And that alone told me she was stronger than she thought she was. Stronger than Tod thought she was.

Good. She’d have to be.

“Okay, then, the first thing we want to know…” He glanced at me for confirmation, and I nodded in spite of the suspicious glint shining in Tod’s eyes. Nash and I had already discussed this. “Is how you got yourself into this mess. Why the hell would you sell your soul? I know I’m looking at your life from the outside, but I gotta say that from where we stand, it looks like you’ve got everything you could ever want.”

Addison smiled wistfully, regretfully, as Tod glared at us. “I do now.” she said, her famous, melodic voice so soft I could barely hear it. “But when they came to me with this deal, I had nothing but dreams and desperation. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it’s the truth. They said they could make or break me, and they were right.”

“Who?” I asked, speaking for the first time since we’d entered her room.

“Dekker Media.”

A chill swept the length of my body, leaving me cold from the inside out.

Dekker Media was an entertainment titan. They had theme parks, production studios, television channels, and more large-scale marketing clout than any other company in the world. Dekker Media had its sticky fingers in every pie imaginable. Kids grew up watching their movies, listening to their CDs, playing with their toys, wearing their officially licensed shoes and clothes, and sleeping between sheets plastered with the faces of their squeaky-clean, family-friendly stars.

The company was pervasive. Ubiquitous. Obnoxious.

They signed most of their stars straight out of junior high, churning out one teenage cash cow after another.

“Wait, I don’t understand,” Nash said, having obviously regained his head before I had. “You sold your soul to Dekker Media?” He frowned at me briefly, then let his gaze slide toward his brother. “I thought she sold it to a hellion.”

“She did.” Tod’s jaw bulged in barely repressed anger. “But the deal went through John Dekker himself.”

Wow. I was stunned into silence for the second time in as many minutes.

John Dekker was the CEO and public face of Dekker Media, grandson of the legendary company founder, and more recognized by tweens around the world than the U.S. president.

“Okay, can you start from the beginning?” I leaned back on the couch, my head swimming from information overload.

Addison nodded, and once she got started, the words flowed quickly, and I had to listen carefully to keep up.

“It was two years ago, just after I turned sixteen. The Private Life of Megan Ford had just finished its first season and was up for renewal. John Dekker found me on the set on the first day of filming the second season and took me to his office. Alone. He said thatthe ratings were only okay so far, and that whether or not the show continued was up to me. It was my choice. But that if I wanted it badly enough, Megan Ford could be a huge hit. Make me famous. Make me rich.”

“You sold your soul for fame and fortune?” Nash asked, contempt so thick in his voice I almost looked down to see if some had dripped on the carpet.

Addison flinched, but Tod spoke up, his own anger rivaling Nash’s. “It wasn’t like that. Don’t you remember her family? Her dad was long gone and her mom was unemployed. Always strung out on one pill or another. They were living on Addy’s income, and Dekker told her that if she didn’t sign on the dotted line, that would all dry up. That he’d make sure she never worked again. He said her mother would go to jail for prescription drug fraud and neglect, and Addy and her little sister, Regan, would be split up in foster care.”

Addison’s hands shook in her lap, but she added nothing to Tod’s speech. Nor did she deny any of it.

“He scared the shit out of her, Nash.”

“Did you tell anyone?” I asked gently, trying not to upset her any more than she already was. “Your mom?” But I knew as soon as I said it that her mother would have been no help. “A friend?”

Addison nodded miserably. “I told Eden.” She sniffled, obviously holding back sobs. “She’d done a guest spot on the show, and we’d become friends. She said I was lucky. That they only offered that deal to the best of us. The ones with real star potential. She said she’d signed two years ago and hadn’t regretted it for a minute. And her first CD had just gone platinum. Platinum!” she repeated, glancing at Tod in desperation, begging him with her eyes to believe her. To understand her decision. “I could sign on to be a star, or I could put the entire crew out of work and let my family starve. I did it for them….”

I saw the struggle on Nash’s face. He understood her choice. But he didn’t want to.

However, I’d already moved on to the bigger picture.

They only offered that deal to the best of us. Addison’s words haunted me, and their implication sent fresh chills down my spine to pool in my limbs as my teeth began to chatter.

They’d done it before. A lot. Dekker Media was making deals with demons—and letting its teenage stars pay the price.

7

“WAIT, DEKKER MEDIA is blackmailing kids into selling their souls?” Nash looked as horrified as I felt.

“Honestly, I doubt we all had to be blackmailed.” Addison leaned back in the hotel chair and ran her palms nervously over designer jeans–clad thighs.

Nash glanced across the coffee table from her to Tod. “But how does that benefit the company?”