Page 24 of American Royalty

Nyla was her “Oh honey no” friend, and finding that, especially in the entertainment industry, was rare. They’d met many years ago when they’d both been presenters at the Kids’ Choice Awards. Nyla was the one who told Dani the truth even when she didn’t want to hear it. Who always had her back, whether it was nixing the outfit she’d wanted to wear to the Soul Train Music Awards because it made her look like a thrift store floral sofa or stopping Dani from PWL, Posting While Livid.

“Anytime. And you know I mean that. How much longer are you gonna be?”

“We’re just finishing hair and makeup. I haven’t stepped in front of the camera yet.”

“I hate photo shoots.”

The tall, raven-haired beauty wore a low-necked white blouse with diamond and gold accessories that glowed against her rich pecan-hued skin tone and jeans that elongated her long legs and drew one’s eye to the diamond toe ring glittering through the straps of her sexy high heels.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you look like someone who doesn’t want their picture taken.”

Nyla made a face, but she placed her large Chanel flap bag on the neighboring makeup station and sat down in its chair. “How’s Liam?”

“Who?”

“Liam Cooper!”

Liam Cooper had been the lead singer of the popular boy band Three Seconds from Running. With his curly blond hair and surprisingly soulful voice, he’d easily made the transition to solo pop star. They’d been introduced several years ago at an event thrown by their record label and had since performed together at a few events.

Dani shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You planning to see him soon?”

Dani frowned at Nyla’s too-innocent tone. “Why would I?”

“Because he’s your boyfriend?”

“No he’s not!”

Nyla tapped the screen of her phone and held it out to Dani. “According toIn Touchmagazine you’ve been dating for the past month.”

Dani stared at a picture of her and Liam hugging outside of the Crypto.com Arena.

What the hell?

Then she remembered. Grammy producers had teamed them up to perform a medley of old-school hip-hop songs for the telecast. They’d been doing a sound check several days before the ceremony. She’d gone out to take a call, he’d followed to get some fresh air, and they’d entered into a discussion about their musical influences. Before they headed in, they’d hugged, not romantically, but as friends.

But a picture could say a thousand words... any thousand words depending on which frame was used. In this one, an amicable embrace was portrayed as an intimate clinch between lovers. The text captioning the photo, “Jay & Bey who? Are Duchess and the Prince of Blue-Eyed Soul forming a new music royalty dynasty?” only worked to sell the idea.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Liam and I are not dating. I haven’t seen nor talked to him since Clive Davis’s party after the Grammys.”

How had she ever believed being famous would solve her problems? This was the flip side of the Samantha Banks situation. Millions of people would see this photo, even fewer would read the story, and it would become their truth. Never mind that it was lie. And no matter how many times she denied it, they’d never believe her.

It was fucking irritating.

Though she’d attained a level of success, there were aspects of living in the public eye that could erode your soul. It took a strong person to remain true to themselves in the face of stardom’s gravitational pull. To not define their worth by what others said about them.

Dani was trying, but she was still a work in progress. Exhibit A: the half-drafted comment from earlier.

As if reading her mind Nyla asked, “What are you going to do?”

She didn’t need to ask what Nyla was referring to. They’d texted and talked of little else since Dani’s meeting in New York.

Dani’s sigh felt dragged from the depths of her soul. “I don’t know.”

“Are you going to apologize?”

“Hell no.”