Recovery by Abigail Stone Read Free Book Online Page B

matter who.
    At the age of six, Emily had shoved Layla face first into stardom, refusing to ever loosen up on the reigns. It was this constant pressure that had led Layla to drugs at an early age. She found an escape in uppers and downers that she never quite did in acting, and every time she would withdrawal, her mother would be right there by her side. Emily would hold back fourteen year-old Layla’s hair while she vomited, bringing her cups of cold Ginger Ale on five minute intervals. She would shoo off the paparazzi that gathered outside the gate of the mansion they shared together, or whatever hotel they were holed up in, not wanting them to see Layla in her fragile state.
    She did these things, and she did them well, but for all the wrong reasons. When Layla needed a mother the most, Emily behaved more like an agent. Someone who’s role consisted of keeping their client in line and employed at all costs. Because if Layla failed, Emily’s failure lingered close behind.
    Layla shivered, adjusting her ankle on the pile of pillows she was resting it on. She wondered how her mother was dealing with the news. Did she know that Layla had been fired? Did she know that her career was over? That it had been diminished into fifteen minute guest spots on daytime television and maybe the late night talk show circuit – but only if she was really lucky. If she wasn’t, and most drug addicted former child stars were not, the world would soon forget Layla Carter’s name and the unimpressive mark she had left on the industry.
    Layla pulled the heavy comforter at the foot of the sofa around herself, feeling clammy and cold. This withdrawal was not one she wanted to be having. If her ankle wasn’t swollen to the point where she couldn’t walk – let alone drive – Layla would have been back in LA right now, snorting line after line of cocaine off of one of her dealer’s bathroom sinks. She hadn’t learned her lesson the last time she overdosed.
    She never did.
    Tired of basking in her misery and allowing one depressing thought after the next to plague at the confines of her conscious, Layla reached for her purse with shaking hands. She fished out her phone, hoping to see a message from Chase. Then, it occurred to her in a haze that he didn’t have her number.
    Hell, Layla thought. I doubt he even knows my name.
    Leo, Chase and the rest of the boys were hardly the celebrity obsessed type, but it still seemed like a ridiculous concept to Layla that they wouldn’t know who she was. For the past six months, she had starred in every major adult film to grace the small screen. And long before that that, Layla had spent the majority of her adolescence and teenage years on the sets of big budget action movies, always playing the love interest or daughter of the hero. They weren’t the most prestigious of roles, and they certainly weren’t going to get Layla any Oscar nominations, but regardless – they gave her the exposure she craved.
    Only, Layla was beginning to wonder if she had ever really craved it at all. The fame, the fortune, and the perks that came with gracing the red carpet – all of that had been Emily’s dream. Layla loved her mother, but she couldn’t help but wonder what her life would be like if she had never been forced into the spotlight by her.
    Even so, the movies Layla starred in were the kind of cinema men and boys alike were known for tuning into. Layla understood her audience, and like so many other B list actresses – she catered to them. Her happiness? Well, that was only secondary.
    Running a hand through her frizzy red hair, Layla grappled with the notion that in the height of her success, she had really only become moderately successful. Of course, there were times early on in her career that she had been offered roles of a higher caliber. Opportunities to really expand on her craft and step outside of the way she had been molded to act. But, these offers, no matter how interesting, came with pay