The Princess and the Porn Star by Lauren Gallagher Read Free Book Online

hands folded between a pair of sunglasses and a steaming coffee cup, she looked like a regular everyday woman. Her hair was pulled back into a baseball cap, shading her eyes and obscuring her face enough to avoid recognition by anyone who wasn’t looking for her. The faded black Star Wars T-shirt was a surprise, one that tripped all my inner geek’s buttons.
    Well, sort of. She didn’t stand out as Olivia Taylor the pop princess, and she didn’t have throngs of screaming fans trying to get her autograph, but she didn’t exactly blend in either. The woman had a quiet presence about her. She was one of those people who walked into a room and every head turned, like she had a subtle magnetism that couldn’t not draw attention. More and more, I got the impression it was impossible to be unaware of her. Maybe someone wouldn’t recognize her beneath the bill of her cap or dressed in street clothes, but they’d notice her.
    Right then, she looked up, and when she saw me, smiled. I returned the smile and made a just-a-minute gesture, to which she responded with a single nod. Then I got into the short line at the counter.
    I perused the selection in the case, trying to find something edible among the organic this, conscientiously grown that with free-range frosting or whatever. Danishes were always a safe bet. At least no one usually put bean sprouts or tofu into those. Sometimes I really missed those coffee shops back in Tucson. At least then I could get something unhealthy and flavorful to accompany my high-octane caffeine consumption.
    When I reached the register, I said, “Grande iced latte, please. And a cheese Danish.”
    “Grande iced latte.” She wrote my order on the side of the cup and handed it off to the other barista. Then she pulled the Danish out of the case, set it on a plate and slid it toward me. “That’ll be seven twenty-five.”
    I opened my wallet and pulled out a ten. As I paid for my order, the other two baristas eyed Olivia.
    “I really think it’s her,” one whispered.
    “No way.” The other snorted derisively. “She looks way too put-together. Olivia Taylor’s a hot mess.”
    The first shrugged. “Maybe she’s gotten herself back on track.”
    “Yeah right,” said the barista at the register. She rolled her eyes. As she handed me my change, she said to me, “Kind of hard to un-wreck a train, right?”
    I gritted my teeth but didn’t say anything.
    “Sad, wasn’t it?” the first barista said. “Poor girl.”
    “Pathetic is more like it.” The cashier slammed the cash drawer emphatically. “How do people do that, anyway? Have the world at your feet and then piss it away like that?” She sighed as she dug some quarters and a couple of ones out of the drawer. “Bet she wouldn’t have taken a career like that for granted if she’d ever worked in a place like this.”
    Clicking her tongue, the first shook her head. “What a shame.”
    “It is a shame.” I took my coffee and plate and quietly added, “Can’t think of a much bigger shame than someone trying to recover from a breakdown like that in front of a world full of armchair experts.”
    I didn’t wait for a reaction. Coffee in one hand, plate in the other, I got the hell away from the counter and made my way to the table where Rachel sat. I rolled my shoulders to shrug away the annoyance and smiled as I approached.
    “Hey,” I said as I pulled up a seat. “How’s your foot?”
    “Much better.” She smiled back. “Comfortable shoes and a shot of cortisone make a world of difference.”
    “Doesn’t surprise me. Are you going to be okay for tomorrow’s shoot?”
    She tapped the rim of her coffee cup with her fingertips. “Guess we’ll see. As long as I don’t fall and break my neck, I should be all right.”
    “Yeah, don’t do that.”
    Rachel laughed softly. “I won’t. The last thing I need is someone having to break the news to my mother that I fell, broke my neck and bit the dust while I was on-set