8
8
Present day
The week after the release of “Princess” flashes by in a whirlwind. With the plans for my new project with John in Kimi’s and Wayne’s hands and my security team looking out for me, I’m free to celebrate with my friends and family—and damn, do we go hard. Mom flies in to visit from Guam, bringing my little sister with her, and together with Maya and Val we hit all the best spots. I wish my dad could come too. I miss him so much, but his work schedule is so busy and the plan is for him to come out next time. For now, I take my mom and sister all around the glamourous side of LA. Our shopping trip on Rodeo Drive starts at Celine. My sister gasps at the price tag on a bag she touches. She jerks her hand away and I hug her to my side.
“Do you want it?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “No way. That costs way too much.”
I smile, kissing her on the cheek. “We’re not leaving until you pick something, baby girl.”
Even though she’s still shocked by the prices, she agrees, and the look on her adorable face is impossible to hide as she tries on bag after bag. My mom watches us, pride clear in her big brown eyes. My mom reacts the same at Chanel, but settles on a tweed bag, the hottest one of the season. All of us, except my sister, toast with the complimentary champagne they give us as we shop from store to store. Our afternoon results in an entire trunk full of designer goodies, from purses to dresses and shiny new stilettos. We stop for coffee at the Instagram-worthy but slightly overpriced Alfred. Mom takes cute pictures of all of us in front of all the famous walls in Beverly Hills.
Later that night we go all out at Nice Guy, ordering a table full of food: seafood and ragu pastas, their insanely delicious pizzas (three different types), almost every appetizer they have. My sister and Val devour a rib eye and we all eat more than we ever have. My sister tries the pomegranate kale salad and brussels sprouts for the first time, and instantly becomes obsessed like the rest of us. The food is incredible, and it feels so good to treat my family and friends to such a nice meal. It’s pretty different from the meals we’ve shared at home; those were full of love and devotion, but I dreamed about the day when I could do stuff like splurge at the hottest spot in LA, and it’s so fulfilling—and this is just the beginning.
As the server clears the table, my mom takes my hand in hers. “This is so surreal, P., being in this city with you, celebrating your success. I knew you would make it, but as your mom, I’m so happy the world is seeing you shine the way I always have.” Her eyes brim with tears, making me watery eyed too.
“Aww, Mom.” I hug her, petting the back of her head like she always did for me when I was growing up. “I could never have done any of this without you. Always being there to pick me up, helping me think clearly when I’m lost. You keep me going. If I didn’t have you to lean on I would never have made it this far. I’m doing this for all of us. Our lives are different now. I’m going to take care of all of us. Hot-spot dinners, shopping on Rodeo, all of this is just going to be another normal day for us,” I promised.
I love making music. I couldn’t live without it, but my drive doesn’t come from wanting to buy myself designer bags: I’m doing it for my family. So they never have to worry about an electricity bill being too high or how to pay for my sister’s college. I will make their lives easier—I promised myself that when I first got on the plane to Los Angeles.
“Honey, we don’t need to go shopping or have these luxurious dinners. We just want you to be happy.” My mom is full-on crying now.
She’s always been my biggest cheerleader, the smartest when it comes to strategy, scraping up the money for me to leave my island, spending hours on the road driving me to auditions, and sending me enough money to get by in the city during tough times when I couldn’t pay for myself. I owe my parents everything and I want to do this for them, for my whole family, for my island.
“I am happy. My song is being played on every radio station in LA and I’m doing all these interviews at all the biggest radio stations! Spotify and Apple Music added the song to every hot playlist. My merch is selling like crazy. It’s all happening, we made it, Mom.” I hug her again.
“I’m so proud of you, baby.” She pulls out her phone to FaceTime my dad. He’s grinning from ear to ear, eyes full of pride.
“We aren’t supposed to have our phones in here, Dad, but we’ll call you again tonight. Promise.” I blow him a kiss as we hang up.
Maya and Val both sniffle beside us; it’s such a meaningful moment, one that I’ll never forget.
Paparazzi wait outside as we exit. My sister hides her face, growing nervous at the crowd of mostly men calling my name. My mom wraps her arm around my sister, and I tell her to go ahead of me and Maya so the attention isn’t so heavy on them. I’ll never get used to people selling photos of me, but sometimes it’s helpful to create buzz around my name. The photos of me and Maya go viral and get a bunch of press coverage. Maya watches her phone with bright eyes, but by the end of the day she turns all her notifications off. The outfit I wore, a white cropped tank and oversized metallic jeans, is all over the blogs. The jeans sell out and I get tagged in hundreds of posts re-creating my look.
To keep the momentum going for my song, the next day is packed with more press, this time focusing on expressing my gratitude toward my fans and my team. My music is getting all the right support, and the team around me deserves all the recognition they can get. I know so many artists have issues with their management, but I’m so fortunate to be able to trust mine.
Kimi and Wayne are like family to me, and I don’t feel like a walking dollar sign to them. I’m lucky in so many ways. I’ve been given warnings from other artists to not get too comfortable or too close to my managers, but I couldn’t imagine anything bad happening with Kimi and Wayne. To thank my team for helping me get this music out I take them and their plus-ones to Nobu and we order the finest wine, liquor, and fresh sushi and sashimi until we close out the place. I’m on a high. Being able to give back to my family, my girls, and my team is all I’ve ever wanted.
Soon it’s back to business. I spend hours on calls with business managers now that I actually have money coming in and enough “going on” for people to want to work with me. I’m able to partner with marketing teams to develop a new cosmetic line I’ve been pitching for the longest time. I bring Maya in, too, so she can give her expertise and promotional value. We gush over samples of the new line, and it feels like I’m living out all of the daydreaming I’ve done in my bedroom over the years. We go over the looks Maya will be wearing for the campaign shoot and her genuine excitement only gets me more hyped to be doing all this with her. The publicist I hired, Jen, is one of the best in the industry, and she just so happens to have her office in one of the buildings that Win owns downtown. I know because he’s taken me to it before—and today we’re brainstorming ideas for a social media ad campaign in her luxuriously decorated space. She oozes class and experience, and I love being surrounded by strong women like her.
“Okay, but I loooove the formula for this lip gloss. It’s the juiciest and most hydrating gloss I think I’ve ever used. Coconut flavor…of course, for my island girl. And the mint-green background for those promo shots,” Maya raves, leaning across the conference room table to reach for some of the cutouts the designers have pulled together. “But the pink is so on-brand with Princess right now it just feels criminal not to use it to our advantage.”
“I’m happy you like it! Princess has been extremely specific about every detail from the marketing to the formulas since the beginning. Good call on the mint green,” Jen says enthusiastically. “I’ll have the team come up with some more options ASAP since the first shoot is coming up quick and we need to start rolling these posters out ahead of the announcement.”
“They’re gonna be plastered all around LA,” I tell Maya.
“Shut up! I’m so excited for you.” Maya claps her hands excitedly. “An entire beauty brand owned by you advertised all over the city—with us on the posters together!”
“You know that’s only the tip of the iceberg.” Jen laughs, closing her binder. She shoots me a knowing look, and I nod for her to continue. “We’re advertising in every major city in the country, even internationally. Ad space is booked in New York City, Miami, LA, even London and Paris. This is going to be big. We’re making this thing happen. And, Maya, you’re going to be getting calls from every major agency, just don’t forget about me.” Jen winks playfully.
“Aww, thank you both.” Maya whistles. “This is sick. I’m so excited to see what you have planned for your next drops. I’m so proud of you, P.”
My head still buzzing with excitement, I thank the team for an outstanding meeting and step out of the glass-walled office, heading for the elevator with Maya. My emotions take me by surprise, hitting me all at once, and I try not to make it obvious. But taking a wider view on my life, I can’t fathom how things are really coming together. It might look like an overnight success, but truthfully most of my career has felt so suffocating, like I’m barely staying above water, constantly feeling not good enough and having to prove myself. And then somehow here I am, feeling like I’m living someone else’s life, walking out of a meeting with the best publicist and marketing team for a beauty brand I’ve always dreamed of having. Like, what is going on?!
“You gonna grab lunch with me?” Maya asks when we step inside the elevator, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I’d love to but it’d have to be to go,” I say with an apologetic smile. “I have a session I gotta get to today and another with John tomorrow that I need to prepare for.”
“Are you seriously going to record with him after what he did?” Maya doesn’t look impressed.
“We have to move on from it. We’re working together. I have no expectations outside of that and no room for bullshit. What he does in his free time and who he chooses to do it with is really none of my business.” Although the thought of him with someone else kills me inside, I guess that’s life. “Our relationship begins and ends in the session. And you know there’s no one I have better creative chemistry with. I’m not going to be petty and let that go.”
“Sure.” Maya’s applying the sample for my new lip gloss in the elevator mirror. She pops her lips and shoves the tube back into her purse. “I guess I’d be more enthusiastic if this same damn thing hadn’t happened a thousand times already. I’ll always support your choices when it comes to him, but that doesn’t mean I agree with you. It’s such a roller coaster with you two, I don’t know how you do it.”
The elevator dings, and I’m about to answer as I step out, except I’m silenced by the tall, dominating presence that appears as the doors slide open. He oozes sex, and my palms go clammy instantly. Of all the people to bump into . . .
“Win!” I reach my arms out for a hug. “I was just going to call you!”
“Hey, Princess.” A smile to die for creases his face. “How’d the big meeting go?”
“It was great,” I answer as I pull back from the hug. Shit, he smells good. “Thanks so much for putting me in touch with Jen and the team.”
“Anytime, Princess.” Win greets Maya, too, and then his eyes slide down briefly to glimpse my bare thighs in the short shorts I’m wearing. Like the gentleman he is, his stare doesn’t linger, but the heat from his eyes leaves a lasting itch. “I wish I could hang around, take you out for lunch or something, but I’m about to be late for a meeting.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” I wave my hand through the air. “I have to get to a session at the studio. But let’s do dinner soon?”
Pushing out a hand to hold the elevator doors open, Win brushes against my arm accidentally. It surprisingly leaves a tingling trail, making my hairs stand on end.
“Perfect, I’m down for dinner anytime,” he says in a tone that definitely doesn’t feel professional. But that’s just Win all over: suave and sexy and strictly off-limits. “I’ll call you.”
As the elevator doors close, big pink love hearts practically burst out of Maya’s wide eyes.
“He is so hot,” she says, latching onto my arm and walking with me out of the office building. “How are you still hanging around with John when there are men like that out there wanting to take you to dinner? It’s insanity if you ask me.”
“It’s funny you say that, I don’t recall asking,” I say, poking my tongue out and laughing. “Ahh, it’s just not like that with Win. He’s like, I don’t know, like we have this amazing mutual respect. And he’s always interested and helpful, and so damn smooth, but I’m not sure if it’s actually a flirty vibe. I guess it’s kind of like he’s my—”
“Don’t say it.” Maya laughs. “Don’t you dare tell me you’ve got daddy issues.”
“Oh my god.” I shove into her, and Maya laughs harder as she stumbles a couple of steps in her heels. Embarrassed, but also seeing the funny side, I bite my smile away and try to stay serious. “It’s not like that. Categorically no. Plus, he’s not that much older than us, he just has his shit together so he seems like it.”
“Whatever you say, babe,” she says with a wink. “But just know I’m making my move soon if you don’t get there first. Clock’s ticking.”
“Sure, you and all the ten thousand other women lined up to warm his bed.” I don’t know why it sounds like jealousy in my tone. I couldn’t care less if Maya hooked up with Win . . . could I? Between me and him, it’s strictly business. Isn’t it?
I’d never say this to her, but lately I’ve been seeing him in a slightly different light. I hadn’t been focused on him in that way because I’d been so wrapped up in John, but he does have something irresistible and mature about him. Not that I would ever cross that line, but he’s a great guy; any woman would be lucky to have him.
Later that night, as I drift off to sleep, Win, then John, then Win, flow through my mind. As if he can feel me thinking about him, my phone vibrates with a text from John.
John: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow doing what we do best. Sweet dreams, Princess
I check the time in the corner of my phone. Of course—it’s 11:11.
On the way to the studio, I can feel my adrenaline. Nerves, excitement, butterflies, wasps, all buzzing inside me. I know how much magic John and I can create together, so I’m excited, but I’m also nervous about our personal drama getting in the way.
When I walk in he’s already working, bent over the computer wearing a hat and gray hoodie and sweats, his eyes tired but focused. He looks hot. Ugh.
I spent more time getting ready than I normally would for a session, making sure to put just enough makeup on that I still look natural but also flawless. My outfit was designed to look effortless but also make him weak in the knees: cutoff jean shorts and a cream tank, an oversized button-down, black Dior booties, and my favorite fragrance lately: Byredo’s La Tulipe. I knew he would swoon, and the look on his face when he sees me is beyond satisfying. He smiles and comes out from behind the soundboard to greet me. He hugs me, which I wasn’t expecting, but instinctively my arms wrap around his shoulders as he squeezes me. It feels like home being in his arms, and the smell of his cologne, the one I bought him, takes me back in time to when things between us were simple, vibrant, and easy. I don’t want to let go.
“Hey.” He spins me around and puts me down when I start to laugh. “You ready to make some magic?” he asks, nodding toward my microphone.
I nod enthusiastically, genuinely happy and excited. Something about John has always inspired me, and no matter what happens between us, it seems like he always will.
Hours later when we break, the sun has set, and I’m shocked at how fast the time went. John seems so happy with what we’ve done so far, and he orders tons of food, all our favorites, which he hasn’t forgotten. He pours us both a drink and when his eyes meet mine, I’m taken out of the present and back to the past as we clink our glasses together.
One of John’s friends, Cole, comes around to say hi, and we let him hear part of what we just recorded. Cole wraps his arm around my shoulder, which is a little weird, but I just go with it instead of causing a scene. Cole has a weird vibe, eyes lingering on me a little too long, but I just smile and deal with it. John watches us, his mood changing as Cole compliments me, keeps pulling me closer. John refills his glass quickly and a little too high. I try to move away but Cole keeps coming back. Thankfully, it’s time to get back to work and he leaves. I don’t want to let him ruin the rest of my night, so I do what I do best and turn my creative flow back on, forgetting that he showed up in the first place. This is about me and John and our music.
Back inside the recording booth, the track cuts out and restarts again as John says, “Again.”
His dry monotone hits against my last nerve. This has got to be the fifteenth time he’s corrected me since I stepped back into the booth ten minutes ago, and this time I barely even opened my mouth to start singing.
“John, what’s the problem?” I say directly into the mic, staring hard at him through the glass separating us. “You didn’t even hear me that time!”
“Your delivery isn’t as strong,” he mutters, not even bothering to look up at me. “Again.” And then the music restarts.
Rolling my eyes, I take a deep breath and prepare myself once again. The beat kicks in, my cue arrives, and I get three words in before the sound drops away altogether.
“You’re not cutting it as good,” John says, exasperated, downing another shot of whiskey or whatever the hell he’s drinking out there. “From the top.”
I stay silent, seething inside the booth, kicking myself internally for agreeing to work on this song with him. I should’ve known it wouldn’t end well. His mood’s been so off since Cole left the studio; one too many drinks in and coupled with the shitty atmosphere between us, this is like a living hell. He can’t expect to play the hero once and get a free pass on all his other bullshit.
“It’s not good enough.” John cuts the track again, and this time I drag my headphones off.
“John! I’m not doing this. Either let me finish my take or I’m coming out of the booth. This is a waste of my time and yours.”
John shrugs dramatically, and without sparing me a glance he exits the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.
I step out of the booth and sigh.
“Maybe we should take a break?” one of the engineers awkwardly suggests.
John and I used to have fun doing this stuff. We’d spend hours recording demos just for the hell of it, sampling different songs and vibing together. We connected through our love of music, and now it just feels like we’re doing the opposite of that, even though the first half of the day went so well. This is the high and the low that I keep getting addicted to.
“What’s his problem? He was fine all day,” I grumble to one of the other producers, walking over to the soundboard and taking John’s seat.
Offering me a sympathetic smile, he says, “I thought you sounded great. He’s clearly not hearing straight.”
“Thanks.” I smile dejectedly and lean my elbow against the desk. “Can you play back whatever we did manage to record?”
“Sure.” The computer freezes so the engineer has to reopen the session, clicking a couple of options on John’s screen to recover the vocal takes John deleted. He starts to play the take, but a different song plays.
“What is that?” I ask in confusion. “That’s definitely not my voice.”
“Uh . . . ah shit.” The guy pauses the recording quickly, but not fast enough. Realization dawns as I listen closely to the vocals.
“Is that Riley Vega?” I ask in disbelief. “Is that session from today? Was she here before me?”
“That’s not really for me to answer,” the engineer says uneasily, looking around as if for an escape route. “I’m sorry, Princess. I have to use the restroom.”
Blood pumps fast through me and my stomach is in knots. He’s got to be fucking kidding. Did John seriously have me come here to record the song he’s been hyping me up about, fully knowing he was gonna have Riley in the studio before me? He told me their working relationship was finished. Anger, confusion, insecurity, frustration all swirl inside of me. I want to burst into tears. This is too much. Why is he betraying me like this again?
Why can’t Riley just back off and let me have my moment for once? Why can’t she go find her own people to work with? She’s a bigger artist than I am, she could get in the room with anyone she wants, yet she only seems to want what I have, even if it’s something she’s not particularly interested in; if it’s good for me, if I’m growing, she’s determined to put an end to it. How does John not see this? I feel so out of control I don’t know if I want to scream or disappear. I was so excited about this session. I’m singing my ass off all for John to flip on me out of nowhere and storm out of the room. I wasn’t cutting the record good enough . . . of course I wasn’t. Why is nothing I ever do good enough for anyone?
Now I’m too emotional, and he’s too drunk, for us to even be able to talk this through. We’re such a mess. I should’ve known better and never agreed to this.
I thought things were going to be different. He told me he’d change.
“Where are you going?” John calls as I barge out of the studio doors, on a mission to get as far away from him as possible before I do or say something I’ll regret. He holds his arms out to his sides, clearly amazed I’d think to leave after he treated me just so well back there.
“Move out of my way, John,” I say through gritted teeth, weaving to get past him.
“Princess,” he calls louder than usual at my back. “Where are you going? We’re recording the—”
“You told me you finished the song with Riley. Is this another one?” I stop and turn, glaring at him with a force that makes his expression fall instantly. “How could you do this to me? Working with Riley again after what she did to me? Seriously, you say you care about me but your actions clearly show otherwise. Such a waste of my breath trying to warn you about her out of concern for you and the damage she can do to you if she doesn’t get her way, but you know what? Do whatever you want, John, it’s none of my business. When you said you could change, I didn’t think you meant for the worse.” I shake my head. “I’m done here. Next time, stay sober.”
He gawks at me. My tone seems to wake him up a little. I guess he didn’t expect a reaction like that. But I’m proud of myself for standing my ground. The girls would be cheering me on, too, if they were here, I know it. I mean, he practically begged me to work with him, convincing me this would be something special, our moment to put something great out there again, and the song would be huge. I don’t deserve this shit.
“Can you just come back inside?” he asks. No apology or explanation. Again.
“Hit Wayne to schedule another session. I’m not cutting anything else today.” Trying to maintain my calm, businesslike composure, I give him one final look of disgust and exit the building.
You’re not gonna regret this, my ass, I think as I slam my car door. Already do, John. Our first session back together and I already goddamn do.