I flash him a smile. “It didn’t. This is the best birthday I’ve had since I was a kid.”
He looks surprised. “Really?”
I loll my head back against the sofa cushions, watching as he unbuttons his collar and loosens his tie. “Is that so shocking?” I murmur, dropping my eyes to his forearms as he rolls up his sleeves. Do guys know how hot it is when they do that? I swear to God, there is nothing sexier than a guy in a half-undone suit.
He gives me a little smile. “I thought no one parties better than a rich woman in her twenties.”
I shrug. I don’t exactly feel like telling him that I haven’t had any real friends since I got back into the industry. It’s an unfortunate side-effect of being a notorious bitch; the only people who want to be friends with me are also massive bitches. I spend most birthdays either working or watching movies with a takeaway on my lap.
I budge closer to Kenta and grab his hand, winding his arm around my shoulders. “Like this, please.”
He smiles, dipping to press his lips to my head. “Can I ask you a question?” He murmurs into my hair.
“Absolutely not,” I reply haughtily, fiddling with his fingers. “I do not permit my employees to address me.”
Glen passes me a glass of white and hands Kenta a beer, sitting down next to me. Matt slumps down on his other side. I stretch between the men, smiling contentedly. Snuggled between three big muscly bodyguards, the impromptu car chase suddenly doesn’t seem like such a big deal.
“Fine,” I allow. “You may ask your question. Since I’m in such a good mood.”
“You said Petty ruined your life,” Kenta says. “The two of you worked on the same show, right?” I nod, taking a sip of wine. “What did he actually do?”
I open my mouth to give him my automatic response—some derisory comment about how I cheated on Thom because of his tiny fungus-ridden dick—but for some reason, the words die in my throat. A few seconds of silence go by as I try to work out what to say.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Kenta says quickly.
“No, it’s just….” I trail off, fiddling with the stem of my glass. “I don’t talk about this. Ever.”
I’ve kept all the memories of my teenage years locked up inside me for over a decade, now. I figure, if I don’t talk about them, gossip rags can’t sell them.
But I know the guys won’t sell my secrets to the press. The idea is laughable. They just want to keep me safe.They’ve trusted me with their secrets, and I trust them back.
Suddenly, I really,reallywant to tell them.
I study my wine, pursing my lips, then take a long swig. “When you start in the industry,” I start, “you’re given a brand by your PR people. You know what my brand was, when I was signed onto my first contract at thirteen?”
They all shrug.
“‘The Teenage Sweetheart’,” I pronounce the words carefully.
Matt snorts.
I nod. “I know, right? It’s hard to imagine now, but when I was thirteen, fourteen, fifteen years old, I was the good girl. The ‘innocent one’. I was really shy, back then.Painfullypolite. All I wanted was for everybody to like me. My PR people decided to play off that, and they branded me as this sweet, gentle angel. Think early-era Taylor Swift.”
The guys exchange a blank look.
“Okay. Think Princess Di. My PR manager decided I always had to be dressed in white or pink dresses. Minimal makeup. I wasn’t allowed to go to parties, or post on social media. I was completely banned from taking selfies, under any circumstances. I was encouraged to do a lot of charity work. That, at least, stuck with me.” I stare down at my drink. “For years, that’s how everyone knew me. The good girl. And peoplelikedme. I was one of the most popular child actors in the industry. I had a great career set up for when I turned eighteen. And then Thom Petty ruined everything, by telling the whole world I cheated on him.”
“You didn’t?” Glen asks.
“We were never even dating. He was my friend. My only friend, really. We met on the set ofHollywood House,and he was just like me. A British kid plucked out of secondary school and flung into Hollywood. We kind of clung to each other, I guess, and the press theorised that we were together. But we never dated.” I examine my fingernails. “When I was sixteen, I went on a date with this guy. The paps stalked us around the city and got a shot of us kissing. It was my first real, off-camera kiss, and I was so excited to see Thom the next day, to tell him about it.”
Nausea starts swimming in my stomach, and I put my wine glass down. I haven’t thought about this in such a long time. I almost forgot how much it hurt. “The next morning, I woke up to all of these headlines.Thomas Petty Heartbroken after Briar Saint Cheating Scandal.Thom had made a statement that we’d been dating for the last two years, and I kissed this other guy behind his back. I was gettingevisceratedin the press. I went round to his house and begged him to just tell everyone the truth, but he refused to see me.”
“Shit,” Glen mutters.
I purse my lips. “It was a great PR move on his part. He went from being a regular kid actor to the poor, spurned lover. He went around for months, looking all dejected and teary-eyed in front of the paps. Which of course just meant people hated me even more.”
“It was bad?” Matt asks.
