Breaking Stars

“I know, Miss Lockwood. It makes me very nervous when you drive off and they chase you. Very nervous.” He nodded his head and looked up into the air as if offering a silent prayer.

I leaned toward him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “It makes me nervous too.”

His body tensed. “I’ll have the valet get your car,” he said, his tone defeated. “Please tell me you’re going to Miss Johnson’s? Or home to your parents?”

Sam loved Qui

“I’m staying with Qui

“Miss Johnson will take care of you. I suppose Mr. Miller will be there as well?” he asked hopefully.

I nodded my head and chuckled at his overprotective nature. “Yes, Dad number two, both Qui

He pressed his lips together in a cautious smile and shrugged. “I just worry.”

“I know, Sam. Thank you. I’ll be fine. But hey,” I said as a thought occurred to me. “Will you please remove Colin’s name from my access list? I don’t want him coming up una

Sam’s face reddened, telling me he’d heard the news. “Of course. Hopefully he knows better than to show up during my shift.”

I smiled, and it felt good after all the tears I’d shed today. Offering Sam a quick squeeze, I said good-bye and headed toward my waiting BMW as the paparazzi jumped into action at the sight of me.

Thank God for Best Friends

Paige

I weaved in and out of traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu, driving recklessly and way too fast. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I noted at least ten cars had followed me, all trying to maneuver as close as possible. No matter how I drove, I couldn’t shake them. They’d been tailing me since we left my apartment on Wilshire Boulevard, and I was convinced they knew exactly where I was headed.

My anxiety level escalated as one car shot ahead, closing the space between us, the driver with a camera in one hand and gripping the steering wheel with the other. This was so dangerous, and I never understood why the police seemed to allow it. One of these days someone was going to get killed, and I silently prayed it wouldn’t be me or anyone I loved. A quick turn off the main highway and into what Malibu considered a neighborhood with a view, I slowed my reckless pace and attempted to regain some self-control.

The chase cars screeched to a stop as I pulled up to Qui

My heart thumped as I maneuvered my car into the driveway and shut down the engine. As I stepped outside, the camera-wielding madmen lined up outside the iron gates of my best friend’s house, shouting random questions at me as they shoved their equipment between the bars and snapped the shutters repeatedly.

“Paige, have you seen Colin?”

“Is it true?”

“We’re sorry, honey. He’s a jerk!”

“Has he cheated on you before?”

“How many times has it happened?”

“What about the woman in Vegas? Is it true she’s pregnant with his baby?”

I paused for a millisecond at the pregnancy bit, but forced myself not to interact with them as I bit down on the inside of my cheek while I rushed to the front door. The paparazzi were rarely ever cruel to me, but then again I didn’t normally give them anything to talk about. I stayed out of trouble, didn’t get sloppy drunk in bars, and never put myself in a position where I might be photographed getting into—or out of—a car without wearing my underwear.

They called me America’s Sweetheart for a reason, and to be honest, I liked being thought of that way. It suited me far better than something like America’s Next Addict or Super-Slut. But I’d seen on more than one occasion how cruel and unforgiving the paparazzi could be, and the thought of being the target for their gossip terrified me.

Qui

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that,” I begged, squeezing my sunglass-covered eyes closed briefly before reopening them.

“Do what?” Her eyebrows pinched together.

“Don’t look at me with pity like that. I’ll break down right here on your front lawn if you look at me like that again,” I warned.

She sucked in a quick breath. “Fine. I’ll just project my feelings somewhere else.” A sly grin spread across her lips before she narrowed her gaze and turned to face the firing squad of reporters. Qui

“Leave her the hell alone. Don’t you have anything better to do? Give the girl a damn minute to deal with her life before you all do your best to make it worse for her. Why can’t you focus on all the good things Paige does instead of trying to kick her while she’s down? Go harass that asshole ex-boyfriend instead. He’s the one that deserves this shit storm. Not Paige.”

I tugged at her arm as my comfort level shrank to virtually nothing. “You don’t have to do that,” I whispered before she cut me off.

“Yes, I do. Screw them. They’re vultures. They love to see any one of us in pain. Especially someone as good as you who never does anything wrong. It makes me sick and I can’t stand it.” She reached for my hand, pulling me into her house, then slammed the front door, shielding us from prying eyes.

“What would I do without you?” I breathed out.

Qui

“I can carry my stuff,” I started to complain, knowing it was futile. Qui

“So can I. Come on.” She headed down her naturally lit hallway toward one of two guest rooms. Qui

The decor of my gender-appropriate room was gorgeous, however. Filled with rare and collectible Disneyland art, its classic symmetry and beauty was modeled after one of the suites at the theme park’s hotel. A stu