Glitter: A Pierre Gasly Story

Chapter 1

Ellie's POV

For as long as I could remember, I'd been defined by my appearance.

Having been labeled the 'pretty child,' since birth, my mother had wasted little time in enrolling me in beauty pageants and signing me with modeling agencies. As an actress herself, it wasn't long before commercials and movies and tv shows had followed.

At 8, I was in my first major movie, a comedy with Meg Ryan. At 13, I landed a starring role in a Disney Channel TV show. And through it all there had been one constant: criticism and judgement of my body and looks.

The pressure to be perfect was all I knew and was why despite the sun just rising in LA on Sunday morning, I had just 10 minutes left on the stair master. Today would go like all the others, I'd finish my cardio, transition into an hour of yoga and then grab a green juice before starting my beauty routine - cleanse, steam, exfoliate, moisturize. As my mother kept telling me, I was twenty-four and in Hollywood that might as well be forty.

With just a few minutes left, I flicked through my social media accounts checking the latest headlines. My publicist, Sadie, was based in NY so I knew that if there was anything to be worried about, she would have already called me. But it didn't hurt to check.

THE DETAILS OF ELLIE SCOTT'S MULTI PICTURE DEAL WITH WARNER BROTHERS

Still? We did that press tour weeks ago.

HOLLYWOOD IT GIRL ELLIE SCOTT LINKED WITH SINGER CHARLIE PUTH

Sigh. Old news. I'm sure Charlie's girlfriend will love this one.

ELLIE SCOTT'S DATING HISTORY AS TOLD BY HER DEBUT ALBUM

Oh, this will be fun. Let's see why they think 'pale blue clouds' must be an analogy for me losing my virginity.

Before I could dive too deep into the article, the machine beeped, signaling that I'd finished part one of my workout.

As I moved to turn on a video from my personal trainer with today's yoga flow, my thoughts went back to the headlines.

The media were obsessed with my dating life. I guess I couldn't be surprised, I'd grown up in the spotlight and people felt like they knew me personally. But it had gone into overdrive in the last year following my breakup with my long-term boyfriend, Jackson.

Jackson Williams had been my first love. We'd started dating when I was eighteen, and everyone expected us to get married. So, when it ended in an 'amicable split' that turned into mudslinging the world had been shocked.

Not that I had been.

No. Ellie, stop. Do not go there. I could hear the voice of my therapist telling me that fixating on the past wouldn't change anything and wouldn't fix how I felt today. I quickly put any more thoughts of Jackson aside and focused on my breathing.

But those headlines. So, what if I'd dated a bit just after my breakup? I was young and single. Besides, no one had been serious. Just one or two here and there. Friends of friends from the industry and other actors and singers. I'd said yes to dinner with Harry Styles just to say I'd done it and had a blast.

But there was no spark. There never was.

That was the problem, as Sadie kept telling me. The world wanted to see me in love after my heartbreak, convinced that their favorite romcom starlet and newly minted songstress deserved to have someone special in her life. Plus, how were they supposed to believe me as the lead in a romantic comedy if they thought I was cold?

And so, every time I so much as looked at a man (or sometimes a girl), there was a new rumor and 'sources' insisting we were a new couple.

It was exhausting. And I'd been retreating as a result, choosing to stay in and watch Netflix instead of attending the dozens of parties that I was always invited to.

As I came to the end of my yoga flow, my phone rang: Mom.

Sigh.

"Hey mom," I said with as much enthusiasm as I could gather for this conversation.

I loved my mother, I did. Despite the world I'd grown up in, I did feel like she'd protected me and loved me, but as an actress, she always had her own issues and wasn't great at shielding me from those.

Annabelle King was a Hollywood legend and had been box office gold for decades. But that didn't mean she didn't suffer from insecurity, narcissism, and low-grade depression.

"Good morning darling," she chirped back. "I wasn't sure you'd be awake yet."

She knew I was awake. I'm always up at 5am, regardless of what time zone I was in. Meaning she was being intentionally obtuse today.

"Of course! No breaks for perfection," I said, trying to make light of it. "How's Italy?"

My mother was currently shooting a movie in Florence, a drama being directed by a Coppola, and was living her best life.

"Amazing! Fred and I just got back from lunch with a few of the cast. It was delicious!" She delighted in telling me.

Fred was my mother's current boyfriend, a Swedish model she'd met in NY last year. He was about 15 years younger than her, but she seemed to be having fun.

Her and my father divorced when I was eleven and had spent most of that time trying to one up each other. Most of the time it was with their latest partner, but occasionally I was thrown into the mix. For example, on my 18th birthday, my mother threw me a party at the Beverly Hills hotel, complete with a performance from the Weekend, and my dad bought me a Porsche. Never mind that I didn't know how to drive, but he never really cared about the details.

"That's great! I'm glad you're enjoying it. It looks beautiful." I said, trying to sound interested. She hated it when I was anything but joyful.

"I'm glad you think so! I want you to visit me this week!"

Ah. Here we go.

I knew she was concerned about me being alone in LA. Well, mostly she was concerned that I hadn't been going out and being photographed enough. We'd had a lengthy conversation about it before she'd left for Italy.

"I don't think I can do that," I started to brush her off. "Meetings with the studio and a few other things."

"Nonsense," she immediately replied. "I just got off the phone with Marie. She said your calendar is clear."

I was going to kill her. Marie was my manager. And she loved my mother. I was fairly sure the only reason she took me as a client was to get to know my mom better. But my mom had been with her manager for almost 20 years, Marie didn't have a chance.

"Mom. I told you not to do that! You're supposed to ask me first!" I complained.

"If I had asked you, you would have said no. As you just did."

"Why do you even want me to come? Aren't you busy filming?" I was confused as to why she wasn't just making Sadie sign me up for parties here.

"Just the first half of the week. In the back half we're going to Milan. There's some sort of race happening, and we were gifted VIP passes." She explained. "I think you'll have fun."

A race? What was she talking about? "Why would I have fun? What race? Like a marathon?"

"No, no! A car race. I think it's called Formula 1?" She corrected me. "It's quite the event from what I understand. Lots to do and people to see."

"But why do you want me to come?"

"Darling," She started. "You need to get out of LA. You don't start filming your next movie for months and then you'll wish you'd done more."

God, I hated when she had a point.

"Come to Milan. Spend some time with your mom, drink some champagne and shop."

I don't know why I even said no. She always won.

"Okay. Fine," I relented. "I'm assuming Marie is already booking my ticket?"

She cheered. "You won't regret this darling. I must go, but I love you! Ciao!"

Before I could reply, she'd hung up. I messaged Marie, confirming I'd be going to Milan and asking if there was anything else I should do while there. Might as well take advantage of this trip.

Now, what does one wear to a Formula 1 race?