Fallin' for the Fame - Chapter 11
Fame or Fortune?
Previously: A quiet night with Legend brought simmering feelings to the surface. But one email from Justin reminded Sam that her past wasn’t finished with her yet.
11
“How’s it going, Indigo? You look beautiful today.”
She bows her head, her smile dazzling as she strolls down the sidewalk, a Fendi shopping bag swinging from her hand. Her voice is as sweet and soft as sugar. “Thank you.”
“Indigo, over here!”
“Indigo, we love you!”
She giggles, running her long, perfectly manicured nails through her hair, her gaze lifting to admire the towering buildings around us. DIOR, GUCCI, and BVLGARI gleam in the sunlight, like proof she belongs here. Photographers circle us like sharks, their cameras snap, snap, snapping away.
Kelly must’ve made a few calls to give the paparazzi a heads-up about Indigo’s Friday shopping spree on Rodeo Drive, because they’ve come out in full force. Three whole stores have shut down for her.
As we weave down the sidewalk, I keep my head low, hoping to blend in. Tourists clog the cobblestone street, some too busy snapping pics of the rare celebrity sighting to notice me, others striking their own poses for selfies. Palm trees sway lazily in the breeze, tulips bursting with color along the edges of the boulevard. Effortlessly picture-perfect. Pop music spills from every boutique, blending with the low growl of luxury cars rolling past, as if the entire street is showing off.
I switch the heavy bags to my other hand and flex my fingers. Man, these things are heavy. And this girl has a serious shoe addiction.
Indigo gives a dainty wave as more photographers snap away, her fro-hawked bodyguard, Chloe, at her side, ensuring the crowd keeps their distance. Kelly and I trail behind them, playing the role of a low-key entourage.
“Here’s a note,” says Kelly, elbowing me, a playful grin hidden behind her Cartier sunglasses, “always carry shades.”
I laugh softly, but my neck heats. “How could I forget?” I glance away, pretending to study the window display. Someone who’s been in the industry a while should know that sort of thing. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“You look great, by the way,” says Kelly, her tone casual but sincere.
“Oh? Thanks.”
Indigo drove us in her Continental GT convertible today, and by some miracle, we arrived in one piece. We were just about to get out when she looked over my strapless jumpsuit and insisted I stay in the car. A few moments later, she returned with this flowy camisole and white cut-off shorts —a gift from the nearest store. She raised the collapsible roof, demanding that I change before stepping out of the car. Honestly, I didn’t see what was wrong with what I was wearing. In my opinion, vintage is always in style.
We’re headed into another designer clothing shop when my phone chimes. It’s Legend, shooting me a photo of Indigo looking gorgeous while shopping. The photographers are already posting them online.
A second message pops up. It’s the same photo but zoomed in to catch me in the background. I’m squinting in the sun, making a face like I smell something awful, looking like a total dork. Legend hearts the photo.
SAM: OMG I couldn’t look worse!
LEGEND: You look beautiful. 😍
My stomach spins like a carousel on overdrive. I reply with an LOL. I want to believe him.
The store employees glide around the space, moving furniture with practiced ease, setting out crystal trays of champagne and sparkling water, catering to Indigo’s every whim. The whole place feels like it's been transformed into a personal runway just for her, the polished floors gleaming under the soft, golden lights. Every movement, every gesture is part of the show—the kind of world I’ve only seen in movies or on a theater stage.
LEGEND: How’s it going?
The twisted paper shopping bag handles dig into my wrists as I type.
SAM: Not gonna lie. Kinda wanna quit right now.
LEGEND: Aw. 😟 Come on, beautiful! You gonna leave me hanging?
Indigo cackles as one of the employees passes her a tall glass of champagne.
SAM: Never.
“You can set the bags right there on the sofa, as long as you stay close,” Kelly whispers, sliding off her shades. “Your hands are turning red.”
With a slow breath, I gladly take advantage of the opportunity. “Thanks.”
A server passes me a champagne flute, but before I can sip, Kelly swipes it from my hand.
“You know better! Indigo needs you one hundred percent sober in case you have to drive. Also, in case of a random drug test.” She tosses back her own glass and sets it aside, then takes a seat on the sofa with mine. She pats the spot beside her, inviting me to take a load off.
Indigo is chatting with the manager while the employees roll out a long line of designer dresses. I nod and take a seat.
“So,” Kelly smirks, tugging at the denim jacket she’s paired with her black maxi dress. “Almost two weeks with Indigo now. How you feelin’?”
“Good. It’s been… really nice,” I say, my voice a little too light.
“Really? ’Cause the bags under your eyes speak volumes.”
I throw a hand to my cheek, and she busts out laughing.
“Oh my gosh! I’m just messing with you.” She grins. “But seriously, I’ve been working with Indigo for years. You really think I don’t know how she treats her staff?”
I go still, a knot forming in my throat. I rack my brain for a clever response but draw nothing but blanks.
Kelly chuckles again, patting my knee. “It’s fine. You don’t have to answer.”
A weight lifts off my shoulders as I release a quiet breath. Keeping up with this job has been more difficult than I ever thought it would be. If it weren’t for Legend, I would’ve quit days ago. But he’s infatuated with the girl. And if I want to protect him, I need to stay close enough to see the train wreck coming.
Kelly takes a swig of my champagne. “Look, I know Indigo can be… a lot.”
Across the room, an employee presents a dress to Indigo. She scowls, snatching it from the hanger and crumpling it in her hands before tossing it back in the employee’s face.
Kelly rolls her brown eyes back to me. “But she’s a talented girl, been through more than most.”
Okay. I’m curious. “How long have you worked with her?”
“A little over seven years now.”
Wow. So if anyone knows about Indigo, it would be her.
“That’s a long time,” I say. “You must be a fan.”
She smiles at her glass. “Guess you could say that.”
Okay. Here’s my chance. I need to get to the bottom of what keeps guys like Legend sniffing around. And who better to ask than the one person who’s been promoting Indigo for nearly a decade? “So, what’s your secret? To sticking around, I mean.”
Kelly tilts her head, watching Indigo lounge on a chaise like Cleopatra. “Most people stop at the surface—the stuff they see on social media and TV. They only see what they want to see. I see her for who she is.”
I watch as Kelly takes another sip. “And who is she?” I ask.
Kelly smiles, her smoky eye shadow dancing. “She’s human. Just like you and me.”
Meanwhile, Indigo purses her lips, pouring what’s left of her drink down the front of another dress. I guess more people care for this chick than I thought.
“That’s why you’re perfect for her,” says Kelly.
I blink, my brain scrambling. “Excuse me?” I’m not sure if I’m supposed to laugh or be offended.
“Look, you’re not fooling anyone. It’s clear that you’ve never worked for Rihanna—or anyone close to her team—but I can tell, you’ve got a genuine heart.” Kelly slaps me on the arm with a little too much force. “You’re the first assistant she’s had who isn’t just out for themselves.”
I swallow hard. If only she knew. Getting close to Indigo is just the means to an end.
Kelly studies me for a beat, then leans in. “So, I need your help.”
“My help?” The words come out slower than I intend. “What do you—what do you mean?”
“Indigo’s hitting a club tonight, and I need you to keep her out of trouble.”
I frown. “But I thought you told her to lay low. For PR and all that.”
“Yeah, but when Indigo wants what she wants…” She shrugs, her nonchalance almost irritating. “Just be a friend. Gentle reminders. That sort of thing.”
Gentle? That’s not exactly Indigo’s speed. She’s a walking hurricane, leaving destruction in her wake with a smile on her face. Still, I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.
“Obviously, I know exactly who you are,” says Kelly. And my stomach bottoms out.
I hold her gaze, refusing to blink or even breathe.
“Who I am?” I manage to croak, but Kelly doesn’t answer right away. She takes her time, lifting my champagne flute and swirling what’s left. Her fingers trace the rim, lingering. Deliberate. Testing.
“Yeah,” she finally says. “The way you’ve gone out of your way to get this job?” She pins me with a sober gaze. “You clearly stan her.”
The tension snaps like a rubber band. I force out a laugh—too light, too breezy. “You got me.”
Kelly leans in, dropping her voice just above a whisper. “So just remember everything you love about her. And do whatever you can to protect that image for all her other fans. The Indies will thank you.”
That’s right. The Indies. Indigo’s die-hard fan club. The ones that’ll kill me if I let anything happen to their precious princess.
I’m just resigning to my assignment when Indigo snatches a dress off the rack.
“Hey, new girl! Come try this on for me!”
I’m checking my phone as Indigo tosses back her third shot.
“Whoo! Let’s go, ladies!” She pounds against the window of her limo, bouncing in her seat like a firecracker ready to explode.
She’s like a dam about to burst, all the frustration from being cooped up for a week flooding out.
SAM: I think she’s drinking vodka. Should I say something?
I tap my phone, glancing at her out the corner of my eye.
KELLY: Wow. She’s going hard tonight. Don’t let her do more than that.
SAM: I’ll do my best.
I shiver, tugging at the hem of my satin red cowl-neck dress as Indigo dances in the seat across from me. She insisted that if I was going to travel with her, I had to look the part. At least she let me keep my high ponytail tonight.
Legend finally responds to the selfie I sent him earlier.
LEGEND: 🤤 Hey! 🔥🔥🔥Look at you! Got one of Indigo?
Of course. Still orbiting her.
SAM: Not yet. But I’ll try to get one for you.
We pass the crowd out front and pull into VIP. Flashes burst like fireworks, velvet ropes rippling with tension.
SAM: We’re here. Good luck with your show!
Legend’s giving that private concert tonight and has been pretty down about it.
LEGEND: Good luck to you too! Keep my girl out of trouble. Aiight?
I’m mid-reply when Indigo plucks the phone from my hands.
“Wait, wait, wait—”
She stares at me blankly as she shuts the phone off and drops it in the bin beside her. She and Chloe’s phones are in the bin as well. “No cameras,” she says. “Not tonight.”
I gaze at the bin, my pulse kicking up. No phone? No lifeline? What if I need help? What if Legend texts me something sweet, and I miss it forever? I swallow hard.
“Now, let’s party!” Indigo tosses her hands in the air, gyrating in her Louis Vuitton halter-top as Chloe jumps out to open her door.
The paparazzi descend like wild dogs, their voices rising in a chaotic chorus—snapping shutters, shouting over each other, jostling for the best angle.
“Indigo! Indigo!”
“Ms. Taylor, over here!”
“Indigo! You lookin’ to have a good time tonight?”
The flashes strobe like a disco ball on overdrive, casting Indigo in a flickering spotlight made for red carpets and chaos.
She steps out like a queen entering her court, gliding through the frenzy like she was born for it. Tossing megawatt smiles left and right, her diamond-studded nails catching the light as she waves. She doesn’t rush, doesn’t flinch, just basks in the attention like its warm sunshine.
The club is one of Hollywood’s most exclusive spots. A playground for the rich, famous, and those lucky enough to slip past the velvet rope. Not so private that it’s a secret, but exclusive enough that just getting through the doors is a status symbol. At least, that’s what Legend tells me.
Then, as if the chaos outside never existed, we step into the club, swallowed by darkness and the steady thump of bass.
I can’t figure out if all the pounding is from my chest or the music inside. The bass rattles through the walls, vibrating through the floor like a heartbeat in my toes. Neon lights flicker in a dizzying swirl of purples and blues, casting hazy shadows over a packed dance floor where bodies move like liquid.
In all my years with Justin, I never thought about stepping foot in a place like this—neither of us was the partying type. Now, under the strobe lights and the weight of a hundred eyes sizing us up, I have no idea what to do with myself. Indigo also had me leave my purse in the car, so I’m stuck with my arms, awkward and misplaced. I cross them, then drop them to my sides. Nope, too stiff. Hands on my hips? Too posey. I settle for shoving them in my pockets… only to remember, I don’t have any.
Awesome. I’m just one accidental robot dance away from completely embarrassing myself.
The place is alive, buzzing with heat, sound, and way too much money in one room. It’s a swirling mix of sweaty bodies, flashing lights, and designer everything. A sea of gorgeous women in barely-there dresses, guys dripping in chains and flexing like they own the place. Up on platforms, dancers twist under neon lights, moving like they don’t have a single care in the world.
Waitresses weave through the crowd in stilettos, carrying champagne bottles topped with sparklers flickering in the dim light. A DJ is at the center of a towering platform, head bobbing to the thumping rhythm, as he mixes a relentless stream of trap music.
Indigo makes her way through the throng, her body moving effortlessly to the bass-heavy beat. Meanwhile, I’m stuck behind Chloe, who’s strolling like she’s in a museum on a Sunday afternoon, scanning the crowd like a security camera on legs.
“Excuse me. Chloe!” I tap her shoulder.
Big mistake. She whips around, staring me down like some sort of pissed Rottweiler.
I give my best smile. “Would you mind if I jumped in front of you? I’m trying to keep up with Ms. Indigo.” My voice is practically a yell over the music.
Chloe blinks once. Slow. Silent.
O-kay. I take a step back. “Never mind. Go ahead.”
By the time I finally squeeze past a group of overexcited clubbers, Indigo’s already at the bar, laughing with some girls I’m sure I’ve seen on TV.
The bartender slides a drink her way, and she tosses it back.
“Indigo! Indigo!” I wave an arm, squeezing in the huddle. “Maybe you shouldn’t—”
The starlet and her group of associates stop and stare at me.
Is… this not allowed or something?
In an instant, all of them are howling with laughter.
Indigo doubles over, clutching her bare midriff. “I’m sorry, y’all. This is my new basic assistant. Obviously, she ain’t used to this yet!”
“She ’bout to get turnt up tonight!” One friend cackles, and the other ladies join in.
“Right?!” Indigo slings an arm around me, still grinning as she waves them goodbye. Her voice drops low and venomous in my ear. “Keep out of my way, or your scrawny ass is fired. Got it?”
My gaze fixes on the sticky floor as I nod.
“Gabriel!” Indigo tugs me toward a guy with low-cut waves, sharp cheekbones, and hazel eyes. The diamond studs in his ears glint under the shifting lights as he pulls her into a slow lingering hug, his hands resting low on her waist.
“It’s been forever!” she purrs. “Where ya been?”
He shrugs, dragging his gaze down her body and back up again. “You know me. Always in the studio.”
“Always!” Indigo smirks, directing his attention to me. “Gabe, this is my girl, Samara. Gabe’s a music producer, Sam.”
Before I can react, she eases behind him, winking as she mouths something like Great lay! Then, with a playful thumbs-up, she backs away into the crowd.
Shoot. I’d go after her, but Gabe is in my way.
He steps closer, taking my hand, his fingers trailing over my palm before he lifts it to his lips. His mouth is warm, lingering just long enough to make my pulse jump. “What’s up, Samara?” His voice is rich, low, like a slow bassline. “You new to Hollywood?”
My eyes drift over his shoulder, catching the last glimpse of Indigo’s platinum ponytail weaving through the crowd, Chloe’s frohawk trailing behind her. “I guess you could say that.”
I should’ve known she’d pull something like this. I’d leave now, but I gave Kelly and Legend my word. Plus, I left my phone with the girl’s driver.
Gabe watches me, his smirk lazy, full of quiet confidence. “Fame or fortune?”
“Excuse me?”
He leans in, his breath warm against my ear, the spicy scent of his cologne teasing like a dare. “Fame or Fortune? You tryna to get famous off your talents, or make some money?”
Gabe flashes a smile so captivating, it almost pulls me in. I catch a glimpse of his Cuban link chain, shining in the strobe lights, and the silk of his designer shirt sliding across his broad chest. He’s a charmer. Confident. Easy on the eyes. A vibe.
But he’s not Legend. Legend doesn’t have to try this hard. He just… shows up. Says the right thing. Smirks, and my whole system resets.
Gabe holds a fist in his hand, waiting for my answer.
“Honestly? I don’t have a single skill that would make me famous. And money wouldn’t solve my problems.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So, neither?”
I shake my head, Legend’s laugh echoing in the back of my mind like one of his hit songs.
“I guess you could say I’m looking for fortune.”
A grin stretches across Gabe’s lips, an unspoken gleam in his eye. “Me too.”
The music shifts, and a popular Dua Lipa song pulses through the speakers. Gabe and I start bobbing our heads at the same time, the rhythm syncing effortlessly.
He leans closer, connecting eyes with me. “Wanna dance?”
My heart stutters in my chest. Is this hot, semi-famous guy trying to hook up with me right now? Frankly, I’m flattered.
But Legend’s the reason I’m here in the first place. And I’ve got a job to do.
I smile politely, stepping back. “I’d love to, but—”
I’m interrupted by a loud crash ringing through the air, followed by the collective gasp of the crowd.
“Always running that mouth. I’m about to shut it for you!”
I turn, barely able to catch my balance. My blood goes cold.
That voice is undeniable. I draw in a long breath, turning back to Gabe. “Will you excuse me, please?” I head into the swarm of people before Gabe can answer.
The music dims, and the crowd parts, as I make my way to the center of the dance floor. Indigo is screaming, a broken vodka bottle clutched in her hand like a dagger. Oh no.
Selina Auber, from Let’s Have Tea—the daily Hollywood gossip show—is standing off to the side, her feather boa bunched at her throat like a shield.
“Indigo, honey, no one is here to fight with you!” says Selina, her voice trembling like she’s holding back tears.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Indigo shouts. “What you got to say now, huh?!”
She lunges forward, and the crowd releases another dramatic gasp. Everyone, including Selina, takes a step back. Indigo lets out a bitter laugh. “You scared now, huh? Got a whole lot to say on your little panel. What you got to say now? Huh?!”
Chloe, looking more exhausted than concerned, rolls her eyes and gingerly grabs Indigo’s arm. But Indigo yanks out of her grip like a toddler having a tantrum in the toy store.
I can’t say I’m surprised to see Indigo flare up with Selina in the room. The clip of the panelist giving her opinion of Indigo went viral months ago. The girl broke my man’s heart and even I’ve gotta admit, the woman dragged Indigo hard.
“I’ll show you a ‘washed-up child actress!’ Come here!” Indigo screeches, charging at Selina again, but Chloe snatches her up this time, yanking the bottle from her hands.
Selina, like the smart woman she is, scampers off into the crowd.
“Yeah!” screams Indigo. “You better run, bi-atch! I’mma catch you outside!”
Chloe shushes her, trying not to draw any more attention.
But it’s already too late. Because unlike us… nobody else left their phone in the car.
Copyright © 2025 Kimberly R. Vargas. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. No part of this publication may be reproduced without permission from the author.
Author’s Note:
Hey y’all! 💕
Thanks so much for checking out this chapter of Fallin' for the Fame! I hope you’re loving Sam’s journey as much as I’ve loved writing it.
New chapters drop every Wednesday, so be sure to stay tuned! And if you're enjoying the drama, romance, and all the twists in between, don’t keep it to yourself—hit that subscribe button and share with a friend who loves a good love story.
I’ll see you next Wednesday!
Kimberly R. Vargas
Romance Author | Storyteller of Healing & Love
Catching up on the series?
😳😳😳 (also love the detail about the awkwardness of Sam not knowing where to put her hands and being afraid she’ll do the robot 😆)