Secrets of a Superstar

Secrets of a Superstar - Chapter 2

Four years later…

"Everyone, you've been amazing! I've had fun, the crew's had fun, and I hope you've all had fun!" I shouted, panting as I stood on the stage with the spotlight on me. "I hope I'll see all of you again on my next tour! Get home safe Barcelona!"

"Sapphire! Sapphire! Sapphire! Sapphire!" The crowd roared my name, demanding more.

"I love you all!" I shouted out, exiting the stage.

"Good job, Sapphire!" My team greeted me as I came off stage. 

"Thanks," I called breathlessly, heading into my dressing room. 

I collapsed on the chair and stared at the new me in the mirror. My rich brown hair had been replaced by thick, long black hair. I wore makeup now and clothes that showed off my features. My ice blue eyes looked like jewels against the smoky black makeup and the rose pink lip gloss that my makeup artist did for me made my plump lips look mouthwatering. I wore black jeans, a baby pink off the shoulder top, and black boots. My name was no longer Tatiana Jersey, it was Sapphire Conrad. 

I was twenty years of age now and I wasn’t that little girl who was frequently abused. I was an international superstar; I had six top singles around the world and three international albums; I starred two lead girl roles in movies that became an international hit just because I was in it; I had my own makeup range that was selling amazingly; I had my first perfume out and another coming out in a couple of weeks; I was a loved judge on the singing contest that changed my life forever; I had hair products such as straighteners, hair driers, curlers, heat defence sprays, mousses etc with my name on them; I had my own jewellery line that was selling like hotcakes; I had my own bed covers out; I was in demand to do photo shoots with all the top magazines; I had my own clothes line out; my two biographies were best sellers and I was currently working on my first novel about a girl who was abused when she was younger and it followed through to her finding love and finding the courage to stand up to her abusers, I never let on that it was my childhood in the novel.

I had millions in the bank. I had six stunning mansions (Some I rented, some I kept for when I was visiting), three vacation homes, my own private island, and I had my own record label and nightclubs around the world, as well as my private jet. 

I was living a lap of luxury. 

Despite all my money, I didn't brag. I didn't take anything for granted. I wasn't a drama queen who threw bitch fits if her coffee wasn't the right tempreture. 

I made sure my money also helped the needed. I constantly donated to charity and prided myself knowing that I was helping people. 

My rise to fame was recognised after I moved to Manchester and changed my name, becoming a whole new person. I filled out an aplication form for a singing show called Voices. In the blizzarding wind I waited with hundreds of people, dying for their turn. 

I remember that day perfectly. 

I was seventeen. 

The wind whipped in my brown crispy curls, slashed at my face leaving a sting, and wrapped around my fingers, turning them bright pink. The sky was full of bright white clouds, reminding me of cotton candy. 

As I looked around I stared at the other people a sigh passed my frozen lips. How could people stand in tiny shorts, thin vest tops, mini dresses that barely covered themselves? What was attractive about huge fake lashes that gave off a breeze when they blinked and fake tan that didn't give off a sunkissed look, instead looking like they've been bathing in orange juice all of their lives or soaked themselves in coffee? What was sexy about seeing make-up slapped on like concrete with bright pink lines on their cheekbones that they called blush?