My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

2. Best Friends Argue Over Who is Best Best Friend?

That did it. Once Sterling entered supervillain territory, it was time to hide the nukes. "Why are you laughing like an insane supervillain?" Andie said.

Sterling smiled, and her face lit up. "It's for a potential role. Did you like it?"

Andie shook her head. "No. Too realistic!"

"Perfect. Anyway, I am so happy that because of this awful situation—and believe me, I am totally sympathetic even though I don't look like it right now—the good news is that now, you and your houseplant both get to move in with me. AND, bonus offer ... no one has to die tonight!"

"But ..."

"Don't 'but' me. It'll be so much fun. We'll have pillow fights, stay up too late eating popcorn. Watch romantic comedies. Like when we were kids."

Andie shook her head so hard, brain matter sloshed against her skull. "I can't live at your house."

"I have fifteen bedrooms, twenty-five bathrooms, two home gyms, three swimming pools—one Olympic-sized—two movie theaters with THX Dolby surround sound, a bowling alley, and a wine vault. Even my gift-wrap has its own room."

"I hate the paparazzi." Andie clenched her fists.

"Ignore them."

"I can't. Remember they have a restraining order against me. I bet they followed you here." Andie marched her way to the window, footsteps echoing in the mostly bare room. She pinched open the slats of the aluminum blinds. Sure enough, a swarm of those dirt merchants in black vests, sporting cameras with lenses as big as telescopes, had gathered like flies on the sidewalk across from Andie's building. "Yep."

"You're overprotective."

"Am not."

"I have security to handle them. You only need to be my friend. Damn it! Why'd you break that guy's camera? Wasn't taking out his gonads enough?"

Last month Andie had "accidentally" kicked a paparazzo in the balls after he snuck into Sterling's backyard and tried to take pictures of the superstar sunbathing in the nude. "Remember his squeal?" Andie savored the memory. "Anyway, it's okay. I'm moving in with Mom."

"Mom? Are you crazy? You can't be in a room together for five minutes. What are you gonna do when her clients come over? Lecture them about how they're wasting their money on psychic nonsense?"

"Hadn't thought of that," Andie said. "But it could pass the time."

Sterling rolled her eyes.

"It's only temporary till I find another job."

"You'll last at Mom's for two days max. Why are you being so stubborn when you know I have, and I repeat, fifteen bedrooms, each with a king-size bed with 1,000 thread count Frette sheets, an en suite bathroom, and full-time maid service? I can make your problems go away."

"You sound like a mobster."

"Always wanted to play one," she sighed. "Even practiced the accent by watching eleven seasons of The Real Housewives of New Jersey. That's commitment!"

"No one said you weren't committed. Or shouldn't be committed."

Sterling pursed her lips. "Very funny. Look, if you won't live with me, then I'll buy you a house. I've made a fortune and not just from movies. It's also because of your investment advice. I owe you."

It was true that Andie's financial expertise had helped grow Sterling's portfolio, but she made generous monthly payments to help out Mom. Andie considered this compensation enough.

After her earlier run, being caught in a sticky self-woven web of lies, and arguing with Sterling, Andie's legs turned to jelly. She barely made it to the loveseat, where she slumped into the poofy white pillows. "Ster, I love you more than anything in the world, but I can't let you do that."