Eden pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to perform with Anna Moss. It irritated the hell out of her that Anna was having a bigger year than she was, that performing with her could give Eden a boost. She was Eden Sands, for crying out loud! “Let me think about it.”
“Don’t think for too long. If you don’t snap her up, someone else very well might.”
Eden made a noncommittal sound. “I’ll let you know tomorrow morning.”
Thirty minutes later, Eden stepped outside into the LA sunshine, flanked by the head of her security detail, Taylor, and her assistant,Paris. She inhaled the crisp air, grateful for Southern California’s mild winters. Eden had been alerted earlier about the crowd waiting outside, so she had her stage smile in place as she began walking toward the car that would take her home.
“Eden! Eden!” The air filled with the sound of people screaming and shouting, all vying for her attention. When she turned toward them, she could hardly see their faces past all the cell phones being thrust in her direction. A few fans actually had their backs to her, taking selfies with her in the background.
And her smile widened, because her fans werehere, despite her sales slump. Eden signed various photos and T-shirts and posed for selfies while Taylor helped maintain her personal space. Eden enjoyed interacting with her fans. Without them, she wouldn’t have a career, but sometimes they got way too handsy. They grabbed and groped and tried to hug her, and she didn’t particularly like being touched by strangers.
As she greeted the fans, Taylor and Paris kept her moving forward, and within a few minutes, she was safely in the back seat of the SUV. Taylor took her usual seat in front with the driver, while Paris sat next to Eden.
“Tomorrow’s schedule is updated on your calendar,” Paris said as she buckled her seat belt.
“Thank you,” Eden told her assistant gratefully.
“You bet.” Paris pulled out her phone and started tapping away, working her magic to keep Eden’s life running smoothly.
Idly, Eden stared out the window, watching the colorful buildings and palm trees that lined the route from the rehearsal studio in Burbank to her condo in Marina del Rey. Her mind whirled with frustration, and her body buzzed with the leftover adrenaline from a full day of rehearsals.
She realized she was humming along with the radio a moment before she recognized the song. It was Anna Moss’s latest single.
“That song will be the death of me,” Eden muttered under her breath. Her foot tapped restlessly as the irritatingly catchy song she couldn’t seem to escape filled the interior of the car. And maybe she hadn’t said it as quietly as she thought she had, because her driver pressed a button on the radio, and the music changed.
When the car arrived at her building, she thanked her driver, said good night to Taylor and Paris, and stood, grateful for the private entrance that allowed her to go inside without fanfare. Thanks to that private entrance, the paparazzi had mostly left her alone at home since she’d moved here, which was a huge upgrade, although the condo itself was a downgrade from the Santa Monica home she’d shared with Zach.
The doorman held the door open for her with a smile. “Evening, Ms.Sands.”
“Good evening, Marco. Thank you.” She returned his smile as she stepped inside. The sound of trickling water greeted her, courtesy of the waterfall feature on the back wall. Ordinarily, she found it soothing, but right now, it made her long for a shower.
She punched the glossy gold button for the elevator, shifting restlessly as she waited for it to arrive. A duet with Anna Moss. That was absurd. Eden didn’t need the young pop sensation to boost her own popularity, or at least ... she shouldn’t.
The elevator door opened with a brisk ding. She stepped inside and rode to the fifteenth floor, then let herself into her condo. Once she’d locked the door behind herself and reengaged the alarm, she let out a long sigh. A faint floral scent lingered in the air, reminding her that her cleaning service had been in earlier. The surfaces sparkled as brightly as the building itself, built not long before Eden bought this unit last year.
A new start for her postdivorce life. Another sigh threatened, but this time she swallowed it, annoyed by her own mood. Evenings were the hardest since the divorce. What did a person do for so many hours without someone to talk to? She missed having someone to laugh with as she watched mindless reality television, someone to sit across thetable from at dinnertime. Unlike most people, Eden couldn’t simply go out, not without calling a member of her security team to accompany her, and where was the fun in that?
She headed to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water and then sat on the sofa in the living room to tab through a day’s worth of messages on her phone. There weren’t many. It was alarming, really, to realize how few friends she had without Zach in her life.
One of her notifications was for an entertainment podcast she followed, which had released a new episode discussing Grammy predictions. She clicked play, taking a drink of water as the hosts engaged in their usual banter.
“All right, folks, let’s get right to it,” the first host, a woman named Tarin, said. “We’re all dying to know who this year’s big Grammy winners will be. Let’s start out with industry heavyweight Eden Sands. We all love her, am I right?”
“Hey, I’ll be the first to admit that I rocked out to ‘Daydreamer’ when I was a teenager,” the other host, Nicole, said with a laugh.
Eden rolled her eyes at the reference to her first number one hit. If she’d known then how many times she’d end up performing that song, maybe she wouldn’t have been so quick to record it. That wasn’t really true, though. She was grateful for every moment of her career.
“But the critical reaction to Eden’s latest album has been tepid at best,” Tarin continued.
“I hate to say it, but even I was disappointed,” Nicole said. “Eden seems to have lost some of her passion this year. Maybe it has to do with her divorce from Zachary Tomlin?”
Eden flinched. Yes, the divorce had hurt—stillhurt—but her talent wasn’t dependent on having a man in her life, dammit.
“I’m sure that didn’t help,” Tarin agreed. “But there were a few albums this year that I did love, and I expect both of these ladies to take home multiple Grammys this weekend.”
“Let me guess. You’re talking about Sasha Sol and Anna Moss.”
“That’s exactly right, Nicole. Sasha’s had quite a year, and her albumOn the Rocksis arguably the most deserving to win Album of the Year.”
