And so, ultimately, I do the thing Kendrick would surely do for me, if the situation were reversed: I clench my jaw, press my lips together, and look away, ceding the runway, free and clear, to my best friend. The birthday boy.
Two
Laila
When I enter the party, I’m blasted with blaring music combined with the loud din of laughter and chatter. I take in the grandeur sprawling before me, my lips parted in awe. Reed’s house is magnificent—a modern-day palace. Which makes sense, since Reed Rivers is the King of LA—a music mogul known in the industry as “The Man with the Midas Touch.”
I scan the expansive room, looking for any sign of my good friend, Aloha. A few minutes ago, she texted she’d find me near Reed’s front door when I arrived, but I don’t see any sign of her. What I do see, however, is wall-to-wall glamour and hotness. It’s silly for me to feel this way, given how much awesomeness has happened in relation to my debut album this past year and a half, but finally getting to attend one of Reed’s legendary parties makes me feel like I’ve really and truly arrived, every bit as much as attending the Grammys earlier this year.
My eyes drift as I await Aloha and stop short when I spot my celebrity crush across the large, crowded room. He’s Adrian Savage from Fugitive Summer. If you ask me, Savage is the hottest man alive. Dark hair and eyes. A jawline that could cut glass. A chiseled physique that looks like it was forged in tan marble. And all of it made especially panty melting by his omnipresent “big dick energy.” An attitude that apparently isn’t false advertising, based on those notoriously mouthwatering photos of him in the shower.
At present, Mr. Donkey Dick is throwing back shots with his bandmates, all of whom I recognize but haven’t met. And I must say, he’s every bit as gorgeous in person as in his leaked photos and music videos and promo. Even more so, actually. Because, in person, I can physically feel Savage’s undeniable charisma, even from across a crowded room.
“Laila!”
I wrench my eyes off Mr. Perfect and discover Aloha walking toward me with our mutual agent, Daria Brown. When Aloha and I returned from our tour last year, she generously introduced me to Daria, her hot-shot agent, one of the best in the business—and then proceeded to convince Daria she’d be a fool not to take me on as a client, despite the fact that I’m still a relative newbie in this industry. But that’s Aloha for you. From day one of our friendship, when I was nothing but an opener with a debut album to promote, she’s never once hesitated to help me out and cheer me on and show me the ropes.
After hugging me in greeting, Daria says, “I’ve got some exciting news for you, Little Miss Laila!” Her smile widens with excitement, revealing white teeth that gleam against her beautiful dark skin. “I sealed the deal! You’re going to be a mentor on the eighteenth season of Sing Your Heart Out!”
I gasp in disbelief, slapping my palm to my cheek. “I don’t believe it!”
“Believe it, girl. It’s official.”
I launch myself at Daria and wrap her in a grateful hug. “This is a dream come true!”
When we disengage from our hug, Daria tells me the basics of the deal. I’ll be assigned to Aloha’s team of contestants, thankfully. That’s exciting. Also, per usual for mentors, I’ll only appear in one episode, but Daria assures me even one episode on a juggernaut like Sing Your Heart Out will introduce me to millions of new fans. I ask a few questions and find out my shooting schedule won’t be set for several months yet, since the show is currently shooting the season prior to mine. “The pay is basically nothing,” Daria explains. “Union scale. But I promise the exposure will be well worth it.”
“Oh, I don’t care what they pay me,” I say. “I’d pay them to get to be on the show.”
Daria flags down a roving server and the three of us grab flutes of champagne. With a loud whoop, we clink and drink and talk excitedly about the amazing news. But when the topic of conversation shifts, and Aloha and Daria fall into a conversation about a career decision for Aloha, I can’t resist sneaking a peek at Mr. Perfect across the party again.
This time, when I peep Savage, I’m shocked and