In the relentless spotlight of fame, Jocelyn West (rising pop princess) and Paige Bueckers' fiery romance ignites, but their struggle with toxic tendencies threatens to consume BOTH their careers, and each other. Who knows if they'll come out alive.
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Jocelyn woke up with a pounding headache in an unfamiliar bed, the sun filtering through pastel curtains casting a soft glow across the room. She squinted, recognizing that she was in Julia's daughter Cassie's room. The space was neatly organized, with a few remnants of Cassie's high school days still decorating the shelves. A glass of water and two painkillers sat on the nightstand, clearly left there for her. She downed the pills gratefully and sat up slowly, taking in the plush surroundings.
Her mind was foggy as she slipped out of bed, her feet sinking into the soft carpet. Jocelyn couldn't remember much from last night, but the fact that she was here, in Calabasas, told her enough. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—makeup smudged, hair a mess, and the faint outline of a lipstick stain on her cheek.
She made her way downstairs, the scent of fresh coffee wafting through the house guiding her to the kitchen. There, she found Julia, dressed down in a fluffy white robe, her glasses perched on her nose as she sipped coffee and typed away on her laptop. The sight was oddly comforting—Julia always seemed larger than life, the quintessential boss in designer clothes, but here she looked more like a mom on a lazy Sunday morning.
"Morning, sunshine," Julia greeted without looking up, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Morning," Jocelyn muttered, rubbing her temples as she slumped into a chair. "What happened last night?"
Julia finally glanced up from her laptop, chuckling softly. "You got a little too drunk, that's what happened."
The hazy memories started to come back in flashes. It began with cocktails at some fancy bar—one cosmopolitan, two martinis, and a couple of fruity drinks. Then Dove had the brilliant idea to buy a bottle of tequila, and things quickly spiraled out of control. Jocelyn remembered taking shot after shot, the burning liquid going down smoother as the night went on. She remembered dancing—on tables, the bar, and even with security. The night was a blur of laughter, music, and flashing lights, until everything blacked out.
Snapping back to reality, she stared at Julia. "I did, huh?"
Julia laughed, setting her coffee down. "And more. I had to wake up and escort you out of that club myself. I'm not as young as I look, you know?"
Jocelyn winced. "I'm so sorry, Julia."
Julia's expression softened, a hint of concern creeping into her eyes. "Look, Jocelyn, I know you're young, and you want to have fun. But you've got to be more careful, especially when there's alcohol involved. You're my responsibility, and while I'll always have your back, you have to have some sense of responsibility too."
Jocelyn nodded, her headache intensifying as guilt crept in. "I get it. I'm really sorry. Thanks for taking care of me."
Julia's placed a plate with a freshly made bagel topped with melted cheese and crispy bacon in front of Jocelyn.
