The Beginning
Eleven years earlier….
In 2012…
“Oh my God, oh my God.” Genevieve clutches at my arm. “Don’t look now, but Gabe Bradley is heading this way.”
I take a sip from my bright blue cocktail before asking my best friend, “And I care about this, why?”
Ignoring my question, Genevieve continues to caution me not to look, her gaze fixed on someone across the room. Curious about the cause of my friend’s excitement, I shift my gaze to survey the nightclub, the vibrant setting of the Australian TV Industry Awards after-party we’re attending. Within moments, my eyes are captivated by a figure making his way towards us. He exudes an air of confidence, standing tall and commanding attention with his impressive stature. Straight dirty blond hair gracefully frames his face, reaching just above his chin, effortlessly adding to his stylish allure.
In a swift motion, he brushes the strands away from his eyes, unveiling a chiselled jawline and a gaze that holds enough magnetism to make my stomach drop. I catch a glimpse of tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his fitted black shirt, revealing a hint of rebelliousness hidden beneath his polished exterior.
However, I notice that he doesn’t appear to be much older than us, maybe nineteen or twenty. Gen and I typically prefer men who are a bit older, closer to twenty-five or above. We appreciate the maturity and life experience that comes with age.
Ignoring my question, Genevieve remains fixated on someone across the room, her gaze unwavering. Intrigued by her excitement, I shift my gaze to survey the nightclub, the vibrant backdrop of the Australian Industry Television Awards after-party we’re attending. Within moments, my eyes are drawn to a figure approaching us, emanating an undeniable air of confidence. Standing tall and commanding attention with his impressive stature, he exudes a sense of self-assurance.
Straight dirty blond hair gracefully frames his face, reaching just above his chin, effortlessly adding to his magnetic appeal. In a swift motion, he brushes the strands away from his eyes, revealing a chiselled jawline that enhances his striking features. His gaze holds an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.
My attention is momentarily drawn to the tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his fitted black shirt, hinting at a hidden rebelliousness beneath his polished exterior.
However, I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t appear to be much older than us, perhaps nineteen or twenty. Gen and I typically prefer men who possess a bit more life experience, closer to twenty-five or above. We value the maturity and wisdom that often accompanies age.
“Who is he?” I ask, my curiosity begrudgingly getting the best of me.
Gen pays no attention to my question, her focus solely on Gabe as he walks past us. Waiting until she catches his eye, she greets him with a friendly “Hi Gabe.” He responds with a grin. One of his front teeth is slightly crooked, but somehow that only adds to his appeal.
For a moment, our eyes meet, and my heart jolts in my chest as if struck by electricity. My stomach flips, affected by this stranger. When did I become so susceptible? He’s too young to warrant my reaction. He isn’t even an A-lister.
As Gabe walks away, Genevieve’s widened eyes return to me, brimming with excitement. “Did you see that? He totally grinned at me.”
“At us,” I correct her, my hand trembling slightly from the aftermath of the electric encounter. “But who is he?”
Genevieve’s eyes seem ready to pop out of their sockets as she strikes a pose, popping out her hip and crossing her arms, a smug smile playing on her lips. “I can’t believe the girl who knows everything about everyone doesn’t know who Gabe Bradley is.”
“He can’t be important if I haven’t heard of him.”
“He won that show, Sing for Me.”
I roll my eyes, even as I imagine he’d look sexy as all get out with a guitar in his hands. “Well, no wonder I haven’t heard of him. He’s just a contest winner.”
Genevieve’s smug expression fades. She and I have been acting in soaps since childhood, coming from serious acting families. We’re among the most experienced actors at the party, relishing the freedom of attending as independent young adults now that we’ve turned eighteen. We’re not just experienced in the TV industry, either. I, myself, released a single at fourteen and another at sixteen that performed decently on the Australian charts. Secretly, I’ve always yearned to create an album, following in the footsteps of the rockstar father I’ve never met. However, the criticism that my success was solely attributed to my well-known soap role has always held me back.
“Gabe is different,” she argues.
I flip my long, highlighted blonde hair over my shoulder and roll my eyes. “Everyone knows contest winners don’t last. He’ll be popular until the next season of the show airs, and then everyone will be hung up on someone else.”
Gen shakes her head. “You haven’t heard him sing. He’s amazing. And Michael Blainesworth just offered him a part in his TV show. I’m telling you, Sabrina, he’s going to be big.”
“We’ll see.”
“See about what?”
I feel an arm wrap around my waist and lean back, feeling my boyfriend, James, behind me. Gen’s boyfriend and James’ co-star, Aaron, joins us too. There are only a few years between Gen and her boyfriend, but the tabloids have been making a big deal out of the age difference between James and me. It’s nine years. It’s not as if he’s old enough to be my father or anything. Then again, the tabloids don’t worry me. I’ve grown up with them reporting my every move. When your mother is Selena Manning-Somerset, everything you do is interesting. Guessing the next scandalous headlines that will come out about my friends and me is just fun and games.
“Gabe Bradley,” Gen says to James. “The winner of Sing for Me.”
James scoffs. “Another reality TV star, really? No one cares who wins those things.”
I turn around and smile up at James. He looks like a Golden God with his fluffy dark blond locks and wide, bright smile. “That’s exactly what I said.”
“Talk to me when he’s nominated for an Australian Music Award or an Oscar.”
“Exactly.”
“Wasn’t that the guy who was just out on the balcony with us?” Aaron asks.
James stiffens behind me, and I look at Aaron, who frowns from the effort of thinking.
After a moment, James relaxes, and I’m sure I feel him shrug. “Could have been.”
“Who was he out there with?” Gen asks, looking far more intrigued than I think she should.
“Cooper Dawson.”
Automatically, I look around for Cooper. We broke up nearly a year ago, but we’ve remained good friends. Cooper is the sweetest soul, an all-round great guy. We were together for two and a half years – practically a lifetime in this business, but he wanted more. And me? Well, I didn’t want to tie myself down. I know it hurt him when I moved on, especially when I started dating someone he was friendly with, and I hate how I hurt him, but we were more like friends than lovers at the end.
“Who cares?” James asks, wrapping an arm around me. “We should dance.”
“I agree.”
I’m more than ready to abandon the subject of Gabe and Cooper, and I know James needs distracting after he lost the Most Popular Television Actor Award to Ryan Moore.
“Let’s go then, babe.”
I smile at Gen as James starts pulling me in the direction of the dance floor.
Minutes later, Gen and Aaron join us. We dance for a solid hour, and I feel hot, sweaty but good. Only the VIP section is closed for the Logie party, so the rest of the club in Sydney’s Golden Crown Casino is full of everyday people. Gen and James both complain about the ‘plebs’ gawking at us, but they don’t really care, and neither do I. I love the way everyone watches us. It’s proof we’re important. Not that we need proof. But still…
“I’m going for a smoke,” James says, kissing me on the cheek and leaving me to keep dancing.
Of course, Aaron goes with him. Gen and I keep dancing, both of us enjoying the attention from the opposite sex, even as we make a big deal about pushing some of the more persistent males off us, and the bouncers come over once or twice to check if we’re okay.
At one point, I look up at the VIP section and see Gabe standing there, watching me. My heart is already beating fast from the dancing, but as Gabe leans on the railing and makes it obvious he’s watching me, my heart jumps again, and everyone else seems to fade away as I move my body to the music, putting on a show for him. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong or cheating on James. I’m just dancing. I pick up my hair and let it sift through my fingers before running my hands over my body provocatively. I was blessed with the same body type as my mother, a tiny waist and big breasts. She did a pull out for Playboy once.
The feel of Gabe’s eyes caressing me fills me with awareness. My breasts feel full as I touch them, and I’m aware of the way my nipples are tingling before moving my hands lower, over my stomach. I’m enjoying my dance so much that I’m a little annoyed when Gen taps me on the arm.
“I’m thirsty!” Gen yells.
I look back at Gabe, just in time to see him walking away from the railing. I ignore the swift kick of disappointment. I don’t care if he watches me or not.
“Let’s go back then.”
My desire to go back to the VIP section has nothing to do with Gabe, I tell myself as Gen and I climb the stairs back to the VIP section.
We both grab cocktails and bottles of water before sitting down and discussing whether our men will be able to find us. I absolutely don’t look around for Gabe.
“That bitch is wearing my dress.”
Erica Stanton has just walked into the VIP area, causing me to inwardly groan. Gen doesn’t like Erica, who nailed her audition for the show I star on, while Gen turned up a little bit drunk, hoping her name would get her the role. Gen has had it in for Erica ever since. Erica and I sort of became friends while we worked together on the show, but I never told Gen that. I just told her about Erica’s eating disorder, the reason Erica left the show, something which everyone knew about anyway.
Damn it, she’s coming our way.
I stand up and wave, trying to look like I want her to come over since avoiding a confrontation between Gen and Erica is no longer an option.
“Erica!” I squeal with pretend excitement.
“Sabrina, you look amazing.”
“Of course she does,” Gen says, also standing now.
I look Erica over, relieved to see she’s put on a bit of weight. “You look good too.”
Gen puts her hand on her hip and glares at Erica. “You’re wearing my dress.”
“I didn’t know you’d be wearing the same dress, did I?” Erica remarks. “It’s not like I called Sabrina and asked her what you’d be wearing so we could come in the same thing.”
Gen smiles, but it’s her evil smile, and before I have time to steer her away, Gen launches her first grenade. “I’m surprised you’re not worried about how fat you look now that you’ve stopped throwing up.”
The colour drains from Erica’s face, and her mouth tilts down at the corners. “You’re a bitch, Genevieve.”
“A bitch that doesn’t need to throw up to stay skinny. Everyone knows you spent years with your head stuck in a toilet bowl. The only reason you stopped is because Sabrina told the producers about your problem.”
The look of utter betrayal in Erica’s eyes as she turns on me hits me square in the stomach.
“It was you?”
After months of debating with myself over whether I should and trying to talk Erica into seeing someone about stopping, I had realized the problem was bigger than me. “You needed help, Erica.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t say anything.”
“You wouldn’t listen to me when I said you needed to stop.”
“I’ve spent all this time wondering how they found out.” She shakes her head, the betrayal in her eyes making me feel a little bit sick in the stomach. “I thought they were wrong when they told me you were jealous of me.”
Remorse morphs into rage, and I scoff at her. “Jealous? Hardly.”
I wanted to help her. Jealousy was the farthest thing from my mind. Why should I be jealous when I rule supreme in Sydney? Everyone knows who I am here. I’m royalty, thanks to my mother and my career. Erica is new to the scene, and maybe the other actress has some talent, but I’m not jealous… I can make or break people, and if I wanted to break her, I could have.
I would have.
“Who told you that?” I ask. “Because they know nothing.”
“Why else would you have me fired from the show? I thought we were friends.”
Gen laughs. “As if. She was just using you to do all her dirty work.”
In the beginning, it might have started out like that. Erica wanted to be friends rather desperately, and I’d taken advantage of her neediness, asking her to run errands for me when my assistant was busy with other things. But I’d started to like her.
Erica’s eyes, which looked teary before, now glint with fury. “You made me your lackey and then had me fired.”
“That’s not-“
“You’re worse than she is,” Erica says, nodding in Gen’s direction and then storming away.
Gen places her hand on my arm, sensing my indecision over whether I should follow her so I can try and explain. “That cow thinks she’s better than us; she got off lightly. Look, the guys are coming back.”
Sure enough, the smell of cigarette smoke hits me just before I see James appear next to me.
“What’s going on?” Aaron asks, seeing my face as James pulls me closer.
Gen rolls her eyes. “Just Erica Stanton getting up in Sabrina’s face.”
“What’s the problem?” James asks. “She’s a no one.”
“Exactly. If Sabrina sabotaged her, she had it coming,” Gen says.
“I didn’t sabotage her.”
But it is unlikely Erica would believe me now anyway, thanks to Gen. And she thinks I was jealous. If she really believes that… well, we weren’t friends anyway, were we?
“Let’s keep dancing,” James suggests, taking my hand and trying to pull me with him.
“I need the bathroom,” I say, letting go of his hand. “I’ll meet you down there.”
It isn’t a lie, but I also just want a minute to myself. Suddenly the music seems too loud, and I can feel a headache coming on. The night that I’ve looked forward to for the past six months is losing its shine.
I’m focusing on the missing sequin on my Jane LeMure clutch as I walk out of the bathroom, instead of where I’m going, so I don’t see the wall of hard muscle before walking into it.
“Excuse me,” I say, not bothering to look at who I’ve just walked into.
My gaze is forced upwards, however, when rough hands grip my upper arms, calloused fingers brushing over my sensitive skin. Dark eyes bore into mine, and I’m suddenly breathless as I look into his face, his musky scent wrapping around me, and swift heat kicks me low in the stomach as I remember the way I danced for him and the way his eyes burned me alive with their fiery caress.
“Gabe Bradley,” I murmur.
He smiles at me, but it isn’t the same sort of smile he offered me earlier. There’s something harsh about it.
Suddenly unsure of his intentions, I try to pull away. “I’m sorry, but I’m here with someone.”
“You think I want you?” He laughs. Actually laughs.
My face prickles with heat. I can’t remember the last time I felt humiliated or embarrassed, yet I do right now. “Excuse me?” My voice pitches.
“You heard me. Your conversation with Erica Stanton? I heard most of it. You’re a real piece of work, Sabrina Manning.”
It’s Manning-Somerset, but I don’t correct him. “You know nothing about me.”
“I know more than I want to. You think you can hurt whoever you like and damn the consequences. Your mum is famous, so you feel justified treating other people like they’re beneath you. Your mum is the star, not you. You’ve ridden on her coattails all your life. That doesn’t make you important. Nor does it give you the right to be a complete bitch.”
I shake my head, trying to make sense of what he’s saying – of the disgust I can see in his eyes – of the horrible things he’s saying to me. And when it finally sinks in, anger sharpens my tongue.
“And you think you’re important? I didn’t even know who you were before this evening. By next year, you’ll be forgotten. You’re a nobody, Gabe Bradley.”
Even as I say the words, I don’t feel that they’re right. There’s something about him, despite his age, his too-long hair. Standing this close to him, he has… something. Charisma, or maybe presence. I don’t know. But whatever it is, it makes me think Gen might be right about him. He’s going to be big. And this city? It might not be big enough for the two of us.
He laughs cruelly. “I’ll be someone. The difference between you and me is that I’ll make it from raw talent and hard work, not because of who my mother is.”
Growing up in the world of actors, I’ve digested more catty comments than calories. I’ve heard envy and jealousy drip from my co-stars’ lips. His comments are really no different, are they?
“Maybe I landed my first job because of who she is, but she’s not here pulling strings anymore. I’ve gotten this far from hard work.”
“If you were any good, you’d be in L.A. following in her footsteps. Instead, you’re a second-rate actress who can’t make it onto the big screen. She didn’t even take you to L.A. with her.”
His comment strikes at the heart of me – to the abandonment I’ve always felt and pushed down.
“Then why am I flying out there in two months, huh?”
I hadn’t had any plans to do so before now. No plans at all to leave the country, at least not ones set in concrete, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it. I want something more than the boring roles I’ve been cast in lately, and I can’t get it here in Sydney. I’ll finish my contract, and I’ll go.
I ignore the doubt twirling through me at the thought of what Mum will say about my move. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It’s time for me to go.
Gabe snorts. “Maybe you’ll prove me wrong and become a big star.”
His eyes are doubtful. The worst thing? I almost believe in that moment that he’s right about me, that any success I have won’t be mine.
“I should get back to my date,” I say, pulling my arms free.
Gabe’s eyes are cold, and his smile is even colder. “James Kerry, right?”
“Yes.”
“He was out on the balcony before with his tongue down someone else’s throat. I actually felt sorry for you for a moment, but I think you deserve each other.”
He walks away before I can come back at him with anything.
I stand there for a full minute, letting wave after wave of anger wash over me. Then I march down the stairs to the dance floor, searching for James.
When I get to him, I put my hand on his arm and try to drag him off the dance floor. He digs his heels in, frowning at me, forcing me to confront him with the too-loud music reverberating in my ears. “Were you out on the balcony kissing someone else!” I shout.
He looks around at the people eyeing us curiously. “Come on, Brin, don’t cause a scene.”
“So, you were?”
“We’re not exclusive. You know that.”
But we’re at the A.T.I.A after-party, and I’m his date, and he has added to my humiliation in front of Gabe, something I won’t forgive him for.
“Then we’re not together,” I snap.
Now well and truly over my first official A.T.I.A. after-party, I leave the club and climb into the back of the first limo I see in the area for the after-party attendees in front of the casino.
After giving the driver my address, I take out my phone and dial my mother’s number. “Sabrina, darling, how are you? Isn’t it the A.T.I.A. night?”
“Yes, but I just had this thought. I’m going to finish up on Pan’s Island and move to L.A.”
“Really? That’s… why, that’s wonderful news, darling.”
She’s excited, right? Doubt over my impulsive decision sweeps through me.
“Are you sure that’s what you want, though?” she asks quietly. “You’ve done so well in Sydney.”
“Exactly, it’s time for me to conquer new ground. Besides, this way we can spend more time together.”
“I’m a busy woman, darling.”
“I know, Mum, but if I’m there in L.A….”
“Sabrina, I’m in the middle of shooting a scene. I only picked up because I thought you might want to tell me you won the Best Actress Award.”
“Okay,” I mutter. “Unfortunately, that was Mackenzie Lauren.”
“Well, she’s certainly talented. I have to go now, Sabrina. We’ll speak soon.”
Mum hangs up before I get a chance to say goodbye.
Sighing, I slip my phone back into my clutch, resting my forehead on the cold, tinted window of the limousine and staring out at the city streets. Maybe Mum thinks it’s a bad idea for me to move. Maybe, like Gabe, she thinks I won’t make it, and she’s trying to protect me. But I don’t need protecting. I’ll prove both of them wrong. Mum will be proud of me when I land a part in a blockbuster movie and make a real name for myself. And Gabe Bradley? I’ll make sure he eats every single one of his words.
Elle Fielding 
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