Chapter 4
VICTOR
“What’s your name?” I ask my savior once we pass through the little hole into some kind of secondary alleyway beyond the first alleyway.
Look, I’m an arrogant guy with a highly bloated sense of self-importance, but I’m not so arrogant as to admit that I am a bit confused by this layout here. I’m guessing this must be the space behind the main building of The Oak.
Well, whatever it is we have entered, it is expertly hidden from the public and from any crowd hanging around the outside of the coffee shop, and that’s all that matters to me right the fuck now.
I’m deducing only the staff of The Oak would have an inkling as to this little hideout. There’s a trashcan full of crap and a dozen cigarette butts scattered across the ground. An empty to-go coffee cup lies against the cracked pavement. It’s damn clear no one gives a shit for this space. It’s a fucking mess.
Behind us, there is the noise of the mob loudly searching around for my sorry ass on the sidewalk, but they clearly haven’t discovered my whereabouts just yet. A few voices pass by the little hole we’ve escaped through, but there’s nothing to indicate that anyone caught sight of us sneaking into the back of here.
Alright, so this girl did a good job. Kudos to her.
“Safe for now,” I mutter to myself.
“I’m Josie Gunn,” The Oak employee finally admits to me, glaring at me from across the alleyway with big brown eyes in a way I can’t fully discern yet.
I flash her one of my reliable charming smiles that’s sure to knock her socks off.
“Victor Penmayne. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” she replies.
Okay...
So, she’s a curt one.
She has no time for games, it seems.
“Yeah, I suppose you would know who I am,” I reply. “Everyone does.”
“Hm. Yeah. Sure.”
She blinks at me. I can tell she’s taking me in – this man she’s only ever seen on the silver screen. This incredibly handsome man, if I may be so bold. I’m supposing a super famous face like mine doesn’t appear outside her place of work any day of the week, and so now she needs a moment to process my presence.
Well, I’m more than happy to oblige.
“Thank you for, uh... rescuing me there,” I say, glaring right back at the girl. Her brown eyes continue to peer back at me.
“You’re an idiot for trying to wander around town without getting mobbed,” she replies bluntly. “What did you think might happen? I saw you out of the window of the coffee shop getting caught up in all of that. I thought you would be smarter than to drop yourself in that situation.”
“Look, I did grow up in Crystal River,” I explain. “I know this town. I would’ve thought I could wander around here without getting harassed.”
“Yeah, I know,” she retorts, “but now you’re a movie star, remember? Everyone knows you, as you have pointed out.”
I smirk at her judgment. This Josie Gunn has a little spark to her. A little zest. She’s not at all reverential to the tall, good-looking movie star who’s stumbled into her life - she’s prepared to give me some pushback, and that is interesting. She’s certainly ignited my curiosity.
“I’m assuming you work here,” I say, nodding at the building towering over us.
Josie looks down at her uniform and her name badge, and then back at me with a blank, no-nonsense expression.
“Yes,” she replies. “I do work here. Well done for that insightful detective work.”
Ah. More of that zest, please.
“My brother Spencer says you guys have the best almond croissants in the country,” I remark, resisting to acknowledging her snark.
“Your brother is correct.”
“He says they’re the best in the world. I came today to see if his claims are true. I hold almond croissants in good esteem. I’ve had the best in Paris and Brussels, so I want to test if our homegrown ones are better.”
“They are the best,” Josie replies. “Screw Paris or Brussels.”
“I hope so. I hope that being nearly crushed to death out there was worth it.”
“So, you’ve never been to The Oak before?” she asks me suspiciously.
“Never.”
“It’s very strange for a boy to have grown up in Crystal River and never to have come to its most famous coffee shop,” Josie remarks.
“Well,” I say, gesturing out with my hands, “here I finally am. Now you can serve me.”
“Wait a minute,” she replies with a cheeky smirk. Before I can reply, she dashes off inside the building, leaving me out here stranded amongst the trash cans and cigarette butts.
Well, it’s certainly not very Hollywood here...
“Of course I’ll wait,” I mumble under my breath. “It’s not like I can actually go anywhere.”
I pull out my phone and message my driver to say that I’m stuck here in this random alleyway and that he should come and find me. I also tell him it’s mayhem out there. He replies swiftly. He’s on his way.
Good.
I really want to get the hell outta this dumpster.
Josie quickly returns with a brown paper bag.
“Here,” she says, handing it to me.
A fresh almond croissant.
“Very nice,” I say before I dive in and take a bite.
“You’re gonna love it,” she warns.
And when I do taste the croissant, it’s like I’m teleported far away from this crappy alley. Miles and miles away from here to a world of delight.
She’s damn right.
“Holy fuck,” I murmur, my mouth full of pastry. “That’s fucking gorgeous.”
Josie just grins back at me.
“Yep. It is. As I’ve said, they’re the best.”
“Goddamn. Definitely blows anything from Paris or Brussels out of the water.”
I scoff the rest in almost one go. It’s amazing. Addictive, even.
“I thought you might like it,” Josie remarks.
“Yep,” I say, brushing my hands together. “Like you said, my brother was correct.”
“Wait until you try my coffee,” Josie retorts with a bigger smirk.
“Maybe I will.”
“But you’ll have to pay for one,” Josie replies. “This almond croissant is on the house, but the coffee will be worth a generous tip.”
“Well, you deserve a generous tip for pulling me out from being trampled,” I say.
“What can I say? I’m good at my job.”
“You most certainly are, Josie Gunn,” I reply. I can see a slight blushing come to her cheeks. Our little tit-for-tat is having an effect on her, it seems. I’m enjoying this – it’s not every day that I can have a genuine conversation with someone who isn’t a yes man for a famous actor. Josie is talking to me like an equal or like a flirty customer at the counter, and I’m loving it. She’s talking to me like I’m a real fucking human being. Yeah, I’m glad I allowed her to take me back here. “Oh, my rescue is on the way, just to let you know. My driver is coming to The Oak as we speak. I’ll just have to sit tight and wait for the cavalry.”
“Is this usual for you?” Josie asks, nodding back out to the street where we can hear the crowd still hasn’t dispersed.
“What do you mean?”
“All those people wanting you? Wanting your attention? Your autograph?”
“It’s very normal for me,” I reply somberly. “It’s the one thing about my job I can complain about.”
We stand for a moment in awkward silence. She probably doesn’t want to go back to work, and I can’t fucking leave, thanks to that crowd out there.
“As we wait for your driver,” Josie finally mutters, “how about we talk? I’ve got nothing else to do until all of this blows over, and I doubt you do too.”
I’m glad she’s broken the awkwardness.
“Sure,” I reply. “What do you want to talk about?”
“What’s it like being famous?” she asks. “I’m curious. I’ve never met someone famous before.”
Yeah, I really like this girl. She’s smart, I can tell. Inquisitive. Head on her shoulders. She’s also not very intimidated or overawed by me, which doesn’t happen often. Especially with women.
Sure, I can talk to her for a few minutes.
“Being famous is better than you can imagine for ninety-nine percent of the time,” I reply, “and then there’s one percent when you’re being mobbed by total strangers.”
“Ah, I see. And meeting baristas in seedy alleyways...”
“That too.”
I lean against the wall and stare at her.
“And tell me about yourself, Josie Gunn. What’s it like being... you? What’s it like to be the person who serves the best almond croissants?”
The barista’s cheeks immediately turn a bright pink, and she looks away bashfully.
“Ah, you don’t want to hear about me. I’m not famous. I don’t lead an interesting life.”
“My driver will pick me up in five minutes,” I explain, “and we will never see each other again, so why not indulge me with tales of yourself? Think about it. I am the only person in the world you can talk to and never see again.”
“That’s true,” she says, nodding. “You are someone who I will never have to see again.”
“So be honest and truthful and tell me what’s going on with you and your life. Tell me your innermost thoughts and desires. Look, you have no reason to lie to me. This is the perfect confessional.”
“You’re not going to judge me?”
I raise my arms in mock surrender. “I’m all ears, Josie. You have my judgment-free attention. I have literally nothing to gain by critiquing you.”
The girl sighs before she speaks again, letting out a long breath of resignation.
“I’m going through some shit,” she whispers. “And it’s really starting to weigh me down.”
“What kind of shit?” I ask.
“You sure you really want to know?”
“Go ahead, Josie.”
She sighs again.
“I’m going through a super messy divorce, and I’m trying to sort out what remains of my little life.”
“What happened?” I ask her, now curious. It’s not every day when I talk to something on a level as deep as this. We’ve got a flow going.
“It’s a long story,” she replies. “I’m sure it’ll bore a super famous celebrity like yourself.”
“I promise it won’t. I’m an actor, so I observe the world and human behaviors. I’m interested.”
“It really is a long story,” she replies. “Longer than waiting for your driver.”
“Okay, then. What do you want out of life, Josie? Tell me that before I go. I’m genuinely curious about you.”
“I want a lot of things...”
“Surely there’s something you want above everything else,” I prompt. “Something you can say in one sentence?”
She lets out a slight chuckle. “You really are curious, hey?”
“Yep.”
“Well, barring a really good divorce lawyer who can get my money back, then all I want from my life is a baby.”
“That’s the last thing I want,” I reply with a belly laugh.
“Really? No family?”
“Nope.”
“We’re very different,” the barista remarks.
“Yes, we are,” I reply. “And you haven’t yet asked me what I want.”
“Why would I?” she asks. “You’re rich and famous. You travel the world doing the thing you love. What else is there for you to want?”
“There’s more to me than money and fame, Josie.”
“Okay, so what do you want from life, Victor?” she finally asks.
I don’t even have to think twice.
“To win the best actor award.”
“An award?”
“Yep.”
“For acting?”
“Yes.”
“When you go on stage and they give you a statue?”
“Yes, that one.”
“That’s cool,” Josie replies, nodding and taking it in. “I’ve never won an award before. I doubt they hand ones out for small town divorcee baristas...”
My phone vibrates with a call from my driver.
“He’s here,” I say to the barista. “I’m off.”
She nods again.
This is it, then.
The weirdest interaction I’ve ever had for a long time.
But also, somehow, the most rewarding...
“I hope you get that award, Victor,” my savior says.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” I reply. “I really do hope you get that baby, Josie.”