A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) Read Free Page A

a day-to-day manager with me and a personal assistant and all that.”
    “So what happened?”
    “They weren’t a good fit.” The words sound stupid, like they tumble from my mouth onto the carpet and stare back up at me with disgust. “My manager’s trying to help me find new staff.”
    “What was wrong with the old staff?”
    I let my shoulders sag with defeat. “I couldn’t afford them.”
    “Oh.”
    Go ahead, I think. Laugh at me, the little child star princess who overspent her income . According to my legal history, I’ve been emancipated since I was sixteen, but the truth is, I’ve been on my own for much longer. My mother signed whatever people put in front of her, so I’ve endured poor contracts and two dubious “money managers” who put me so far into debt that I lost everything but one car, my clothes, and an apartment building here in Orange County that I purchased at the height of the property boom. It makes enough revenue to cover its mortgage, but no more. I can’t afford to sell it because it’d only fetch sixty percent of what I paid for it. Instead, I live in it. That’s why Clues films where it does—so that it’s convenient for me to get to. It’s a nice enough place, and there’s a grocery store around the corner I can walk to—as the paparazzi have documented for America time and again, because I can’t even grocery shop without people taking notice.
    Fortunately, the paparazzi didn’t follow close enough to find out that Kyra had to show me how to grocery shop for the first time on my own, nor did they get inside my apartment where Kyra had to teach me how to do laundry and use a vacuum cleaner.
    Devon looks me up and down. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
    “No, it’s fine. I don’t need staff.”
    “Where’s your family?”
    “What family?” I say. “My mother is the only relative I know of, and she lives in Australia.”
    “You don’t have grandparents?”
    “I barely know my mother,” I say. “She moved away when I turned sixteen. We talk, like, maybe twice a month? But you know, I’m fine. Really.” I’ve already given him more information than I ever give anyone. As much as I like this turn of events, I also don’t trust it. Devon’s is a player, and I’m guessing this sweet, sensitive side he’s showing is an act. Deep down he’s mocking me, and now I’ve given him even more ammunition.
    At least he doesn’t use it right away. “Well, I mean it,” he says. “You ever need anything, just ask. It’s cool.”
    I nod and head for the locker room.
    “Lizzie?” says Devon.
    I pause and turn. He’s a silhouette now in the dark hall.
    “Are you happy?”
    “Sorry?” I say.
    “Never mind. Forget I…yeah.” He waves dismissively and heads off in the opposite direction.
    I resume my steps to the locker room. Once there, I find that my phone has a new message on it.
    “No shooting tomorrow,” says the male voice. “We’ve had a meeting with the network and we’re going to rework the script, maybe alter the concept a little. I’ll call when I’ve got more news.”
    Well, at least I don’t have to worry about staying up so long past my usual bedtime. I just have to worry about how I’m going to pay for gas and groceries this week.

    My best friend, Zach, picks me up from the gym in his black Lexus. His blond hair is rumpled in a way that makes women want to run their fingers through it, and his blue eyes are kind. As always, the sight of him brings back a decade of memories: hanging out backstage at his concerts or mine, midnight phone calls of panic about contract changes or poor ratings, and giggling over repeated reports that we were a couple. I pretended to find the idea funny, at least.
    I make a point of not looking right at him, but that doesn’t help me much. His personality’s pure kindness, and that shines through in the way he talks.
    “You all right, Lizard?” he asks as I slide into the passenger’s seat.
    “No.”
    “Well aren’t