Star Bright Read online

  For everyone who’s tired of trying to be strong all the time.

  contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Fallen Star

  Rising Star

  Lucky Star

  More Books by Susannah Nix

  About the Author

  one

  “How about a rom-com?”

  Kimberleigh Cress looked up from tying her shoelaces and scowled at her assistant. “No way. Pass.”

  “Why do you hate rom-coms so much?” Luna shook her head as she shifted aside the stack of scripts she’d been pawing through. There were scripts piled all around her on Kimberleigh’s couch and covering the surface of the coffee table, sorted by some mystifying system that only Luna understood. Her eyes glinted with wry humor as they lifted to her boss. “Is it because your heart is a shriveled husk of dark matter that’s incapable of either absorbing or emitting light and therefore impossible for most humans to detect?”

  In addition to being her assistant, Luna Marquez was one of a very small group of people who Kimberleigh trusted enough to consider a friend. They’d been friends for years before Kimberleigh started making enough money to hire her as her assistant, which meant Luna felt free to shit-talk her to her face.

  Some people might consider that a downside of having a friend in your employ, but Kimberleigh had always considered it a bonus. There were enough people in her life devoted to kissing her ass and fawning over her. She liked having someone around who wasn’t afraid to piss her off by telling the truth.

  “I don’t hate rom-coms,” Kimberleigh said, suppressing the urge to smile. “I just don’t want to be in one.”

  “Sure.” Luna nodded, tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear as she reached for another stack of scripts. “Who wouldn’t want to be part of the magical formula of romance and comedy joined together in a cinematic perfect storm of happiness? Oh, that’s right—” She directed a raised eyebrow at Kimberleigh. “You.”

  “Name the last rom-com you saw in a theater.”

  Luna scratched her head, frowning as she thought about it.

  “I rest my case,” Kimberleigh said.

  Luna licked her finger and flipped through the next script on the stack. “I’m telling you, rom-coms are about to make a comeback. I’ve seen at least two dozen in here, which is more than you’ve ever gotten before. Everything’s a cycle, right? You could lead the new rom-com boom.”

  “Do you know what the shelf life is for actresses who get pigeonholed into rom-coms?” Kimberleigh shook her head as she adjusted her boobs inside her sports bra. “I’m practically too old already.”

  Luna rolled her eyes. “Whatevs.”

  To the rest of the world, Kimberleigh Cress, one of Hollywood’s hottest young actresses and star of the smash hit Otherwhere franchise, was a mere twenty-two years old. But Luna was privy to all of Kimberleigh’s secrets, including her real name, Leah Krasny, and the fact that she was actually twenty-seven.

  “I need to take on some roles that aren’t about my looks.” She’d gotten famous by playing teenagers, but she needed to move into adult roles, and she needed to do it strategically in order to maximize her career longevity. Lying about her age had bought her an extra five years, but those five years would be gone in the blink of an eye.

  “This is the movie biz, my dude. There’s no such thing.”

  Kimberleigh stood up and dropped into a hip flexor stretch. “You know what I mean. A part with weight to it where I can stretch myself and do some real acting. I have to remind people there’s more to me than a pretty face and a pair of perky tits shoved into a tight costume.”

  She didn’t just want to be the next Emma Stone or Jennifer Lawrence. She wanted to be the next Charlize Theron or Amy Adams—someone who was still landing primo roles well into her forties and hopefully beyond.

  At Luna’s uncharacteristic silence, Kimberleigh turned her head and caught her friend frowning at her. “What?”

  “Are you sure you should be doing this run today?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You just got back from three weeks of nonstop press tour appearances immediately after wrapping up a brutal four-month shoot in London. You’re jet-lagged, peopled out, and I’ll bet you haven’t slept more than ten hours total over the last three days. You are definitely not fine. I think you should bail.”

  Kimberleigh shook her head as she switched legs to stretch her other hip. “It’s for charity. Bailing is a bad look.”

  “We’ll tell them you strained your Achilles tendon or something. It’s no big deal.”

  “It’s a leisurely three-mile jog along the beach, not an Ironman triathlon.” Kneeling on the floor, Kimberleigh pushed herself up into downward-facing dog to stretch her calves. “It’ll be relaxing.”

  “Yeah, just you and a few thousand strangers all crushed together and running in a giant pack while a nonzero number of them try to creep on you. Sounds super relaxing.”

  “It’s not that bad. And I’ll have Syed with me.”

  Syed was part of Kimberleigh’s security team. She didn’t always take bodyguards when she ventured out in public, but given the crowd expected at the run today, her trusted assistant had insisted on it.

  Luna chewed on her lip, clearly not mollified. “At least skip the afterparty tonight. You don’t need the hassle of doing full hair and makeup after the race so you can stand around in heels and Spanx making small talk all night. Come home and change into pajamas instead. Go to bed early. Get some actual sleep for a change.”

  Sitting back on her heels, Kimberleigh directed a resolute look at her friend. “People paid a lot of money for tickets to this gala so they could socialize with celebrities. I made a commitment to attend and I plan to honor it.”

  She’d acquired a reputation for being chilly and unapproachable, which didn’t ordinarily bother her. It could be useful, especially as a young, attractive woman, for people to be a little afraid of her. But she couldn’t afford to be seen as unprofessional on top of that. That would get her labeled as difficult, which was the kiss of death for a woman.

  In order to earn her perceived arrogance, Kimberleigh needed to be flawless. Reliable. Unimpeachable. So she didn’t flake on her commitments. Ever.

  Luna arched an eyebrow. “You realize that ballroom will be crawling with fans trying to get a piece of you?”

  “I’ll only venture out of the VIP area long enough to give a few hugs and pose for a few selfies before making an early exit.” The doorbell rang, and Kimberleigh tossed an eye roll over her shoulder as she went to let Syed in. “Stop worrying about me, Mom. It’ll be fine.”

  Nothing said Christmas in LA like a run along the beach with three thousand people wearing Santa hats and battery-operated twinkle lights. It was sunny and sixty degrees in Santa Monica on the late December day chosen for the Tinsel & Tatas 5K, perfect weather for a little exercise in the great outdoors.

  Unfortunately, Luna might have been right about Kimberleigh pushing herself too hard lately. She hadn’t been sleeping well—but then when did she ever?—and the nonstop travel, interviews, photo calls, and press junkets of the last few weeks had taken a lot out of her. Possibly more than she’d appreciated. It probably didn’t help that she’d skipped breakfast this morning as well.

  Kimberleigh chose to blame low b
lood sugar for the unexpected dizziness and nausea she began experiencing in the last half mile of the race.

  “You need to walk?” Syed asked, cutting a worried glance her way as her pace began to falter.

  Kimberleigh shook her head, waving off his concern. She did not need to walk. She was in excellent physical condition, goddammit. She would not be undone by a short run to the pier and back. Not when she was out in public surrounded by cell phone cameras.

  The faster she finished this godforsaken race, the faster she could get out of the public eye. She’d be fine as soon as she got somewhere there weren’t so many people looking at her. And maybe ate a protein bar.

  To add insult to injury, Spencer fucking Devlin—entertainment reporter, television personality, and all-around slimeball—jogged past her as easily as Usain Bolt doing a hundred-yard dash at an elementary school field day. Looking infuriatingly fit and perky, not a perfect hair out of place or a hint of sweat on his camera-friendly face, he had the nerve to offer her a jaunty wave as he left her in his dust.

  Asshole.

  The last time Spencer had interviewed Kimberleigh, during the press tour for the first Otherwhere movie, his questions had focused exclusively on her body, the diet she’d used to achieve the “perfect shape,” and her sixteen-year-old character’s form-fitting costume—including the type of undergarments she’d worn with it. His obnoxious interrogation had baited her into sniping back, and clips of their verbal sparring had gone viral, turning an uncomfortable question about her underwear into a trending topic.

  After the interview, she’d instructed her publicist to blacklist Spencer Devlin, and hadn’t spoken to him since. Kimberleigh nursed her grudges like the children she never planned to have. There was no way she’d let a sleazy dickhead like that show her up, whether it was during an interview or at a charity race.

  Digging into her reserves of stubbornness, she put on a burst of speed and forced a smile onto her face for the last eight hundred yards of the course.

  As soon as she crossed the finish line, she bent over and propped her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. Syed helpfully positioned his sizable body between her and most of the photographers, though some of them had no doubt managed to snap a few unflattering shots of her that would probably appear in the tabloids alongside breathless speculation about her “secret illness” or some other made-up garbage.

  “You okay?” Syed asked.

  Kimberleigh straightened, ignoring the resulting head rush and surge of queasiness as she forced another smile. “Just a little dehydrated is all.”

  “Dehydration’s no joke. Do you want me to flag down a paramedic?”

  “God no.” She could imagine the headlines. Fragile starlet’s dramatic collapse fuels rumors of eating disorder/too much partying/secret addiction/etc. Take your pick of the favorite malady du jour. “Just point me toward the hydration station.”

  Kimberleigh felt a little better after she’d had some coconut water and a few bites of a Kashi bar. She even pulled herself together enough to pose for selfies with some of the other runners and race volunteers until the crowd started to get overwhelming. When a pushy middle-aged man draped a sweaty arm around her and leaned in too close for comfort, she gave Syed the silent signal to get her the hell out of there.

  The burly bodyguard extricated her from the growing cluster of fans, calling for the car to pick them up as he guided Kimberleigh away. His forbidding glare and no-nonsense manner deterred further fan interactions until she was safely inside the car. Sinking into the back seat with a long exhale, she let her eyes fall closed as Syed shut the door on the crowds outside.

  “You don’t look so great,” he said as the car pulled away.

  Kimberleigh opened one eye and made a half-hearted attempt to glare at him. “Flatterer.”

  Syed’s stone-faced expression didn’t change. It was useless trying to intimidate these security guys. They weren’t scared of anything. Least of all her.

  “Last chance to cancel,” Luna said as she watched the stylist help Kimberleigh into her shoes.

  “After all this effort? Not a chance.” When the stylist released her ankle, Kimberleigh paced across the suite she’d booked at the Ocean Avenue hotel where the Tinsel & Tatas Gala was being held.

  Pausing in front of the full-length mirror, Kimberleigh struck a series of poses before doing a test spin. She’d spent the last three hours being smoothed, curled, contoured, highlighted, and stuffed into a sleeveless Alexander McQueen lace gown. Other than the built-in corset—which made her figure look amazing—the champagne-colored gown wasn’t even that uncomfortable. She especially liked that it fully covered her chest so she didn’t have to worry about accidentally popping a tit.

  Luna handed Kimberleigh the metallic leather clutch she’d packed with essentials. “Do you want me to stick around in case you need anything tonight?”

  “No need.” Kimberleigh gave her friend’s arm a squeeze. “Just leave my overnight bag in the suite, and then you can go home and relax. You deserve it.”

  “Whew.” Luna swiped a hand across her forehead. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m relieved to hear that. Your girl could use some quality PJs and Netflix time.”

  “Enjoy it,” Kimberleigh said. “I’ll be doing the same thing in just a few hours.” She leaned in close to Luna and murmured, “Tell the prep team they did a good job.”

  “You could tell them yourself, you know.”

  “And ruin my mean girl mystique? I think not.” Kimberleigh never yelled or complained or made unreasonable demands on anyone she worked with, but she preferred not to encourage familiarity—and nothing did that faster than letting people think she was nice. It was much easier to keep everyone at a safe distance when they were intimidated by her.

  Stacie, the associate Kimberleigh’s publicist had sent to escort her through the red carpet portion of the event, looked up from her phone. “Ready to face the public?”

  Kimberleigh breathed as deeply as her corset would allow, put her game face on, and followed Stacie downstairs and into the fray.

  By the time she’d navigated the red carpet set up in the lobby of the hotel, Kimberleigh was already feeling drained again. Her head rang from the barrage of strobing camera flashes and the relentless clamor of voices shouting her name, vying for her attention, and bellowing contradictory instructions to look one way or turn the other as she posed for photos.

  Stacie deftly shepherded Kimberleigh through the media gauntlet, where she was hammered with inane questions about her outfit, her recent breakup with a rising B-list actor, and the newest Otherwhere film opening on Christmas Day. Fortunately, thanks to the press tour, she was able to field them all on autopilot, murmuring the same carefully crafted responses she’d been giving to the exact same questions for the last three weeks.

  It was a relief when Stacie disengaged her from the last reporter and guided her around the line of ticket holders and through the VIP entrance to the gala. Thank god this was her last public appearance until the Golden Globes in two weeks.

  One end of the ballroom had been partitioned off to allow the celebrity guests a safe space to socialize without having to mix with the general public, who’d paid five hundred dollars a head to get in the door. There were no press or paparazzi allowed inside the gala, other than the official event photographers, so Stacie left Kimberleigh to navigate the remainder of the evening on her own.

  Kimberleigh’s corset had begun to feel like it was strangling her, and white spots still floated in her vision from the camera flashes—either that or she was developing hypoxia from the compression of her rib cage. Hoping a drink would relax her enough to get through the next couple of hours, she headed for the bar.

  Annoyingly, the very first person she encountered was Spencer freaking Devlin. While she was waiting for the bartender to open a bottle of prosecco, Spencer sidled up beside her and unleashed the pretty-boy smile and soft Southern drawl he used to disarm the subjects of his t
elevision interviews. “Kimberleigh Cress, as I live and breathe. Fancy meeting you here.”

  She didn’t bother to hide her irritation, both at his cheesy affectation of charm and at the fact of his existence in general. “I thought your kind were being stopped at the door.”

  “Reporters, you mean?”

  “Reptiles.”

  Spencer smirked, unruffled by the insult. “You can put your claws away. I’m off the clock tonight.”

  The bartender set Kimberleigh’s glass of prosecco in front of her. Snatching it up, she marched away from the bar, determined to put as much distance as possible between herself and Spencer Devlin.

  Unfortunately, like so many in his line of work, he was as relentless as a mosquito and impervious to social cues. He closed the distance between them in two strides of his long legs and stepped in front of her, forcing a halt to her retreat. “I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here.”

  Kimberleigh leveled an impatient glare at him. “Why is that?”

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for the charitable type.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m heavily involved with several charities. I try to lend my support to good causes whenever I can make the time.”

  She rolled her eyes as she sipped her prosecco. “Good for you.”

  “I have a question.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “I thought you were off the clock.”

  “This is off the record. Merely for my own edification.”

  “Big word.”

  His cheek dimpled in an annoyingly attractive smirk. “It was featured last week on my Big Word of the Day calendar.”