“Come for a while. A weekend or a week. You’d love it here. Wren’s about to be off for the summer, and we have a couple of travel plans, but nothing crazy, so we’ll be around. She would love to have you here. Though there would be a requisite visit to her niece.” I never thought I’d see this, grumpy Adam Porter smiling and joking about this extended family of his, but it’s clear before me.
Adam went to Holly Ridge, creatively blocked and emotionally cut off, and the journey transformed him. Even though I know it’s impossible, I can’t help but wonder if I could find the same.
“Hey, babe, I’m gonna go to the store, is there anything—” a pretty brunette says, walking on screen with her head down, a notebook in her hands. She stops mid-sentence, looks up, and gasps, her face going pink. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just—” She starts to stammer and back up, but I shake my head.
“No, no, you’re fine!” I say with a wave, secretly relieved for the interruption. I didn’t want to sit with my thoughts or Adam’s offer of a getaway much longer. “I was just whining to Adam. It’s good to see you!” She comes closer, and Adam wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her down into his lap, and again, I feel that jealousy, guilt coming in on its heels.
“You too! How’s it feel to have some time off?” Wren asks with a friendly smile.
“I was just telling her she should come here for a bit over the summer. She’s creatively blocked, and I think she needs to change things up.”
“Well, Holly Ridge is the best little town in the whole world. We’d love to host you! Being here fixed Adam’s block right up.”
I grin at them, but before I can say anything else, though, my phone beeps and a message from Jackie lights up my screen.
Jackie
The meeting has been moved up by thirty minutes. Okay?
I sigh, tap out a response in the affirmative, and sit up. “That’s Jackie—my meeting was moved up, and I gotta go get ready.” I have at least an hour before I have to leave the house, but I’ll need that much time to get the camera ready for the paparazzi who will inevitably be waiting outside to catch a shot of me. Adam nods, then gives me a stern look.
“We’ll chat soon. Be easy on yourself, Willa. You can’t force the muse.” I give him a tight smile, biting back the instinctive response of reminding him that my label doesn’t really care if my muse is taking its sweet time or not. “And think about coming to Holly Ridge.”
“Will do,” I say with a smile before wishing the couple goodbye and then signing off. Then, with one last look around my mess of an office, I sigh, do a quick cleanup, and move on with my getting-ready routine while mentally shelving my worries about my writer’s block.
It’s time to turn on Willa Stone, the pop star, and she never worries about anything. Why would she when she has everything she ever wanted?
THREE
WILLA
As we pull up in front of the looming building in downtown Hudson City, the late spring sun glinting off the tinted windows, the lines of paparazzi with their cameras at the ready come into view, and I start my routine to center myself. Close my eyes, take five deep, calming breaths. Remind myself that my bodyguard, Gabe, is here with me. Remind myself that I have my armor on, my cool girl shield, that every hair is absolutely perfect. Remind myself that I’ve got this, that I’ve done this a million times, and I’m so curated, they won’t be able to find a flaw.
By the time Gabe comes around to open my door, I’m in another zone, Willa Ston TM locked into place.
“Are you ready?” he asks, blocking the door for me. I take in one last deep breath, then let a wide, welcoming smile take over my face before nodding. He steps aside and offers me a hand, and finally, I step out onto the sidewalk and stand tall. I wave and greet the small crowd in front of the building, the mask hiding the nervous energy that hums in my chest.
I wasn’t always like this, wasn’t always so nervous and anxious and skittish when it was time to face the press. But something happens when the world begins to pick apart everyphoto that’s ever taken of you, when every flaw is dissected and interpreted to mean something more. You become cautious, making sure every angle is perfect, choosing your words carefully, and learning to keep every single hair in place.
You build a shield, not to hide behind, but to protect yourself.
“Willa! Willa!” Voices call, camera’s flashing, as they try to get the best shot, the one that will be posted to social media and splashed in multiple magazines next week, be it in a streetwear article claiming that some aspect of my outfit is trend forecasting or a post speculating what I’m currently working on right now, despite just ending my tour for my last album a week and a half ago.
I smile at the strangely familiar faces: I feel like I know every paparazzo in this town. “Morning, friends,” I say in a cheery voice, lifting a hand and wiggling my fingers sporting a fresh manicure with nude polish.
“Willa! Over here!” one calls, and I turn my head toward him, smiling and giving him the shot he’s looking for while Gabe slowly moves us toward the door.
“Willa! What’s next?” another calls. I wink at her, then shrug.
“Going inside to figure that out now.” More excited chatter, and I grin, knowing that it will get the fans and tabloids talking and build anticipation for my next project, even if it’s not written. Gabe puts a hand on my back and guides me along as cameras flash and my name is called.
“Willa! Have you heard that Caleb is already dating someone else? What are your thoughts?” Caleb is the now-reformed bad boy I dated for almost six months, ending almost a year and a half ago.
“I wish him all the best. We had a great time together and ended things amicably. He’ll always be a good friend of mine,” I say graciously, always perfectly media-trained. Before they can ask anything else, Jackie waves at me through the glass walls ofthe building, indicating my press time is over. I give the crowd one last smile and wave before Gabe opens the door for me, and I step inside.
The doors close behind us, closing us in the building’s silent, peaceful lobby, and I take my first full breath since leaving the car, the adrenaline abating just a bit. I brush a hand down my front, my shoulders relaxing just a bit as I revel in the quiet. Still, I remain fully aware that the crowd is still taking photos behind me.
“What are those?” Jackie, my talent agent and brand manager, asks as we walk down the marble entryway, staring at the brown heels on my feet. After my call with Adam, I got ready for today’s meeting, putting on the outfit Jackie had set aside for me, labeledMonday meeting. A white, tight tank top, loose linen pants with a brown belt, chunky gold jewelry, and brown heels, though without even asking, I know why she’s annoyed.
