Star Kissed

Star Kissed

By Lizzy Ford

http://www.GuerrillaWordfare.com/

Cover design by Sarian Royal

http://www.Facebook.com/SarianRoyal

MOBI EDITION

Star Kissed
copyright ©2013 by Lizzy Ford

http://www.GuerrillaWordfare.com/

Cover design copyright ©by Sarian Royal

http://www.Facebook.com/SarianRoyal

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

Mandy checked her boarding pass and watch. Somehow, she was always in the last zone called to board. Instead of stacking up with the rest of the passengers crowding the waiting area, she sipped the last of her mocha and reread the email from her agent.

…
self-absorbed, selfish, vain …
She ignored his drama, skipping ahead to the part where he told her when her last paycheck was coming.

His long email cutting her loose was expected after she’d been fired from what could’ve been the shoot that made her career. Well aware of how bad she’d screwed up, she just wished he waited until she was back in LA, instead of making her day worse.

She sighed and put her phone away, listening to the storm pelting the terminal. Only when the gate area was almost empty did she toss her drink and cross to the attendant.

“You guys really fly in this weather?” she asked, gaze on the steely clouds visible through the floor to ceiling windows. She saw no lightening, but rain splattered the windows hard.

“Yes, ma’am, it’s safe to fly.” The attendant said with a heavy New York accent. He didn’t bother looking at the storm.

Easy for you to say when you’re not flying,
she answered silently. She took her ticket and walked down the long hallway to take her place at the end of the line waiting to get on the plane. Pounding rain drowned out the sounds of the chatty family in front of her. She checked her watch again.

“There’s not even a delay,” said the matronly woman in front of her.

“Kinda strange,” Mandy replied. “I’ve seen sprinkles derail flights out of LA for hours.”

“My husband was saying the same thing. He travels for work a lot.”

“So do I,” Mandy said. “So I did.” She sighed. “I mean, I used to.”

“Lose your job?” The woman turned sympathetic. “With this economy, people are losing their jobs right and left.”

“Yeah,” Mandy said. She wasn’t about to tell the kind woman she’d been
fired
because she overslept and missed her ride to the photo shoot with one of the most exclusive photographers in the world. It was only the most important morning of her life: the chance to be in a magazine featured in every checkout aisle of the grocery story and maybe even plastered across Times Square, which she’d seen the first time yesterday, after arriving to New York City from LA.

Or not.
It was only a slim chance anyway. Did it matter that she overslept this morning? There were some big names after the contract; she’d lucked out just to be selected for the pre-shoot.

No one in their right mind was going to want her to model for them after she was fired by one of the biggest agencies in the business. She was heading home from the last gig ever, probably in her career. There’d be no more travel, just a boyfriend she’d outgrown and an apartment whose rent she wouldn’t be able to pay once her last paycheck reached her in a few weeks.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find something,” the woman said, catching her look of desolation. “You’re too pretty not to.”

“I’m sure,” Mandy said.
Maybe pawnshop commercials on local TV channels.
She tried to imagine herself selling gaudy gold rings and old cell phones to strangers. Conscious of the woman’s gaze, Mandy forced a smile and motioned her forward.

The plane wasn’t packed, and she sat in a row of three seats with one other person, a Hispanic man built like a UFC heavyweight, complete with tape over a nose that appeared to be broken. He sat in the window seat while she shoved her stuff under the seat in front of her and sank into the aisle seat.

Rain drowned out the sound of the captain’s welcome. She looked around. No one else seemed concerned about the storm. She gripped the arms of her seat as the plane taxied to the runway. Which was louder: rain falling hard enough to sound like hail or the straining engines?

The take off was smoother than she expected, but the ascent into the clouds rocky. The aircraft’s wings dipped precariously more than once, and it felt as if the clouds were massive water balloons hurling themselves at the plane. The aircraft shook from the storm’s battering. Lightening arced by the aircraft, the white light blinding.

Disgraced runway model Mandy Bennett dies in fiery plane crash.
She could see the headline now. It would be on the last page of her local newspaper, too tiny for anyone to read without glasses. A perfect finish to her miserable career.

Mandy’s eyes went to the window. Fascinated by the play of light and dark, she pushed up the arm dividing her seat from the middle seat and slid over, fastening her seatbelt amidst the bumpy ascent. She leaned around the muscular man. Black and grey storm clouds swallowed the aircraft, making the cabin dark.

“Looks awful,” she murmured.

“What?” he shouted above the sounds of engines and storm.