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She’d been fine with certain tactics and schemes throughout her career. As long as it didn’t hurt anyone, she usually signed off on it. But bit by bit, it had taken little chunks out of her.Shewas the one it had hurt.
And she was done.
Two full days of a media onslaught orchestrated by Logan and his people had her feeling overly exposed and misjudged by everyone. From radio DJs, to her fans, to strangers on the internet, suddenly they all had an opinion.
One of the national morning shows had even had a segment devoted to dissecting her. They’d called it “Zara Lorna: Diva Behavior?” People Zara had never met weighed in on her character and her integrity.
“I don’t think that she even sings her own songs. I heard she has one of her friends do it. Let’s give credit to the real artists and stop popularizing phonies.”
“She’s incredibly calculated. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“I’ve never bought the sweet Jersey girl next door persona. I’ve always thought she was annoying.”
“She’s just another diva.”
“It was apparent after her tirade at the NMAs that her ego has gone unchecked for too long. Remember when Ashton James lost it? Not everyone is mentally equipped to handle the pressure of being famous. She just cracked.”
And she was suddenly very over it.
It was a startling thought. She was the kind of person who thought things through, was often accused of scheming when she was just being thorough. She could count on one hand how many times her brain had just decided, with very little to no deliberation. Just a very definitive decision.
It had happened when she was sixteen and had her first single on the radio and her mom had reached out. Because “suddenly” she wanted a relationship with her daughter.
Zara knew at once that she wasn’t going to entertain that heartache.
It had happened again when she’d met Nikki. They shared a moment in the studio and Zara’s heart went, “This is the human who will tell your story the way you want it told.” It was immediate and she didn’t doubt it. Those impulses had never, not once, steered her wrong.
It had happened that night at the afterparty when Asa had taken her hand and said, “I got you.” She hadn’t even had to think about it. She’d just known.
So, when she’d woken up with the very loud and repeating thought of, “I’m done with the game,” she was alarmed.
She needed to talk to someone who had done both.
Hannah Lee, aka Ashton James, came to mind.
She’d managed to be at the top, leave, and quietly come back to their industry on her own terms.
But they weren’t close. Had only met in passing.
Then there was her friend Nash Ellis.
He’d been up and down and in between. He’d also experienced the worst the internet and industry had to offer.
He hadn’t said much since they’d sat down.
His brilliant blue eyes watched her and he listened to every one of her fears and ideas spill out. And spill she did. Like an oil tanker on the highway—messy, messy, not enough Dawn dish soap in the world to help kind of mess.
Finally, she took a breath and sat back. “What would you do?” she asked.
He arched one, pierced eyebrow. “I think you know what I would do.” He leaned forward on his elbows and pinned her with a look. “The question is what wouldyoudo?”
She frowned. If she knew what she should do, she wouldn’t be asking him.
But he wasn’t done.
“Who do you want to be? At your core? If the people who love your music could see into your heart, what message do you want them to take away?”
She sucked in a breath as his words hit her.
