Misfit Chey’s newfound “it girl” status derails her summer plans of reuniting with her movie star father when her celeb appeal quickly eclipses his.
Life in Los Angeles comes with its own set of complications, especially when she’s discovered by a hot new designer and signs on as ‘the face’ of his summer line. Add in her new ‘it girl’ status, a bad boy boyfriend and the wicked witch of young Hollywood who thinks it all should be hers and Chey suddenly has the makings of a CRUEL SUMMER.
Excerpt 1
“We’re live from outside the hospital where the latest Hollywood ‘it girl,’ Chey Morrow, has been brought in. According to an unnamed source, she lost control of her BMW earlier tonight on a slippery stretch of PCH and spun out into oncoming traffic. No reports yet on whether alcohol was a contributing factor…”
The same perky blonde reporter from the premiere flashed a bright smile at the camera like my sudden downward spiral represented the highlight of her day. Disgust flowed through me, and I was tempted to hit mute to stop her spiel, not wanting to hear any more. I was sure, no doubt, there’d be something from an ‘unnamed source’ who had nothing but a vendetta against me.
The screen split in two, and before the serious-looking anchorwoman could ask a single nauseating question, my finger found the power button on the remote and clicked the dratted thing off, leaving me to glare at the darkened screen. Alcohol a contributing factor, my rear. I hadn’t been near any all night. I’d been stone cold sober throughout the entire painful ordeal.
I eased down carefully in the cramped hospital bed, wanting to pull the blankets over my head, wanting to drown out the thoughts that were going through my mind, all seemingly being narrated in that stupid reporter’s perkier-than-thou voice.
But the standard-issue blanket was too thin to do the type of blocking I needed, let alone keep out any of those faint hospital sounds in the hallway. Pages, beeps of various machines, and voices and footsteps of who knows who loitering near my door drifted in.
I reached behind me, wincing slightly as I moved in a way my body no longer liked thanks to my various new scratches, bruises, and possible fractures to grab one of the extra pillows someone had procured for me. I pulled the flat pillow over my head, screaming silently into the worn fabric that still smelled faintly of laundry detergent, letting out all the pent-up emotion, the anger, sadness, everything that had led up to this brilliant point in my life.
The first hitch of a sob shook me, sending a jolt of pain through my sore ribs. I let it out into the fabric of the pillow, slowly easing it down so I could breathe, glad no one was here to witness my mini meltdown.
If I only had the chance to redo at least part of my summer.
I’d been so naïve when I arrived, thinking the whole time would be about me and my father bonding, hanging out, having fun. All those things I’d missed out on since my parents’ divorce nearly a decade ago.
I sniffled away the last of my tears, wiping them away with the back of my hand, glaring at the sight of the I.V. the paramedics had hooked me up to.
Yeah, if I could go back in time, I’d seriously think about smacking that version of me up alongside the head as I issued a dire warning.
Beware of Adriana.
Enough said.
***