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She checked for stray pieces of hair that might be sticking out from her perfectly coiffed hair. Of course, there were none because the hotshot hairdresser had promised her perfection. Considering the fact that he’d styled Nicole Kidman and Halle Berry’s hair for the Oscars, she believed him. Both the hairdresser and the stylist who’d recommended her dress were the crème de la crème of their businesses, and she had no doubt they knew exactly what they were doing when they made her up. She looked, literally, like a million bucks.

It still didn’t stop her from wanting to crawl under the covers and never come out again.

“Oh, buck up, pal,” she muttered to her image in the mirror. “You’ve been waiting for this moment, and it’s here.” The butterflies in her stomach were vicious enough to make her wonder if she’d make it through the night.

It had taken countless commercials and music videos, begging producers, sweet-talking directors, and flat-out harassing people to get her to this moment. The past six months had been a dream come true while she’d worked with one of the A-list directors in Hollywood. She’d put her sweat, blood, and life into getting to this moment. Every heartbreak of the last twenty-three years had brought her where she was destined to be.

“And you’re freaking out over a stupid movie premiere,” she told herself scornfully. “After all the hard work you’ve done, all it takes is a movie premiere to bring you down?” Her scowl deepened. “You’re pathetic. And you’re an actress, so act through the nerves.”

“Are you done with the pep talk?”

She looked over to the doorway to her room and smiled weakly at her agent and best friend. “I’m a mess, Liz. Help?”

Liz moved to her friend and, taking her hands, shook them a little. “You’re going to be great! You know this, I know this. Hell, even Gabe Peterson knows this! He cast you because he knew you had talent, and you’re going to take Tinseltown by storm.”

“I don’t know.” Uncertainty furrowed her brow. “It feels like I’m mush inside. I think I’m going to pass out.”

“No,” Liz said firmly. “You’re not. The media is going to see you on that red carpet and kiss your feet. You look amazing, and they’ll all be buzzing about you. More so because you’re going to be on Peterson’s arm. They’ll never be able to contain their voracious appetites.”

“I hope so.” She mentally crossed every one of her fingers and toes. “I really hope so.”

“Mama!”

She looked down into laughing green eyes as her legs were attacked. “There’s my girl. There’s my darling.” Her nerves forgotten, she reached down to pick up the toddler, but Liz stopped her.

“Don’t. You’re going to ruin the look if you pick her up.”

She narrowed her eyes and picked up the baby anyway, ignoring her friend’s moan. “She’s my daughter, and I’ll darn well pick her up when she wants me to. Isn’t that right, sweetie?” The year old baby giggled as her mother pressed light kisses to her face, unmindful of the lipstick she wore. “Sorry, Liz. I can’t stop myself. But I am really grateful that you agreed to baby-sit for me.”

Liz waved it off. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with my goddaughter? Right, Lily?” She held out her arms to the baby. “Come to Aunt Lizzie because Mama’s got a big gig she’s got to get to.” Lily grinned and eased into Liz’s arms.

“Well, she certainly loves you more than me.”

“Nah. She just knows she can’t ruin her mom’s great look.” Liz glanced up at the clock. “You’d better get a move on. Gabe’s probably waiting already.”

The nerves returned in full force, butterflies and all, as she realized it was time to make her first big appearance. “Wish me luck, Liz.” She kissed Lily’s cheek. “I’m going to need as much as I can get.”

Liz and Lily watched her hop in her car and back down the driveway. “She’s going to be amazing,” Liz assured the toddler. “Autumn always is.”

***

Am I gaining weight again? He tugged at the dark green shirt he wore, hoping that it was his imagination that made it seem as though he’d been putting the pounds back on. After all the taunting and teasing he’d endured for years, the last thing he needed was the fat jokes. He might punch one of the reporters, which, of course, was the last thing he needed. But it’ll probably up the ratings. And E! will love that.

“Yo, Nick! Let’s get this show on the road!” There was a knock on the door. “The night’s young, and I ain’t getting any younger! I’m ready to party and you better be, too!”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I’m coming, Bean. Gimme a sec.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Hotshot. I’ll be waiting in the Jag.”

Nick turned back to the mirror. “Please let it be my imagination that thinks I’m looking chubby again,” he muttered. “Please, God. I don’t want to go to the gym every, freaking day again.”

Sighing again as he looked himself over in the mirror, he pulled open the door and walked out of his bedroom. As he made his way down the stairs, he noticed the clutter—clothes, shoes, handbags, and even a few pieces of pricey jewelry were scattered along every available surface and peeked out from beneath newspapers, magazines, and other odds and ends. Takeout containers and random utensils were propped up on tables and next to the couches. He made a face, thinking that he was getting too old to have a house look this way.

“What’s wrong with your face, Nick?”

He looked up from the mess and into his sister’s eyes. “Les, do you think the house could get any dirtier?” He gestured around the living room. “I mean, Jesus, we let America into this place, but we sure as hell can’t keep it clean.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nick, we get paid to make messes. America fucking loves when we make a mess.”

Right. “It doesn’t matter because I want it cleaned.”

“Who died and made you king of the world?”

He tried to control his temper. “I own this house, and I will damn well see it clean. Come on, Leslie, I don’t want to fight. I got a premiere to get to and-”

“Oh, right. Nick freaking Carter gets to go to the movie premieres, but the rest of us have to clean the house? I don’t think so. Just get a damn cleaning crew.” She smirked. “We have the money for it.”

“You know what? I don’t want to do this right now, so you do what you want.” He looked around the room again. “I’ll clean it.”

He stalked out of the room, wondering why his anger was simmering. “It’s just a mess. Nothing you haven’t lived with all your life.” He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it was beginning to bother him now.

“Nick! You really think you’re going to clean this place?” Leslie followed him, laughing. “You’ve never kept your own room clean. How do you expect to know how to clean an entire house?”

Nick yanked open the front door and scowled at the tripod that the camera crew must have forgotten. He shoved it out of the way and stepped onto the porch. “I told you, I’ll clean it. Don’t wait up, and no one’s allowed to have a wild party while I’m gone.”

“No, we just wait until you’re here before we have one,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Bean honked the horn, grinning wildly from the driver’s seat. “Later, sis.”

He listened to Bean’s voice chatter on about the latest party, his random hookups, and the newest clubs that they just had to check out soon. The words, usually something he listened to eagerly, slid off him this time as he stared out the window at Beverly Hills in the early evening light. Somehow, none of the parties were really interesting him at the moment. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his managers had decided that Nick had to attend as many red carpets as possible to promote the reality show, he would have gladly stayed at home and cleaned the house. Afterwards, he could just shut himself in his room and relax. Without the world bothering him.

I wonder what it would be like to be normal?

“Hello? Earth to Nick!” The hand waving in front of his face jerked him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He looked over at Bean, who was watching him with a bemused expression.

“What’s up, Carter? Thinking about all the crazy shit we’re going to do tonight at the parties after this premiere?” Bean grinned. “Dude, I love these things!”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you’re going to the actual thing,” Nick reminded him.

Bean shifted gears and turned at the traffic light. “Man, you know I don’t do the whole red carpet deal. But, hey, whenever you’re up for a good party, you know who to call, right?”

“Right.” He turned to stare out the window again. “You know where to drop me off, right? We’re not going to get lost this time?”

“Hey, I was drunk last time. That’s why we got lost!” Bean insisted.

Nick rolled his eyes. When was the guy not sloshed? “Of course. Anyway, just meet me up there at, like, eleven, and we can head to wherever the parties are at.”

“Yes, Dad.” Bean slid him a look as he maneuvered into the drop-off zone outside of the movie theater. The crowd was huge, and he was sure he could see the back of Owen Wilson’s head. “Lighten up, Nick. Jeez, you sound like your ex-Backstreet pal, Kevin.”

He swallowed the ball of anger in his throat and reminded himself that there was no need to get angry. Obviously, he’d rolled out the wrong side of his bed that morning. “Sorry, dawg. I just don’t want to miss the kick-ass parties that are bound to be around after this.” He hoped the excuse would work with Bean.

“That makes sense.” Bean, not one to really think any more than necessary, shrugged. “Well, this is where the wagon stops. Show the world how badass Nick Carter is!”

Nick nodded and stepped out of the car, his automatic smile in place. He nodded to security then plunged into the red carpet fray of fans, flashbulbs, and paparazzi.