Southern Star Rising

I’ve been in this industry for ten years. I’m currently the highest-paid actress in Hollywood; the tabloids love to claim that booking me costs two million dollars a day. Yet, if you check the comments on any celebrity gossip site, they’ll tell you I’m the cheapest person in show business. Bar none. To save my crumbling reputation, my manager forced me onto a travel reality show. The producers pitched it as a "look into the authentic spending habits of the stars," but in reality, they were setting me up as a sacrificial lamb. They wanted to answer one question for the voyeuristic public: How stingy can a woman worth tens of millions actually be? Also on the cast was my half-sister, Sienna. She’s a newcomer, soft-featured and "relatable." While she was busy buying lattes for the entire camera crew, I was standing in a line at the airport lounge, refilling a battered, paint-chipped Hydro Flask with free tap water. I looked at the producer and asked, "This water... it’s not going to be docked from my appearance fee, is it?" When it came time to pool our money for the three-day trip’s communal fund, Sienna was the first to Venmo the group. She sent five hundred dollars with a sweet, dimpled smile. "I don’t have much as a rookie," she told the cameras, "but we’re here to have fun. Everyone’s happiness is what matters most." I stayed silent for a long time. Finally, I transferred twenty dollars. The live-stream chat exploded. The vitriol was a tidal wave. They called me a fraud, a miser, a woman who earned the most but wouldn't spare a dime. They didn’t stop until a camera accidentally caught a glimpse of my banking app during a transition. Balance: $18.42. The internet went dead silent. 1 When I was refilling my water bottle, I caught the cameraman stifling a laugh. In the VIP lounge, the other guests were lounging with thirty-dollar cocktails and artisanal coffees. I stood there, clutching my old bottle, waiting for the fountain to turn green. The assistant director leaned in, whispering, "Natalie, there’s a Starbucks right there. The show can pay for it if you want us to capture some 'lifestyle' B-roll." I tightened the cap on my bottle. "The fountain is free, right?" He blinked, caught off guard. The camera zoomed in on my face. The live comments began to scroll at light speed. [Here she goes again. The Queen of Cheap.] [She makes millions per episode and she’s sweating twenty bucks for a coffee? This 'frugal' persona is getting pathetic.] [Can Natalie Rhodes stop pretending to be poor? It’s insulting.] [She took home an eight-figure paycheck for that action movie last year. This is just gross.] I didn’t look at the comments. I only watched the condensation forming on the side of my bottle. The water was free. At least for now. Sienna approached me, carrying two large carriers of expensive lattes. She looked like a desert angel in her linen set. "I bought drinks for everyone," she said, her voice like honey. "I wasn't sure what you liked, Nat, so I got you an oat milk latte. Extra shot, just how you used to like them." She held the cup out. The sticker on the side read: $7.45. My fingers twitched. I didn't reach for it. "Thanks, but I’m fine with water." Sienna’s eyes immediately shimmered with unshed tears. "Are you still mad at me, Nat? I just wanted to do something nice." Hudson, a hot-headed action star and a regular on the show, stepped up behind her, his brow furrowed. "Natalie, it’s a coffee. She’s being a sweetheart. Would it kill you to say something nice for once?" I looked him in the eye. "I said thank you." Hudson let out a harsh, dry laugh. "That wasn't a thank you. That was a snub." Sienna quickly grabbed his arm, playing the peacemaker. "Hudson, please don't. Natalie isn't being mean. She’s just... she’s always been very careful with money. She’s sensitive about it." She said it so softly, as if she were protecting me. But it was the ultimate fuel. The chat turned feral. [Confirmed: She’s been a miser since birth.] [Poor Sienna. Tries to be nice and gets her head bitten off.] [How has Natalie lasted ten years in this industry with that attitude?] The producers loved it. I could hear the Director, Miller, barking into his headset behind the monitors: "Stay on Natalie. I want every frame of her counting pennies." I heard him. I didn't look back. Before boarding, they announced the first rule of the trip. "This journey is about 'Real Consumption.' All guests must contribute to a communal travel fund. This will cover food, transport, and lodging for the next three days. Contributions are voluntary, but the amounts will be public." Sienna raised her hand first. "I’ll start. I’m new, so my savings are a bit slim, but I’ll put in five hundred. I want us all to have a great time." A notification chimed. Transfer successful. The crew clapped. Hudson followed with five hundred. The other two guests put in three hundred each. When it was my turn, every lens in the terminal swiveled toward me. I opened my banking app. Personal checking account balance: $218.42. 2 I stared at the screen for a few seconds. My palms were slick with sweat. Before 10:00 PM tonight, I had to pay Grandma Rose’s nursing facility a $200 supply fee for her medical dressings and disposables. If I gave it all to the show, she wouldn't have enough gauze or IV kits for the night. Miller smiled from behind the camera. "How much are you thinking, Natalie? The fans are dying to know." I typed in the amount. $20.00. Transfer successful. The air in the lounge curdled. Hudson actually laughed out loud. "Natalie, are you for real?" Sienna whispered, her voice trembling, "It’s okay. Natalie might be having some... cash flow issues. I’ll cover the rest of her share." She transferred another four hundred and eighty dollars. Then she smiled at the camera. "It’s a vacation, guys. Let’s not let money ruin the vibe." Hudson’s gaze toward me turned icy. "She makes two million a week and you’re covering for her? Sienna, you’re too good for your own sake." I gripped my phone, saying nothing. The comments were a blur of hate. [Twenty dollars? I tip my Uber driver more than that.] [I spend more than twenty dollars on lunch.] [Natalie makes the most and gives the least. Calculated. Malicious.] [Sienna is literally an angel.] I looked down at my balance. $18.42. It was okay. I had eighteen dollars left. That was enough for two cheap protein bars from a gas station. Maybe if I waited for the airport convenience store to mark down the sandwiches at closing, I could stretch it further. When we landed in Miami, it was 4:00 PM. The sun was brutal. "You’re responsible for getting to the villa," the producer announced. "You can use the travel fund for a car service, or find your own way." Hudson looked at me, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I assume you’ll be walking, Natalie? It’s free, after all." The group chuckled. I opened Google Maps. Distance to the villa: 2 miles. Walking: 45 minutes. Bus: $2.50. Uber: $26.00. I spoke up. "I’ll take the bus." Sienna immediately cut in. "Nat, just come in the SUV with us. I’ll pay for it personally. It won't touch the fund." I looked at her. Her money? Or my money? I didn't ask. I just said, "No, thanks." She lowered her head as if I’d slapped her. Hudson’s face darkened. "Do you have to be such a buzzkill? Sienna has gone out of her way to be kind to you all day." I didn't explain. Explaining was expensive. If you say one word, people demand ten words of proof. I didn't have a ledger. I didn't have a witness. I only had eighteen dollars and forty-two cents. The others piled into a black Suburban. I walked to the bus stop alone. The live stream used a split-screen to follow me. The bus was cramped and smelled of stale coffee and exhaust. I stood by the back door, one hand gripping the pole, the other clutching my Hydro Flask to my chest. Outside, the palm trees blurred by. My stomach cramped with hunger. To save money this morning, I’d only eaten half of a meal-replacement bar I’d found in the bottom of my bag. By the time I reached the villa, the rooms were already being assigned. It was a beautiful beach house with four bedrooms and a large living room. Four guests. Four bedrooms. One person would have to sleep on the sofa. Miller, the director, smirked. "You guys work it out." Sienna raised her hand instantly. "I’ll take the sofa. I’m young, my back can handle it." Hudson shoved a key card into her hand. "You had a dizzy spell from low blood sugar last night. Stop trying to be a martyr." He turned to me. "Natalie, you don't mind, right? You’re the expert at 'saving.' The sofa is free, and you get a view of the ocean." The crew waited for my reaction. I asked, "Is there a surcharge for using the living room?" Miller choked on his water. "Uh, no. Obviously not." "Then I'll take it." The chat went insane. [She literally can't go three sentences without mentioning money.] [God, she’s suffocating. I’d hate to travel with her.] [Sienna offered to take the couch and Natalie just... let her. Shameless.] 3 That evening, the show arranged a group dinner at a high-end seafood grill. The average plate was sixty dollars. I looked at the menu and flipped to the very back. Side of white rice: $5. Small house salad: $12. I signaled the waiter. "Can I just order the rice?" Hudson slammed his menu onto the table. "Natalie, enough. We have a communal fund. Use it." I looked at him calmly. "The fund belongs to the group. I’m not going to spend everyone’s money on a meal I don't need." "Then why did you only put in twenty bucks to begin with?" "Because that’s all I could give." He scoffed. "Do you honestly think anyone believes that?" I didn't answer. Sienna picked up a large grilled shrimp with her tongs and dropped it onto my empty bread plate. "Eat, Nat. Don't starve yourself just to save a few pennies. Mom always says you're like this—obsessed with the balance sheet. But your health is more important." I looked at the shrimp. It was jumbo, seasoned with saffron, and incredibly expensive. I picked it up and placed it back on her plate. Sienna’s eyes welled up instantly. "Nat... what did I do? You won't even accept food from me?" Hudson stood up so fast his chair scraped the floor. "Natalie, apologize. Now." I looked up at him. "For what?" "Sienna has spent the entire day trying to smooth things over for you, and you haven't given her a single decent look." I looked at Sienna. She was crying beautifully—just the right amount of redness around the eyes. I felt a sudden, crushing exhaustion. "I’m sorry," I said. The words felt like lead in my mouth. My stomach hurt worse than before. After dinner, as the others retired to their suites, I sat on the sofa and pulled out my phone. A text from the hospital was waiting for me. [URGENT: Mrs. Rose Miller’s dialysis account is low. Please deposit $3,200 by tomorrow 12:00 PM to avoid a disruption in treatment.] I stared at the numbers until they blurred. Three thousand two hundred. I had eighteen dollars and forty-two cents. I didn't realize the night-cycle cameras were still rolling. I reached into my bag and pulled out half a dinner roll I’d swiped from the table and wrapped in a napkin. It was cold and hard. I tucked it into my inner pocket. For tomorrow morning, I thought. If it doesn’t go stale. The next day, we went to a local boardwalk market. The producers gave us a task: "Each guest must buy a local specialty and recommend it to the live stream." Sienna bought six expensive artisanal coconut gelato bowls. she handed them out to the camera crew and the producers. "You guys work so hard. This one’s on me." The camera lingered on her. The chat was full of praise. [Sienna is so classy.] [A rookie being this generous while the 'A-lister' sulks? Take notes, Natalie.] [Look at Natalie's face. She looks green with envy. LOL.] Sienna finally handed the last bowl to me. "Try it, Nat. Stop skipping meals." Hudson snorted nearby. "She isn't skipping meals. She just doesn't want to spend her own money." I looked at the gelato and asked, "Who’s paying for this?" Sienna’s hand froze in mid-air. Her eyes flooded again. "Nat... I’m buying you a treat. Do we have to be so transactional?" 4 The crowd around us began to stare. The camera was practically touching my nose. The comments were a blur of "Cringe" and "Toxic." I took a deep breath. "I’m sorry. I don't eat sweets." I did. I loved them. When I was a kid, Grandma Rose used to save a tiny piece of peanut brittle for me after I came home from a long day on a commercial set. She’d say, "Our little Nat works so hard. Eat something sweet, and the world won't feel so bitter." I stopped eating them years ago. My mother, Joanne, told me sweets were a waste. The money spent on a treat could buy Sienna a new set of colored pencils. I turned to a small stall selling plain oatmeal. "Five dollars," the sign said. I asked the vendor, "Can I buy a half-portion?" The man looked confused. "We don't do half-portions, lady." I looked at the QR code for Apple Pay, gritting my teeth. Five dollars. That would leave me with thirteen dollars and forty-two cents. I scanned the code. A notification popped up. [Declined: Insufficient Funds.] I froze. I scanned it again. Declined. I clicked off my phone screen, but it was too late. The high-definition camera had caught it. Balance: $18.42. But the card was locked. At 2:00 AM, a charge of $18.39 had hit my account. Merchant: Team Overhead/Misc. I had exactly three cents of usable credit. The live stream went quiet for a few seconds. Then the tone shifted. [Wait... did I see that right? Eighteen dollars?] [No way. Is she serious? She’s an A-lister.] [Is that a burner account?] [But the decline was so real. Look at her face. She’s pale.] The vendor, seeing my embarrassment, waved a hand. "Forget it, kid. It's on the house." I shook my head immediately. "No." I couldn't take it for free. Free meant I owed a favor. Favors became debts, and debts were a currency I couldn't afford. Sienna stepped in then, gracefully tapping her phone to the reader. "Natalie always does this. She puts all her liquid cash into high-yield investments. She never keeps walking-around money on her." With one sentence, she smothered the growing doubt in the chat. [Oh, that makes sense. Stars don't carry cash.] [She’s just doing it for the drama. Pathetic.] [Sienna is so quick. She gave her an out.] I held the warm cup of oats, my fingers trembling. "I’ll pay you back those five dollars." Sienna laughed, a tiny, patronizing sound. "Nat, we’re family. We don't need to be so meticulous." I almost laughed. Family. That was the most expensive word I’d heard in a decade. That night, I hid in the stairwell of the villa to call my mother. When she picked up, she didn't even say hello. "Natalie, what the hell are you doing on that show? You’re making us look like peasants. You couldn't even cough up two hundred dollars? Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is for Sienna?" I lowered my voice, pleading. "Mom, my account is wiped. Grandma needs three thousand two hundred for her dialysis tomorrow." "Don't use your grandmother to guilt-trip me." My breath hitched. "It’s her life, Mom." "Missing one session won't kill her. Sienna’s new pilot is about to air. We need to keep the PR machine running. I used your latest appearance fee to cover her social media strategy." I gripped the phone, my nails digging into my palm. "That was my fee." Joanne let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Yours? You ate our food, you lived under my roof, you used the career I built for you. Every cent you earn belongs to this family. Your sister is just starting out. Why can't you be a supportive sister for once?" "Grandma is going to get sick, Mom." "Stop being dramatic. And tomorrow, you apologize to Sienna on the live stream. You make it clear that you weren't trying to make her look bad today. Do you hear me?" I stayed silent. "Natalie Rhodes, have you forgotten who holds the contracts? If you pull this crap again, I’ll have Lana—your own manager—freeze every project you have lined up. And don't expect me to visit the hospital for your grandmother either." She hung up. The stairwell was pitch black. I stood there for a long time. Then, a trembling voice came from the shadows around the corner. "Natalie... your mic. It’s... it’s still hot."