Page 6 of Starstruck
Have you been writing?
I sigh as the elevator dings. I head down the hall to my apartment, number eight-zero-eight, unlock the door, and walk inside before responding to her.
Not a thing
You’ll get there. Let me know how things go today. Love you.
Love you.
I smile at her confidence in me, setting my phone on my nightstand to charge. It’s only twenty-to-eight now, so I have about an hour before I need to be at my sister’s place.
I make my way to my bathroom and start the shower, stripping out of last night’s clothes while it warms. I feel dirty and gross, and my hair is in desperate need of a wash. I go through the motions in the shower, do my skincare, and brush my teeth. Then I put on a round-neck, navy-blue dress with three-quarter length sleeves that stops just above my knees. I pair it with nude tights and pumps before clasping my mom’s locket around my neck.
It’s gold and heart shaped, which most people would probably consider to be tacky, but I’ve always adored this necklace. My dad got it for her as a wedding gift, and she never took it off. Inside, she put a photo of us three kids on the left and one of her and my dad on the right. “Everyone I love I keep closest to my heart,” she told me once when I asked about the photos. I haven’t replaced them, and I doubt I ever will.
In their wills, our parents only left a handful of assets to specific people: this locket, which went to me; our dad’s wedding band, which went to Dylan; and our mom’s wedding and engagement band set, which went to Paige. Then Revolution Records, their record label, was left to Jeremy Arden.
Jeremy has been the director of Revolution RecordsPublishing—the department I work in—since it opened. My parents discovered him over twenty years ago at an open-mic night in the city and they mentored him. He’s practically family to us, and he’s an absolutely fantastic musician—he’s who taught me how to play piano. But he’s never been interested in performing for real, so when they opened Revolution, he was immediately on-board to run the publishing house. My parents held the president position together, and Jeremy was their right-hand man for most things.
Now, with them gone, he’s taken over as president.
I think they left the label to him because they knew how much he loves it. It was unrealistic for my siblings and I to take it over, seeing as Paige has her own life as a lawyer and Dylan as an engineer. I could do it alone, but truthfully, I don’t have any interest in owning the label, and they knew that. Jeremy is the next best thing to any of us, and I know he’ll make them proud.
A third of the rest of their assets was left to each of us kids. Dylan ended up buying Paige and me out of our family home, where he now lives with his family, and we split everything else equally. I’m not sure how he lives there; I can’t walk those halls without being assaulted by memories of our parents. I haven’t been over since their funeral in November, but despite how much it hurts to be there, I am glad the house is still in the family.
I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror after doing a quick face of makeup—just enough to make myself look like I’m not hungover and sleep-deprived. Then I grab my belongings and order myself another Uber to Paige’s house.
The insurance money paid for a new car, but I’ve never been a fan of city driving.
That feeling has only gotten worse since the accident.
[2 ]
BEHIND YOUR EYES
LENNON
“SHOOT YOUR GUN” BY 22-20S
“Lennon!” Paige calls through the door of her main-floor bathroom that I’ve locked myself in. “We have to get going. Are you ready?”
I give myself one last look over. My chestnut-brown hair falls just past my shoulders, styled in a blowout to give it some volume, and my makeup is natural-looking with a light layer of blush and some mascara. I swipe a fresh layer of gloss over my lips to finish off the look, rubbing my lips together as I twist the lid back on. Then I pull open the door, finding my stressed-out sister waiting on the other side, her hip cocked and her arms crossed.
“Areyouready?” I ask, a hint of attitude in my tone. Because of course I’m not ready for today. No amount of time could prepare me for what’s about to occur. I’ll just be happy once it’s all said and done.
That is, assuming it goes the way we’re all hoping it will.
Paige lets out a sigh, her arms falling to her sides. “No,” she says softly, tears beginning to well in her eyes.
My shoulders drop as I take a step forward, wrapping my arms around her. She returns my hug, squeezing tightly before releasing me. She swipes a finger under her eye as she pulls away. Knowing it would likely be an emotional day, my usually glammed-up sister opted for a light layer of waterproof mascara and no base, so thankfully her makeup isn’t running. If the fact that she’s crying before we’ve even left the house is any indication, that was a smart decision on her part.
I rub my hands over her biceps, unable to find the right words to comfort her. What is the best thing to say to your sister who’s grieving your parents when you’re part of the reason they’re dead?
“We should get going,” she tells me, and I nod, smiling sadly. I link my arm in hers as we turn toward where Trevor, Paige’s husband, Dylan, and Emma, his wife, are waiting by the front door.
Paige breaks away from me and steps into Trevor’s arms as Dylan opens the front door, and I lead the way to the idling car on the boulevard.
I pull my beige peacoat around myself tightly as I make my way down the cobblestone path to where Anderson, our family’s driver, waits with the car door open.
