Chapter 39

I sniffled. I couldn’t tell Barnett the truth. He would think I was weak for not being able to handle everything myself.

“Anna, I can hear you crying.”

The softness in his tone broke something inside me. Tears started to flow down my cheeks again.

“I-I don’t know what to do,” I sobbed. “It’s all too much.”

“What’s too much?”

“The commercial, the styling, the vlogs. I’ve only spent a little over a week doing this, and I can’t keep up. I screwed up so badly today.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Just take a deep breath and explain everything that happened.”

I followed Barnett’s instructions. I took a deep breath and then told him everything, from being worn down by the commercial to having to improvise StarRise’s look and her reaction to it.

He didn’t say anything for a long time after I stopped talking.

“Anna,” he finally began, his voice calm and soothing, “it’s not the end of the world. Just be honest with StarRise about what happened, and I’m sure that she’ll be understanding.”

“It’s not just that. There’s so much to do. I don’t know how I’m going keep up with it all.”

“You don’t have to keep up with it all.”

“Don’t I? Arthur says that the best way for me to grow my career and be successful is for me to branch out.”

“That’s how Arthur would grow his career,” Barnett said, his voice a little bitter. “It doesn’t have to be how you grow your career.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you need to learn what you can handle and roll with that, no matter what anyone else says. If that means taking on more tasks, great. If that means cutting back so that you can rest, that’s great, too.”

“But—”

“You can’t style or exercise if you’re dead.”

That hit me hard. Barnett didn’t know about my prognosis, how little time I had left to live, and yet he was right. I could bring on my death even sooner if I kept this up.

“You’re right,” I said quietly.

“I know I am. You can still be successful even if you slow things down and turn away jobs.”

I reclined in the driver’s seat and sighed. It felt so reassuring to hear someone—to hear him—say that.

“Barnett?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

•* *

I did as Barnett suggested and explained the situation to StarRise. She was mad that I hadn’t told her the truth from the start, but she couldn’t stay too mad. Her fans apparently loved the new earthy look and couldn’t wait to see her cover the rest of the solar system.

At least I had a new direction to go in with her looks for the next seven sessions—eight, if I included Pluto.

I also made a new vlog explaining to my viewers that I wouldn’t be posting as many videos as long as I was making this commercial for Freyja. It blew up overnight with likes, reposts, and comments of support. Apparently, Freyja had a lot of fans in the fitness vlogging community, particularly among the women and gender-neutral members, and they couldn’t wait to see me wearing the brand.

With this announcement, my fame only grew, despite the disruptions to my schedule and vlogging.

I couldn’t leave my apartment without getting recognized. Every day, I had to leave extra early in the morning to leave time for signing autographs getting in and out of my car. Either that, or I had to leave in disguise, which took even more time than signing the autographs.

Security at my clients’ buildings and the studio had to meet me as soon as I pulled up in the gold Aston Martin since the car was so recognizable. I would park, security would surround the driver’s door, I would sign a few autographs, and then security would rush me inside before anybody could get trampled.

“See? I told you this commercial would be great for your career!” Arthur said one day after I was escorted inside by building security.

I smiled at him, but it wavered. He was right; the commercial had made all of this happen. I wouldn’t have fans swarming me on the street if I hadn’t so publicly partnered with such a big brand.

At the same time, Barnett was also right. I needed to define success for myself. Was this really what I wanted?

•* *

It didn’t take long for me to start receiving gifts from fans. Flowers, drawings, poems, candy, stuffed animals, the variety was endless. Someone even sent me a lock of their hair—which I immediately threw away.

At first, the gifts came to me through Stand Up, Arthur’s office, and StarRise’s office. StarRise wasn’t too pleased to be receiving someone else’s fan mail, but she allowed it. Then the gifts started to arrive in my mailbox.

Initially, I thought nothing of this. My address had been involved in videos and articles about Barnett and Julia, after all. There were all sorts of people on the Internet who could have found a way to get gifts to my apartment.

The gifts with no return address disturbed me. I couldn’t figure out how the fans were able to them without a return address, and when I noticed that there were no stamps on them, I was even more confused and a little creeped out.

These gifts were also more…personal than the others. They were intricate drawings of me, some multi-textured with real hair and lip gloss; poems that bordered on the pornographic; and teddy bears wearing my favorite perfume.

I asked Arthur what to do.

He said, “Just throw that stuff away and ignore it. You’re their latest obsession, but that’s it. Eventually, they’ll get bored and move on.”

Since Arthur had been a celebrity so much longer than I had, I was inclined to believe him. The gifts still made me queasy as I dumped them in the trash. As I closed the lid, I hoped the problem was resolved.

•* *

I arrived home late one night, around three in the morning, after a particularly long day. All I wanted was to get to my room, plop on my bed, and catch what little sleep I could before the next day began.

The motion-activated lights in the hallway turned on above my head as I walked to my apartment, leaving half the hallway in shadow. When I arrived at my apartment, I stopped to find a vase of fresh roses at my apartment’s doorstep.

I shook as I stooped to pick them up. No card accompanied them.

It was one thing for someone to find out my address and start mailing things to me. It was something else entirely for them to get past security, find my apartment, and leave fresh flowers behind without getting caught. My mind flashed back to Julia’s threatening note.

What could this new person to do me?

I looked left and right but could see no one. How long had the flowers been there? Timidly, I lifted the roses to my nose.

“Do you like the flowers?” a deep voice asked from behind me.

I jumped. From the shadows, just out of sight down the hallway, emerged the outline of a hulking male.