"Because being nice and patient gets nowhere with you, Daphne." His smile was apologetic but firm. "And I really don't want to give a speech at your funeral."

She looked at the paper on her lap, and then took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. I can do this."

"It's going to be hard," Cade warned.

The look she gave him was scathing. "As if everything else in my life is easy? If you think that, Cade, maybe you don't know me at all."

He couldn't disagree with that. "I guess I'll see myself out, then. Like I said, my offer stands. I'll give you all the help you need." Cade inclined his head at the door. "Carmela's out there waiting to see you."

Daphne's brows drew together. "Who?"

"Your assistant? You called her Snoopy?"

Her expression softened. "She waited out there for me? Really?"

"Imagine that. Someone cares about you." He gave her a smile.

"Huh." She ran her fingers through her messy hair and gave him a tremulous smile back. "Well, send her in."

- Back at the hotel, the tour employees had been instructed to contact label management to receive their final payment and to arrange for a flight home. The news of Daphne's overdose was just now breaking, and employees were meeting with management in a conference room downstairs before being handed non-disclosure agreements to sign before receiving their last check.

Kylie emerged from her hotel room and ran into Ginger in the hall, and Ginger filled her in. "Just thought I'd let you know," Ginger said grumpily. "Since you don't have a phone and all."

Kylie gave her a hesitant smile. "Thanks, Ginger."

"It's Carol," Ginger said, and she scowled at Kylie. "And don't fucking thank me because I'm a decent human being and you're not. Because of you, I have to find a new fucking job. So thanks a lot for that. Thanks for driving Daphne insane by stealing her man." She shook her head and wheeled her suitcase down the hall, muttering to herself. "Should've spoke up when I had the damn chance."

Ouch. Shocked, Kylie watched the older woman leave. In a way, she supposed things were her fault. Indirectly, right? Sure, she had dated Cade, but they were quiet about things. It wasn't her fault that Daphne had hit her in the head with a pot and then decided to take a bunch of pills once she heard Cade say that he didn't want her.

But as she headed downstairs, she saw a few other tour employees in the lobby, and they all avoided eye contact with her. One shot her the bird before turning away.

Okay, so maybe everyone did blame her.

Uneasy, Kylie headed down to the conference room. Several employees were waiting by the door, and Kylie recognized two backup singers and a guy from lighting. They all gave her dirty looks. She ignored them, but it was difficult. She could deal with a few irritated people-poor Cade was having to deal with Daphne and her family.

By the time it was Kylie's turn to go into the conference room, she was getting tired of hearing the whispering and seeing the furtive glances in her direction. She'd pretty much heard a mumbled whore here and there. She ignored it, because what else could she do? For all they knew, Kylie had stolen Daphne's man. They didn't know Cade and his side of the story, only Daphne's. And Daph's was fueled by coke. Or meth. Or oxy. Or whatever she was on this week.

And why wouldn't they believe Daphne? Daphne was famous and beautiful and rich. Kylie was fat and broke and did makeup for a living.

She signed the clipboard in the waiting area, and then went through the doors into the conference room. She'd just get her check, talk to Cade, and get out of town and put this whole thing behind her. Maybe once everything had blown over, they could pick up where they were again, see how they felt after a few months had passed. Right now, though, it was starting to feel like a mistake. Like she was reaching too high. And she knew that was her self-confidence speaking, but it was hard not to be down on yourself when a pop star was in the hospital because of you and all the employees were calling you whore under their breath.

Things got worse when she walked through the door.

Mr. Powers was at the table, along with the tour manager and a woman Kylie didn't recognize. Stacks of papers were on the table, and the woman had a box of checks in front of her.

Mr. Powers gestured at the chair across from the three of them. "Please be seated, Miss Daniels."

Kylie sat, feeling like she'd been sent to the principal's office.

"This is Ms. Draper," Mr. Powers said, indicating the woman on his right. "She cuts all of the payments for Daphne's payroll. Now, before we give you your final payment, our lawyers are asking that we get all employees to sign a non-disclosure as a favor to Daphne. We'd prefer that this not hit the media any harder than it has." His smile was tight.

"Of course," Kylie murmured, taking the pen offered to her. They pushed a piece of paper in her direction, full of teeny tiny writing in a minuscule font. There was a signature line at the bottom, and she scanned the document. Blah blah will not speak to media blah blah disclose any incidents on tour blah blah. She signed and dated the document and handed it back. "I wouldn't talk to anyone."

They simply gave her a baleful look, and Ms. Draper began to flip through the envelopes in her box, looking for Kylie's name. She pulled it out a moment later and offered it to Kylie. "This is your net pay. The label is giving you a stipend for a ticket back home, plus the remainder of money you're owed for the tour, minus any contractual fees."

Contractual . . . fees? She took the envelope and because they were all still watching her, opened it and looked at her check.

Twelve dollars and thirty-seven cents.

Her hands began to shake. She was owed several thousand. Tens of thousands. "Um . . . why . . ."

"Daphne's had two canceled shows, and this is your portion of the costs. In addition, you'll be receiving a bill for the additional fees that we are owed."

She felt faint. "You can't charge me for her shows. I had nothing to do with her overdose. I didn't force the pills into her mouth."

"Your behavior pushed her, however. Please consult your contract if you have any questions." Mr. Powers gave her a tight smile. "Good day."

Kylie stared at the three of them. She could sit there and argue with them about things, but that wouldn't solve anything, would it? She could fight this-hire lawyers to go over the contract and pore over every phrase. Interpret things differently. Take it to court and try to win some of that money back.

But all of that cost time and money. And while she now had nothing but time . . . she had no money.

Cade has money, her brain told her. He can help you.

And . . . then what? Be beholden to him? Allow someone else to control her life because she couldn't hack it financially? Be a burden like her Nana Sloane was?

In the end, she quietly left the room and went upstairs to pack her bags. Using the hotel phone, she called her friend, Star. Star was the only person saving Kylie from being homeless in L.A. by letting her sleep on her couch when Kylie was between tours. Occasionally, she let Kylie borrow money. Or rather, she sold off things of Kylie's on eBay and forwarded Kylie the funds. But it was easier to sell old family jewelry and heirlooms than to borrow money from someone that would hold money over her head.

So she called Star.

"Burger King," Star said as she picked up the phone. "We make it your way."

"It's me, Star," Kylie said. Star never answered unknown calls with her own name. She was a bit of a nut, but a well-meaning one.

"Sweetie! How are you? How's the tour? You will not believe what I saw in the news! Did you know-"

"Yep, I know," Kylie said tiredly. "And I'm under a gag order not to talk about it. I need a favor. You know the boxes I have in your storage closet?"

"Yup. What's up?"

"My nana's vintage mink coat is in one of them. Can you eBay that for me and forward me the money?"

"Sec," Star said, and put down the phone.

Kylie waited impatiently, twisting her finger in the curling phone cord. Star had an incredible eye for valuables, and could spot a dollar to be made at an estate sale. She could look at the coat and judge how much it was worth for her to sell. Hopefully it'd be enough.

Star returned a few minutes later. "All right, I took a look at it. Definitely vintage-at least eighty years old. Which is good because people like fur, but they don't like recently dead fur, if you know what I mean. Apparently it's okay if it died a hundred years ago, but not ten. Go figure. And the sizing is good, which means I can sell it. You know some of that vintage stuff is teeny tiny. I can probably get one or one point five grand for it on auction. You want me to advance you?"

They'd done this dance before, and at this point, Star didn't even ask why. Kylie could have kissed Star's crystal-rubbing horoscope-loving self. "Yes, please. One thousand should get me home."

"Can do, baby doll. You sound upset. You okay?"

Kylie smiled, fighting back tears. "Just having a rough week."

"Save all that for next week, honey! Mercury's not in retrograde until then."

"Got it. Just send the money, okay?"

They made payment arrangements and Kylie thanked Star profusely. Star was a bit of an eccentric, but a loyal and dependable one, and Kylie adored her for it. She called the nursing home next, and let them know that her next payment would be somewhat delayed, but she was making arrangements and if they could please just charge her a premium late fee until everything was settled, that would be wonderful.

She winced at the new monthly dollar amount quoted to her, but had no choice but to agree to it. She couldn't have her nana on the street, no matter how much it cost to keep her in the home. She'd luck into a job at some point. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

When all the arrangements were made, her flight booked, her nana handled, Kylie sat for a moment on the edge of the bed and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying hard not to cry. Everything felt so overwhelming at the moment.

It would be so easy to go to Cade, whine to him about her troubles, and let him fix it. Let him fling some money at it and make it go away.

And . . . then what? Be indebted to him? Wait for him to throw her a bone? Constantly be anxious about money and how much she owes him and how she'd pay him back? Wonder if he's going to get tired of having to clean up her messes and send her packing?

She'd been there before. And it was awful.

Never again. She'd just have to suck it up and figure out other ways to make things work. And if they didn't involve Cade, so be it. The timing was all wrong. She swiped at her eyes, hating the decision she was going to make, but knowing she was going to do it anyhow.

Still, she was unprepared when she opened the door to her hotel room, and Cade stood there, tired and rumpled and smiling at the sight of her.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said. "Can I come in?"

And she hesitated all over again. More than anything, she wanted to throw herself into his arms. To say, Yes, please hold me, Cade, and make it better for me. Instead, she shook her head. "I need to get to the airport."

His face fell. "What? Kylie, why?"

"I'm going home." The words were strained, hard to get out around the knot in her throat.

Cade blocked the door, not letting her pass. "I don't understand. I thought we were good. I thought-last night, when I held you-"

She shook her head. "We can't be good, Cade." I have the threat of a lawsuit hanging over my head and the timing's all wrong and I don't want to come to you as a burden.

"Why not?"

"Because we're fucking everyone over by trying to be together," she snapped. "You choosing me publicly made Daphne go off the deep end."

His face grew red with anger. "We're not to blame for Daphne's actions-"

"And now there's an entire busload of people depending on this tour that are out of work." And my nana needs me to come up with ten grand in the next two weeks or she's going to be out on the street. "I can't keep being selfish about this, not when it costs the happiness of so many other people."

"What about my happiness?" he asked quietly. "Don't I count?"

Oh God, he counted. He counted so much. But she'd just had an entire day of people's hate and loathing in her face and her bank account had been more or less emptied by the label because she couldn't keep it in her pants when it came to Cade.

And how she'd end up being a burden to him.

A burden. A responsibility to be taken care of. Not a lover, but a millstone around his neck, always costing money.

A burden was the last thing she ever wanted to be.

So she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Cade. I can't do this. I care for you-"

"Last night you said you loved me." The pain in his blue eyes was stark.

"I do love you," Kylie said. "But that doesn't mean I can be with you. Not now. Maybe not ever. I'm sorry."

"I don't understand, Kylie." He shook his head, baffled. "Don't do this. Don't separate us again. Whatever it is, whatever's bothering you, I can help. Whatever your burdens, let me share them-"

But she went still at the word burdens. "I'm sorry," she said. She shoved her way past him, down the hall, and into the elevator that was just about to close.

He didn't come after her. Kylie squeezed her eyes shut, willing her tears to wait until she got into the cab waiting to take her to the airport.

She almost made it, too.

TWENTY.

One week later "How's Daphne doing?" Cade asked Carmela as he dodged taxis, crossing a busy intersection in Manhattan. "She adjusting?"

"She's doing really well," Carmela said cheerfully. "Smoking like a damn chimney, but I figure we can tackle one thing at a time. Oh, and she's cranky and irritable as hell, but overall, she's doing well." She paused for a moment. "She'd say hello, but she's currently got her head in the toilet."

He smiled to hear that. At least someone's life was turning around. "Tell her the vomiting goes away soon enough and she'll be happier for it."

A pause. "She says fuck you, and she can handle it," Carmela said, and chuckled. "Seriously though, things are good. Well, mostly. I'm going to go get you some more smokes, Daph," Carmela called, and he heard her walking on the other end of the phone. She must have had something to tell him that she didn't want Daphne to hear.

He'd hired Carmela onto his own payroll, doubling her pay so she'd report back to him no matter her loyalty to Daphne. He wanted the full truth of what was going on, not a glossed-over version. And Carmela was good at reporting back.

A moment later, he heard a door close on the other end of the phone and Carmela sighed. "Okay."

"What's wrong?" Cade asked, stepping into an alcove in front of a closed storefront so he could continue the conversation privately.

"So . . . it's that dick. Mr. Powers. Remember you hired a new manager for Daph last year? Well, the label didn't like him and booted him almost right away. They replaced him with Mr. Powers, and he's a bit of a control freak. Like, he's the one that had me give Daph the oxy to keep her on a leash. Said it was less dangerous than any of the street stuff she could score, and she could still perform with it." Carmela paused.

Cade frowned. "He's not trying to give her more drugs, is he?"

"No, not yet. But here's the thing. He came by yesterday and made her cry. Told her she was costing the label a fortune and she was a piece of shit, and how she was a drain on finances and she'd let down her fans. That she was a laughingstock. He said she had a week to get clean and then he'd expect her back in the studio if she couldn't finish her tour."

"What? She's supposed to be in rehab for at least a month."