2. Two
Two
Lacey
My running shoes pound against the hotel’s treadmill as Taylor Swift’s latest hit blasts through my earbuds. It’s barely 6 AM, but early workouts are non-negotiable when you’re a Disney-like company’s newest leading lady. Besides, running helps me process, and after last night’s chaos, I need it.
I increase the speed, matching my stride to the beat. My reflection in the mirrored wall shows my ponytail swinging, cheeks flushed. Even at this hour, I can’t help but smile. I’m actually doing it—living my dream. Sometimes, I have to pinch myself to believe it’s real.
My phone lights up with another text from Mom: ‘ Did you eat breakfast? Remember you need to eat!’
I roll my eyes, but my smile widens. That’s the third message this morning, and it’s not even seven. I love my family, I really do, but sometimes their constant check-ins feel more like check-ups.
Another message pops up, this one from my agent: ‘ Meeting with the press at 9. Wear the blue dress we discussed. REMEMBER: Sweet, wholesome, America’s sweetheart.’
As if I could forget! I’ve worked too hard to get here to mess it up now. All those years of acting classes, dance lessons, voice coaching—everything leading to this moment. The company contract is my golden ticket, my chance to really make it.
My mind drifts to last night’s events as I run. The Wild Band had been performing in Atlanta—I’d seen it trending on social media. I still can’t believe I missed them. I’d been stuck in meetings all day, then rushed through that crowded hotel bar, barely catching a glimpse of what I think was the band. Just a flash of intense blue eyes and dark hair before my security team whisked me away.
Speaking of which, I need to talk to them about finding less conspicuous routes. The paparazzi attention is getting crazy, though I suppose I should be grateful. It means people care, right?
The treadmill beeps as I hit my five-mile mark. My schedule today is packed: meetings, fittings, script reading, publicity photos. But first, I need coffee. And maybe a chocolate croissant—though my nutritionist would have a fit.
I run one more mile just to lessen the guilt of eating a chocolate treat before I slow to a cool-down walk, humming along to the music. I finally hop off the treadmill, wiping down the equipment before returning to my suite. The morning sun streams through the windows, and I twirl once, just because I can. Some people might find the company’s strict image requirements suffocating, but I don’t mind. I’ve always been a true Disney-like girl at heart—the magic, the wonder, the belief that anything is possible if you just dare to dream.
Even if sometimes, late at night, I wonder if I’ll ever find my own fairy tale ending.
My phone buzzes again. This time, it’s my sister: ‘Sis! You’re trending! That outfit last night was sublime! PS: Did you see any interesting guys at the hotel? Maybe you should consider getting back in the dating game.’
I laugh, shaking my head as I type back: ‘Too busy for dating! Career first, remember?’
And I mean it. Mostly. Sure, sometimes I get lonely, but right now, my focus needs to be on the movie. I want to prove to everyone, especially the company, that they made the right choice in casting me. Romance can wait.
Still—those intense blue eyes from last night—who was he? I really didn’t get a view of his face, but I bet he was handsome.
No. Focus Lacey.
I head to the shower, mentally reviewing my lines for today’s script reading. This is what matters. This is what I’ve worked for. Nothing is going to distract me from making the most of this opportunity.
Even if my heart occasionally wishes for something more than just career success.
The bathroom fills with steam as I smile through my morning routine. I can’t help it—joy just flows out of me, especially when I’m excited. And today, I’m beyond excited. I’m being interviewed by a magazine. It will be my first magazine spread since the company signed me.
After my shower, I wrap myself in the hotel’s fluffy robe and tackle my long, dark hair. The humidity makes it want to curl, but today’s publicity shoot requires sleek and polished. I’m halfway through styling when my phone rings—FaceTime from Mom.
“Stellina!” Her familiar face fills the screen. “I saw those photos from last night. You looked beautiful, but maybe that dress was a little–”
“Mom.” I cut her off gently. “The dress was pre-approved by the company’s team. Everything I wear in public is.”
“I know, I know.” She waves her hand. “I just thought… never mind. Your father and I were talking—“
“Is that Lacey?” My sister’s voice carries from somewhere off-screen. Suddenly, she’s squeezing into the frame. “Hey, superstar! Did you get my text about dating? Because I found this great guy—“
“No matchmaking!” I point my hairbrush at the screen. “I mean it, Blaire. I’m focused on work right now.”
“All work and no play,” she sing-songs.
“Speaking of work,” Mom cuts in, “are you eating enough? You looked thin in those photos.”
I glance at the clock. Twenty minutes until I need to leave. “I have a nutritionist, remember? And a trainer. And an entire team making sure I’m healthy and camera-ready.”
“We just miss you,” Mom says softly.
My heart squeezes. “I miss you too. But this is what I’ve always wanted.”
“We know, baby.” Mom’s eyes get misty. “We’re so proud of you.”
Before I can get emotional, which would totally ruin my makeup, my agent’s call beeps through.
“That’s Rachel. I have to go. Love you both!”
I switch calls, immediately sitting straighter at Rachel’s businesslike tone.
“Lacey. Your car’s coming in thirty. Have you seen the morning’s headlines?”
I pull up the entertainment news on my tablet. There I am, splashed across every major outlet. ‘Newest Princess Causes a Stir.’ At least the photos are good—they caught me mid-laugh, looking natural and happy.
“Perfect coverage,” Rachel says. “Keep that energy for today’s photo shoot. Sweet, approachable, wholesome.”
“Always am.”
“That’s my girl. Oh, and remember, tomorrow we’ll be in Orlando to meet with the company executives.”
“I’ll be there.”
After hanging up, I finish getting ready, slipping into the prescribed blue dress. It’s beautiful, with a famous designer label, but not too flashy. Perfect princess material.
My reflection shows exactly what it should: America’s sweetheart, ready to take on Hollywood. But for a moment, just a moment, I let myself remember the electricity I felt in that brief second at the hotel bar. The intensity in those deep blue eyes.
Then I straighten my shoulders, grab my bag, and head for the door. I have a dream to live, a movie to make, and a reputation to maintain.
Romance will have to wait.
Even if part of me wishes it didn’t have to.
The elevator arrives with a soft ding, and I step in, ready to face another day of living my fairy tale. Maybe it’s not the kind with Prince Charming, but it’s mine.
For now, that has to be enough.
The day flies by in a whirlwind of posing and picture-taking. Before I know it, I’m in a private car to Orlando, watching the Georgia landscape give way to Florida’s familiar palm trees and tourist attractions. My stomach does a little flip as I spot the first company billboard. This is really happening.
The executive offices are exactly what you’d expect—sleek and professional, but with subtle touches of magic everywhere—hidden characters in the artwork and classic movie posters lining the halls. I straighten my spine, channel my inner princess, and sail through the double doors.
“Lacey!” Michael Smith, Head of Creative Development, greets me with the company’s signature warmth. “Welcome to the family.”
The next two hours are a blur of contract details, movie discussions, and careful planning of my public image. They love my natural enthusiasm for all things princess-like, my clean social media presence, and my genuine love for their brand.
“You’re exactly what we’ve been looking for,” Michael says, beaming. “The perfect combination of fresh talent and wholesome appeal.”
I try not to bounce in my seat, but inside, I’m doing cartwheels. This is everything I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl staging shows in our backyard.
“We’ve arranged accommodation for you at our Grand Hotel,” Michael says, gathering his papers. “The Presidential Villa. Very exclusive, very private—reserved for celebrities. You’ll have the peace and quiet you need to prepare for your next photo shoot.”
I try to stifle a sudden yawn as I thank him. Between my early morning workout, the magazine shoot, travel, and these meetings, exhaustion is setting in hard.
By the time I leave the executive offices, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and my brain is overloaded with details about branding, promotional appearances, and the long-term vision for my company-approved career.
Rachel is right by my side, effortlessly juggling two phones while nodding along to something Michael Smith is saying. I try to focus, but my energy is fading fast. I need food. And caffeine. Preferably in that order.
As if reading my mind, Rachel lowers her phone. “You’ve got a dinner reservation at Citrus in the Grand Hotel before heading to your suite. The press will be in the hotel, so stay on brand. No weird menu choices.”
I arch a brow. “Is ordering a burger considered off-brand?”
“If it’s a lettuce-wrapped, organic, company-approved burger, sure,” Rachel smirks. “But you know the drill. Fresh salads, light entrees. Think graceful leading lady, not post-marathon carb-loading.”
I roll my eyes but don’t argue. Rachel isn’t the enemy—she’s just doing her job, the same way I’m doing mine.
By the time I slide into the restaurant, my stomach is growling, but I keep my posture straight and my movements polished. A few guests at nearby tables whisper as I walk past, some snapping sneaky photos with their phones. I flash a polite smile, giving them the moment they’re looking for without breaking my stride.
Welcome to life in the company machine.
After a Caesar salad and grilled salmon, I finally let myself relax. Rachel gave me a full rundown of what’s next, but honestly, I already know. More interviews. More photos. More carefully curated moments to build the image of America’s sweetheart.
And I love it—I really do. But sometimes, I wish I could be a little less perfect.
After dinner, my schedule blurs into a mix of wardrobe fittings, final contract signings, and a last-minute script read-through before I’m whisked into a private car heading toward the Grand Hotel.
Rachel barely glances up from her emails as she speaks. “Early interview tomorrow. Try to get some rest tonight.”
I nod, but as I stare out the window, my thoughts aren’t on my career. I’m wondering what I would be doing right now if I were living a different life. Would I be like one of the many tourists here? Just having fun with my family?
Something tells me that living a normal life has already passed me by. And I’m fine with that—for the most part. It’s only on hectic days like today that I yearn to have someone waiting for me…
It’s nearly eleven when I finally arrive at the hotel. The iconic Victorian architecture looks magical at night, lit up against the dark Florida sky. A discreet staff member escorts me through a private entrance away from the main lobby.
“Your villa, Ms. Monroe.” She swipes a key card and opens the door. “The master suite is to the right. Someone will bring your luggage shortly.”
The villa is stunning, with elegant furnishings and the company’s signature luxury. But right now, all I can focus on is the promise of sleep. I manage a tired smile as the staff member explains something about the amenities, but her words start to blur together.
My shoes come off first, followed by my carefully chosen dress. I dig through my carry-on for the oversized T-shirt I brought to sleep in. The bed looks like heaven, with plush white linens and more pillows than I can count.
I should set an alarm and check my schedule for tomorrow, but I’m too tired. Instead, I crawl under the covers, the day’s excitement giving way to bone-deep weariness. I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute...
The last thing I register is the distant sound of fireworks over the Magic Castle before sleep pulls me under.