Chapter Eighteen
Rosalie
A lot can change in eight years. Being hardened by the industry was a challenge that Charlie helped me navigate. Pair it with extensive therapy sessions orchestrated by my private therapist, lots of meditation, and growing a backbone, and you’ve got the key to success in Los Angeles.
With three Grammys under my belt, collaborative deals out the ass, and overcrowded arena shows that sell out in seconds, I’ve made quite the name for myself. Charlie has also made an unshakable presence as my manager. She’s constantly cutting deals and growing my audience into the millions with every passing day.
It took some time to climb the ladder, but we never stopped. Even when things seemed hard, we picked ourselves up and started from scratch. Now, we’re both extremely successful and beyond happy with the legacy we created for ourselves.
Charlie is happily married to her long-time girlfriend, Evelyn, and they just welcomed a baby girl via surrogate. I’ve been itching to get my hands on the little chubby infant, but with my unforgiving schedule, I’ve settled for FaceTime calls until I can slip away.
Like right now…
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I wince at the sound of my PR manager’s voice before slowly turning away from my front door to face him. Elijah stands behind me, his hands on his hips and a stern expression pulling his light brows together. He’s in his late thirties with shaggy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. He’s dressed in hisusual business casual attire with slacks and a loose, expensive button-down tucked into the waistband. He taps a foot, his dark shoes clicking on the floor. “Well?” He questions.
I groan, throwing a hand at the door. “I want to see Piper! She’s so chubby! I need to see her little cheeks!”
Charlie’s daughter has been the talk of our inner circle, and Elijah knows I want to see her. With my best friend only living two miles away, I could get in one of my cars and be there in five minutes.
My PR manager pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not without security! You know the paparazzi have been getting bold.”
Tell me about it.
Just last week, one of them got past my electric fence, and security had to tackle them before they reached my front door. Talk about embarrassing. For everyone involved, really.
It was made even more scandalous when someone happened to capture a picture of me standing at my living room window in my robe, a bowl of oats in my hand, as I watched with interest as my security tackled the paparazzi.
"Breakfast and a Show" was the title of an article on Entertainment Hills, a popular tabloid focused on celebrities. Elijah didn’t like handling the damage control of that particular incident. He’s been a little bitter since then.
“I’ll be super quick!” I promise, intertwining my fingers in prayer. “Please, E!”
He crosses his arms. “No. That’s my final answer. You have a brand shoot first thing in the morning, and I’m not cleaning up a tabloid scandal before your tour.”
I grumble, slinking back into the large foyer. The marble floors beneath my bare feet sparkle despite my shit mood now. “Hate you.”
He pats my back. “You’ll see Piper soon. Let’s just focus on your brand deal with Glamletics.”
I trudge dejectedly through my mansion, silently appreciating everything that I’ve earned through the years. It’smodernly elegant and sits along a quiet hillside in Los Angeles. The walls are warm, creamy tones that make the natural light that usually filters in through the tall windows glow. The living room, my favorite part of the house, holds plush white sofas and a roaring fireplace under my massive flat-screen. The kitchen is open and grand in its beauty, with all brand-new appliances and a fridge stocked with everything the people I employ love.
Another thing I discovered about myself is that I enjoy cooking when it’s for those who appreciate me. My therapist said it’s one of my love languages, and I couldn’t agree more.
I walk past the back glass sliding doors, catching a glimpse of the underground pool and deck that Charlie and I use during the summertime. I smile softly at the area, imagining little feet patterning across the oak as I grill at the blacktop for my found family. I think of baby pool floaters and pool noodles for chicken fights—long summer nights spent curled up on my deck furniture as Evelyn and Charlie wrangle a mischievous toddler, and I get to soak it all in as Aunt Rose.
I rub my hands over my biceps, reeling from how much has changed over the years. The shift is so welcoming and a true blessing.
I step out onto the deck, sliding the door closed behind me as I soak in the nighttime air. It’s crisp and fresh, and I hear the subtle buzz of the occasional bug as I ease down onto the outdoor sofa. Reclining back, serenity washes over me at the life I made for myself.
Brand deals, albums that have won me awards and recognition, and tours that get me closer to my fans are all amazing, but my heart lies with the charity work I get the chance to do. I regularly visit multiple non-profits and a women’s and children’s shelter. Elijah knows how important it is for me to give back, so he doesn’t freak out over my passion. He’s helped create a clear security route so I can continue giving back to the community however I please, without fear of some crazy fan finding me.
I really wouldn’t be where I am today without him and Charlie by my side. They’ve supported me through everything, which is why I always take Elijah’s concerns to heart. If he feels it isn’t safe for me to step out, then I stay put.
I learned long ago to always be upfront and curt with my demands when it comes to producers or brand managers who want me to do something I’m not comfortable with, but Elijah and Charlie have nothing but my best interests at heart. They’re the only people who see the real me, and I’m more than comfortable voicing my opinions when it comes to them.
I rest my head back, soaking in the sleepy Los Angeles night, when I hear something along the outer fence. I shoot up, my eyes narrowing into the darkness. The floodlights that line the property are meant to illuminate if they sense movement, which is what has me on high alert as a dark figure hoists itself up over the tall privacy fence. The lights don’t come on at all, but I’m up before I can get a good look at the trespasser.
My heart pounds as I throw the sliding door open and bolt into the house. My feet pad quickly across the marble as I scream for Elijah.
