Her Dark Angel (Backstage Sinners #1)

1. Kinsley

1

KINSLEY

Present—1989.

“ Y ou want me to what ?”

I stare at the man sitting across from me, bewildered. Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly. He’s insane if he thinks I will go along with his plan. It doesn’t make any sense . I mean, it makes logical sense, but it’s insane .

James runs his hand down his long brown beard, his equally chocolate eyes focused on me. “As Mr. Beck’s manager, I spoke extensively with your team about this arrangement, and Adam said you would be more than happy to do it.”

My head snaps to my left to look at my manager, Adam. The fucker is unable to hold eye contact with me as he clears his throat and gestures toward James. “I didn’t say she was okay with it. I said she would need to be eased into the idea.”

“I’m not doing shit,” I snap, folding my arms over my chest. “I refuse to go along with this horrendous idea all because what? You want more viewers for my next movie? That’s why marketing exists.”

Adam sighs and runs his hand down the side of his face. For someone who is only in their mid-thirties, he looks like he has aged double that. The creases around his eyes are prominent and deep frown lines run across the tanned skin on his forehead. His charcoal hair is already starting to reveal gray strands around his ears. It won’t be long until he has salt-and-pepper hair. No doubt this has come from the stress of managing many actors before he took me on a few years back.

It’s not an easy task working in the film industry, I know that much. It takes a toll on your physical and mental health. It’s almost like a mind fuck in a way. But you can never escape it, no matter how hard you try.

“Kinsley, I understand your frustrations, but just hear me out?—”

“No, Adam,” I interject sharply.

I try to ignore the anger burning in my chest at the fact that he went behind my back and organized this whole thing without once consulting me. He knows how much I hate when others try to control my life, so he should know how much of a slap in the face it is that he is trying to make decisions for me.

“You can’t speak for me like everyone else does. If I’m going to pretend to date a rockstar then I need to make that decision on my own.”

Adam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, running his hands over the dark brown suit jacket clinging to his frame. When he opens them again, guilt circles his pale blue eyes. He knows he fucked up by going behind my back and while I would like to continue to make him feel bad about his choices, he’s one of the only people in my life who has my best interest at heart. I’ll remind him that I’m mad at him for what he did, but I won’t hold it against him.

James clears his throat, drawing our attention to where he sits on the other side of the large wooden table. He felt it was best to conduct the meeting on my turf in the building of my agency to keep me comfortable.

Oh, how he was wrong.

“How about this? Miss May, take a couple of days to make your decision on whether you’d like to agree to a fake relationship with my client. I will speak on his behalf until you have made a decision. Once that decision has been made, have Adam get in contact with me.” He lifts his clasped hands onto the shiny table, his eyes locking with mine. “It would be in the best interest for both of you to agree to this contract. It’ll only be for six months until the release date of your movie, and afterward, you’re both free to call it quits, okay?”

I’m momentarily distracted by my freshly manicured fingernails tapping against the table, the sound ringing in my ears, silencing James. “And what does your client get in return?”

James hums and leans back in the black leather chair, regarding me for a moment. He runs a large hand down the front of his off-white button-down shirt. “I’m working on improving his public image to help the rest of the band. Their popularity has suffered in previous months because of his… actions. I believe that if he’s seen with you, a rising Hollywood sweetheart, then maybe it’ll draw in more fans and help clean up his image.”

I frown, seizing the insistent drumming of my fingers. “You want to use me to make him appear less threatening and unhinged to the media, when in reality, he’s anything but?”

He swallows and nods slowly. “Yes, Miss May.”

I huff and lean back in the chair, the red shag carpet in the room blurring with the red forming at the corner of my vision.

I want to tell this guy that he’s dreaming if he thinks I’ll agree to this bullshit deal. Why should I have to do this when my new movie, It Girl , is expected to be a big hit? At least, that’s what I’ve been told.

I shouldn’t have to completely derail my life to date some washed-up rockstar who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. But I can’t tell him that. Not yet, anyway. I’ll take my time coming to a decision and I won’t allow anyone to influence me. Not my manager, and especially not my parents.

“Okay. Fine.” I shift in my seat and look at Adam. His eyes are focused on James, refusing to look in my direction.

“You have three days, Miss May. I want to hear an answer by the end of the weekend.”

Adam stands from his seat at the same time as James to shake his hand. “Thank you for stopping by. We’ll be in contact.”

James nods in understanding before he turns and leaves the room, passing by the multiple landscape artworks hanging on the beige walls. I liked them when I first started working with this agency, but now I long to see something different. Something more exciting.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Adam turns to me, his eyes wide.“I’m so sorry for going behind your back, Kin. When James called to discuss the contract a couple of days ago you were busy with work and I didn’t want to bother you. I just wanted to give him an answer quickly?—”

I hold up my hand to stop his rambling. “Adam, it’s okay. I know I’ve been busy lately and as my manager, you have to handle shit like this. I would have appreciated a heads up beforehand, though.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise. You can decide whether you want to take this on. It’s only for six months, so keep that in mind.”

“Six months is a long time,” I remind him with a pointed look. “I have so much on my schedule and they expect me to just include other events and whatnot just to be seen with this man. It’s ridiculous.”

“I know it’s a pain in the ass, but we can make it work. It Girl is on track to be a box office hit once it’s released, but that could change at any time. Maybe a little publicity stunt wouldn’t hurt to drive in more viewership.”

He’s right, but I won’t admit it to him. I’ve been acting since I was eight, so I have a lot of movies and television shows under my belt. Most of the time they do well, but none have been nearly as big as It Girl is predicted to be. It’s my first main character role in a film in the romance genre, so it could potentially bring in more movie deals if it does well. It’s what I’ve been working toward for sixteen years in this industry.

So, maybe a publicity stunt isn’t the worst idea, but why does it have to be with him ?

“They could have picked any girl for this guy to fake date, so why did they choose me?”

Adam shrugs and shuffles the stack of papers on the table in front of him. “James didn’t say. All he said was you were the chosen one and perfect for the job. I didn’t question it because I agreed that it could be a good idea.”

I don’t know what that means. Why me? There are way more popular actresses in the industry who are beautiful and would be well-suited for the job. Me being chosen out of every well-known woman in Los Angeles just doesn’t make sense.

I blow out a short breath and stand.“I’ll think about it, okay? But I’m not making any promises. And I’m still pissed at you for going behind my back.”

“Thank you, Kin. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Adam stands and wraps me in a tight embrace. “If you want to get to know the guy better, I can ask James for his address and you can sit down with him. It might help you get a better sense of what you could be walking into.”

I roll my eyes when we pull away. “I’m sure that would go down great like a fart in a crowded room.”

Adam bursts out laughing and I can’t help but laugh with him. This whole fucking scenario is bat shit crazy.

The large black box television sitting on a small wooden table at the edge of the room captures my attention. I watch the fuzzy footage of an all-too-familiar face being hauled out of a bar by two police officers at ten in the morning with handcuffs on his wrists. He’s struggling against their hold but is unable to break free. One of the officers shoves him into the back seat of a police cruiser while the male journalist on screen hurriedly throws questions toward the now-closed back door.

I turn to Adam with a raised brow, dread sweeping over me. He looks just as concerned as I do when he meets my gaze.

“Nash fucking Beck. That’s the guy you want me to fake date.”

Adam cringes at my words. “I’m sure he’s a nice guy… on the inside.”

I roll my eyes and walk around the table. “This is only proving me right as to why I should not agree to this contract, Adam.”

He groans and follows me out of the room. “I know. I know.”

I pull into the driveway of my home after a long day of being on set filming It’s Always Been You , my new project, and trying on outfits for a modeling shoot I’m booked for early next week. I kill the engine and lean my head against the smooth leather seat. My eyes gaze across the normal, plain-looking house on the corner of a very normal street with houses that look similar to the next. There is nothing particularly special about my house with its white exterior, perfectly cut rose bushes under the front windows, and the wooden porch with two black egg chairs. It’s just… plain and boring.

If it were up to me, I would paint my house black and rip out the rose bushes to replace them with flowers I actually like. But that wouldn’t be good for my image, as my mom liked to tell me when I was growing up. She reminded me every second she could that my image in the eye of the public is the most important thing as an actress. All eyes will be on me. Everyone will take notice of the way I dress, the way I act, and what my house looks like.

I wish I could wear black clothes every day and live in a house with dark furniture because that’s what I like. It’s what I need. Not the boring plain house I live in or the colorful clothes I have to wear because it’s ‘what’s good for me’.

I understand my image is important, but sometimes I wish I could just be myself. But apparently, that’s not good enough for my mom. She has always wanted me to be someone I’m not.

Inhaling slowly, I pluck my handbag off the front seat and slide out of the car. As I walk up the pathway to the porch, I wave to the neighbor on my right who is out watering her garden. She’s a lovely old woman who likes to stop by now and then to bring me a freshly baked loaf of bread, and even goes out of her way to water my rose bushes whenever I’m not home just to be nice.

“Good evening, Kinsley,” she greets with a warm smile.

“Good evening, Mrs. Jones,” I say, returning her gesture.

I continue walking to my front door and hurry inside. I’m in desperate need of a warm shower and to lie in bed and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the evening. However, I’m not granted that peace when I hear soft voices echoing from the kitchen. I drop my keys into the bowl beside the front door and hang my head.

This is the last fucking thing I want to be dealing with right now.

I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath before I slip on the mask I’m used to wearing around others and walk down the hallway and into the kitchen. I pass by the framed images of my parents on the cream-colored walls, the photographs of me on set of my first commercial, and when I started working on my first television show.

I shiver at the face of the little ten-year-old girl with a smile larger than life. If only she knew what was coming her way. If only I could’ve warned her.

A head of messy blonde curls beside the innocent girl captures my attention. I pause to trace my finger over his face and tug my bottom lip between my teeth. Memories I shared with him from my childhood crash over me—a reminder of what we both lost.

My fingers graze over the colorful beaded bracelet secured tightly around my wrist.

I wish I could’ve saved him .

If I had the ability to go back in time and change what happened to us, I would. But I can’t, and that’s what hurts the most.

My parents turn to face me when they hear my approach. Mom has her waist-long hair tied back into a slick ponytail and is wearing her signature beige pantsuit. Dad has his short hair slicked back, a dark brown suit jacket hanging from his narrow shoulders. They just scream plain and boring. Working in accounting will do that to you, I guess.

“Kinsley,” my mom greets as I round the counter and place my handbag down on the white countertop. “I was expecting you home sooner.”

I stifle a sigh and try not to glare at the bright colors around me. I hate the brown cabinets in here, but again, I can’t change it. I tried to once a few months ago, but my mom blew her top at me. Your image is everything, remember? You can’t have black cabinets, she told me. Just like she does every time.

How the design of my kitchen affects my public image is beyond me, but I’ve learned over the years not to argue with her. It’s too much energy that I don’t have to spare.

“I got caught up with something before I could leave,” I say vaguely, not wanting to give them more information than that. They like to know my every move, despite my telling them that it’s none of their concern what my daily schedule is. However, they insist they must know. I gesture between them. “What are you two doing here?”

“Can’t we stop by to visit our daughter using the house keys you gave us?” Dad asks with furrowed brows. His auburn hair is starting to thin on top. Thank God I got my mom’s thick blonde hair and not his.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Dad. I just want to know the reason for this drop-by as I would like to have an early night. I had a big day at work.”

Mom crosses her leg over her knee and spins on the bar stool to face me. “We heard from your agency about the deal they made with you to fake date Nash Beck.”

I blow out a sharp breath. Of course they know about it already. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew about it before me. Adam wouldn’t have told them because he knows how I feel about them knowing every detail of my work life.

So, who told them?

“And?” I prompt, moving past where my dad stands by the fridge to grab a bottle of water. The plastic is cold when it touches my fingertips, condensation smothering my skin.

My gaze skims across the calendar hanging beside the fridge as Mom sputters, reminding me of upcoming modeling shoots, days on set, and other day-to-day errands that need to be dealt with.

My skin crawls with anticipated heaviness as my eyes find the image for April—it’s a bird’s eye view of New York City. Much like the landscape artworks at my agency, I find images of cities and towns equally uninteresting.

“And your father and I would like to discuss it with you,” she says. The tone of her voice tells me it should be obvious that’s why they’re here.

I take a sip of water to delay the conversation before I lower the bottle to the countertop. “What’s there to discuss, Mom?”

“Well, you’re going to accept the offer, right? I mean, it’s a great opportunity.” She shifts on the seat, her blue eyes meeting mine. Her blonde locks are big and flowy over her shoulder, cascading down her back, contained by a thin hair tie. I don’t know why she never pursued modeling. I mean, she certainly has the looks and personality for it.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” That’s the truth. I have no fucking clue what I should do about this offer. I still need to weigh up the pros and cons because it’s not a decision I’m taking lightly. This could either make or break me, and that thought alone is terrifying.

“The answer is obvious, sweetie,” Dad interjects, looking between Mom and me. “Dating Nash Beck will help promote your new movie, and at the same time you’ll be helping to clean up his image.”

I grimace at his words. “Why is it on me to clean up his image? If anything, I’m worried he’s going to ruin mine.”

“Nash Beck is the lead singer of Dark Angel, the hottest rock band in the world right now,” Mom reminds me with a pointed look. I hate that whenever I look into her eyes all I can see is how similar we are. I’m the spitting image of her. “Yes, he’s a little rough around the edges and doesn’t make the best choices, but he won’t ruin your image. If anything, it’ll drive his loyal fans in your direction.”

“Or they’ll hate my guts,” I murmur, knowing what fans of the genre are like. I’m not an idiot. They are the type of fans to go that extra mile for the artists they love. If I were to go through with the deal, I have a feeling the Dark Angel fans would hate me for dating Nash. They always want what they can’t have.

“That’s not true,” Dad says with a frown. “They’ll love you. What’s not to like?”

I could give him a whole list, but decide to bite my tongue because there is no use in arguing with them. They only ever have a one-track mind when it comes to a deal like this. All they care about is how it’ll end.

When I was just starting in the industry, they would only accept the deals that paid well or boosted my public image on my behalf. That mentality stuck around until I was eighteen and could make my own decisions. Even now, I’m sure they’re only thinking about what I’ll get out of this publicity stunt, whether it’s more movie deals or modeling gigs.

They don’t care about how I feel about the situation as the person having to fake date a goddamn rockstar. They only ever care about how it benefits them.

Even though they have well-paying jobs, they like to hold over my head the fact that I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for the money they spent on acting lessons and gas to drive me to and from auditions in Grand Rapids from the tiny town of Hart where I grew up. Because of this, I use my hard-earned money to fund their lifestyles now. Well, most of it, anyway.

I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop either. They would only guilt trip me further if I did, and that’s not something I want to deal with. Sometimes it’s easier to just pick and choose your battles, to keep your mouth shut instead of speaking up because it’s the only way to protect yourself.

I’ve learned that the hard way.

If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t live in the house they do or attend events with celebrities and high-profile people in Los Angeles. If it wasn’t for me, they would still be living in the shit box house they bought in the shittiest part of Hart.

And they know that. It’s why they hold the details over my head, and I have no choice but to go along with what they want. They know how to get to me, and I hate it.

“I’m taking a few days to think it over,” I say instead. I don’t have the fight in me to continue this conversation. The sooner they leave, the sooner I can crawl into bed and shut my eyes, ready to continue another crazy day and tight schedule tomorrow.

“Just agree to it,” Mom pushes, her voice tight. “It’ll be the best thing you do for your career.”

I frown as my knuckles turn white from the tight grip I have on the edge of the counter. “I’m not going to accept the deal without thinking it over, Mom. I don’t care if you think it’s the best thing for me. I need to be sure it’s the best thing for me.”

Mom gasps, her hand flying to her chest as if I had physically wounded her with my words. “That is no way to speak to me, Kinsley. Your father and I only want the best for you.”

“I’m twenty-four, not eight. I know how to look after myself and make my own decisions,” I counter, fighting to keep my voice even. I can’t show them I’m getting frustrated despite how badly I want to tell them that they’re getting on my fucking nerves. They won’t ever stop trying to dictate my life and it annoys the hell out of me. “Now, could you please leave so I can get some rest?”

Mom huffs and folds her arms over her chest. “No. We’re not leaving until we’ve gotten to the bottom of this discussion.”

I turn to Dad to see he has adopted the same stance as my mom, his arms folded firmly over his chest. He’s always been a sheep. Nothing has changed.

I grit my teeth and clench my fists at my side, my nails biting painfully into my palms. “Okay. Fine. I’ll leave then.”

I hate that I’m the one leaving my own house, but my parents are serious about staying to discuss the deal. They like to use my exhaustion to their advantage to get what they want. It’s a tactic they’ve used since I was eight, but I’m not a kid anymore.

Without saying a word, I grab my handbag, walk down the hallway to the front door, and collect my car keys, ignoring my parents calling out for me to stop. I don’t stop walking until I’m in my car and driving down the street.

I have no clue what I’m doing or where I’m going, but I know I can’t be at my house. At least not for a few hours until my parents realize I’m serious about them leaving. I could go visit my best friend Sadie, but she’s on a date tonight. The last thing she needs is for me to crash her night.And Matt is at work, running his restaurant. I can’t show up and demand he entertain me until I can return home.

Leaving me with no other choice, I pull out my Motorola MicroTAC and punch in Adam’s number I’ve mesmerized. He answers on the second ring.

“Kin! Is everything okay?”

The car crawls to a stop at a set of red lights and I sigh. I should take the red light staring directly at me as a sign to not go ahead with this, but I have no other choice. If I want to come to a decision soon, I need to get this over and done with.

“Give me Nash Beck’s address. I’m going to pay him a little visit and see if he’s worth potentially ruining my career for.”