Sand, Sequins & Silicone

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Butterflies flutter in my belly to the beat of my new song as our Sprinter pulls up at the top of the red carpet. Except I can see through the tinted windows this carpet isn’t red—it’s pink to match the huge promo posters hanging all over the downtown building.

My face, glittering in full glam makeup, reigns over everyone below.

As “Princess” continues to play loudly through the Los Angeles night air, a crowd of fans holding homemade signs screams wildly, cell phones poised, ready to capture the big moment. They’re ushered back by fierce-looking security guards while, behind them, camera lights flash at VIP guests posing in front of the press wall.

Any second now all eyes will be on me.

This is my moment.

I’ve worked my entire life for this.

“Oh my god!” Maya, one of my best friends, squeals from the seat beside me. She taps her phone screen and her eyes sparkle like diamonds. “It’s passed a million streams already, Princess!”

Those butterflies take flight in my belly again. You bet it did. It was impossible to sleep last night—we were all so glued to our screens watching the streams add up after the song’s midnight release.

“Oh, I’ve got a good feeling about this song . . .” Valerie, my other bestie, says, eyes sparkling.

I’ve got a good feeling about it too. I only wish this wasn’t all so bittersweet. My heart is still broken, and the song reminds me of what I’ve lost to get here. Shaking off the shadows of these feelings, I force myself to stay present, to soak up every bit of goodness happening right now.

“Princess?” Kimi, my manager, sits forward. “Are you ready?”

“So ready.”

My hands slide over my custom-made champagne-pink Chanel dress, as if to check they’re all still there, every last twinkling Swarovski crystal. It has to be perfect. Photos from tonight will be all over the internet tomorrow, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Hollywood, it’s that appearance is everything if you want to make it. One bad photo and I’ll be crucified. Insecurity bubbles up but I breathe it out; I can’t let anything ruin this moment.

The limo door opens and sound floods in, pulsing inside my chest.

“You look amazing, babe!” Valerie gives my hand one last squeeze.

“After four hours of hair and makeup, I should freaking hope so,” Maya mutters, and we laugh together as I scoot across the seat to the door.

Between video calls and phone interviews with radio stations across the country, the house had been manic all day with a swarm of stylists and makeup artists making me look flawless. Hot and empowered, that was the vibe we were going for with this song. And honestly, we did good. I didn’t get a chance to go down to the beach this morning with the girls like I normally would, but with the excitement of staying up through the early hours to share “Princess” with my fans for the first time and the anticipation of my first big release party tonight, it’s been easy to forget the sand and sea and replace it with glitz and glam just this once.

Take each day as it comes and make sure to enjoy every second, my lawyer told me when I signed my record deal. Well, that’s exactly what I’m here to do.

Enjoy. Every. Second.

And I deserve to. It took so long to find a record label that truly understands me, that vibes with my style and recognizes me for the dedicated artist I am without taking advantage of my prior na?veté. So much so that I almost lost hope my work would ever get this attention. But now, as I step out of the Sprinter onto the baby-pink carpet and smile up at five hundred awestruck fans, happiness fills me until I’m warm like the sun.

This party’s a celebration of all the crap I went through to get here—and all the doors that are about to open up for me, with or without his help. I’m doing this on my own.

And god, I hope he sees me win.

I bask in the buzz from the crowd lining the entrance, pausing to take pictures and give out hugs.

“Too much time on the fans, Princess,” Kimi murmurs beside me as I lean in for another selfie with one of the screaming girls. “Remember, we’ve got to stick to schedule. This is a big night for you so let’s be sure to stay on track.”

“Oh my god, I love you so much! I’ve been following you for years!” a girl gushes as I sign her poster, and, seriously, how could anyone say there’s such a thing as spending too much time on the fans?

My fans are why I’m here tonight—the reason any of us are here, Kimi included. They’re the ones who listen to my story through my songs, who sing along with my lyrics, and genuinely care about the work I put out into the world. According to the rules set by my manager, I’m supposed to simply smile and walk by them as if that doesn’t even matter to me? As if they don’t matter to me?

Screw that. I love these people.

“Hey! Thanks so much for coming!” I lean in for a photo with another fan.

Kimi gives a deep sigh and stares pointedly to hurry me along, but it’s her job to do that. Deep down, she knows how much this moment means to me.

People think that in Hollywood you’re handed everything on a plate, and everything is glitz and glamour without any hardships, but when you’ve fought for your voice like I have, you know that couldn’t be further from the truth. And even if, like me, you work hard, put in the hours, and sacrifice your whole entire comfort zone, at the end of the day, if luck isn’t on your side, you’re left in the dark while someone else takes the spotlight. Not to mention, I have zero nepotism as an advantage; I have gained my success completely on my own. Glittering moments like these—screaming fans like these—you can’t take them for granted, and I never, ever would.

After all, in just one night, everything can go away.

“Princess! Why isn’t your boyfriend with you?” a member of the press calls from behind his camera. His greedy expression tells me everything I need to know about him. He gets off on asking inappropriate personal questions at carpeted events in hopes of getting a viral-worthy reaction. Not today.

Maya grips my arm and leans in close. “You don’t have to answer that,” she whispers, and with one gentle tug she moves me on.

A twinge of heartache overtakes me for a second, and my smile drops.

But then I look up at the huge building in front of me, the area full of people who’ve turned out to celebrate my success, and I remind myself once again, this night is all mine. I’m not here because of him, and he’s not by my side when I need him the most.

When I was eight years old and working as a wedding singer in Guam, I used to close my eyes and pretend I was singing to my own crowd. I wished every day for this life.

And now here I am, in a custom fucking Chanel dress, my name in shining lights, my own song blasting through the speakers for all of downtown Los Angeles to hear, and six-figure streams racking up on my new song in less than twenty-four hours.

What’s a little heartache when I’ve put in so much hustle along the way?

I stride along the pink carpet with my head held high, smiling for every camera I pass. While the bustle of celebs and friends hurry me on from the VIP area, I wave at more fans. On my walk up to the press wall, I even do a little dance in time with the music, exactly how we planned.

In fact, it’s better than I ever dreamed.

And that’s exactly why I’m not prepared when my eyes lock with his across the crowded carpet.

Through the VIP crowd, amid all the pink shimmering lights, I catch a blood-pumping flash of ocean blue. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. They pull me back to him like the tide every time.

“Princess! Princess!”

“Princess, over here!”

Photographers call out around me, and my body works on autopilot as I pose and flash my teeth, that perfect Hollywood smile. He knows it’s not real. He’s one of the few people in this sequin-and-silicone world who’s seen the girl I am under the surface, behind closed doors. He knows me—the real me.

The corner of his lips twitch into an almost grin as his eyes slide over me from head to toe, making my skin burn hot with the memory of his touch.

And then, just as I’m imagining the possibility that he got my invitation and came back for me, a manicured hand lands on his shoulder and the stunning brunette beside him whispers something in his ear. I had always imagined that we would celebrate these moments together, like we had fantasized about so many times.

All that hot blood pumping through me immediately runs cold.

What is he doing here anyway?

And why the hell did he bring another girl? We were never the kind of people to hurt each other on purpose.

“Princess! I love your dress!”

“Princess! Smile this way for me!”

“Princess! Congratulations on the new song—how does it feel to be back?”

With adrenaline powering fast through my veins, I pull my eyes away from them and make the choice to stand tall for the ones who really matter.

“How does it feel?” I repeat the question back. “It feels like the first step on a brand-new journey. A move in the right direction.”

Away from him, I remind myself.

Because that’s the thing about Hollywood. Beneath all the glitter, there’s a whole lot of glue: the secrets that bind people together; the betrayals that make heartache stick inside you. It’s true you have to work hard to make it here. But with the right people by your side, you can build your own fresh start. As long as there’s love—and maybe a little bit of luck—there’s always, always hope.

I smile at the crowd, and this time, it’s from the heart.

Because, yes, I am the Princess. Just like my song.

This is my fuckin’ life and I’m going to fuckin’ live it.