"Let me know as soon as you hear from him,” she said. "My lawyer says the more information we have about what's in that book, the easier it will be to stop it before it goes to press.”

"I'll keep you updated," I said.

She let out a sympathetic sigh. "I'm sorry you have to deal with Grant. I know what a pain he is."

Without trying, I could conjure up Grant’s square jaw and flawless features ... the rich sound of his laugh. "He’s not really such a jerk.”

There was a pause, then she said, "Oooh," making the word sound like it had traversed a hill. "Well, it still would never work out between us, so you can’t encourage him.”

"I know. I told him Michael and I were just taking a break.”

"Right,” she said. "And I’m hoping our break will be over soon. Michael sent me three hundred roses yesterday. Isn’t that so romantic? He's coming over soon.”

"Congratulations," I said. I couldn't manage to muster much enthusiasm, though. I wondered what Grant would think when the tabloids reported that Kari and Michael were back together again.

* * *

Maren booked me to do a few songs at the San Antonio stock and rodeo show, but she didn't go with me. Someone from the organization was in charge of picking me and my entourage up, seeing to any needs I had, and returning us to the hotel. No one ever saw Maren. If I was caught, I already knew she would deny having any part or knowledge of this scheme.

I was fine through wardrobe, makeup, and getting my hair glitterfied. I was confident, even. But when I saw the stage and got a glimpse of the audience, I froze up. I nearly couldn’t do it. I had expected hundreds of people, but about three thousand people sat in the stands.

How could I walk out there and lie to all of those people about who I was? What if something went wrong and I couldn’t pull this off? I had spent so much time practicing the dance moves—what if I forgot the words and everyone figured out I was lip-synching? Would they boo me off the stage?

Maren had assured me I was only doing small concerts for Kari, and while I waited to go on, I called her to discuss her definition of the word small. She spent the next five minutes giving me a pep talk about how I was like a mall Santa Claus talking to children at Christmas. It didn't matter that Santa wasn’t real. It made the children happy to meet him. Did I want to deny people Santa? That’s what I'd be doing if I didn’t go out there.

I wondered if a mall Santa had ever been dragged away in handcuffs and charged for fraud, but I didn't ask.

My legs shook as I walked out on the stage, and I had to force myself to keep moving. The crowd, however, cheered before the music even started. Every face I saw brimmed with excitement. Their admiration triggered something in me—adrenaline, energy, hope. I went through the first song tense, but without any mistakes. I messed up a move in the second song, but no one seemed to notice or care. They liked me even though I wasn't perfect. That’s when I relaxed and had fun being the center of attention. I put a little bit of extra flair in my dance moves. I panned for the cameras, flipping my hair around until glitter flew over the stage. It looked like Tinker Bell had stopped by. I finished the last song out of breath and with my heart pounding— and was sorry the concert had ended. Every clap of applause felt like an "I love you" thrown to me.

The next day we flew to Florida for the Strawberry Festival and another small concert. I tried to explain to Maren that she couldn't call it “a small concert” if the number of people who came could conceivably overthrow a third-world dictatorship. Which caused a lot of eye rolling on her part, and she pointedly called them “shorter concerts” after that.

I was dying to tell Lori about meeting Grant, but I couldn’t. Our phone conversations mostly consisted of her filling me in on any high school drama and me making up stories about hanging out at the beach. “Most days I'm covered in sand,” I told her.

It wasn't sand, though. It was glitter. It found its way into my suitcases, my normal clothes, and the sheets of my hotel beds. That’s when I really learned that all that glitters isn't gold. Some of it is just tiny annoying golden squares that poke into you.

After Florida, I went to Denver to lip-synch the national anthem at a pro hockey game. When we flew back to California Thursday night, I felt like I'd been living on nerves and adrenaline all week.

While out on the road, I had called my mom to talk about Larry. "Abuela says you’re dating him because you think I need a father figure in my life."

Mom gave a disgruntled humph. "That's just because Abuela can’t fathom why else I'd be dating him.”

"Well, Abuela has a point.”

"Larry is a very considerate man," Mom said. "And he’s dependable.” She didn’t add anything else to the list, and I wondered if this was the sum total of his good characteristics.

"You’re not getting serious about him, are you?”

"He wants to get serious, but I haven’t decided yet," she said.

"Well, just don’t make any big decisions until I get home, okay?"

"Fine,” she said, "then don’t stay away too long.”

I found that statement chilling even after I hung up the phone.

CHAPTER 10

On Friday morning Grant called to say he had a copy of Lorna's book. He figured I already had plans for the evening but wondered if I could meet somewhere for lunch. "A professional lunch,” he said, as though I would have turned him down otherwise.

I didn’t turn him down. I wanted to read what the book said about both my father and Kari. Despite Maren's assertions that Kari only suffered from bad budgeting, I worried about her. I told Grant I’d meet him at the restaurant.

Maren had relaxed my schedule since I’d returned from my events. I still had dancing, exercising sessions, and studying to do, but my afternoons were free. Maren was spending the day arranging details of Kari’s mega concert in San Diego and had told me that as a reward for my hard work I could go shopping. In fact, she’d left a list of acceptable and unacceptable places.

The restaurant, I noted, was not on the unacceptable list, therefore I technically wasn't disobeying her by going. And the nice thing about living with Maren was that she didn't have paparazzi circling her home. Anyone who was looking for Kari would be camped out by her house.

I called Bao-Zhi to pick me up, texted Kari that I was getting the book from Grant, and headed off.

This time, Grant had purposely chosen an elite restaurant where we could go in through a back door to a private room so we didn’t have to worry about the paparazzi. I'd only been a celebrity for a few days and already I hated them for making my life more complicated.

I told Bao-Zhi he didn’t have to wait for me while I ate; I'd call him when I needed him. I told myself I’d done this because I hated wasting Bao-Zhi’s time. It had nothing to do with the fact that I noticed Grant’s green Jaguar in the parking lot, or that I wanted to prolong my time with him.

Before I’d even gotten out of my car, a guy in a tuxedo came out of the restaurant to greet me. He took me upstairs to a private room overlooking the city. Grant was already there, sitting at the table. Just seeing him, gorgeousness personified, nearly made me stumble. What was God thinking when he created a guy this handsome? He wasn’t a gift to womankind, he was a torture device. I shouldn't be required to look at him when I could never have him.

He smiled, and my heart constricted into a tight knot. I sat down and smiled back.