One morning, Braeden slid an opened envelope
across the table to Sienna.
Sienna read the letter it contained.
Braeden had been offered the role of lead male
in another movie.
“It’s being shot in Greece?”
Sienna asked as she read the letter.
“And do you want to go?”
“Only if you’ll come with me.”
Braeden looked straight at her; his eyes held
their usual earnest expression.
“Oh Braeden! I’d really like to, but I have to
do all these promotions for my latest book, and I’ve basically been forced to
do an interview about Keir’s death, to set the record straight after all those
prying, lying articles in magazines!”
Sienna said sadly.
She hated the thought of being separated from
Braeden, but didn’t want to be the one holding him back.
“No problem! You can sort out all the stuff
about your book, then come stay at the hotel where I’ll be staying. It’ll all
work out, and you can rent out the house while we’re gone. We’ll only be gone a
few months, a year at the most.”
Braeden made it sound so simple, so Sienna
On the day of Braeden’s departure, Sienna felt
like a mother watching her youngest child leave home.
She was filled with pride, because of the way
he’d built such a life for himself. He wasn’t yet sixteen, but he was the actor
everyone wanted, though he’d had to leave school at thirteen.
But then again, Sienna looked back on her own
achievements and realised that she wasn’t yet twenty, but had published twenty
amazing books and was earning thousands, had bought her own house and built up
a fan-base of millions of people.
Sienna spent the next few weeks cleaning the
house, getting the proper insurance allowing her to rent the house out to a
couple of students and such jobs. She’d moved her possessions into the room
that had belonged to Keir. Apart from that, there was no difference in the
room. It was to be locked while the students were renting the house (and of
course there was a lot of people wanting to rent the famous Sienna Blacklust’s
Sienna had left a short list of about five
house-rules pinned to the door of the kitchen (not that she expected any
self-respecting eighteen-year-old to read rules) and had arranged rent-prices.