♪ Prologue ♪

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"This is the last straw."

I watched as his stout figure paced in front of me, his rhythmic footsteps coming to a stop at each end of the room. I didn't dare look as his face; I knew the emotions it held would only try to bore into me. I stared at the floor, twirling my headphones around my hand.

"You think you're so invincible!" He said, suddenly coming to a stop in front of me. His hand clamped my wrist, stopping me from spinning my headphones any more. His face leveled with mine and his dark eyes stared into my own blue uncaring ones. "This is Hollywood, not a comic book."

I just stared at him blankly until he sighed in exasperation and stood. He slammed his hand on the table, making me jump slightly. He held a newspaper in front of me. On it was a picture of me. That wasn't the odd part; my face could be seen on a cover a week. But this particular time, like the few past times, I was being led into a police car. I read the caption, though I already knew what it was about: TEEN STAR, LOGAN MYERS, TAKEN INTO POLICE CUSTODY LATE SATURDAY NIGHT AFTER FIGHT WITH UNIDENTIFIED PERSONS.

I frowned, remembering the events of just days before. I know that based on what I'd been doing, and based on what it looked like, most people would think I was a bad person. But no one knew what the fight was about. Media just made everything look bad.

"Are you not ashamed?!" He shouted then, taking the paper away from my face. "This is the third time you have gotten in trouble this month! As your manager, I'm angry and concerned. As your friend, I'm disappointed and worried about your future."

I looked at him. I would hardly call Rich Winters my "friend". He was my manager, but he didn't act like the rest of them. He didn't walk around in suits and Bluetooth devices in his ear, planning my next gig or movie. He looked like the guy you'd see working in an office twelve hours a day then going home to play video games and chess. He was balding, at age thirty, and he said I was the cause of that. He always wore dress clothing that was three sizes too small. He was the crazy guy no one would take seriously.

Overall, though, he was a good guy. He did manage to get me where I was both in acting and singing. I didn't know where I'd be without him. I'd like to think I'd still be famous without this balding worry wart, but I would never know. I was where I was, and it was partially thanks to him.

"Do you know how disappointed your mom is?" he asked, grabbing my attention. "You're on a downward spiral. And you know what happens to stars that start going down? They crash. They crash right down to earth, right back to reality. Is that what you're hoping for?"

I shrugged. I would never admit it out loud, but the limelight got tiring. Sometimes, I did just want to be normal. I wanted to walk down the street without being attacked by crazy girls or paparazzi. I never had that kind of life. My dad was famous, so it started with him. Then I followed in his footsteps. I never was normal.

"This is it, Logan," he said. "You're about to crash."

He started walking away, but I stopped him. "What do you mean?" I asked, making him turn around.

"You're going to see what it's like to be normal," he said seriously, looking me in the eye. "You're taking a little break."

I blinked at him before chuckling slightly. "What are you talking about?" I began laughing, but he didn't even smile.

"Your mom and I thought of a plan to get you back on track," he said, standing in front of me. "The way you've been acting is a cry for help obviously. You're going to go see what it's like to be normal. No more singing gigs and no more movies for a while. You're going to be a normal boy. You're going to go undercover."

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