Written in the Stars Series Collection

by L. L Hunter

  The truth was, I had closed myself off to love.

  And Kate… she opened my heart right up wide.

  So the very same day I met her, I couldn’t help myself. I felt it, that feeling, that warmth, the butterflies in your stomach. That stomach dip feeling. I felt it when I saw Kate, so I went with it, and I asked her out just after our meeting.

  And she said yes. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d said no.

  Our first date was nice. I took her for dumplings, and we chatted. Afterward, we took a stroll in the moonlight down by the pier.

  But I just couldn’t get enough of her. Damn, she was addictive.

  I should have moved slower in reality, but damn reality. I needed her. I needed all of her, in my life, closer to me in every way.

  So when I asked her to come back to my place that night, and she didn’t turn me down, I didn’t hold back. Well, respectively. I was a gentleman, after all.

  My hands moving along her curves, her smooth as satin skin, twisting them in her hair as we wrapped our limbs around each other in my bed, and brought each other to the edge of heaven, was amazing.

  I asked her if she was okay every step along the way. I was gentle with her, even though my blood was pumping fiercely in my body. I was on fire with need for her.

  She set me alight in every sense of my being. Every part of my soul was electrified when I was with her.

  Even so, when we next worked together, I couldn’t help myself but kiss her in front of others.

  I knew it was wrong. I knew it could affect our work, our reputations, everything, but I just couldn’t help it. I needed her, and that need for her, the addiction, got us into a bit of hot water. No, that was an understatement.

  My selfish need would almost ruin everything I’d worked so hard for.

  The End

  Girl in the Spotlight

  Lexi’s Story

  Prologue

  Where’s the justice when the good are silenced, and the bad are allowed to keep doing what they do?

  That’s what happened to me.

  I mean, my parents live in the spotlight. They warned me about everything that comes with this life.

  But I wanted it so badly.

  I just didn’t want to believe the rumors until they became a reality until I saw the truth with my own eyes.

  By then, it was too late.

  I wanted to be an actor, a model, to have my face across billboards, and in glossy magazines, I wanted what my mom and dad have. I just didn’t expect it to happen as it did.

  I’m writing this now to put my feelings down on paper—because the therapist ordered it.

  I was also ordered not to speak out about what happened to me, but I think of myself as a rebel. I want to be a voice of reason for those oppressed and silenced.

  Because, if I did, and his reputation was ruined, then I could be sued for defamation.

  Even though he’s the one in the wrong.

  It’s just not fair.

  I was silenced.

  My name is Lexi Dean, and this is my story.

  1

  I walked up to the box office window with a pep in my step—even though I was a bundle of nerves inside. I had to maintain a strong, confident composure.

  “Hi, my name is Lexi Dean. I’m here for a job interview.”

  “Thanks, Lexi. I’ll let the manager know you’re here,” said the box office attendant, a good-looking guy with a British accent. He smiled at me, showing plenty of dimple.

  No. I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t go checking out every cute guy and girl I met. I had to be professional if I wanted to get this job.

  The ornate golden doors to the theatre opened, and a robust man in a suit stood in the doorway.

  “Hi, you must be Lexi. I’m Michael Booth. I’m the manager here at The Grand Theatre.”

  I stepped up to him and held out my hand.

  “Yes. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

  He took my hand firmly, and his gaze did a sweep up and down of my body. At that moment, I felt like a specimen under a microscope. Was he judging me? I let it slide because this was one of the most famous theatres in Los Angeles, and it was a privilege—or so I had been told—to even get an interview here.

  “Come on in, and we’ll get started. Then I’ll show you around.”

  “Thanks,” I said, following him inside.

  He led me to a set of the most magnificent marble stairs I had ever seen. Black and white marble gleamed in the glow of the overhanging chandelier. The staircase wrapped around the outside of the foyer, winding high toward the ceiling to the upper floor. It was amazing. I could tell why it might be called The Grand. It was grand.

  Once inside what I assumed was his office, he shut the door and went to sit behind his large wooden desk.

  “Take a seat, Lexi.”

  I took a seat in a wheeled chair opposite him. While he got his paperwork ready to conduct the interview, I spun slowly in the chair. Covering every inch of wall space were musical theatre posters and signed photographs with stars that had performed or visited. There were some pretty famous faces in the photos.

  “So, Lexi, why do you want to work at The Grand?”

  Wow. He got right to the point. I stopped spinning and planted my heeled feet on the ground.

  “Well, I want to be surrounded by the arts. I want to be a writer, an actor, a model. Everything and anything to do with the arts. So, I thought working in a theatre would be the perfect gig until I made it big.”

  “That’s quite the ambition. Many of our staff here are actors, dancers, etc. Most are in the arts. So, you’ve come to right place. Have you worked in a theatre before?”

  “No, I haven’t. I have interned on set with my parents, though.”

  “And what kind of things did you do there? At The Blank Page studios, correct?” he asked, looking down at my resume.

  “Yes. That’s my parents’ production company. My dad is an actor, producer, and director, and my mom is a producer and writer. I just run props or coffee to the set and help out wherever I’m needed. Anything really. Also, I am willing to do anything,” I said confidently.

  “That’s good to hear. Well, Lexi, we have a few spots to fill in front of house. Is that something that would interest you?”

  “Yes. So, what is involved?”

  “Front of house involves a wide range of roles, including scanning tickets, ushering, and bartending. A good customer service ability and positive attitude is a must.”

  “I believe I have a positive attitude. And I have worked closely with actors, directors, production at the studio and most of them are… difficult, to say the least. So, I like to think I am good with people.” I laughed.

  “That’s excellent. I think you will fit in well here. Now, let’s talk uniform and pay.”

  I smiled, crossed my legs, and leaned in.

  “We provide a shirt and jacket, but you have to provide leather shoes and pants or a skirt if you prefer.”

  When he said skirt, his eyes skimmed my legs. I adjusted my position in the chair, folding my legs demurely. I was wearing a gray skirt and a blouse that showed off my curves.

  Now I kind of regretted it. This guy was kind of making me uncomfortable with the way he looked at me.

  But I wanted this job so badly.

  “That’s fine. I have both.”

  “Now for pay, you will be paid the award wage with extra on Sundays and public holidays as well as tips. Do you have any questions?”

  “No. I think you covered everything. When will you let me know if I have the job?”

  “We still have a few people to interview, so it should be within the next week or so.”

  He stood and walked toward the door. I stood, brushing off the invisible lint from my skirt and followed him to the door.

  “It was nice to meet you, Lexi,” he said. “I’ll get my supervisor to give you a tour of the theatre.” He looked at me straight in the eye, and my heart flutte
red, and my stomach did a flip. I felt a little strange, but I shook his hand, smiled, and thanked him.

  2

  I kissed my mom on the cheek.

  “Hey, honey. How was your interview?” Mom slipped off her headphones and turned from her laptop to look at me.

  “It was okay, I guess. I think I might get the job.” I slumped into the chair next to her, spun around in the wheeled chair, and stared at the ceiling.

  “That’s good. I’m positive you’ll get it. Why wouldn’t you? You’re amazing.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I guess we’ll see. Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s with Damian on set. There was an issue with post-production. Something technical.”

  “Oh. Gotta love technology!”

  “Yes.” My mom laughed and pushed her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her shoulders, put her headphones back on, and began typing again. In the years since having my brother and me, my mom had cut off her long hair and gone with a more age-appropriate look, or so the industry said. My family and I loved her, regardless. But we thought it suited her.

  “Okay. I’ll leave you to it. I’ve gotta go pick up Jordan from school.”

  My mom didn’t answer me, but that was okay. She was a busy woman. She was currently working on the next script for my parent’s studio. It was sure to be a hit, like every one of their projects was.

  I wanted to be like them one day.

  Until then, I had to make my own way in the world.

  I pulled up in the pick-up lane at my brother’s school and waited in line with the other parents, nannies, and guardians for their children. As my parents worked pretty much twenty-four seven, it was my job to make sure my brother was fed, watered, and made it to and from school safely. He was five years younger than me and now thirteen.

  A few minutes after arriving, the school bell rang, and the students filtered out through the school gates. Both Jordan and I had gone to this exclusive private school. A lot of celebrity kids did. I watched the steady stream of kids coming out and finally spotted my brother. He held his head down, had his headphones on, and carried his bag hanging off one shoulder. He didn’t look happy. Oh no.

  He pulled open the door to my car and threw his bag into the back before slumping in the passenger seat.

  “Hey, bro. What’s up?” I asked this most days. Today he ignored me and stared out the window once the door was closed. “Okay, you don’t wanna talk now, but we’ll talk later. M‘kay? Put your seatbelt on, Jordy. Please.”

  He reluctantly put on his seatbelt, and I pulled out into the chaotic afternoon traffic of L.A.

  When we arrived home, Jordan kept his headphones on. I had no idea what he was listening to, or if he was listening to anything at all. It was his way of saying he didn’t want to talk. But I still tried. It was my responsibility to make sure he was okay. Most days, it was him and me.

  “Hey, Jordy, are you hungry? I was thinking about making burgers for dinner or ordering a pizza. Or I can make mac and cheese?”

  “I’m not hungry,” was all he said before running up the stairs to his room. I heard the door slam a minute later.

  That answered my question, then. I had thought that if anything could get through to my brother, it would be food.

  I picked up my phone and ordered a few pizzas from our favorite place downtown, then headed into our large industrial-sized kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. I sat at the marble counter and drank while surfing social media. My friends had posted pictures at various special events, posing with other famous faces. Here’s the thing, if you grew up in Hollywood, you were part of the in-crowd. You were practically Hollywood royalty.

  But I didn’t feel that way.

  You see, my friends? They weren’t really my friends. I didn’t have any real friends. It was lonely being the kid of celebrities. There was so much pressure not only to live up to expectations but not to tarnish your parents’ perfectly polished reputations. If they had one. Then if they didn’t, you were either considered a chip off the old block if you went off the rails or a little princess if you were a goody-two-shoes.

  I sighed loudly.

  I was also bored as hell. At four in the afternoon, when the house was dead quiet, with only the distant sound of tapping on my mother’s keyboard, or the faint sound of bass beats coming from my brother’s stereo, it was empty. It was boring.

  “God, I hope I get this job!”

  3

  The very next day, I was at the studio with my dad when I received a phone call.

  “Hello, this is Lexi Dean,” I said, swinging around on my chair in my father’s office. My father shot me a look. I gestured, throwing my hands out as if to say, What? But he just rolled his eyes and went back to work. I rolled my eyes and continued to swivel. What was his deal?

  “Hi, Lexi, this is Michael Booth from the Grand Theatre. How are you today?”

  I stopped spinning. “I’m good. How are you?”

  “Good. Good. Listen, I’m just calling to tell you the good news!”

  “I got the job?!” I squealed. My dad held up a finger to his mouth to tell me to shoosh. I mouthed ‘sorry.’

  “Yes. Congratulations.”

  “Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Booth. When can I start?”

  “How’s this Friday evening? Can you come in around six?”

  “Yes. I can. Thank you. I can’t wait.”

  When Mr. Booth hung up, I jumped off my chair and screamed.

  “Lexi, geez. Can you not?”

  “Sorry, Dad. But guess what?”

  He clicked a few keys, flicking through different shots on his computer, then turned to me. “What?”

  He wasn’t listening. Not that I cared right now.

  “I got the job!”

  “What? What job?”

  “The theatre job. Didn’t Mom tell you? I went for the interview yesterday.”

  “Oh, yeah. She mentioned something. Sorry. I have to get this film cut as soon as possible. We’re on deadline.”

  “Sorry, Dad. I’ll be quiet now. Do you want anything?”

  “Yeah. Some barbecue pork buns? And coffee. Thanks, Lex.”

  “No problem. I’ll get that now.”

  I kissed my father on the head and walked out of his darkened office, made that way by black out curtains and black walls, and heading into the bright midday sun.

  We were back to me being my parents’ personal slave.

  At Craft Services, the official catering company for film sets, it was the start of the rush. Almost everyone was choosing to have their lunch at this very second. There was a huge line, but the good thing about coming at the start of rush hour was that there was fresh, hot food. If you waited just an hour, most of it was stale and cold and nasty. Craft was best served fresh.

  I finally made it to the dumpling and Asian cuisine area and started making myself and my father two plates full of our favorite delicacies. One perk of being half-Asian, well, a quarter Asian, but still, was the abundance of delicious food and centuries of tradition passed down through the generations. When I was a little girl, my grandmother and great aunties showed me how to make dumplings and all kinds of Vietnamese delicacies.

  But I was a typical millennial and preferred to order from delivery food apps or grab as much free food from the set as I could. Nothing was as good as free food. Nothing.

  “Hey, Lexi, how are you today?” I look up into the familiar and friendly face of Grant, the coffee guy. Grant was like me, the son of Hollywood royalty, and also like me, worked a million different side hustles as well as studying to get by.

  “Hey, G, how are you?”

  “Good. Can’t complain. Listen, I was going to head over the opening of that new theatre in West Hollywood tomorrow night. Do you wanna join me?”

  I was about to let him down easy. Again. This wasn’t the first time he had asked me out. In fact, I had now lost count. But I just wasn’t interested.

  “Oh, sorry, G. I have work tomorrow n
ight.”

  He cocked his head to the side and scrunched up his nose. “Work? Where?”

  “Yeah, I got a new job at The Grand Theatre downtown.”

  “Oh, that place.”

  “What? What’s that tone? What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. Here’s your coffees, Lexi. Have a good… shift.”

  He walked out of the side door of his food truck, and I was left alone to wonder what the hell he had meant.

  4

  On Friday night, I walked into the dressing room on my debut shift. I was as nervous as hell. But confident I could make a good impression and do a good job.

  “Hey, you must be the new girl. I’m Raven, and this is Jeff.”

  A little out of breath from walking up the one billion steps to the staff room, and now I was speechless at the sight of the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen.

  “Hi. Yeah. I’m here. I’m Lexi. Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand to them, but instead, Raven stepped forward and pulled me in tight against her body and wrapped her arms around me.

  “We’re like a family here,” she said.

  Good god, she smelled good. Like, really good.

  “Yeah, we’re huggers here,” joked Jeff. He was tall and thin with auburn hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and a blue woolen sweater over the top of his work uniform. He looked cute.

  A little awkward, I stepped back. “Oh,” I laughed nervously.

  “So, this is the dressing room part of the staff room. You can put your things anywhere in here, but keep it neat. Otherwise, the boss will have a fit. Next door is the meal room where you can take your break.”

  “I had a brief tour the other day, but thanks.”

  “Okay. Let me show where the uniforms are kept.”

  I put my purse down in the cubby hole provided and took off my coat. Then I followed Raven and Jeff downstairs to a small dark room on an already darkened floor.