Page 6 of Israel

She wondered what they’d think if they knew what she really was.

“It’s not like you guys are any different,” she added. “I’ve seen the parade of boobilicious honeys wending its way through your dressing rooms. I’m sure those are all deep, meaningful encounters.”

“Of course,” Julio said, snickering. “Enzo gets lots of deep, meaningful blow j—”

“Blow, as in cocaine,” Carlos put in hastily. “Which he shouldn’t be doing. Because drugs are bad.” He looked fake-sternly at Enzo.

Ashley rolled her eyes. “You guys aren’t doing drugs,” she said. “And I know what a blow job is, for fuck’s sake.”

The guys all winced simultaneously. “You aren’t supposed to use words like that,” Carlos said, looking pained. “You’re a girl.”

Ashley gave him the finger. “Blow job, blow job, blow job,” she chanted, just to annoy him. “Penis, cunnilingus, pussy…”

They guys got up hastily and began filing out of her dressing room, hands over their ears. “I can’t believe you kiss your mother with that mouth,” Enzo said.

Julio muttered something about washing her mouth out with soap.

“That’s what you get for making me get a bodyguard!” Ashley yelled after them. She was answered by the door of her dressing room slamming shut.

Guys were so easy. A little public dirty talk from a girl, and they wilted from embarrassment and fled.

She faced the mirror and sighed.

They were probably right about this knuckle-dragger decimating her sex life, though. Not that it was a big deal—it was all just for fun anyway. There was no way she was getting into anything major. Her family would never allow it, for one thing.

But that wasn’t the real reason. It was her.

Deep down inside, she wasn’t a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of girl. Her heart was soft and when she fell, she fell hard. If she let down her defenses, sex made her feel things—mushy, squishy, heartfelt country-song kinds of things. It made her think she was in love with the guy she slept with, because she couldn’t stand giving her real self to someone she didn’t have feelings for. Especially if it was going to last longer than a night.

Even if he was just using her. Even if he was a selfish prick, like Maximilian.

She closed her eyes against the remembered pain. Hardly anyone knew that Maximilian the Prick was one of the main reasons she’d fought so hard to leave the compound, insisted on living her dream.

If she couldn’t have love, she’d have music. And everyone said you couldn’t really sing country until you’d had a broken heart.

She guessed they were right. Her music had a depth and dimension it hadn’t had before Max. He might even be the reason for her success.

She supposed, on some level, she should be grateful.

But there was still a hole in her heart where his love should have been. Where he should have cared about her and cherished her, instead of abandoning her once he had what he wanted.

Or when he found out what she wanted—to be a singer.

Like everyone else where she came from, he’d tried to hold her down, not build her up. Only Enzo, Julio and Carlos had really supported her. And Sonny.

And now, instead of attention and adoring fanboys to fill a fraction of that hole in her heart, she was going to have this knuckle-dragging security Neanderthal sticking to her like a burr. One who couldn’t be allowed to know who and what she really was.

Another person who would believe she was whatever he wanted her to be. In his case, a victim.

But she was no one’s victim.

Resolutely, Ashley turned away from the mirror and began to go through the rack of costumes, picking out a few to try on for tonight’s show.

Every detail had to be perfect. She had to work twice as hard as anyone else to make sure this tour was a raging success.

Everything depended on it.

She put on a pair of slim Bluetooth headphones and fired up the music app on her tablet, putting on something upbeat. She was Ashley Silver, the Silver Star, and she was not going to let stalkers or drooling bodyguards derail her dream.

Shimmying to the music, she pulled a sparkly dress off the rack began to strip off her jeans, ready to become the person everyone wanted to see.