I C U

Chapter One

The limo comes to a stop in front of my home that I had purchased a month in advance to coming home. I hoped Nate Berkus, my interior designer dercorated my home the exactly way we had discussed otherwise his gay ass would be fired faster than he could go down in his husband.

"Welcome home, Miss Sharpe." Lou, my driver said. Grabbing my Michael Kors purse I step out pushing my glasses up on my face.

"Took you fucking long enough to open the goddamn door, Lou." I spat tossing my hair over my shoulder.

"I'm sorry ma'am but my wife called and.."

Coming to an aburpt stop I turn on my heels and hold my hand up. "What did I say about personal taking calls when your on the job?"
Lous hands starts twitching nervously. Lou has been working for since I was little. When I started my career my parents that it would be nice to have him work for me.

I didn't want that. I wanted an hot twenty something year old who could help me relieve some stress of my job in the back of the limo. Not an old ass fifty year old. I don't give a fuck if he needs this job to take care of his ill wife.

"What did I say?!"

"Not to use my personal time on your time. But Laila, my wife is I'll.. I need to make sure everything is alright. She has a tumor in her brain...you know that."

"I don't give a shit! When your on MY CLOCK, YOUR ATTENTION IS FOCUSED ON ME! TWENTY FOUR SEVEN!I PAY YOUR CHECKS. if your so damn worried about your wife go home. You're fired." I spat out turning around and walking towards my house.

"But Miss Sharp. Please. I need this job. Otherwise I can't pay my wife's medical bills. Please." Lou called out in a quivering voice.

"Then you better start planning a funeral. Brick." I motioned to my security guard to escort Lou off my property. " And get my keys from him too." I say as I walk inside.

"Wow." I said as I take in the decor of my home. The little fudge packer actually did a great job. The color scheme was perfection. Everything was exactly how I wanted it right down to the final detail.

"So? Do you like it?" asked my manager, Margo.

"I love it. He did a really great job. Well, of course he did, he's gay. " I laughed walking around the home to check everything out.

"Um yeah, Laila. You cant talk like that around your classmates. You dont want bad publicity, do you? You can ruin your career like this."

Uh god, I thought. That's right, I have to msintain this shitty little Americas Sweetheart persona that i snd my besy friend Taylor Swift had created for us by our management team. If the world saw how much weed and sex we had their minds would blow the fuck up.

Sweetheart Taylor is not. That girl could suck more dick than anyone. theres a teason she's called Taylor Squirts . "Yeah, yeah. I got it. But let's be clear here. I didnt want to come back here. You set this little bullshit publicity stunt up to make me seem more down to earth." I clarified as I picked up a framed picture of my family that sat over the mantel of my fireplace

"Itll be good for you to get intouch with your roots. Youll see. You start school tomorrow morning. "

Yeah. I'm so excited to be a regular teen again. Not

My management team thought it will make me seem more relatable if I said I rather go back to school to be with friends and family and be a regular teen girl. For years I've portrayed the sweetheart of Hollywood. The model with a heart, who gives her money to animal shelters, Ebola relief funds, cancer research. When actuality, I did shit.

I smoked weed with Taylor, J. Law and the cast of Teen wolf. I don't give a fuck about my fans. They don't do shit but keep my rich and in the public eye. All the gifts they give me, I snap a picture on Instagram before trashing it.

"Laila, you need this."

"Yeah whatever. Just leave the schedule. I'm going to take a bath." I tell her rolling my eyes and walking away.