Rumor has it the Best Actress is a homewrecker, caught in a scandalous affair. At the awards ceremony, she set the record straight right on stage. “That’s not true. Susan has already agreed to be my girlfriend.” Down in the audience, I was completely floored. When did I agree to that? We were just trying things out for seven days! 1 The A-list actress Vivian Monroe was chasing me, and the whole of Hollywood knew it. It got so bad that even the stray dogs on the studio backlot would give me a look that said, So, Susan, have you said yes to Vivian yet? "No, no, NO!" I shrieked, finally snapping at one of them. "How many times do I have to say it? I did not say yes!" Just as I was losing my mind at a golden retriever, Vivian appeared. She held out a check. I instinctively recoiled, clutching my chest. "What do you think you're doing? I didn't come to Hollywood to sell my body." "I came here to outlast everyone!" I declared. "I'll watch the druggies, the gamblers, the liars, and the creeps burn out, and then it'll be my turn to shine!" Vivian simply flipped her wrist, revealing the number written on the check. Pfft. A measly… My eyes widened as I counted the zeroes. One, ten, hundred, thousand… holy… mother… of God. "A billion dollars?" I looked up, my voice trembling slightly. "Are you trying to buy my soul?" A flicker of fear crossed my face. "A billion dollars," Vivian said, her voice smooth as silk, "to be my girlfriend for seven days." I stood there, blinking, my mind racing. In this world—the one I’d woken up in—I was an actress who’d shot to fame overnight thanks to a low-budget web series. The critics had called me a star born from the heavens. But the hype faded as quickly as it came, and soon I was a nobody again, completely off the Hollywood map. Well, not a complete nobody. I was still famous for one thing: Vivian Monroe, the titan of the film industry who had swept every major award, was in love with me. After my fifteen minutes of fame were up, my paychecks got smaller and smaller. I thought my first seven-figure deal was the beginning, but it turned out to be my peak. But if I dated Vivian for seven days, I could get a billion dollars. Suddenly, outlasting anyone seemed like a terrible plan. I gingerly took the check from her, then paused. "Is that pre-tax or post-tax?" Vivian's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. "I didn't say anything about sleeping with you." I gasped, mortified. "No, not that!" I scrambled to explain. "I mean T-A-X! The money that goes to the government!" She just looked more confused. "Which one?" Right. An A-lister like her probably didn't spend her time on internet meme pages. 2 With a billion-dollar check in hand, the first thing I did was buy a sprawling villa right on the coast. The second was to drop ten grand into my small fan community’s server chat. Finally, remembering I had a job to do, I gave Vivian a call. "Hello, my generous benefactor. What's on the agenda for today?" Even though she was only a year older than me, she was signing the checks, so a little respect was in order. "I have an awards ceremony tonight," Vivian's cool voice came through the phone. My heart soared. "Excellent! I'm sure you're swamped, so I'll let you get to it. Have a great time!" I was about to hang up, marveling at how easy this gig was, when her voice stopped me. "You're coming with me." Wait, what? I hadn't had a project out in eight months. What was I going to do at an awards show? Besides, I didn't even have an invitation. As if reading my mind, Vivian added, "The invitation and a car will be at your door in thirty minutes." The benefactor had spoken. All I could do was offer my thanks. "Wow. Your efficiency is terrifying." I had no idea that "terrifying" was just the beginning. Later that night, Vivian was on stage accepting her Golden Griffin award. The host asked for her acceptance speech. She stood at the podium, her gaze drifting over the audience until it landed squarely on me. "I'd like to take this moment to clarify something for all my fans," she began, her voice ringing through the auditorium. "There is nothing going on between myself and the actor Louis. I have never interfered in his relationship with any other starlet." She paused, a small smile playing on her lips. "The person I'm in love with is Susan Summers." "So, no, I'm not some desperate homewrecker. That's not true. Susan has already agreed to be my girlfriend." The entire room erupted. Everyone was cheering, celebrating the queen of Hollywood finding her true love. Everyone except me. I was just staring, dumbfounded. When did I agree to that? We were just trying things out for seven days! On day one of our billion-dollar contract, I'd already been played. I knew this money wouldn't be easy to earn. This was way, way worse than just sleeping with her. As Vivian finished her speech, the camera operator swung a lens right onto my face. I had to instantly plaster on a smile, a perfect eight-teeth-baring grin, while my mind was screaming. You magnificent bastard! You absolute, magnificent bastard! 3 As soon as she accepted her award, Vivian whisked me out of the ceremony. Inside the back of a stretch Rolls-Royce, I finally found my voice. "Why'd we leave so early?" "Any later," Vivian said, her tone dry, "and we'd be getting invitations to be passed around directors' hotel rooms like party favors." "Really? That's never happened to me." I frowned, thinking back. "No one's ever even hinted at anything like that." Vivian glanced at me, a hint of a smirk in her voice. "Why do you think I made sure the entire industry knew I was pursuing you?" My lips parted. "To… to keep the creeps away from me?" Vivian chuckled softly. "Not as clueless as I thought." A wave of warmth washed over me. Wow. Maybe I'd misjudged her. She was actually… kind of a good person. I gazed out the window at the glittering city lights, a genuine smile on my face. "So, where are we headed? Are you taking me somewhere fun?" "Mhm," Vivian hummed, her voice flat. "We're going to have some fun. In my apartment." In an instant, the smile froze on my face. 4 PH-1314. I stared at the number on Vivian's penthouse door. "Are you secretly a hopeless romantic or something?" I asked. Vivian's mouth twitched, and she pulled me inside before I could say more. My jaw dropped as I took in her apartment. A fluffy pink couch. A pink coffee table. A pink dining set. Pink… everything. The only thing that wasn't pink was the walls. I was stunned. The ice queen of Hollywood was secretly a Barbie girl. "You really like pink, huh?" I asked, bewildered. "I hate it," she replied instantly. I blinked, processing this. "Well," I said, a slow grin spreading across my face. "I know someone who does." Vivian looked at me. "Who?" I met her gaze, my eyes filled with the conviction of someone about to swear a sacred vow. "Me. I love pink." Before she could respond, I launched into a heartfelt speech. "Vivian, look, I know you like me, but you really didn't have to redecorate your entire apartment for me. It's a lot of pressure. And besides, this whole thing is over in seven days. I'm worried you'll be surrounded by all this pink and have a complete breakdown when I'm gone." I paused for dramatic effect, then patted her shoulder consolingly. "But hey, for a billion dollars, I'll throw in some after-care service. If you start missing me, just give me a call, okay?" Vivian rubbed her temples, looking like she'd just been hit with a wave of secondhand embarrassment. She walked into her bedroom and returned two minutes later, thrusting a set of pajamas into my arms. "Go take a shower." I looked down. She'd even provided a full set of undergarments. Wait a second. How did she know my size? Had she been researching me that intensely? Oh my god, this was so embarrassing! And she wanted me to shower the moment we got home! Which meant, after the shower… "What are you thinking about?" Vivian waved a hand in front of my face. I snapped back to reality, my cheeks burning. "Nothing. Just… wondering where I'll be sleeping?" Vivian turned and pointed back toward the bedroom she'd just come from. "In there. With me." I swallowed hard. "I don't know if that's… appropriate. You said I didn't have to sleep with you." Vivian paused. "Is just sharing a bed considered sleeping with someone now? Relax," she promised. "I'm not going to do anything to you." Why did that sound exactly like something a player would say? Seeing my hesitation, she added, "I just want you to read me a bedtime story." I stared at her, completely baffled. Vivian Monroe was paying me a billion dollars… to read her a story? This was way weirder than any casting couch proposition. "Just a story? That's it?" I had to confirm. "That's it. Now go wash up. You first, then me." 5 After my shower, I was sitting propped against the headboard while Vivian lay tucked under the covers. She reached over, opened her nightstand drawer, and pulled out a book, tossing it to me. I read the title aloud. "365 Bedtime Stories for Children." Then I saw the fine print at the bottom. "Suitable for ages 3 to 9." If I remembered correctly, Vivian Monroe was twenty-nine years old. Who the hell, at twenty-nine, pays a billion dollars to have someone read them children's stories?! I didn't buy it. She had to be up to something. For the sake of my virtue, I'd have to sleep with one eye open tonight. "Is there a problem? Why aren't you reading?" Vivian's voice cut through my thoughts. The benefactor had spoken. I quickly sat up straight, opened the book, and began reading in my most soothing, storyteller voice. ... I don't know how long I read. All I remember is being so exhausted that my yawns became more frequent than my words, my speech slurring into a drowsy mumble. In the hazy moments before sleep took me, I felt Vivian's fingers intertwine with mine, and I thought I heard her ask me something. But I drifted off before I could make out the words. 6 I woke up in the middle of the night, jolted awake by a stomachache of epic proportions. I scrambled out of bed, muttering curses under my breath as I bolted for the bathroom. That’s what I get for gorging on all those fancy imported snacks in Vivian's dressing room. As I stepped out of the bedroom, I heard a strange, choked sound. It sounded like someone was crying. I froze. "Vivian, you have to come with me…" I turned back to the bed, only to find it empty. My brow furrowed. Was that Vivian crying? I flicked on the hallway light and followed the sound. It was coming from the main bathroom. "Vivian? Is that you in there?" I knocked on the locked door. The crying stopped. A hoarse voice answered, "Who is it?" "Who else would it be?" I said with a sigh. "It's me, Susan." The door swung open with a bang, and a reeking-of-alcohol Vivian practically fell into my arms. "Susan, I love you so much," she slurred. My body went rigid. My hands hovered in the air, unsure of where to land. Vivian pressed her face into the crook of my neck. "Susan, we've been together for nine years. How could you just… stop loving me?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Susan, why did you forget me? What did I do wrong? Tell me, and I'll fix it. I'll change." Her words sent a shiver down my spine. I'd never been with Vivian. Where did nine years come from? Or falling out of love? Or forgetting? Wait a minute. Was she mistaking me for someone else? Did Vivian have some epic, tragic love affair before she met me? And was she dumped, left heartbroken, forced to find a replacement for her lost love? Which would make me… the substitute? Oh my god. Was the story I’d woken up in some kind of tropey substitute-lover romance? This was so damn cliché. Vivian pressed closer, her hot breath ghosting across my neck. "Susan, you used to read to me, but you'd never get more than three sentences out before you’d turn off the light, pull me into your arms, and we'd…" A fresh wave of goosebumps erupted on my skin. I cut her off before she could finish. "Vivian, I would love to hear all about your tragic backstory later, but right now, I really, really have to take a crap!" With that, I pushed her away, ducked into the bathroom, and locked the door behind me.
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