Page 3 of Such a Good Girl

WEST

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Crimson light set my skin aglow as I lifted the velvet rope and passed under it, ignoring the throngs of beautiful people anxiously waiting in line behind me. Nodding at Derek, the leader of my own personal army of security guards, I paid no heed to the cries of protest rising up from the horde.

Not just anyone could get in. It didn’t work that way and it never would.

The Hush Hush Club demanded protection. Heavy security at the door was essential.

Before I could get to where I needed to go, I had to wade through the swarm of groupies that spotted me from the end of the massive curved bar. They intercepted me before I could hit the bottom of the stairs that led up to the owner’s box, squealing with delight that at this point sounded like nails on a chalkboard to me.

“West! West! WEST!”

“Oh, my god! Look! Look, it’s West!”

“It’s really you! Oh, my god, I’m going to faint!”

Their shrill voices rose high above the loud music pumping through the dark club.

Any time I left the privacy of my own home, I was forced to surround myself in beefy security guards. But despite their excellent deflection skills, the women lunged for me. One of them managed to reach through the protective circle and brushed her fingertips across my forearm.

I resisted the urge to flinch. The smile plastered on my face never wavered. I hadn’t made it this far in Hollywood without superior acting skills. Even under the pressure of constant assault from strangers, I kept my cool. I’d never let them see how I really felt about them.

They were vultures to me.

Impeccably groomed and stunningly beautiful, of course. But vultures.

Clinging to their curves like a second skin, their dresses probably cost them their month’s salary, probably more. They’d never show up wearing anything but the best designer clothes if they expected to gain entry to this place.

At some point in my life I may have found them attractive, if that wild look hadn’t flashed in their eyes the second they spotted me. It was like they’d spotted some rare endangered animal. If there was anything I hated, it was being looked at like that.

Like I wasn’t human.

Like they owned me.

Like they were owed my time and attention, just because I was famous. It was absurd, the entitlement that I encountered daily. As if I’d signed away my rights to any privacy at all, just by being in the public eye.

But I knew, deep down, that without them I would have none of this. So, I played along. It was part of the exchange. I tried to remain grateful.

I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick photo with them and gave them one of my best flirtatious winks.

They lost their fucking minds, just as I’d predicted. They kept lunging and my bodyguards kept pushing back.

“West, I loved you in The Sanctuary! You were an even hotter vampire than Brad Pitt!”

I swallowed my pride and smiled wider.

“Thanks, doll! Find me later, okay? We’ll hang out!” I lied.

I gave Derek the signal and he barreled past them, parting them effortlessly, like a red sea of sequins and oiled up limbs and hairspray. The space allowed me to continue moving, but now with the twinge of misery that came with her compliment.

The Sanctuary was a movie I’d done based on a book series by one of my favorite authors. And it left me with more insecurity than I’d ever felt.

Before I got the part, I’d heard the chatter about my career. Word was that if I landed the right role, I was destined to be the next Al Pacino. I’d thought my role as Apollo Youngblood was going to be that role.

I’d thought it was my best work.

I was tragically wrong.

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