Page 123 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

His plan was successful. He’s officially relevant again.

I can almost sense the smug smile wanting to break through on his face.

The interview ends. I hand the man his phone back and face the crowds around me. I’ve had some crazy paparazzi experiences since I’ve been in LA. But this one tops them all.

And they’re still recording.

“Sienna,” says one of the six interviewers I have swarming around me. “Are you still doing the movie, or are you taking time out to focus on your… issue?”

No point beating around the bush. We’ve all seen the interview.

And everyone believes Holden, apparently.

“It’s okay; you can say drug addiction. It’s a scary word, but we shouldn’t be afraid of saying it out loud.” Sarcasm drips from my voice.

Everyone tenses around me.

“So I take it everyone believes Holden Gray?”

Crickets. I look around at the paparazzi as more cameras are shoved in my face. This is the final time I intend to stand in front of them. May as well make the most of being in the spotlight if it’s going to be my last time.

I blow out a breath. I don’t really have the energy to explain how much of a compulsive liar Holden is. Anything I say about him is PR at this point. Positive? Negative? The guy doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as he’s back in the limelight. Giving him attention only puts more money in his pocket and gives him more of what he wants.

But for my own sake, I have to tell the truth, even if nobody will believe me.

“First of all. That photo is taken way out of context. If you all knew who Holden was down to his very core, you’d never go to another one of his movies again.”

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Even the cars on the street have come to a complete stop. It’s like the city has completely stopped moving for me, which is what I always thought I wanted as a little girl.

“Secondly,” I continue, “I’m not taking any drugs. I’m in love.” I pause, letting that sink into everyone’s tiny brains.

“With Holden?”

I almost choke. “No. There is no me and Holden.”

“Is it true you stormed out of a read-through earlier?” asks another interviewer.

“That’s true. I’m out of here.”

I hear gasps all around me.

“Out of⁠—”

“Hollywood, LA? Yes, all of it.”

“Sienna,” says another interviewer as the crowd turns to chaos. “You’re going through a rough spot. That happens. You’re not actually thinking about quitting, are you?”

I look around me, noting the thousands of eyes staring my way, blinking, focused, waiting for me to respond.

“Yes, I’m leaving. For good.”

More gasps.

“And before I go, I owe you all an apology.” The street turns silent again, waiting to hear what I have to say next. Never in my career have I had this much attention on me.

“I sold you all a lie. I’m not who you think I am. The Sienna Lane you’ve been watching in the movies is a character. She’s not the real me. In fact,” I say, “the real me is the version you all can’t stop talking about. The one in the mountains. That’s who I really am.”

“So it’s true?” some guy shouts. “You like foursomes?”