Map to the Stars Read Online Free PDF

hair down to her butt—slipped out, clutching a leather satchel half her size. She sashayed over to me and placed her bag on the ground, bending over to poke around inside it. She found what she needed and straightened back up.
    â€œLook, sorry about that scene in there. I mean, I’m sure we can agree that what you did was slightly . . . inappropriate. But as Graham’s handler, I can assure you that he values each and every one of his fans and I’d hate for him to lose even a crazy one. No offense. It’s just that you whack jobs are the ones who sit through his movies ten times in a row. Here, please—take this.”
    My jaw hung open as she thrust something into my hand. The elevator opened. I closed my fingers around the paper and stepped inside, turning in time to watch her attempt to hoist her bag back onto her arm, before the doors slid shut and left me in peace. I glanced down at the paper in my hand, which turned out to be an eight-by-ten glossy photograph of Graham Cabot with his signature scrawled across the bottom half.
    There was nothing else to do but scream in frustration as I crumpledthe picture in my fist. What WAS it with these people? Was a signed headshot the Hollywood equivalent of a Hallmark apology card?
    All of a sudden, I was beginning to question if even the chance to see the glass pyramid at the Louvre in person was remotely worth a summer in the company of these people.
    And . . . welcome to New York.

Chapter Four
    The elevator doors slid open on the fourth floor to reveal my bag-bundled mother.
    â€œHey, sweetie. I just stopped off in our room to drop some things. Sorry that took so long. I ended up getting a tad bit lost, but I managed to get everything. How’s it looking up there?” She used her foot to prop open the elevator doors while she wrestled with a bag.
    â€œHow it’s looking is filled to capacity with one person’s ego, that’s how it’s looking,” I said, still seething.
    Mom cocked her head. She pulled her foot from the door and used a free hand to jerk me out into the hallway. “I don’t understand. Whose ego? Oh my God, wait . . . are you saying Graham’s here already? He’s not due for another hour.” Her voice squeaked a little as she finished the sentence.
    However, I was not at all ready to be done with my own tantrum. Not by a long shot. I needed to vent and Mom had landed right in the path of my hurricane. Something about knowing someone was boundby blood to love me made me a hundred percent less worked up over my confrontation with them.
    â€œOh, more than likely he commands the tailwinds as well as everyone and everything else. Because he’s here all right. And he is not . . .” I tossed about for a strong enough word but couldn’t find one acidic enough to do my rant justice. I settled for: “. . . pleasant. To say the least.”
    Mom had a “don’t even tell me” look on her face. “Annabelle Mae,” she said, with a warning note to her voice. “Pray tell, what happened?”
    â€œWhy do you automatically assume I did something? I mean, okay, fine, I was asleep in his bed. Whatever. The guy didn’t have to automatically jump to his pervy conclusions. At least he could have waited to hear my side of things instead of just assuming I was there to seduce him. I mean, seriously? His ego is bigger than that building out his window!”
    Mom was clearly not compelled by my defense. Through clenched teeth, she asked, “Are you saying Graham came into his hotel room after a long day of traveling and discovered a perfect stranger asleep in his bed?”
    â€œWell, when you put it like that, I mean, yeah, but Mom, you should have seen him completely fly off the handle. The guy was a total creeper!”
    â€œWho could blame him?” She put one hand on her hip and then the other, a gesture I matched hand for hand. We stood staring each other