Fifteen Minutes

in her own hit TV show. Back then she was America’s sexiest sweetheart. Every day Kelly worked so America wouldn’t forget.

The phone in her hand vibrated. A quick glance and she frowned. Her manager shouldn’t be calling now. Makeup was already poised over her, analyzing the shades and colors and choices that would make Kelly look best under the studio lights. Kelly held up her hand and the makeup artist stepped back. Rudy Smith had been with her since the beginning so she took the call. “Rudy.” Her impatience was part of the routine. “We roll cameras in less than an hour. What’s up?”

“I know your schedule. I booked you, remember?” He sounded tired.

“Fine. What’s wrong? Tell me this is urgent. Otherwise you wouldn’t call me till tonight, right?”

Rudy sighed. “It can’t wait.” His words seemed slower than usual, as if he dreaded what was coming. His hesitation drove her crazy. “We presented Cal with the divorce papers today. Like you asked. Kelly . . . he won’t sign. He absolutely refuses.”

“What?” She didn’t mean to shriek. She couldn’t help it. She waved her team off and hurried from the chair to the hallway. Where no one could watch her or quote her or snap a picture of her with an expression that would damage her reputation. She dropped her voice. “He has to sign the papers. He said he would.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything.”

“Isn’t that what he said?” She paced a few feet away from the dressing room door and back. “I have a boyfriend, for heaven’s sake. I’ve moved on. Of course he has to sign.” She felt her heartbeat quicken, felt the heat in her face. She wanted to hit something. “What game is he playing? We’ve been over this.”

“He’s changed his mind. Says he wants to work things out.” Rudy sounded baffled. “He doesn’t believe in divorce. That’s what he’s saying now. He won’t sign even if you never talk to him again. His words.”

He didn’t believe in divorce? Kelly laughed, but it sounded more bitter than funny. “This is what people like us do. They get divorced. What do you mean he doesn’t believe in it?”

“You’d have to ask him.” She could almost see Rudy slumped in his big leather chair.

Kelly paced again for several seconds. She stopped and closed her eyes. The past grabbed at her and for a few seconds she could see Cal Whittaker III on the day they married, feel his arms around her, hear him whispering to her as they danced in front of their family and friends. “I’m never leaving you, Kelly . . . never.” They were just twenty-two.

“Kelly?” Rudy was waiting for her orders.

The image in her mind disappeared. Who were they back then? Time had changed them into different people. Cal had been photographed with Europe’s hottest print model, and Kelly was dating the nation’s most- loved singer, a guy ten years younger than her, an American Idol finalist from a few seasons ago. As for Cal, there was no way back to the people they used to be.

She let her forehead rest against the wall. “I’m tired, Rudy. Tell Cal to quit playing games. Give him two months to sign the papers. I don’t want our lawyers involved. The press will make it the story of the year.”

“Okay. Two months.” Doubt crept into Rudy’s tone. “I don’t think it’ll work, but I’ll tell him.”

“Fine. Update me tomorrow.”

The call ended, but Kelly stayed unmoving. Her dad’s face filled her mind, the words of his last e-mail pushing in on her. It’s time, baby . . . you need to make things right. With me and your mom . . . with Cal. Your kids need you.

The memory of his voice sounded so clear he might as well have been standing beside her. The man she once admired, the one she hadn’t spoken to in a year. Not since her first affair became public and her dad pulled the God card. His advice never changed. She needed to repent and seek forgiveness and make things right with Cal. Blah, blah, blah.

Kelly breathed in deep through her nose and adjusted her posture. She didn’t need this, didn’t need Cal making life difficult for her, didn’t need the memory of her father’s e-mail. This was the biggest gig she’d had in five years. She was making $5 million for her role as judge this season, and the pre-show publicity had shot her last three albums back to the top of the charts.

Calm. Everything’s okay, Kelly. It’ll be fine. She exhaled and thought about her stylist and makeup artist waiting in the other room. She would go back to her chair and they would transform her, peel away the years so she was even more beautiful than she’d been in her twenties. In an hour she’d be in front of the cameras. Where she belonged. Where she had always belonged. I don’t need Cal’s games. I’m on top of the world. I’m Kelly Morgan.

What does it profit you to gain the whole world and lose your soul?

Kelly jerked back as if she’d been struck by a bullet, straight to her very soul. Had someone said the words or was she only hearing them in her heart? And who was talking to her? She thought for a moment. The words were from . . . They were from the Bible, right? A message from her childhood. Scripture verses meant to make her feel guilty. Why would the words scrape against her anxious heart now, when she didn’t believe any of them?

Her father’s e-mail. That had to be it. Stirring up ancient reminders of guilt and recrimination. The list of things she shouldn’t do. The choices that would send her to hell. She clenched her fists and released them. Peace . . . take hold of peace, Kelly. Her therapist had taught her the trick. Clench and release. Clench and release. Peace is there for the taking.

She could hear the therapist’s voice from the tapes she had bought a month ago. She’d dropped three thousand dollars on them. The woman’s voice soothed her soul. “You have it all. You have goodness and health and beauty and wealth. Peace is yours. Take it. Own it. You define your truth. Choose positivity and energy. You are always master of your own destiny . . .” On and on and on.

Truth. Okay. Kelly clenched her fists and released them. Truth helped. She remained master of her own destiny. Yes, that was truth. Anything to get her mind off the Bible verse about losing her soul. She tapped her high-heeled toe in a rapid beat. The therapist’s truth . . . truth, truth, truth.

What else was true? She was in perfect health, fitter than she’d been at any time in her life. That was truth. That and the fact that her boyfriend was crazy about her. There . . . that was a start. Michael Manning was the hottest guy in music and he was completely in love with her. What else? She racked her brain. People magazine! Of course! She’d been voted one of People magazine’s most beautiful women the week after her role on Fifteen Minutes was announced. Next year she’d be on the cover. That was the sort of truth she needed to fill her mind with.

Peace began to wash over her.

Before she could return to the dressing room her phone rang again and the tension returned with a vengeance. Why couldn’t people leave her alone? Before she could throw it across the room a photo appeared on the home screen. She and Michael Manning locked in a passionate kiss. Michael. The guy had her heart. She took the call, silently chiding herself. Peace is yours. Take it. Own it. She found her most intimate tone. “Hey, sexy.”

“Hey, pretty girl.” Michael chuckled. “I’m higher than a kite, and you’re not here.”

“Mmmm.” Kelly closed her eyes and let her shoulder lean against the cool wall. The hallway was still empty, the moment hers and Michael’s. No one listening, no one taking pictures. “Where are you?”

“Morocco. Plushest hotel room ever. Just finished a meet and greet.” His voice was deep and slurred, the way he sounded when he first woke up. “A fan gave me the weed. It’s amazing.”

Kelly considered what else the fan might have given him. The fan was a girl, no doubt, like all of Michael’s followers. But how old? And had she followed him back to his hotel room?

“You there?”

“Hmm?” Kelly forced the thoughts from her mind. He loves me only. Truth. Stay with the truth. “Sorry. Just picturing you there . . . the room.” Her tone changed as she imagined him. “The bed.”

Michael groaned. “Don’t do that to me. Two weeks till I see you.”

“Then you’re home for a while.”

“In Nashville, yes. Unless you have a better idea.” He breathed deep. “Seriously, this is the greatest pot.”

Kelly was stuck back at the Nashville part. “I’ll be in New York City for the show.”