Sure enough, they are gathered when we descend the escalator. They scream obscene things at us.
“Rainer! Have you ditched your cheater girlfriend yet?”
“Paige! Where is your lover, Jordan?”
But I keep my head up. I don’t answer. I just keep thinking about three minutes. It’s only ever three minutes. And sure enough, it turns out to be true.
I used to think that speaking up, speaking your mind, was the most powerful thing you could do—saying what you think and feel. But I’m beginning to learn there is a real power in what you don’t say. There is power in holding yourself above the need to clarify, or apologize. Just being who you are, no explanation necessary.
Photographers aren’t the only ones who have greeted us on the ground. Fans are there, too. They hold up banners and head shots. “Can we take a picture?” three girls a few years younger ask.
“Sure,” I say.
We pose together, and someone takes the iPhone pic. And then I do one with that person, and one of the girls reciprocates. “We love you,” the girls say. “We support you, no matter what.” They’re strangers, I know. They don’t know me or Rainer or Jordan, but as I thank them I can’t help feeling good inside. I can’t help but feel like they mean it. Maybe not everyone feeds off our drama. Maybe some people really want us to be happy.
Sandy greets me in my town car. The cameras are still flashing, but I can see her smiling at me. “Hey, PG,” she says. “Guess what?”
I keep my head down. “Do I want to know?”
We start driving away, and I collapse against the backseat. “Oh yeah,” she says. “You do.” She’s wearing a quirky smile on her face, her lips pursed together. “Tomorrow you’re going for theCloser to Heavenaudition. Fox got involved and I think that coupled with your recent display of togetherness with the guys…” She smiles wider. “They’ve changed their tune about you.”
I sit up immediately. “Really?”
“Really. Amanda came through. It’s not a sure thing, but I think you have a real shot.”
“This is amazing.”
“Amazing and not everything. We still need to sit down and look seriously at the scripts Amanda has been sending.”
I close my eyes, already thinking about how I’m going to nail this thing tomorrow. “Okay,” I say. “Whatever you want. Put me in a catsuit. I don’t care.”
“You do care,” Sandy says. “And that is what’s going to make you a great actress. But we all have to make sacrifices.”
I peel one eye open at her. “I’m getting that,” I say.
Sandy pats my shoulder. “You’re doing okay, kid,” she says.
I wake up at the crack of dawn the next morning. I went back to the Beverly Hills apartment. I hadn’t stayed here or even set foot here since we got back to L.A. post-tour, but Sandy had it cleaned and outfitted with groceries for me. “I figured you may want the option,” she told me in the car. I know Rainer moved back into the Bel Air house while I was in Malibu, so she was right.
It was weird to stay here alone. When we got back from press tour, I was so scared to be by myself. I wanted to be by Rainer’s side at all times. The thought of being at this apartment, alone, made me feel like I might as well have been standing on the Walk of Fame, inviting in every stranger in sight. But coming home to the quiet, sleeping in the bed by myself, doesn’t feel like punishment. It feels good. It feels like here, alone, is exactly where I need to be.
I sift through the mail that has built up in my absence. Some bills, magazines I immediately deposit into the trash, a rehearsal dinner invitation for Joanna’s swiftly approaching wedding. It has pink and red swirls on it, and I can’t help but laugh. Her poor future husband has no say already.
I take my coffee cup outside and settle into a chair on the patio. It’s chilly now, with the sun not fully up, and I pop the hood on my sweatshirt over my head. I tuck my knees up onto my chest and let the steam from the coffee rise into my face.
My phone rings. I take it out of my pocket and smile when I see Alexis’s name flashing on the screen. “It’s six thirty,” I say when I pick up.
“And I’ve already meditated, done yoga, and made a green juice. What do you have to show for your morning?”
I laugh. “What’s up?”
“I missed you last night. Where are you?”
“The Beverly Hills apartment,” I say.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Alexis says. “But I feel you. Georgina and Blake are coming to claim Malibu for a few weeks, so I’m moving back home, too.” She gets quiet on the other end for a moment. “And Jordan and I broke up,” she says.
“Broke up?”
