Infamous (Beautiful Idols 3)

“But why would Ira do that?” Layla glanced between Mateo and Tommy. “Give you this picture, I mean?”

“To taunt me, mess with me.” Tommy scowled. “Let me know he knew I was there.”

“But why wouldn’t he just expose you?” she pressed. “Why would he be so discreet?”

Tommy covered his face with his hands, allowing the silence to stretch between them. When he finally looked at them, he confided about the video surveillance at Night for Night, and how the pictures had recently resurfaced despite Ira’s promise. “He’s evil,” he said. “He likes to screw with people.”

It was clear how much it hurt him to say it. Layla and her mom were estranged, but she’d never believed her mom was purposely plotting against her. She couldn’t imagine feeling that way about a parent.

“What if we’ve been reading this all wrong?” she said, unsure if she was trying to make him feel better, or if she was truly onto something. “What if Ira hasn’t been out to get us at all? What if he’s not behind any of it? What if it’s Heather?”

“That’s crazy.” Mateo was quick to refute it. Maybe a little too quick?

“But is it?” Layla looked at Tommy, who merely shrugged in reply. “Thing is,” she said, unwilling to abandon the idea now forming in her mind, “Heather was obsessed with Madison. She kept loads of pictures of her on her phone, which always struck me as odd.”

“She admired Madison,” Mateo said. “And they were friends. She explained to me once how she used to study her like an opponent before a big match—”

“And that didn’t strike you as weird?”

“Hollywood is weird. It’s also really competitive. Heather’s constant scrutiny of Madison was about trying to best her—not ruin her.”

Layla took her time to consider. While it wasn’t too difficult to bend her theory in a way that fit, obviously Mateo knew Heather better than any of them. Besides, what possible motive could Heather have for doing all that? Never mind the fact that she seemed too self-involved to have the sort of patience required to pull off such a stunt.

Heavy with regret, she realized they were right back where they’d started. “So what now?” she asked.

She hadn’t expected an answer, which was why she was surprised when Tommy said, “After I force myself to vomit, I’m going to take a shower, then track down Madison once and for all. Care to join me?”

“I’ll brew some coffee,” Layla said, as Mateo followed her into the kitchen.

THIRTY-THREE

UPTOWN FUNK

Trena Moretti followed the Road to Hollywood as she made her way through the Hollywood & Highland shopping center. Funny how she’d made plenty of previous visits but had never taken the time to read the individual stories.

The mosaic trail was a collection of tales of how the famous and not so famous came to Hollywood to fulfill their dream of working in the industry. Some of the stories were funny, some were heartbreaking, and others—like the one about a famous director telling an actress she was too fat to work in the United States—were downright maddening. Trena was so engrossed in reading them she’d followed the trail all the way to the tiled chaise lounge that overlooked the Hollywood sign before she realized she was late for her meeting.

Luckily, Starbucks was nearby, so she wandered over and waited for the person who went by the name @LuckyHearts16 to find her. A large pair of dark sunglasses covered her face, but Trena was confident her wild bronze-tinged curls were easily recognizable.

It wasn’t long before someone called her name and Trena looked up to find a pretty young girl, probably in her mid-teens, striding toward her. She was tall, skinny to the point of gawky. In her denim shorts and black tank top, her pale, gangly limbs appeared especially vulnerable under the harsh glare of the sun. At first sight, the girl seemed an awkward arrangement of angles and bones. But as she drew near, Trena had no doubt she’d soon blossom into a formidable beauty.

“You’re Trena Moretti, right?” The girl smiled nervously.

“And you are?”

The girl fidgeted, shifting her weight from one well-worn Converse to the other. “Just—let’s leave it at LuckyHearts16, or maybe Lucky for short.”

Trena nodded agreeably.

“So, where should we do this?” The girl looked around. She seemed agitated, on edge. Trena took it as a good sign. It gave her the upper hand.

“Why don’t we just grab one of these chairs?” Trena smiled gently, wanting the girl to know there was nothing to fear.

Funny how they were always so different in person. In her texts, the girl had been brazen, bordering on rude, in her eagerness to meet. But now she acted skittish, almost meek. Celebrity often had that effect. People would throw endless amounts of shade online, but once they were face-to-face, all they wanted was a little acknowledgment and a selfie to share with their friends.

“Sorry I’m so nervous.” The girl swept her long brown hair over her shoulder. “It’s just . . . I’m a really big fan.”

“And Madison?” Trena crossed her legs and rested her hands on her lap. “Were you a fan of hers too?”