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Logan, Damien, and I.
No one knows about the club owner's involvement in this encounter. How he saved me from Logan's constant destructive nature and the way he protected me without me even needing to ask.
"I know it's hard, Drea, but you have to recover from this. The tour is in a few weeks. You can't let this bring you down."
"That's easy for you to say," I mutter in response to Brandon. "It's not your life that everyone is talking about."
I'm curled up in a ball, my legs tightly pressed against my chest. This shit is getting old.
Brandon sighs as if annoyed. "Okay, Andrea. I'll give you today. But that's it. Tomorrow, I expect Drea Joy front and center, ready to dominate the stage. Is that clear?"
I nod because, at this point, I know it's the best deal I can hope for. I let him go, sinking into my own misery.
"And Andrea, I should have to remind you, but this tour is our last chance. This situation with Logan isn't blowing over, and the record label isn't supporting us. We'll lose every deposit we've provided to secure the venues. You need this tour."
I know…
Once Brandon leaves the apartment, it takes me a while to get up, but I finally do. When I manage to get to my feet, I drag my ass into the kitchen and rummage in the fridge for something to eat.
It's all healthy, of course, because just like my schedule, my wardrobe, makeup, and hairstyle, Brandon controls my life. He controls it all for the sake of helping me fulfill the role I'm supposed to play.
The perfect girl with the perfect weight, the perfect face, and the perfect voice that America loves.
I'm not that girl, of course.
The real Andrea is a real mess. She's full of past hurts, fears, and scars. At the same time, she's a fighter, a girl who's always been in the ring, swinging and dodging, trying to keep afloat. And so far, she's managed to stay on her feet.
The real Andrea loves carbs, ice cream, and running until she’s out of breath. She cries at every Disney movie and is a hopeless romantic.
Life, however, has other plans. It began to peel away the layers of my naiveté, revealing the harsher shades of reality that lay beneath.
The real me is far from perfect.
Andrea Kingsley is full of flaws that baffle and terrify her, but therein lies the trick. The trick is that I have learned to love myself as I am, and, at times, I wish the world would see me and love me for that, too.
That's precisely why I wrote "Broken."
After a lot of effort, I finally got Brandon to let me put it on my last album. Although the song got good reviews, he didn't like it. Apparently, it attracts the wrong kind of attention and gives people the wrong image of me.
When I started singing, I did it so I could write songs like that. Songs that come from my heart and help me connect with people. It seems that somewhere along the way, my essence got lost.
My phone starts ringing in the middle of my thoughts, while I had been trying in vain to make myself like the taste of this healthy ‘chocolate ice cream’ that actually tastes like dirt.
"Hello?"
"We need to talk."
The voice on the other end of the line cuts me off. Hoarse, deep, and slightly raspy, I recognize it instantly, though I've only heard it once in my life.
It's the panther. Damien McAllister.
"Mr. McAllister?"
"Are you in your apartment?"
"Maybe."
"Good. I'll be right there."
