Page 1 of Damsel in Defense
CHAPTER ONE
VICTORIA
I have been closer to death than to walking down the aisle.
My hand pauses midway to my ear, jewelry dangling as the sobering thought totally takes me off guard.
Where the hell had that cryptic notion come from?
It’s a true statement, but still…sad and super grim for me to be thinking about.
Especially when I’m only hours away from watching my older brother get married to the love of his life.
“Now, that’s a crazy thought,” I say out loud, smiling into the mirror.My hand continues its journey to my earlobe and attaches the bright pink cherry-shaped earring.My eyes flick from my now stunning earlobe to my face.The reflection staring back at me still doesn’t look whole…but she’s getting there.
The last four months have been the hardest of my life, and my eyes, while clear and depuffed, still hold a sadness that I can’t shake.I’m not sure if I want to.When you lose your person, your ride or die, your better half, it leaves a mark.I hold the scars of a great love, now gone but never forgotten.
“Tori.We’re fucking screwed.”
The abrupt entrance of my manager startles me.I blink back the sadness that was starting to engulf me and focus on her.In her signature black from head to toe, with her hair piled so high on her head I have no idea how her neck holds the constant weight, Cece pauses mid-stride to gasp at her phone.
“Those fucking bastards.Next time I see the editor, I’m going to rip her cheap eyelash extensions out.”
I have to press my lips together to hold in my laughter.Cece has a flair for the dramatics but does not take kindly to people laughing as she rages.
“You’re going to have to go to rehab, Tori,” she says out of nowhere.
I hear her words, but they don’t register.Cece’s hazel eyes stare deep into mine as she repeats herself.
It’s like ice water has been thrown over me.
“What?Cece,” I say, drawing out her name with exasperation.“You can’t be serious.You know I’m sober and have been for years.”
“It’s the only thing I can think of to get ahead of this.”
“To get ahead of what?You’re not making any sense.Tell me what’s going on instead of spouting nonsense.”
Her arms fall to her sides, head tilting with annoyance at my words.I don’t care.She’s talking in extremes and confusing the hell out of me.
“Your ‘episode’”—she uses finger quotes—“was caught on camera last week.It’s all over the tabloids.And it doesn’t look good.”Cece begins to pace back and forth across the room.“I can’t believe those fuckers would hold this photo until the day of your brother’s wedding.Talk about low,” she mutters to herself.
I’m up and off my chair in an instant, walking into the bedroom of the suite I’m staying in.Running the last few steps toward the nightstand, I pick up my cell from where I left it charging this morning.
I have eighty-three notifications.
No.
No.This can’t be happening.I thought I had caught myself just in time.Made it into the depths of the curtains before the heat overtook me and the feelings overwhelmed me.
Shit.Guess I was really wrong on that one.
Clicking on the first notification takes me to an article.
COUNTRY’S SWEETHEART HAS FALLEN AGAIN – IS SHE BACK ON BOOZE?
The headline isn’t anything original.The picture, however.Fuck.Taken out of context, it doesn’t look good.
The unlabelled water bottle I’m holding could be taken for vodka.My dishevelled and wild hair could be seen as the result of a wild night out.And the way one of my hands is extended in front of me does look like I’m searching for balance as I stagger off the stage.
