Chapter 3
VICTOR
All I want is a decent almond croissant, and now I am somehow under fucking siege.
What the hell?
I look around at the crowd assembled on every side.
Fuck.
The funny thing about all this is that I can’t even use all the martial arts I’ve been taught on movie sets to get me out of this strange predicament - not when it’s a bunch of fans who have blocked me from getting said decent almond croissant.
“Yo, can I get a selfie?”
A guy thrusts his phone in my face. I smile robotically. I can tell this guy isn’t a genuine fan who actually fucking cares about me or my work. To him, I am just a famous person he can brag about to his friends at work tomorrow. I can even hear him badmouthing me now around his office water-cooler – yo, he’s such a dick in real life.
But I let him take the selfie with me. And I try my best with the smile, even when he doesn’t thank me and scurries away to tell all his friends how much of a dick I am. It’s the little things that go the long way. You can only try your best in situations like these.
I just want that fucking almond croissant...
A woman jumps in front of me before I even get the chance to take a step forward toward the coffee shop. She’s brandishing her bare cleavage in my direction. I have to admit, it’s quite a deep one, and I’ve seen my fair share of cleavages in my time. The bold woman is grinning at me invitingly. Damn, there are a lot of ways this can go.
“Sign my breasts,” she squeals.
Jesus.
She’s already handing me a marker before I even get the chance to respond.
“Fuck it,” I whisper to myself as I go ahead and sign my autograph over the girl’s thrusted cleavage. The marker glides smoothly over her bare skin.
Yep, I’ve had to do a hell of a lot of strange things as a famous person...
As soon as her breasts are marked, someone else is shoving a phone toward me.
“Victor, please speak to my mom. She loves you. You’ll make her day if you talk to her.”
I am never rude to fans. Never. It’s a golden rule I’ve set for myself.
But, hell, it does make life hard sometimes. Especially when you just want to dine on something sweet.
I did not expect to be swarmed when I walked towards The Oak coffee shop from the park. I was merely going for a casual walk – nothing extraordinary. Yeah, sure, you can’t go for a walk in LA or New York and not get mobbed, but this is Crystal River. This is my hometown. It’s meant to be my fucking safe space. I honestly didn’t think anyone would find me here, but it was fast, and I didn’t have time to attempt to get away. And I know it was planned. I don’t know who exactly tipped off everyone on social media, but they’ve done a hell of a job.
And now I am truly fucked. I’m stuck here, surrounded, with nowhere to go and no freaking idea of how to get out of this situation.
Shit.
I’m caged here forever with people who want selfies and boob autographs.
But then, suddenly, a girl appears. The first things I notice about her are her deep brown eyes and her curly black hair. Her lips are full. Her skin is smooth. I would sign her boobs any day.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
And she’s heading straight for me.
“Come with me,” she says, offering a hand to me through the crowd.
She’s wearing a dark blue uniform for The Oak. Okay. Maybe I should trust her. Looking into her eyes, I can see she has an inkling as to what she is doing. She has a plan concocted in her pretty head. And I desperately need a way out of this scrum.
Fuck it.
I take her hand.
And she leads me through the crowd. Her fingers wrap around mine as we burst through the crowd and head straight toward The Oak. But before we duck inside the main doors, she’s taking me around toward the back. The crowd is slowly following us, but she weaves us through into an alleyway where she pulls aside some plants to reveal a hole in the fence. It’s all so very swift. It’s meant to catch the crowd unawares.
“What is this?” I ask her, pointing at the hole.
“Come through this with me,” she replies. “It’ll be the best place to hide. Hurry.”
I laugh at that sentiment.
“I’m not hiding. Not me.”
The girl folds her arms and nods back towards the entrance to the alleyway.
“You want to stay out there?” she asks. “Held up all day by autograph hunters? Crushed by fans? You want to be nothing but rolled-over splatter on the sidewalk?”
I sigh.
She’s got a fucking point. I’d give her that.
“No. I very much don’t want to do, or be, that.”
“Then come and hide,” she commands. “Follow me.”
“Really, though?” I ask. “Under there?”
The girl merely stares at me blankly.
“Yep. This is your last chance, movie star. You coming or what?”
I take a moment.
I have one last question...
“Are you about to murder me?” I ask her.