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My once dark auburn hair had been bleached to a harsh, unnatural shade of blonde, its tips brittle and fried from constant styling and coloring. It was a far cry from the healthy, vibrant locks that I’d had as a little girl. My eyes, normally a shade of hazel with gold rims…just like my grandmother’s, were blown out and ringed with kohl, their intensity dulled by layers of makeup. My cheeks, once filled with youthful vitality, now appeared gaunt and hollow. Like a skeleton.
My face was caked with layers of foundation, concealer, and powder, a mask that concealed every imperfection and blemish.
I looked sick.
No wonder the gossip rags were always talking about me.
Iwassick.
I pulled on one of my curls, staring at the stranger in the mirror.
My high was almost gone, and with its demise, a creeping sense of unease was settling in. The rush of euphoria and confidence was giving way to an unsettling emptiness, a void that seemed to grow with each passing moment. The world around me had lost its luster, and all that was left was the stark reality of my existence.
A subtle restlessness gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, making it difficult to find comfort in my own skin. My limbs felt heavy and sluggish, a stark contrast to the heightened energy and alertness I’d had just hours before.
I needed to go home.
Marco and my mother were long gone. They’d probably only stayed to make sure I made it out to the stage. Laura, one of my hired handlers, was waiting outside the dressing room to escort me to my ride. One of my houses was nearby, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to sleep in a hotel, or on a bus.
If only the house felt more like a home.
Laura didn’t say a word to me during the forty-five minute ride to the outskirts of the city. But I was used to that.
I never would have thought you could be lonely while constantly surrounded by people.
But my life was testament to that.
I shifted in my seat as the mansion came into view. It seemed to loom before me, its opulent facade illuminated by a cascade of vibrant lights. It was ridiculous looking, too big, too flashy..too excessive. My mother had forced me to buy it for us a few years ago, saying that I needed it to reflect my fame.
Really, though, it was an extravagant testament to her insatiable hunger for status and prestige. Everything about it was hers, from the ostentatious decorations, to the servile staff that catered to her every whim. Even the food in the kitchen was carefully selected and monitored by her.
I’d always felt like a stranger every minute that I spent between its walls.
I stepped through the imposing double doors, rubbing at my pounding head.
All I wanted to do was climb into bed after performing for hours. But of course that wasn’t possible.
Jolette had guests over. A mansion full of them.
All of them a carefully curated collection of individuals who had one thing in common: they had used me as a stepping stone to further their own ambitions. They were the hangers-on, the sycophants who clung to my mother as a means to climb the social ladder, and they had little interest in me beyond the status boost my name provided.
They moved through the opulent rooms with an air of entitlement, their designer outfits and expensive accessories on full display. They laughed too loudly, their voices filled with false enthusiasm, as if they were all trying to outdo each other in their quest to get noticed.
They were opportunists, all of them. All they cared about was getting the chance to say they were at a party at my mansion, because it would make them seem more important than they actually were.
Someone’s phone camera flashed as I walked through the room, and I grimaced as they took a picture of me. I’d changed into a pair of comfy sweats after the show, since my dress had been drenched in sweat.
They smiled at me and waved, all of them wanting my attention. They were vipers wearing suits of skin, and I hated them all.
Fuck. My head was throbbing.
I turned a corner…and there was Marco, leaned over a wannabe C list actress that had been trying to get his attention for weeks. I only knew that because she’d been my assistant at one time. Before she’d sold a lying sack of crap sob story about what a horrible brat I was to the media and got a spot on a soap opera because of it.
Of course she’d be allowed in my home.
Her dress was pulled down and his hand was squeezing her enormous fake boob. I grimaced and he saw me, immediately straightening up and shooing her away. She shot me a phonysmile and waved like we were the best of friends before she trounced out of the room. Because why wouldn’t she?
“There you are, princess. I’ve been looking all over for you. I have some contracts for you to sign.”
