Page 4 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

Where the hell do I go from here?

Chapter 2

Sienna

The next day, I throw on the biggest pair of sunglasses I can find and wait for my driver, Derek, to pick me up.

The weather this morning feels colder than my heart, but the sun still manages to shine, spilling gold across the hills.

I live in luxury, my master bedroom overlooking Beverly Hills. On a clear day, the Hollywood sign is visible. I used to spring out of bed and admire the landmark for a solid thirty minutes while drinking my morning matcha, in total disbelief that a small-town Michigan girl like me had made it as an A-Lister.

Now I can only glare at the sign with resentment.

It’s important I get out of the house. Since sleep was almost non-existent last night, I’m relying solely on green juice and some retail therapy to fix this situation.

“No Pilates this morning, Miss Lane?” asks Derek as soon as I collapse into the backseat of the car. “That’s very unlike you.”

“My muscles are still in agony from the class I took yesterday,” I lie. “That power lunge was murder.”

Derek chuckles, glancing at me from the rearview mirror. “I saw in the news last night that Holden Gray has finally decided to settle down. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Me neither,” I say briskly. I really don’t want to talk about this. I heard enough at the premiere. And on all the socials once I got home.

Derek seems to take the huge sunglasses as a hint that I’m having a bad morning and leaves it at that.

I glance out of the window as he cruises to Rodeo Drive. We pass enormous mansions—their driveways so long it’s impossible to see the end of them, and palm trees sway in the breeze.

Beverly Hills is vibrant, but my future is not. How am I supposed to improve my acting and feel passionate about my career again when every cell in my body feels like giving up?

I’m worried there’s a cap on how many times you can push your emotions away and ignore them before everything eventually explodes.

I quickly open the car door as soon as we arrive at Juicy Day.

Derek gives me a look from the car, probably realizing that things are worse than he thought.

He usually grabs my juices for me. I don’t usually get them myself if I can help it. Somebody behind the counter always recognizes my face and insists it’s on the house, no matter how many times I tell them no.

“I’ll see you later,” I say to Derek, waving goodbye. “I’ll text you when I need a ride back.”

I keep the sunglasses on as I head in for my juice. The person behind the counter recognizes me instantly.

“Don’t worry about it—it’s on the house.”

“You’re the sweetest,” I say, sliding a hundred-dollar bill into the tip box when they’re not looking.

I hit the shops, sipping on a blend of celery, cucumber, lemon and spinach in hopes of it fixing me.

I tug my leather jacket closer, a chilly breeze blowing up Rodeo Drive. Christmas is over, but the streets are still super busy.

Living in LA is chaos no matter the month, but that’s why I was so drawn to the city in the first place. Having grown up in a tiny Michigan town my whole life, I was ready to experience the hustle and bustle of city life, and to be something other than a high school reject who was never picked first.

I pirouette in the kitchen, careful not to run into the table. The space is tight, but I’m still able to dance.

“I want to be in the spotlight one day, Grammy.”

“You’re going to be a star, sweetheart, I just know it.”

I pop into one of my favorite stores, buy a new purse that costs more than my monthly mortgage, and wait for my mood to improve.