Page 11 of She's the Star

Someone is impatient.

I hope it isn’t my father. He’s known for showing up unexpectedly, and I'm not ready to discuss losing my job with him. Not yet, anyway.

I slowly pull open the door to reveal Amber Hope’s manager, Brian, and the short woman with bright blue pigtails, six earrings in her left ear, and sparkly silver fingernails who accompanied him to the pool parking lot.

The woman’s dark eyes dart up and down my body, making me uncomfortably aware that I’m sweaty and only wearing a pair of gym shorts.

“Umm…what can I do for you?”

“We’d like to come in,” she says as she steps forward. Curiosity compels me to shuffle out of her way.

“Nice place.” She doesn’t look around when she says it, just keeps staring at me. “I’m Mina, Amber’s assistant, and you already know Brian.” She tips her head in the man’s direction.

“We have some things we’d like to discuss with you,” Brian says, and then his voice drops lower, “Confidential things.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out as I grab the damp shirt I peeled off after my run from the back of my sofa and shrug it on. It feels gross, but at least my chest is covered.

“You cannot repeat anything we say to you under any circumstances,” Brian tells me.

I can’t imagine what he could say that requires such intensity, but whatever it is, it’s probably more interesting than getting a sunburn in my backyard. “Do you need me to sign another nondisclosure agreement?”

“That won’t be necessary. The first document you signed was ironclad. I just wanted to be certain you remember. There will be dire consequences if you approach the media.”

Is this guy kidding? I mime locking my lips and throwing away the key.

Mina’s mouth twitches as Brian nods once and starts talking.

“You may or may not be aware that Amber’s tour launches next month. She’ll kick things off with two shows here in L.A., and then, a week later, she’ll travel to San Francisco. The domestic leg of the tour is sixteen weeks. She’ll play three to four shows a week. Then we’ll be back here for a little over a month before embarking on the international circuit. That’ll be more travel, obviously, but less shows. No more than two per week. This leg is a little shorter. Only ten weeks. From start to finish, the tour is a bit longer than thirty weeks. When it’s over, we’ll be back here. She’ll take some time off and probably record her next album.”

I wait, confused as to why he’s explaining all of this to me. “That sounds…busy,” I venture.

“It is,” Mina responds. “But we’ve been doing this for years, so we’ve got the tour under control.” She hesitates and tosses a look at Brian. He nods, and she continues, “The thing is—we’re not used to traveling with a baby. Maddy is a bit of a wild card. We don’t really know what she needs. Or how to anticipate what she’ll need. It isn’t like we weren’t aware she’d get teeth, but no one told us?—”

Brian interrupts. “We can handle the basics. We’ve got wardrobe, food, car seats, and sleeping arrangements figured out. We’re struggling with…uh…care.”

“Care?” I echo.

“We can’t find the right person to take care of Maddy,” Mina blurts. “We’ve worked with two well respected agencies, and everyone they send is either too obsessed with Amber to pay proper attention to Maddy, or Maddy hates them. Amber keeps sending them back, and since Maddy doesn’t warm to strangers easily, we aren’t sure what to do.” She pauses to chew on her fingernail. “Amber can’t perform at her best if she’s worrying about her daughter. We need someone she trusts.”

It isn’t hard to connect the dots now. I’m both flattered and concerned that Amber believes I’m her best option. We’ve spent less than thirty minutes together—all in a parking lot.

“Me?” I ask.

“You,” Brian confirms.

Mina jumps in. “Amber wanted to send you something as a thank you, so I did a little light internet stalking to see what a suitable gift might be, and instead of discovering whether you prefer red or white wine, I learned you’re an early childhood professional. Brian did a little more digging and, well, it seemed like fate. You need a new job and you’re a licensed childcare provider. Maddy needs a caretaker who Amber trusts. It’s a win-win.”

Brian starts talking as soon as she pauses, almost like they practiced their pitch. “We know about your situation at Little Acres Academy. We don’t have a problem with the fact that you”—he looks down at his tablet—“fucked Stuart’s wife.”

I’m speechless. Light internet stalking? They don’t care why I was fired?

“We don’t even know Stuart,” Mina interjects. “And you can sleep with whomever you want when you’re off the clock.”

“Except Amber,” Brian adds calmly.

“Technically, he could sleep with Amber. It isn’t as if it’d be forbidden.” She smirks and waves her arm around—like the idea of me with Amber is preposterous. “But…we probably don’t need to worry about that.”

“Mina,” Brian says sharply. “Too much.”

---