13
13
“You know, the dad of one of your old friends from kindergarten stopped me and your dad at the grocery store the other day,” Mom tells me.
I’m chilling on my couch with my second steaming cup of coffee and a whole chunk of time while I wait for John to return with lunch. The sun reflects off the white marble floor of my apartment, but I can see the ocean glittering blue behind Mom on our FaceTime call.
There’s something so much purer about the ocean in Guam compared to here in Los Angeles. Tranquil, endless, and private, it’s perfectly rejuvenating after a long day. Our family home overlooks the ocean, and I miss it constantly—just like I miss my family.
“Which friend?” I ask with interest, thinking back to my island days. I haven’t visited home since last Christmas, flying back in time for the New Year’s Eve party, and with my busy release schedule coming up I don’t think I’ll be back again for a while. Which sucks. But at least I have these quiet moments to catch up.
“Liv.” When I try to recall the name, Mom shakes her head. “Oh, you won’t remember her—both of you were too young—but her dad’s so proud of how far you’ve come, Princess. He said Liv still follows your career and knows the lyrics to all your songs.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“Maybe we could send them some signed merch,” Mom suggests. “What do you think?”
I scoot farther down on the couch cushions to get comfortable. “Sure, if you think she’d like that. I don’t want her to think I’m self-obsessed.”
“Oh, stop.” Mom brushes me off with a wave of her hand. “Princess, the island loves you. Liv’s a fan!”
My phone vibrates in my hand as a call from Kimi pops up. “Mom, it’s Kimi,” I say quickly.
“Calling you now?”
“It might be important,” I say. “I’ll call you back, okay?”
“Okay, hon. Love you.”
“Love you, Mom. Bye.” I click onto Kimi’s call immediately. “Hey.”
“Did you see the big news?”
I sit up swiftly and swipe onto my socials. “Big news, huh?” I tap X first, then my emails, then I skim through my texts, not knowing where to look first.
“Your song just landed at number one!” Kimi gushes excitedly. It’s rare to hear her sounding anything but composed. “You’re a number one charting artist, Princess!”
“What the fuck! No way!” I jump up from the couch, clutching my face. “That’s insane! Are you playing with me?” My pulse jumps up and down in my throat, the excitement so palpable I don’t know what to do.
“Not kidding—check the charts!”
Fingers hitting all the wrong keys, I race to select Princess Billboard charts from the list of autocorrect options on Google and let out a scream once I see my name right there at the top. “I’m NUMBER FUCKING ONE, KIMI! OH MY GOD!”
“Congratulations!” she says enthusiastically, but I barely hear her next words because my head’s practically swimming with pride and I’m far too preoccupied with hurriedly typing a message to the girls.
“I can’t believe this!” I keep saying over and over, my disbelief only interrupted by a nonstop loop of “What the fuck,” “Oh my god,” and “I’m fucking number one!”
“Princess.” Kimi’s voice eventually cuts in. “Princess, did you hear me?”
“I’m here, Kimi,” I say, snapping back to reality. “What did you say? I think I lost signal or something.”
“That’s not the only good news.” Kimi has regained her usual composure. “We got you booked on the Miami show you mentioned, same one as Maya. Billboards, stage time, a catwalk, and they want you to perform, so it’s a huge opportunity for you. All of this coming right after your Coachella trip means you’ll be front and center the next few weeks. Strategically, nothing could be coming together better!”
“Holy shit!” The knowledge tastes much sweeter now I know I’ll be performing as a number one charting artist.
“I have a bunch of calls to make, catch-up with the label. Go celebrate,” Kimi says as I squeal again. “I’m so proud of you. Wayne’s talking to the promoters now, so be looking out for a call from him about the wardrobe fitting soon.”
“Wardrobe fitting? I need time to figure out which stylist I want to use first.”
“That’s being handled,” Kimi says. “The Image Agency is pitching us different stylists and setting up intros.”
“That is perfect, Kimi! They have all the best over there.”
“You deserve it all. Before we get off, do you have an idea of what your next plans are single-wise? We need to keep the momentum going and be prepared with a follow-up. People are going to be asking right away and we can’t have your name die out during all this buzz. You got one shot to really break so we have to make the most of this moment.”
The high of my song being number one is quickly replaced with the reality that I’m only as good or as valuable as my next thing. I can’t help but feel that even though I’m number one, it’s not enough. I don’t want Kimi to have any doubts or feel my stress, so I keep a grin plastered on my face.
“I hear you and I’m on it. Thank you, Kimi. I can’t wait to tell my mom! She’s going to lose it,” I gush, already hovering my thumb over the End Call button; sharing the news with my mom will hype me back up. This is the best day of my fucking life, and I won’t let anything ruin it.
As morning fades into afternoon and the sun climbs higher in the sky above Los Angeles, I grow restless. I already exhausted Mom with my excitement when I called her back after hanging up on Kimi, and it’s like actual torture having to hold it all in waiting for John to get back. He left around nine saying he needed to go home and change before we head to the studio for our session, but said he’d be back to pick me up later with sushi from my favorite spot just around the block. But it’s past lunchtime now, and I have no clue where he is.
“Come on, answer the phone!” I mutter as another call rings through to voice mail. “It’s almost two o’clock already.” My stomach rumbles as if in protest as I slide my phone into my back pocket. I’m so damn hungry. At this rate, I’m more excited to eat than to tell John the news.
Just as I go to stand up and find a snack from the kitchen, my private elevator dings, signaling his arrival. I head over to the foyer, ready to greet him.
“Jeez, what took so long? It’s been like eighty-four years—”
A strange noise cuts me off—a nasally whimper as the elevator doors open, then an eerie silence instead of the noise of John stepping out.
Whois that?
As I round the corner and stop directly in front of the elevator, my stomach drops.
“Can I help you?” I ask the strange but mildly familiar-looking guy standing in the center of the elevator. Dressed in all white from head to toe, staring right at me through beady eyes, pinning me to the spot. My heart stops. It’s the man from before, the one who showed up at my Malibu rental. My head becomes fuzzy. Do I run? Try to fight him off? Scream for help? Call the police?
“With the arrow you shot at my heart, sweet dove, I’ll end the man who stands in our way.”
His voice takes me aback. It’s robotic and creepy, and his eyes don’t leave mine as he speaks, a strange, twisted smile curling the edge of his lips.
“What?” I say automatically, but it’s as if he’s living in his own reality. The man carries on talking without acknowledging my question at all.
“Princessssssss, my Princess, we’re one and the same. My woman, my life, my heart and soul. You are my sweet one. Look at me and see who I am.”
My heart pounds against my rib cage as I slowly ease my phone out of my back pocket, trying to be discreet as I activate Siri and hope like hell this guy keeps his distance.
“So lovely to meet you,” he says, his tone different now, theatrical almost, as if he’s switching from one character to a whole other. “So lovely, lovely, lovely.” He twists his wrists in the air and steps forward with one foot, then before I can move or think prances out of the elevator onto my marble floor.
“Hey, Siri, call security!” I shout at my phone, freaking the fuck out and darting away from him, blood pounding between my ears and my legs turning to jelly behind the knees. I slam the SOS button on my intercom as I run past it, the stalker’s footsteps fast on my tail.
“Ma’am, is there an emergency?” a voice asks through the intercom speaker.
“YES!” I scream, running into my bedroom and slamming the door shut behind me. “HELP!” I shout as loudly as I can, hoping it’s enough for security downstairs to take action. How the fuck did this guy even get past them?
“My love, I mean you no harm,” the stranger coos through the wood of my door.
I flip the lock and pace backward until I meet the wall on the other side of the room. “Get out of my house!” I scream hoarsely, voice shaking with fear. My entire body follows; I’m shivering violently from fright.
He doesn’t answer. There’s a sharp thud instead, and the door wobbles on its hinges with the force of whatever he just rammed against it.
He’s trying to get in.
“Shit.” I glance around for a weapon of some sort. There’s a ceramic vase on my nightstand—that could work if I smashed it. Or maybe the razor-sharp heel of my stiletto boots. I jump to grab them, positioning myself just behind the door. It thumps again with the force of his body weight, and another small scream escapes involuntarily. Hurry up, I beg the security guys internally. Come on, come on . . .
Right on cue, the elevator dings again, and then there’s shouting and heavy footsteps racing fast down the hallway. It all happens in an instant. First a huge crash, then the sound of glass splintering and a whole string of curses, followed by more shouting and the high-pitched, bone-chilling shriek of the guy as he’s escorted out of my apartment. I clutch my chest as I listen to it happen, heart still hammering hard against my rib cage, nausea rolling through me at the thought of what could’ve happened if security wasn’t downstairs.
“Princess?” The voice is on the other side of my bedroom door, breaking me out of my thoughts. “It’s Hector from security. Are you in there? We’ve removed the intruder.”
“Yes, I’m here.” I don’t realize I’m crying until my voice breaks on my reply. Dropping the stiletto weapon, I dab at my eyes quickly and move to open the door. “Thank you so much,” I say to the bodyguard as soon as I see him. “That was way too close.”
“I don’t know how it happened,” Hector says, shaking his head, visibly regretful. “I am right there by the elevator—I should’ve seen him walk in. I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll let Kimi and Wayne know you’re okay. I was watching the whole time, but my wife called me—our son is sick, or I would never have answered during work. That’s when he must have got by. I’m so sorry, Princess.”
“Please just make sure we get the security footage,” I reply quietly, too shaken up to even begin dissecting how and why the guy ended up in here. “And get his personal information. Find out if he’s with anyone, did he walk up or drive up, make sure he doesn’t fucking come back—and don’t let him go until the cops arrive.”
“Yes, I’m on it. We’re filing a report and getting a restraining order in place, this will all be handled with the police.” Hector steps back, and it’s only then I realize that shards of glass have rained all over my floor.
“Oh my god,” I breathe.
Hector looks at the broken console table. “It smashed in the process of trying to get him out.” He holds up a hand, showing off a dripping red cut in the center of his palm. “The table didn’t get such a lucky escape,” he jokes.
“Oh no.” I step carefully forward, avoiding the glass and reaching for his arm. “You need medical attention.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He smiles reassuringly. “I’ll send housekeeping up to clean this up for you.” He walks me to a nearby chair and has me sit down. “In the meantime, try and breathe in and out through your nose, it’ll help calm your nervous system.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, not realizing I was breathing so heavily, making my chest feel like it could explode. Hands still shaking, I dial John’s number, eager to get the hell out of here.
“Princess.” He answers on the third ring. “What’s up?”
“Where are you? Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” I say, trying not to break down.
There’s a short silence. “Shit, I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t see them come in.”
Shutting my eyes and releasing a long breath, I try to be strong but my voice breaks as I explain. “I just got attacked. In my fucking apartment. How far away are you?”
“Wait, what?” His voice instantly kicks up a notch. “What are you talking about?”
“That guy from the beach house was here. He walked right out of the elevator and came right in. He chased me down the fucking hallway. I was so scared.”
“Chased you down the—” John curses under his breath. “Jesus, Princess, how the hell did he get in? Where was security? Are you okay?”
“I don’t know how he got past security, but I left the front door open for you”—I drag the word out, wanting to get my point across with just the right amount of attitude—“I walked over thinking he was you coming back with our sushi. What’s taking you so long? It’s been hours. I need you here.”
“Oh shit.” John sighs heavily. “Traffic was brutal getting over here, and then when I got in, I had a bunch of emails I had to answer. I’m so sorry. I should have been there. Were you waiting on me?”
I’m always waiting on you, I feel like saying, but with another deep breath I reply, “Doesn’t matter. Please get here, I need you. We can order something in or just figure it out when you get here. I’m too shaken up. I can’t do a session right now, let’s cancel.”
“Yes,” he replies instantly, no hesitation. “I’m coming right now.”
I shudder at the thought of hanging around here alone any longer. I glance around my apartment as if expecting another creep to jump out from behind a wall. “Please hurry.”
“Be there soon, P.”
As soon as he hangs up, I wish he’d have stayed on the line, just in case, just to keep me company. I lean against the kitchen island with my head in my hands, massaging the stress away with my fingertips and wondering how the hell such an exciting morning turned into this kind of shit show so fast. And how did he “forget lunch”? It was the only thing he had to do aside from go back to his place to shower and change!
His excuse doesn’t sit right with me—there’s always brutal traffic in LA. John wasn’t answering his calls either. If he really did just go home, he’d have heard his phone. I can’t shake the feeling I’m missing something, but maybe I’m just overwhelmed by everything else going on.
“What a fucking roller coaster.” I sigh, blowing my hair out of my face as I straighten up. Before I can think too deeply about it, my phone lights up with another call.
“Hey, Wayne,” I answer, knowing security would’ve called him as soon as I sent out the alert.
“Princess, are you okay?”
“Honestly, I don’t even know.”
“Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”
I lean my hip against the island and stare over at the elevator, shards of glass glinting in the sunlight on the floor all around it. “I mean, Wayne, where the fuck do I even begin?”
Before I get the chance, Win bursts into my room. His normally perfected appearance is disheveled and he’s almost out of breath.
“Princess, I’m so sorry,” he says.
How on earth did he get here so fast?
“My guy dropped the ball. I’m firing him. Are you okay?” he asks, studying me for my response.
“No, please don’t fire anyone. I’m okay, I’m just—” My breath speeds up. Am I okay? Physically, yes, but mentally? My life was in danger, and no one was here for me. In the darkest moments, I always seem to be alone.
Win wraps his arms around me as I collapse into his chest, allowing myself to lower my guard and admit how terrified I was. He doesn’t push me to talk, staying quiet until I fall asleep, and when I wake up, my apartment is empty, again.