by Lila Moore
Rumor Has It
Lila Moore
Copyright ©2016 Lila Moore
First published by Lila Moore 2016
Distributed by Amazon
Book Cover by Kasmit
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
Epilogue
Daddy Dearest
1
2
3
4
Newsletter
Also by Lila Moore
1
Lights flashed, blinding me. I slipped on my extra dark shades and smiled. I did my best to look friendly and carefree. I waved to a screaming girl being held back by my bodyguard. Tears ran down her cheeks as she incoherently screamed the name of my character from my latest movie.
I pulled down my shades and winked at the girl. I made the move slowly and deliberately so that the paparazzi could get a good shot of me. The fan sites dedicated to me would eat up the image. They loved how ‘real’ I was with people.
It was all an act.
It’s not that I hated my fans-quite the opposite. I loved their devotion and enthusiasm. It’s just that being America’s Sweetheart is exhausting. The fans can be rabid. Last night at the premiere of my latest movie, I was walking the red carpet when a girl bolted over the fence surrounding the red carpet. She ran straight for me.
I panicked. I’ve received threatening letters in the past. Celebrity attracts the deranged. I’ve had multiple stalkers and death threats. What if this girl was armed?
She sprinted to me, dodging my bodyguard’s attempts to grab her. She reached me out of breath and smiling like a lunatic. Her eyes were glassy and wide; she looked like a cult member. She moved quickly, grabbing my hair and pulling.
I let out a scream as the girl ripped free several strands of my hair.
“I got it! I got it!” she screamed.
She took off running down the red carpet with my hair in hand. A member of my security team tackled her to the ground. She screamed like she was being murdered as my bodyguard patted her down for weapons.
The paparazzi had a field day. The whole spectacle had been captured by multiple cameras from multiple angles. I was the leading story on every gossip site. Pictures of me wide-eyed and gasping were all over the internet.
I looked scared-but worst of all-I looked terrible.
My face was contorted in a silly expression. The girl had managed to rip my hair free of its carefully pinned, fashionable updo. Wild strands of hair hung in my face. One of the extensions my stylist had carefully styled into my hair was hanging loosely around my face. I tried to pull it free unsuccessfully. I looked, as the gossip site Gossip Gurus put it, like a hot mess.
My assailant was also pictured all over the internet. Somehow, she’d managed to come off sweet and innocent, as if the whole affair was one big misunderstanding. They suggested I was using my bodyguards to bully fans. The site had posted an article speculating on my disheveled look and frantic state of mind. They painted me as neurotic and paranoid. Not to mention, the fact that they heavily implied that America’s Sweetheart wasn’t so sweet.
If this story got out of hand, it could seriously damage if not ruin my career. I did my best to appear unbothered by it all as I left my hotel room. I knew people were paying attention. I’d taken extra care to spend hours with my stylists fixing my hair and makeup and picking out the perfect designer outfit for my stroll in front of the paps this morning.
I posed for them, making sure they got my best angles.
My bodyguards were less than thrilled by this display. A stalker had been sending me death threats along with pictures of me taken from afar. These weren’t the usual paparazzi photos either. They were taken by my stalker and they revealed intimate moments. One particularly frightening photo was of me walking out of my bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. The creep had managed to get a shot of me through the window of a home I was vacationing in.
My security team wanted me to go into hiding until they found my stalker and arrested him. I refused. Movie stars don’t hide from the public. You have to keep your face in the magazines. If you hide, your star fades, your fans dwindle and your career ends.
The situation had to be managed. If not, I’d end up starring in made for TV movies. The thought made me shudder.
I scanned the crowd looking for anyone who might be out of place. I recognized the faces of the paparazzi. My fans looked like normal fans, not creepy stalkers-though sometimes it’s a difficult distinction to make.
There was one man who caught my attention though. He was tall with broad shoulders. He had short dark hair and tanned skin; his eyes were intensely focused on me. When we locked eyes, he quickly stepped back into the crowd. A chill shot up my spine. The man wasn’t holding a camera and he didn’t look like a fan. I smiled at the crowd and took a casual step towards one of my guards.
“There’s a guy in the crowd who looks off,” I whispered in his ear.
“What does he look like?”
“Tight black shirt and jeans. He’s muscular with short dark hair, high cheekbones, tanned skin.”
“We’re on it,” he replied stepping into the crowd.
A second bodyguard came forward and started to lead me to my waiting limo.
“Jamie! Jamie!” one of the paparazzi shouted. “Did you order your bodyguards to body slam that girl last night?”
I should have ignored his question and kept walking, but his words left me incensed. “My bodyguards apprehended my assailant calmly and professionally,” I replied sweetly.
My publicist had warned me never to refer to the girl as anything other than my ‘assailant’ or ‘my attacker.’ We didn’t want the press to start looking at her as a victim, though I suspected it was too late.
“She says she simply asked you for an autograph when she was tackled to the ground.”
“Look at the footage from that night, it shows the truth.”
I was starting to lose my temper. How could such an obvious lie gain traction so quickly? There was video footage from the event. It was clear the girl had attacked me. I did nothing wrong.
My publicist Shonda stepped forward. “Miss Kelly has a very busy day ahead of her,” she said. “If you’ll excuse us.”
I shrugged and winked at the paparazzi as if I was upset about being pulled away. I was grateful Shonda was there to stop me before I did something I would regret. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have a career. My whole ‘America’s Sweetheart’ image had been carefully crafted by Shonda. It had turned me from a D-list soap actress to an A-list movie star overnight.
“You can’t bully us with your money and security team,” a second paparazzi screamed out.
I gritted my teeth. “No one is being bullied. Everyone here is peaceful.”
Actually, my guards were barely able to hold back the teeming mass of girls des
perate to get my autograph. If I didn’t get out of here soon there would be a riot. Shonda tightened her grip on my elbow. It was a warning to keep my mouth shut.
“Were you aware that studio heads were meeting this morning to discuss whether or not to move forward with you on future projects?”
I glanced at Shonda. She shook her head as if to say she had no idea what he was talking about.
I smiled. “I’ll see you at the premiere!” I shouted to the waiting fans. They cheered.
I let Shonda lead me to the limo. “What’s he talking about?” I whispered.
“I have no idea,” she replied.
I’d landed the lead role in the studio’s latest superhero franchise. If the first movie was a hit, I was guaranteed three sequels. They were promising fifteen million for the first movie, then twenty million for each sequel. I’d also make a percentage of the box office receipt. It was a deal that could be worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
“If they’re having second thoughts-”
“They’re not,” Shonda said. “I will handle this. Just get in the limo and go.”
There was always a younger, prettier actress nipping at my heels. Everyone wanted to steal my career from me; I had to be vigilant. I managed to bypass several fans screaming for autographs and slipped into my limo. The door closed behind me the second I was inside. The limo took off with a screech of burnt rubber.
I let out a scream when I saw that I wasn’t alone. The man from the crowd sat at the far end of the limo. I reached for the door to yell for help, but we’d already pulled away.
“Stop!” I screamed at the driver, but the privacy glass was up. He couldn’t hear me.
“Your security team is terrible,” the man said. He sat casually with his arm stretched out along the back of the seat. I could see a gun sticking out of his boot. The man followed my gaze. When he saw that I was staring at his gun, he bent over and pulled the leg of his jeans down, covering the weapon.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“You’re being stalked and you’ve received several death threats. I’m here to neutralize the threat.”
“Neutralize the threat? Who talks like that? What are you some sort of special ops super soldier or something?”
“Actually, yes. I was in Special Forces. Now I work in private security. I was hired by your publicist Shonda to keep you safe.”
“I’ve never heard of you. Why wouldn’t she tell me she was hiring additional security?”
“Because she knew you’d refuse. I’ve been following you these last few days, learning your schedule and testing your security.”
“So you’re stalking me?”
“No. I’ve been learning your routine and looking for any signs of your stalker.”
“Did you catch him?”
“No. But I did learn your schedule easily. If I was a stalker and I wanted to kidnap you, it wouldn’t take much effort. You leave your hotel every morning between ten and eleven o’clock. Then you drive to Starbucks, then head to the gym. Afterwards, you go to the spa for approximately an hour then back to Starbucks again…” He spoke drily. It was clear he was less than impressed by my daily routine. “Then you go out to eat, back to the hotel, consult with your stylists, then go out to dinner with your boyfriend. Everything you do is in full view of the paparazzi. I wouldn’t even have to follow you to know where you are or what you’re doing. All I would have to do is log onto one of your fan sites. They post pictures and updates on your every move twenty-four seven.”
“So? It’s the nature of the beast. I can’t help it.”
“Yes, you can,” he replied irritably. “You could be more discrete.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His biceps bulged beneath his black shirt. I was surprised they didn’t rip the fabric.
“Look, Miss Kelly, I believe this threat is serious. You need to make drastic changes to your lifestyle if you want to avoid danger.”
“Jamie.”
“What?”
“My name is Jamie. No one calls me ‘Miss Kelly.’”
“As your employee, I think it’s best to keep things formal.”
I rolled my eyes and crossed my legs. His eyes darted down taking in the length of me. His attention quickly refocused on my face. Was he checking me out?
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Theo.”
“Well, Theo, you have no idea what it’s like to be me. My career depends on my public image. If I disappear, my career will vanish with it.”
He frowned. “There are more important things in life than fame and fortune.”
“Like what?”
He looked at me like he wasn’t sure if I was being serious or not. I was.
“Like your life. If you’re dead, you can’t enjoy any of it.”
“True. But if I was killed, I’d be more famous than ever. People would talk about me for decades to come as the tragic young starlet who was cut down in her prime.” Now I was joking, but Theo didn’t find me funny.
“You don’t take this seriously,” he said flatly.
“No, I don’t.” I sighed. “Look, Theo, I deal with obsessed fans all the time. Some of them take things too far. Eventually they get bored with me and move onto a new obsession. They never get violent.”
“They never get violent… until they do. You’re in danger. Let me do my job and keep you safe.”
His intense gaze felt intimate. I squirmed in my seat. Men don’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, I’m used to them squirming around me. This was a new experience for me.
“I can’t compromise my career,” I said. This was especially true now that the studio was allegedly having second thoughts about casting me in their next big superhero franchise. “But… since Shonda thought it was a good idea to hire you, I suppose you can stick around for a while.”
The limo pulled up to Starbucks. A group of girls were waiting out front with pens and photos of me. Theo was right about them easily learning my routine. They always had a way of showing up wherever I was.
Theo banged on the privacy glass. The window rolled down.
“Keep driving,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” the driver responded.
“Hey! I want my Frappuccino.”
“It can wait.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m going to give you a dose of reality.”
2
The limo pulled up in front of the hotel. A crowd of people still milled around outside looking bored. Most of the paparazzi had moved on, most likely because-as Theo had said-they knew my schedule. I never returned to the hotel till early afternoon.
“Stop here,” Theo said to the driver. He opened the door and started to get out. I grabbed Theo’s arm. His thick muscle tensed beneath my hand.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m going to check out the crowd first. I want you to wait five minutes, then get out of the limo and walk into the hotel.”
“But, why?”
I looked out to the waiting crowd. They hadn’t noticed my limo yet, but when they did it would be chaos. My security detail was gone. As far as they knew, I wouldn’t be back until later. Except for Theo, I was on my own.
“Just do it,” he said.
“But-”
Before I could object any further, Theo slipped out of the limo and into the crowd. I watched as he walked around the perimeter of the mob of people. Then I lost sight of him. I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the time.
“Five minutes…” I muttered.
I shook my head and considered calling my security detail to come down and manage the crowd. I started to dial the number of my head of security, then stopped. There was something about Theo that intrigued me. It’s not often someone surprises me. What sort of game was he playing at?
I put my cell phone back into my purse. I waited five minutes, pulled out my compact and checked my hair and makeup. My Glam Squad had spent
hours making me look this way. I was relieved to see it was still holding up. I put my compact away, adjust my dress and stepped out of the limo. My foot barely had time to touch the ground before an ear-piercing scream ricocheted through the air. I made eye contact with the source of the banshee yell. A wide-eyed teenage girl was pointing at me.
“It’s Jamie Kelly!” she shrieked.
The entire mob of people ran for me. I considered jumping back into the limo, but it was too late. The door was already shut behind me. The crowd surrounded me quickly. I couldn’t get back into the limo right now if I tried. My only option was to work my way through the crowd and back inside the hotel. I put on my best and brightest smile.
“Hello!”
People pushed magazines with my face on the cover at me. Someone put a pen into my hand. Blindly, I signed everything in front of me. People shouted questions at me. Their words overlapped into a loud cacophony of nonsense.
“Thank you all for coming out to see me,” I said sweetly. “I’m so lucky to have fans like you.”
I had no idea if they could even hear me. It didn’t matter. I had to keep sweet. Crowds like this could be dangerous. They may have looked like a couple dozen harmless teenage girls, but when they get excited, they turn rabid.
Tension rippled through the crowd. One girl elbowed another out of the way. “Hey!” she protested.
The crush of the crowd pushed me back against the limo. Desperately, I looked around for Theo. He was nowhere in sight. I was on my own. I quickly signed three magazine covers in a row, then pushed off the limo into the crowd. I made it five feet before I was stopped. A tiny girl, no older than thirteen, had hold of my hair. She was pulling me back towards her. Her face was twisted with outrage. She held the magazine I’d just signed in her hand. It was different than the others. This one featured my boyfriend Louis with the headline: Sexiest Man of the Year.
“You can’t have him,” she said angrily.
