drive she received a message from Bunny. Her heart lifted. She’d been loath to leave her sister with Ramona—their mother’s pageant obsession was spiralling out of control—but had promised Bunny that when she and Scotty were back they’d take her out, anywhere she liked, to do things that normal thirteen-year-old girls did: not tottering about in high heels while a sweaty middle-aged man appraised her chest-to-leg ratio.
Can’t wait 4u to come homeScotty OK?
She tapped back:
Guys fine. Big sell-out gig, you’d have loved.
Won’t be long now. C u soonxx
Bunny was forever asking after Scotty. Kristin liked that her two favourite people got on so well. She remembered her own enchantments at thirteen—being so young you could never hope to disguise how you felt, no matter how many blushes you thought you hid.
Even so, Scotty had been alarmed when they had gone into Bunny’s room one day and he’d seen the pictures of him strewn from wall to wall. Kristin had been searching for a bracelet her sister had borrowed and he had followed her in.
‘What the fuck is this?’ he’d demanded, disturbed. ‘A fucking shrine or something?’ Scotty had never used to beso easily riled, or used such bad language. Since they’d got together he’d become so…ratty.
Kristin had found what she’d come looking for. ‘She’s only a kid, Scott,’ she’d told him, closing the door softly behind her. On it was a sign that read STRICTLY NO ENTRY!
‘Don’t you think it’s messed up?’
‘Not really. She’s one of about a trillion so you’d better get used to it.’
He’d shuddered. ‘Girls are weird.’
Kristin remembered his words as they pulled up outside the hotel. A doorman helped her with her bags and within minutes she was safely ensconced in her suite, where she ran hot water and salts into a roll-top bath. Sitting on its edge and guiding her hand through the steaming, fragrant water, she decided to try not to think about Scotty. Just for tonight.
When Scotty Valentine was a boy, he had never imagined he would be waking up at twenty-two with a multi-million-selling album to his name and more wealth and fame than he’d thought possible. Spending his formative years in The Happy Hippo Club had groomed him for a life of entertainment, but he couldn’t have expected anything remotely on this scale.
On his sixteenth birthday the record execs had come knocking. Kristin had already been signed to her label, so had a couple of the other guys, and the pressure was on to get selected. Producer Fenton Fear had been among them, casting through the assembled boys like an emperor through his minions. He had been assembling a band, already had four in the bag…but who would be his missing link? Scotty had auditioned on the spot, posing for a variety of modellingshots, in one of which he’d had to pout in a too-big tuxedo and clutch a bad-tempered rabbit that kept nipping his fingers. ‘Can you sing?’ Fenton had asked, with an expression that implied it didn’t matter if he could or not. But Scotty had surprised everyone: he possessed a rich if inconsistent tone that could be worked upon, and that same tone would soon overtake the other band members and cement his place as lead vocalist in Fraternity.
In a matter of hours Scotty had been settled on: the sublime addition that completed Fenton’s picture. ‘You’re it,’ Fenton had said, as Scotty basked in the sunshine of his praise, enjoying the lunches Fenton took him on to discuss their world domination plan, the lavish spa treatments whenever Scotty needed some down-time, the city breaks Fenton paid for when a change of scene was in order. ‘You’re the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen.’
Now, at a press conference at the Tokyo Grand Hyatt, only half listening as Luke took the first of the questions, Scotty felt insanely insecure. He craved those early days when he had been the apple of Fenton’s eye. Fenton had barely glanced at him all
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