My manager. My bodyguard. The roadies. My mom.
I flash my famous smile—the one I perfected before I finished losing my baby teeth.
“Well,” the anchor says, “it sounds like you stay busy.”
“I do.” I lift my chin.
“Do you have a favorite song to perform?”
I pause—just long enough to tease. Just like my acting coach taught me.
“Anything off my latest albumHello, Sunflower.”
“Well timed,” the anchor says curtly. “As we take a commercial break, here’s the title track by Miss Mia Love.”
The cameras cut away. My shoulders drop.
The anchor goes cold as a makeup artist brushes over her plastic smile.
Edwin and Mom rush me. Dad left so long ago I have trouble remembering his face.
Before I can react, Edwin snatches the crocheted animals. Hands them to my mom with a derisive snort. “Keep your kid under control, Mom.”
She stuffs them in her purse, eyes darting between Edwin and me.
“These silly things again. I should throw them away,” she whispers, face ambivalent.
She never takes my side. She always takeshis.
“No.” The word comes out too loud. The studio shifts—every head turning. “Please.”
“Mia,” Mom raises an eyebrow. “You’re here to make and sell music. Nothing else.”
She lingers, caught between me and Edwin, who paces a distance away, screaming into his cell phone.
“We have to keep him happy, Mia,” Mom adds, frowning. Just for a while longer. Just until we have enough money to stand on our own two feet.
“Why did Dad have to leave?” I whine, a single tear cascading down my cheek.
She tut-tuts with her tongue, wiping it away. “Don’t make the makeup artist come back over here,” she scolds.
I bite my bottom lip until I taste blood, twisting my hands in my lap.
When the lights flare again, and the cameras roll, I become her.
Mia Love.
America’s favorite child pop star.
A brand.
Not a girl.
Chapter
One
MIA
