This ten-shot series contains material not suitable for people under the age of 18.

Inspired by the song "Gasoline" by Halsey. (Listen to it, it's amazing.)

Feedback appreciated. (Please Review!)

"You cannot wake up, this is not a dream.

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being,

with your face all made up, living on a screen.

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline."

"Ally… it's time to get up." My mom's voice sounded exhausted.

I lazily rolled over, clenching my eyes shut as she opened the blinds of my window shutters. Too bright.

Mom stopped being terribly cheery with the wake-up calls and in general a long time ago. Ever since the divorce (due to my career, it seemed) she'd been on antidepressants.

Whenever she woke me up in the morning, she was usually tired. She had issues with insomnia as well.

That day was the day I'd be going to a photo-shoot promoting my new film. I was the main female role, and a new actor named Dallas Centineo would be making his debut as the main male role. We had two sex scenes in the movie, thus making it Rated R, and a one-night-stand in real life.

He claimed it was a no-strings-attached thing, but I'd been paying the price for that night since then by providing him weed and other substances. He stated that the sex did a favor for me, so I had to return it.

"Nice body and nice face, but that's it babygirl. You're too boring and pissy." This is a 'polite' summary of what all of my hook-ups said.

Did you think I was a virgin before Dallas? No, sorry to say. I'd been having sex since the age of 15. Which I don't recommend you do, by the way. I've been paying that price as well.

"Is Arie awake?" I mumbled sleepily, sitting up. I shook my hair out of my eyes, picking up my phone to check the time and my notifications. 11AM.

"Yeah. She was crying earlier for her mommy." My mom chuckled wryly and I nodded, a close-lipped smile knowingly etching across my lips. Arie is my one-year-old daughter. I love her to death.

"You sure she wasn't crying for her grandma?" I teased, shifting so that my feet hung off of the bed, stretching and yawning softly.

"Nope. I was just about to take a bath to fall asleep when she cried for me. Had to be fed again." She was picking out Arie and I's clothes for the day.

"Guess we gotta get Auntie Trish to get more baby food, hm?" I asked rhetorically, getting up and tucking my phone into my black spandex shorts.

Trish was my best friend and assistant manager, but also Arie's part-time caregiver and "aunt". She was responsible for watching her when I was on set or filming.

I didn't trust Arie with anyone besides Trish, myself, and my mom. Well, I didn't trust anyone in general except for the three ladies in my life.

I heard a high-pitched squeal come from the other room. Arie must've been bored—she often made noises to occupy herself. "Mommy's coming, baby!" I yelled from the other room, earning another stubborn squeal.

My mom and I glanced at one another pointedly before I walked quickly out of the room. I grinned at Arie in her playpen. She was using the pen's bars to steady herself on her two feet.

"You want up?" I questioned in a peppy voice, then padded over to take her out. She gave a gummy smile at seeing my face, leaning forward to nuzzle into my shoulder. I giggled.

"Why're you acting so sweet all of a sudden?" I gently tickled her side and kissed her cheek, her cute laugh like music to my ears.

Arie didn't really look like her father, thankfully enough. I had been with him when I was sixteen and he came back from our ugly break-up when I was nineteen to "hook-up" and that night earned me a pregnancy, resulting with Ariana Monica Jackson-Dawson seven months later. (She was born pre-maturely)

The father's name was Trent. He completely cut off contact with me except twice to ask if he could see Arie. I said no both times. He hadn't taken it to court or told the police about it, so I didn't care. I earned the right to be her only parent. I had enough money to not need child support anyway.

I sat on the floor to lean up against the couch with Arie sitting in my lap as a familiar rhythmic knock came from the other side of my apartment door. "Come in!" I called, knowing it was Trish.

She immediately opened the door with her key, running in and shutting the door behind her. "Have you even showered yet!? We gotta get to the set in an hour!"

I had turned on my PS4 to go to Netflix as she spoke. "I can shower in five minutes. Chill."

She opened her bag to snatch a granola bar out of it and threw it at me, my hand instinctively moving to grab it. "Nice, Auntie Trish, you almost threw food at your niece." I deadpanned jokingly, selecting a random "Super Why!" episode for Arie to watch.

"Eat it! We've got thirty minutes 'til need to get on the road! Penny!" Trish shouted for my mother, kicking her shoes off and rushing into my room to make plans with my mom.

I opened the granola bar wrapper lazily, tearing a small piece off of it and popping it into my mouth. Arie's head arched backwards to look up at me, and I chewed goofily.

"Babies can't eat this." I told her. She still looked at me curiously until she heard an interesting sound come from the kid's show on the TV, then faced forward again.

"Ally! Shower! Now!" Trish seemed to be screaming. "Shh! God, I'm coming. You're gonna scare Arie with all your screeching." Trish scoffed as she marched back into the living room again. "Whatever. Get your clothes and shower and I'll keep an eye on her."

I rolled my eyes but stood up with Arie on my hip, handing her to Trish. I seemed to swallow the rest of the granola bar whole as I grabbed my clothes from my mom. After my last chew, I turned to face Trish. "Dress Arie when I'm in the shower then."

Trish groaned as I closed the bathroom door, and I chuckled. Arie hated to be changed so she flailed and kicked when it happened, causing some serious injuries for a one-year-old.

She made me so proud to be a mom with the littlest things.

I leaned against the shower wall, breathing heavily. I seriously needed a cigarette. I had wanted to quit smoking for Arie's sake, but I had succumbed to doing it only when Arie wasn't around. These were the times I wasn't so proud to be a mom.

When one tries to quit an addiction, they still have to do it, only less often, and in smaller quantities. For example, when a smoker tries to quit, they still need to smoke. They're just permitted only a few cigarettes a week or so.

At least, that's what my doctor had insisted I did. Mixed with coming home from a set late at night drunk or high, my body really wasn't in good health.

Physically, I appeared healthy. That's really all the media cared about. My body. My hair. My face. Only sometimes did they care about what I had to say (that didn't "ruin my reputation") or what I did (again, that "didn't ruin my reputation").

The name Ally Dawson rung a bell in millions of people's minds, not to toot my own horn or anything. I was a singer, model, and actress for multiple companies and labels.

I was the face of Sonic Boom, originally the Dawson's family music store in Miami until they made it a national chain across America, some stores were even in the UK. My dad still owns the original shop, only now it's more of my museum if anything.

I got out of the shower after a few minutes of pushing the crave for a cigarette out of my mind and cleaning myself, then began to dry myself off and get dressed.

My phone vibrated, creating a weird sound against the granite counter. I lifted it up to see that I had got a text. Frowning, I put my phone down to begin getting the things to brush my teeth then picked it up again as I used my toothbrush.

It was a new mass text from someone I didn't know.

Hi Miss Dawson! I've been told by one of your companies that this is your private cell phone number and I'm very sorry for using it but this is so important that I couldn't wait for weeks just to get a reply from your business e-mail! My name is Tilly Thompson, I am a Moon Manager and I just need to tell you that I have the biggest opportunity of your career! I'll be at your photo-shoot today at Coronado Beach to tell you more about it, I'll be with one of my main clients!

I spat into the sink and glared at my phone screen, confused. What in the hell was a "Moon Manager"? And who snitched my private phone number? How did she know my shoot was at Coronado Beach!?

Probably another damn acting gig. I took a swig of mouthwash (pretending it was a shot brought somewhat peace to my mind) and swished it in my mouth for a minute before I heard Trish banging on the door.

"It's been 10 minutes! I thought you said you could be done in five!"

I spat into the sink again before opening the door to see an enraged Trish. "And I thought you were changing Arie." I retorted and got an appalled snort in response.

I made my way out of the bathroom and began brushing my long hair out, tossing my phone at Trish for her to catch it clumsily. "Read that BS."

Trish set it on the changing table next to Arie as she dressed her to read it.

"What the hell? Who does that bruja (witch) think she is, stalking us… do you wanna reschedule?" I shook my head as I slipped my converse on. "No, that'd be ridiculous. They're almost done setting up by now. Plus, we can just get Dez to distract her."

Dez was Trish's fiancé, or just the King of Non-Stop Chattering. He'd got me out of tons of interviews and stalkers, just by talking their ears off or changing the subject so drastically that they walked away. I owed him a lot for that.

"Oh, true. I wanted him to take a few shots of you after the crew packs up. You alright with that?" I nodded. I preferred Dez's shoots over Hollywood's any day.

"Okay, Miss Evil, you're all dressed. Does she have any food left?" Trish asked, picking Arie up and walking to the food pantry. "Yeah… we might have to make a stop at the food store—"

"NO WE DON'T!" Trish yelled triumphantly, holding a cup of baby food over her head.

"Trish, that's not gonna feed her tomorrow." I told her, and her smile fell. "We'll do that after the shoot, then. We're already running late. Get your tea made and I'll get Arie's shoes on."

I rolled my eyes, then sighed. It seemed that I couldn't have a single day just coming home from a shoot immediately after it ends to finally sleep. Not to mention that I had to interact with people, which was just a hard stomp below the belt.

My mom emerged from her bedroom, holding my traveling cup in her hand. "I'll already have your tea made, Alls." She said, and I closed my eyes blissfully as she handed it to me.

I threw my arm around her hips in a lethargic hug, grumbling a 'thank you' and making her laugh quietly. Hearing her laugh genuinely was a rare thing.

"Come on, people! I already have Arie in her carseat!" Trish had ran into the apartment to tug her shoes back on and to grab her and Arie's bags off of the desk.

I sharply jerked my head to face her. "I thought you were just putting her shoes on." I uttered suspiciously, picking up my PS4 controller to pause Arie's show. My mom got her and I's bags. "Then who's with Arie in the car?" She pressed.

Trish blanched. "Erhm…"

"Trish, you dumbass!" I cried, grabbing my mom's hand to drag her out the door, Trish slamming the door and locking it behind us, tucking my phone into my back jean pocket. "I have the doors locked, relax!"

I pushed the elevator button to go down, shooting a glare at her. "Without the air on?" I growled. I said that Trish was Arie's caregiver, though I never said she was a good caregiver. We weren't terribly worried; though we used to be. We'd gotten used to the irresponsibility, and worked our way around it.

Once we got to the parking lot, I pretty much sprinted forward and holding the lid down firmly of my tea to get to the car, waiting for Trish to unlock the door before ripping the car door open.

There was Arie, peering up at me with her pretty chocolate-brown eyes and blinking innocently. I let out a choked breath. "Hi, sweetie…" I murmured in a relieved tone, leaning forward to kiss her forehead and inhale her scent.

I made sure she was adequately buckled in before closing the door tightly. "Mom, can you drive? I'll be in the back with Arie and Trish can be shotgun."

My mom nodded as she put the bags in the trunk, along with Trish's and Arie's. "Hey, I'm usually in the back with her!" Trish accused, and I turned to raise an eyebrow at her, sliding my sunglasses on. "I know. I wanna keep a closer eye on her."

I stated before climbing into the car, putting my seatbelt on. "Nice, Alls. You suck." Trish spat. I snickered as she stomped to the passenger's side, climbing in and waiting for my mom to get in. Once everyone was buckled in, mom began pulling out of the driveway.

"Alrightie… Coronado Beach." She whispered to herself before accessing the GPS and tracking down the directions.

We weren't far from Coronado. We lived in (well, rented) a three-bedroom apartment called Sommerset Rancho in Spring Valley, California. It was about a 25-minute drive, so by Trish's calculations we'd be there 5 minutes before we were called to be. Talk about perfect timing.

I didn't care for the expensive housing. A little over $1,000 a month was still too expensive for me, and I was "rich". Sommerset Rancho was a beautiful place, don't get me wrong. It's also more private than what Los Angeles had offered, so it was quite suited for me.

Only issue was that we were nearly 3 hours away from Hollywood, which is where I needed to be a lot for filming. It was really the only hassle when it came to traveling.

Trish had turned the radio on and moved the dial to make the volume louder. It sounded like a radio show between a few women.

"Yes! I absolutely adored that dress!" Piped a woman's voice. I shook my head and nearly tuned out the radio and its pretentious media broadcasts. Nearly.

After a few moments of fake, obnoxious laughter, the subject was changed. "Ally Dawson is coming out with a movie next month, did ya hear about that ladies?" Came the nasally voice of Mimi Moon. Nicknamed the Queen of Gossip & Mattresses.

When I heard her nickname for the first time, I thought the last bit was a sexual innuendo, but it turned out that she used to co-own a mattress store before making her own fashion label.

Now she owned her own talk-show via radio. How far the people have risen and fallen at the same time.

After a few pretentious gasps and 'ahh's' of surprise, the voice of another woman seemed to talk over it. "One of our caller's called in before the show begging for us to share the details!"

Trish and my mom barked out a sarcastic laugh while I scoffed. Why would they know the details when the Mimi chick literally just "announced" it to them?

"I heard the movie was based off of a real story. Two adopted kids escape their foster homes to find love and a life with one another. How cute!" Squealed another lady.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. The original story was much more gripping and realistic. But Hollywood saw it differently.

The original story was about two girls escaping an abusive foster family, saying 'fuck you' to society as they were so love deprived they couldn't trust anyone but one another. They ended up falling in love with each other in the process, then grew up together to adopt their own family and get their own jobs to treat their children right.

Hollywood intentionally messed it up. Those two girls are still pissed off about it to this day.

For one thing: The two main roles were male and female, rather than two females. The excuse? "People aren't ready for two lesbians as main roles for a Hollywood movie." Yet television shows do it all of the time. No one cares.

Second thing: The movie depicts us as two rebellious teenagers; rather than being abused, we treat everyone who tries to help us like shit because we're brats that just want to have sex and drink and do drugs, etc.

Third thing: In the film, we ran away on our own terms. In real life, the girls really had no choice.

Basically, this was another basic Hollywood movie where ugly turns to worse under the mask of 'romance'. Just saved you money from buying tickets.

"My son was going to audition for that, I think. He was too nervous." Mimi giggled along with the familiar exclamations and reactions.

"Isn't he named Austin? Austin Moon? I think he signed with Starr Records last weekend, right Mimi?" It sounded like the woman was reading word-for-word of a script.

"That's right! He just recently got a part for a new movie next Spring! They're still trying to find a main female role—"

I leaned forward and changed the radio station. Neither Trish or my mom questioned against it. "I'm shocked she didn't say anything bad about you." Trish commented, turning down the radio a bit so that the Melanie Martinez song was merely background noise.

I hummed in response. I really wasn't in the mood for talking as I leaned my head against my window.

It seemed like seconds later when we arrived at the set. Rather than being bombarded by a bunch of extras, the director ran awkwardly across the sand to meet up with my car in the parking lot.

I opened the door and climbed out, flipping my hair off of my shoulder and taking a sip of my tea. I wished I had vodka instead.

"Ahh! Alli-son, Alli-son, velcome! Oh, dahling, you look flawless!" He softly placed his hands on both of my shoulders and air-kissed both of my cheeks. I did so as well.

"We make you more flawless, more beauti-ful, yes? Make-up & hair please, make-up!" A few make-up ladies approached me nervously. I nodded and walked with them to the make-up trailer, trying to remain as silent as possible.

If I glanced to my right, I saw the gorgeous Coronado Hotel besides the beach. It was huge, and resembled a medieval castle painted/wooded white and red. The smell of the deep blue ocean reminded me of Miami. My home. My skin felt so sun-kissed. I wanted to stay outside longer, but the feeling faded as I sat down in the make-up chair. Well, I'd be back out there soon enough.

Trish, Arie, and my mom would be in my main trailer for most of the day, coming out every now and then to see how my photos were turning out. I smiled to myself as one of the girls pulled my hair back out of my face; glad that I brought a swimsuit for Arie to play in the water for a bit.

I took my sunglasses off and shut my eyes as one of the girls began scrubbing my face with cleanser. I tried not to wrinkle my nose in disgust due to the chemical smell.

About a half an hour later, once all of my make-up was applied and one of the girl's were brushing my hair out, I heard the creaking of the trailer's steps come from outside of the door. I peeked one eye open to see of the girls standing in front of the door, appearing as if she didn't know what to do.

"Open the door hon, it might be my mom or other manager." I assured her, and she looked back at me unsurely and gulped. What was she so nervous about?

"I-is that Dallas?" One of the girls had been standing on top of a sofa to stare out of one of the windows, and the girl standing in front of the door furrowed her eyebrows. "That's why I'm so scared to open it! I don't know if it is him!" She hissed.

A few angry knocks echoed against the metal door. "Mind openin' up, Dawson?" Came the oh-so-sweet voice belonging to "Prince of Pasadena" Dallas Centineo. The girls immediately began fangirling and jumping up and down. I rolled my eyes, looking in my reflection to see my face was stiff as stone.

I awkwardly sat up straighter, situating my shirt to make it look less 'cleavage-y'. "Mind letting him in, sweetheart?" I asked the girl in front of the door, my voice unintentionally sounding patronizing. She turned to face me, looking nervous as can be.

"W-what if he…" She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ears, biting her lower lip worriedly. I held back the urge to scoff or sneer. "It's okay. Dallas and I have conversations in private, anyway."

The girl in front of the door opened her mouth to interrogate me on what that meant before he banged on the door impolitely again. "Anyone in there?" His bratty voice pushed.

All three of the girls ran to the door, fixing themselves and fluffing their hair before throwing the door open; all of them were blocking the view of me and Dallas attempted to peek around them to see me. A counterfeit smile lit up his face, and one of the girls squeaked in excitement.

"Hey, girls. Wow, you're all so pretty!" He gushed as he walked into the trailer. They continued to celebrate in silent screams and stomping feet. These ladies were probably, on average, sixteen or seventeen.

"I promise I'll give you ladies pictures or autographs later, but I gotta talk to Alls." He flashed me another fake smile, winking to add to my repulse. The girls whined and one went to stare at me in an attempt to stab me with her eyes.

"One minute please." He cooed before walking them out, murmuring little things like 'watch your step!'. Once they were all outside, he shut the door quietly then sharply turned to face me, his facade dropping promptly.

"You got the Mary Jane?" He hissed, the sound of withdrawal drowning his voice. (Mary Jane is a nickname for marijuana among other drugs) I laughed, amused by his weakness. "I just gave you, what, fifteen joints last shoot?" I leaned back in my chair and took my phone out, scrolling through my Tweeter feed.

His breath was raspy and desperate while being heavy. It sounded pathetic. "That was two weeks ago. And you gave me fourteen, not fifteen. I had one every day, which was barely fuckin' enough."

I took my lighter out of my front pocket, glad that it was still there from the last time I wore my jeans. "Do you have a smoke?" I asked carelessly, setting my phone on the table in front of me and looking at him expectedly.

He squinted his eyes. "You got my damn joints?" He snapped, but still took his cig pack out and slid one out, the stick long in his fingers as he dragged his feet forward to hand it to me. As I was about to grab it, he pulled it back a bit from my grasp. "I want my joints by the broadcast on Friday."

I inwardly groaned. That's right... we were going to be on a radio show to discuss the film. I was typically on Radio Disney but since this movie was Rated R, it was going to be something I was completely unfamiliar with.

"Got it." I agreed, and he slid the stick in between my fingers. I situated myself to put it in my mouth, but he put his hand on my shoulder to stop me.

"Those girls will smell it and talk shit about you." I pursed my lips. "They're already talking shit. Just because you're in here with me." I told him. He smirked. "Just wait until later."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright. Since those girls are gonna be distracted by you the whole time, I'll have Trish do my hair." I slid my sunglasses back on and put all of my stuff in my pockets, taking a swig of tea before opening the door. I felt a pinch on my butt. "Do that again and I'll sue your pretty boy ass." I nonchalantly replied before flaunting down the steps with poise.

I heard his boyish, spoiled laughter erupt from the trailer and I felt my insides churn. I hated that kid, yet felt a protective and motherly bond for him. It was hard to explain.

Once I made my way to my trailer (passing my make-up team trio; they took no notice of me), I heard someone call my name. "Miss Dawson, Miss Dawson! I sent you a text this morning!"

I pivoted on my heels to face a bubbly-looking, excessively tanned blonde woman standing in front of me, holding what seemed to be five bags of camera equipment among other things suited for a celebrity.

"Oh… yes." I made my voice snobbily smooth. "You're the, um, Mood Manager, right?" I intentionally messed the name up and expected her smile to drop but if anything it became bigger. "No, silly! I'm a Moon Manager! I work with Austin Moon! Heehee, see the connection?"

I was about to nod condescendingly and walk away until I heard 'Austin Moon'.

"Austin Moon… Mimi Moon's son?" I asked. She bobbed her head enthusiastically. "I've heard he just signed with Starr Records—"

"Yes! Jimmy Starr is my boss! Don't you just love how it's Moon and Starr like in the night sky but then we have boring names like Dawson and Thompson?" She continued to babble on but I had zoned her out.

I was about to walk up my trailer steps but a shriek from Tilly threw me off. "Austin, come over here! There's someone I'd like you to meet!"

I glanced up and had to look over my sunglasses and blink to be sure I was seeing right.

They never told me how Austin was nothing like his mother. Which was a good thing.

His mother was pretty but she had mainly gotten this prettiness due to plastic surgery and botox, like many women her age did. Especially in the media industry.

But Austin? Dare I say that he looked perfect.

He peered up from his phone about ten yards away (man, his eyes were breathtaking) and began strutting over, putting his hands in his pockets. He seemed bored out of his mind, which was exactly how I felt.

Once he had made his way over, I had slid my sunglasses back up. I wanted to remain as bitchy and careless as possible as long as I was at this shoot.

Damn, I loved his hair.

"Austin! This is Ally Dawson, remember what I told you the other day? He has the worst memory, I swear."

Her talking became a distant mumble as I took in Austin's features. His jaw was very chiseled, but not to the point where he still didn't look young. His blonde hair was whipping about in the wind, and he tamed it with a careless swipe of his hand; running his fingers through it. I gulped.

"Nice to meet you." His raspy voice hit my ears pleasantly, though he did sound vexed still. I snapped out of my scrutiny.

The taste of sea salt in the air seemed to weaken for some reason. "Hi. I'm Ally."

"We thought you two could do it just as a one-time thing? It would be great publicity for the both of you and create huge hype for his movie in the Spring and his album next month." My eyes widened from beneath my sunglasses. "S-sorry, what?" I stammered.

Tilly rolled her eyes, a smile still on her face. "Both of you have the worst memory and listening skills." She stepped closer and put her hands around her mouth to mimic calling. "We want you two to form a collab team for the Starr Records YouTube channel!" I massaged my neck awkwardly. "The… YouTube channel?"

Austin cleared his throat. "You literally could have told this to her over text, Till." She smacked his shoulder. "Then it would be unprofessional!" I rolled my eyes, glad my sunglasses were covering most of my reactions. What's unprofessional is asking me for this shit anyway. My mind snapped.

"But, why me?" I questioned. Tilly stepped to stand beside me, intertwining my arm with hers. I didn't want to jerk my arm away but I really did not like contact with people I didn't know. At all.

"Think about it, Ally-cat! Beloved beauty Ally Dawson takes in little Austin Moon to be his guide and show him what real business is, what real grit is! She shows him Hollywood's behind-the-scenes and prepares him for—" I set my arm on her shoulder. "With my schedules, I don't think this is something that we could work out."

Austin scoffed. "You're the only actress that's young and a 'free-agent' in the San Diego area. You have enough schedule room." I took off my sunglasses to glare at him.

"I have a child I have to take care of when I'm not shooting. What, you expect me to take her along for these reputation exposés?" Tilly gasped melodramatically. "Yes!" She cried. Austin and I both looked at her as if she had two heads.

"It would build unbelievably good hype for Austin and you! Ah, this works amazingly! I'll call Jimmy to tell him we got a deal!" She scampered off with her phone before I could say anything.

I clenched my teeth together. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I hissed. Austin sighed. "I know. I gotta say sorry for this, since you don't know me…" I huffed out a breath.

"And I don't want my daughter on goddamn camera. Do you realize how tight my security had to be for her first six months? I could barely get out of the door for shoots." Austin opened his mouth to say something before Trish and my main manager ran over.

"Ally! Where have you been!? They're already setting up for… the… first…" Cassidy turned to face Austin.

"Cass?"

Very sucky intro, I know. I'm working to make my chapters longer and this is definitely a game-changer in that direction. Thanks for your support. :) I'll be updating again soon enough for my other stories as well.

Credits:

[1]: I DO NOT OWN AUSTIN AND ALLY!

[2]: I do not own any products, companies, or media mentioned in this story.

[3]: Inspired by Halsey's "Gasoline" from the BADLANDS album.

Hugs and Auslly;

Valerie x