Her record label and PR people and management team had told her “any press is good press” enough times that she’d stopped protesting her innocence to them. Besides, she knew they didn’t believe her, not after seeing the pictures that had leaked over the holidays last year—horrible pictures that still seemed to turn up whenever she thought they were finally buried.
After working nearly twenty-four hours a day for years to try to get people to listen to her music, she’d been overjoyed to see her work pay off with her first number one hit last summer. Although everyone had warned her that the business would chew her up and spit her out if she wasn’t careful, she’d believed it was different for her, that she was smart enough to surround herself with good people.
Until the day she trusted the wrong one.
Kenny had been so charming, so sweet at first, that she’d fallen for him hook, line, and sinker. But he’d used emotions like barter and she’d soon realized the only way to keep him happy—and to be sure he still loved her—was to give in to some of the things he wanted her to try.
Stupid girl.
A thousand times since then—no, more like a million—she’d asked herself how she could have been so naive. Naive enough that when he’d sold his story of wild nights with the pop star, complete with pictures that he’d been secretly taking of her on his cell phone, she’d actually been shocked.
Well, she’d learned her lesson. Big time.
She would never again trust that easily, especially good-looking, persuasive men.
Nicola caught a glance of herself in sweatpants and a tank top in the full-length mirror on the living room wall. Some party girl she was. After a grueling day of rehearsing dance moves for the video they would be shooting on Friday, her big plans included watching a Laverne & Shirley marathon on cable under the covers.
The doorbell rang and she realized she’d forgotten about the ice cream she’d ordered from room service. On a night like this, she simply didn’t have the energy to care that the hotel staff member would see her without any makeup on and immediately get on Twitter and tell the world about it.
No question about it, chocolate ice cream was her last hope tonight.
She opened the door. “Hi.”
The guy looked at her, then actually looked over her shoulder for the real Nico. Finally, he looked back at her, his features twisting toward recognition as he stared. “I’ve got your room service, Nico.”
She stepped aside so that he could wheel in the big tray, even though she could easily have just picked up the container on top.
“It’s just the brand you asked for. A quart of it.”
“Thanks.” She took the pen he handed her to sign the room tab and felt, like laser beams, the guy’s eyes on her butt in the snug sweatpants. She’d been feeling those eyes from one guy or another for the past ten years, ever since she’d woken up one morning with br**sts and hips.
She didn’t even mind the leering. What she minded were the assumptions that came with it, that just because she had the T&A that guys drooled over, it meant she was going to hop into bed with them indiscriminately.
She wasn’t a slut, no matter what the world thought.
She went to hand him back the pen, but he was too busy ogling her chest to notice.
Nicola always made it a point to be nice to the staff anywhere she was staying. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d been waiting tables and cleaning hotel rooms while she waited to be “discovered.”
Tonight, she was all out of nice.
“Here.” She jammed the pen into the guy’s palm, then went to the door and held it open for him.
He moved slowly toward it and she was counting the seconds until he was gone when he said, “You all alone tonight?”
Seriously? She had to deal with this garbage just to get some ice cream?
“I’ve got plans already, thanks.” He nodded, but she didn’t like what she saw in his eyes. “My boyfriend will be up in a minute,” she lied.
“Well, if you’re looking for company later...”
He was across the threshold by then and she didn’t hesitate to slam the door in his face. After bolting it, she muttered, “Jerk.”
The ice cream container was starting to sweat on the big silver cart, but she wasn’t in the mood for it anymore.
It wasn’t fair. The whole world thought she was a total tramp when the truth was that she’d had sex with a grand total of two guys. Brad from twelfth grade in the backseat of his dad’s car. And then Kenny, because she’d thought they loved each other.
Even worse, neither of her previous lovers had been all that great. Brad, she could forgive, because it had been the first time for both of them and their location had been terrible. But Kenny, she’d finally realized, simply hadn’t cared about making her feel good. He’d been all about himself the entire time and she’d only fed into it by constantly trying to please him so that he’d love her more.
At least if she’d ever had anything approaching real pleasure, maybe she wouldn’t be so bitter about her reputation. Maybe then she could just own it. Maybe then she would actually feel like the sexy woman she portrayed on her album covers and music videos. Maybe then she wouldn’t have made her choreographer, Lori, stay so long with her tonight, long past when she should have let the woman leave for her brother’s engagement party.
All of a sudden, a crazy impulse hit her square in her solar plexus: since she was never going to shake off her reputation, what if she went out to earn it instead?