“Totally,” agrees her redheaded friend, who’s decked out in a Simply Star tee. Her head bobs up and down in an endless enthusiastic nod as she grins at me.

By the time I step into the elevator, I’m even more exhausted. I can feel the smile melt from my face. I slump back against the wall and close my eyes.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Mike says. I think for a minute and crack my eyes open.

“Yeah, I do,” I answer. “All those people have been waiting down there just to catch a glimpse of me. It’s crazy. But look how happy it makes them if I stop for a minute. How can I not?”

I step out of the elevator on the penthouse floor (with Mike and Tiny Joe tailing me, of course) and slide my key card into the door of the enormous suite I’m sharing with Mom. Inside, she’s flitting from room to room, humming to herself as she glances at her reflection in each of the many mirrors that hang on different walls. She has already changed from the Juicy sweats she was wearing earlier into a simple black dress. Her neck is draped with pearls.

“Honey, I’m going to have Don do my hair, then I need you to meet me in his suite on the eleventh floor in forty-five minutes,” she says without really looking at me. “You and I are going shopping!”

I pause in the doorway and stare at her.

“Is it just me and you this time?” I ask suspiciously. “Or is this another media op?”

What I didn’t tell Jesse earlier was that he was right: on our mother-daughter shopping trip in Boston a couple of days ago, Mom invited along at least a dozen reporters. Not exactly cozy bonding time.

Mom smiles innocently.

“It’s just some mother-daughter time, princess.” She absently crosses the room and gives me a peck on the cheek. “I don’t get to see enough of my little girl.”

She spritzes some Chanel No. 5 perfume on her neck, on her wrists and over the front of her dress; then she glides toward the door, air-kisses me on both cheeks from about a foot away and leaves, chirping over her shoulder, “See you in an hour, sweet pea!”

After she’s gone, I sigh, walk into the smaller bedroom of the suite and flop onto the king-sized bed that is my home away from home for the second night in a row. At least I’ll have a few minutes to relax before venturing out in public again.

Just as I close my eyes and start to unwind, there’s a knock on my door.

“Star!” comes a frantic voice. I sit up. “Star? It’s Melissa. Are you there? Let me in if you’re there. Your mom wanted me to go over some outfit choices with you.”