Page 46 of Billionaire Unexplained: Kaleb

“Wouldn’t you miss the attention and adoration?” he questioned seriously. “You have an amazing voice, and Annelise is adored by millions.”

I thought about his question for a moment before I answered. “I like being recognized for my accomplishments, but no, I wouldn’t miss the craziness of being chased down by the media for a story or being mobbed at an event. And I’d gladly give up being a master of disguise. I think I’ve always been a private person who was somehow shoved out into the public eye. I’ve learned to cope, and I love bringing my music to the masses. I’m proud of my success. But there is usually a shelf life for pop stars. I know there are exceptions to that, but a lot of the artists I listened to when I was young aren’t even talked about anymore. Female pop stars get older, and we’re replaced by someone younger. Before that happens, I’d like to bow out of the touring part of my career and focus on writing music.”

“You’re only thirty-five, Anna,” Kaleb protested.

“I’ll be thirty-six in a few months. Maybe I’m at that age when I start to look at my alternatives for the future. I actually want to have a child someday. Since I haven’t found a life partner, I’d like to adopt a child, and I refuse to leave a child behind while I go out on the road most of the year,” I said honestly.

“You were completely serious about not wanting to do mega tours anymore?” Kaleb asked huskily.

“I’m not sure if that’s an option for me right now,” I told him. “I want to be financially secure so I can do what I want to do. I’ll never make the money I’m making right now doing something else, and I’m totally aware that fame is usually fleeting. I’ve never deluded myself into thinking that I’d be on top forever. Most pop stars aren’t, and I’ve been lucky. I’ve had a really good career. I’ve stayed relevant for seventeen years now.”

“So you’re looking for a backup plan?” Kaleb asked in a deep, thoughtful baritone. “Even though you’re a household name and ridiculously young.”

I snorted. “You only think I’m young because you’re older than I am. I feel old because I’m looking at the young, talented teenagers and early twenties women entering my field. It takes a lot of energy to do a tour like mine. I used to do it without thinking about it. Now I have to watch every calorie and stay in good shape to do concert after concert. It’s physically and emotionally exhausting, and it certainly isn’t going to get any easier from here. I’m just being realistic. Maybe I’ll stay incredibly popular for years, but I feel like I’m always waiting to become irrelevant. Maybe that doesn’t make sense to you—”

“Rationally,” he interrupted. “I understand your thinking. I guess I’ve never considered what it would be like to have a career that could very well have an expiration date.”

“Maybe because you’re not a female who has to look good to younger people in revealing costumes,” I said drily. “Men like you are considered incredibly hot at forty. Women in entertainment usually just get older and less desirable.”

“Okay, now I have to disagree,” Kaleb said in a low, sexy voice. “Your music has kept you relevant, and you’d be desirable at any age, Anna.”

I turned my head and caught his gaze.

My heart somersaulted as I saw the raw heat in his eyes.

I actually believed that he might always find me attractive because we just had that kind of chemistry. “But you don’t understand how fickle people in the music business and Hollywood can be.”

“Oh, I understand it,” he contradicted. “I just don’t walk in your shoes. What I look like doesn’t really matter as long as my mind is still sharp enough to do business.”

“Well, it matters in my business. I’m not a performing artist who’s judged only on my talent. I’m a female pop star who gets criticized about my personal appearance if it’s not perfect. The same thing happens to actresses and other women in entertainment. Reporters comment on their wardrobes, a wrinkle starting to form on their faces, bags under their eyes, and every pound they gain. We either learn to let it roll off our backs or it will eat us alive.”

“Obviously you’ve learned to ignore it,” Kaleb observed as he steered me around a large booth.

“Most of the time,” I answered. “It doesn’t hurt me anymore. The only thing that still stings is if a new album gets horrible reviews, but I’ve learned over time that some people are just going to hate my music. There’s nothing I can produce to change that.”

“Everyone has critics if they put themselves out there for public scrutiny,” Kaleb said sympathetically.

“I know,” I answered quietly. “And I try not to take it personally anymore. But there are some reviewers that go out of their way to land a few blows. Sometimes a personal comment about my music gets to me. I put my heart and soul into that music, and I’m human.”

Kaleb put a strong arm around my waist and squeezed. It was a quick, comforting gesture that made my heart lighter.

I was pretty sure that he wanted me to know that he’d always have my back.

“Nothing wrong with being human,” he drawled as he pulled his arm away before anyone noticed.

I sensed that he wanted to say more, but this wasn’t the place to have an in-depth discussion about my career.

People were watching, and they’d probably listen if they got close enough.

The Remington brothers were all a source of fascination for some of the people in this town, and I didn’t doubt that a lot of gossip probably revolved around them.

“I’m sorry,” I said remorsefully. “I was ranting a little about work frustrations, but I know I have it good. I honestly have nothing to complain about.”

“We’re all allowed to have frustrations, no matter how much money we make,” he pointed out. “Money and fame doesn’t take away the fact that we all have personal issues and problems. It just makes them a little easier to solve if those problems can be solved with money.”

The problem was, money couldn’t always make everything better.

I’d known a lot of very famous people with money who couldn’t manage to fight their personal demons or their private pain with money.

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