiral."
"Olivia's Drowning in Fame: The Scandal That Rocked the Music World!"
"From Sweet Melodies to Bitter Pills: Olivia's Troubling Journey."
"Behind the Curtains: Olivia's Hidden Battle with Addiction."
"The Tragic Ballad of Olivia Darling: How Fame Led to Her Downfall."
"From Pop Stardom to Rock Bottom: The Shocking Truth About Olivia Darling’s Struggle."
"Olivia's Last Note: The Pop Princess's Drug Scandal That Shook Hollywood!"
I stared at them all, a strange numbness sliding through me, greasy and thick.
“This isn’t true,” I whimpered. “Why would you do this?”
“We’ll have all the control. We’ll have all the money. You won’t be able to do anything without our permission.” My mother’s voice was so gleeful, it was like a cartoon villain.
And as I sat there staring at them…all I could think was…
My life was over.
CHAPTER 2
WALKER
“Hello Disney,” my brother’s voice crowed at me mockingly through the speaker.
Fucking asshole.
“Should I be more specific than calling you ‘Disney?’ Like is this a situation where I need to ask you to let down your hair so I can come upstairs, like what’s that chick’s name?” continued Cole.
Rapunzel. “That chick” was Rapunzel.Obviously.
“I have no idea,” I drawled, deciding that Ari fucking Lancaster needed a puck to the dick now that the nickname “Disney” was spreading across the news. “But if you want me to let you up, ‘Walker’ better be the only thing you’re calling me.”
“Come on, little brother. Let me in,” he singsonged. I sighed and then pressed the button that allowed him through.
A few minutes later the elevator dinged, and Cole emerged, that effortless coolness surrounding him that had become his trademark. His longish, sun-kissed blonde hair fell to his shoulders, held back from his face with a dark blue bandana. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and he was wearing some long necklace with a blue stone that matched his bandana. And the cowboy hat he was carrying…
Completely ridiculous.
“You look like a fucking hippie,” I commented, and he snorted, removing his sunglasses and revealing the dark brown eyes that reminded me of Mom in a way that made my heart ache. He strode toward me, a carefree smile curved on his lips.
“Love you too, Walkie Poo,” he cooed as he threw an arm around my neck and squeezed me into a hug.
He’d been on tour for the last six months with the Sounds of Us and our visits had been few and far between.
He was annoying. But it was good to see him.
Cole let me go and headed in the direction of my kitchen like he owned the place. “So ya ready for the big game tonight?” he asked as he opened my pantry and surveyed the contents.
“Make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically.
He grinned. “I’m a growing boy, Disney. I need nutritional substance after weeks of living off whiskey.”
I threw my keys at him, and he chuckled as he ducked just in time to avoid being hit.
