Chapter 4 – Willa #2
“Uh, now?” I ask, walking towards the door and my shoes.
“No problem. I can be there in five.”
Excitement fills me at the prospect.
“Or I could go get one and bring it back to you,” he offers.
“No, no. I want to get out of the house.”
“I’ll be right there.” He clicks off.
Change your routine.
For as long as I can remember, my life has been structured. A strict morning routine, gym routine, followed by practices and interviews, and strategy meetings… Each day is perfectly lined up, crafted to turn me into the powerhouse I’ve become.
It’s still moving through my mind as I slide into the back seat of the G-wagon, a requirement made by Leo Sinclaire, even though I have always hated the feeling of being driven around.
But in the front seat, the windows can’t be tinted, so the cameras can get a snap of me in a moment when my guard is down, something that will inevitably be torn apart by the media that seems to control my life.
When we pull up to the coffee shop, Gabe gets out first before opening my door and guiding me in.
There are a few whispers, and the cashier clearly recognizes me as I place my order, but when I give her my name, she squawks at the confirmation.
I let out a little laugh and take a photo with her, and then the rest of the staff while they make my drink.
Once it’s in hand, I wave goodbye to my new friends, and suddenly, I’m excited to get back home and try to write again.
The hint of melodies plays on the edges of my mind, and I wonder if maybe this is exactly what I need: a bit of a change-up.
As I move to the door, I contemplate if maybe this could be a new part of my routine, a mid-afternoon pick-me-up to break up my day.
“Ready?” Gabe asks, and I nod, though when I look out the door, I bite my lip, seeing a handful of paparazzi outside. I thought I’d have time, that I could get in and out before anyone reported I was here, but clearly not.
I suppose the thought of coming every day is out the window.
I’ll have to opt for the drive-through next time, or else I’ll get bombarded every time.
With a hint of disappointment, I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes and centering myself, putting the shield up before nodding to Gabe, who pushes the door open.
I smile and wave at the paparazzi, making sure each gets the photo they need as I move toward the car, Gabe at my side, a hand hovering over my lower back.
“Willa, one moment, please!” a man holding a large camera calls, stepping closer. “Just a few questions!”
“I’m sorry, I have to head out,” I say, giving the man a tight smile. I don’t recognize him, but the tag on his chest is for one of the more well-known tabloids. While I can probably talk my way out of getting spotted this morning, stopping to answer questions would absolutely not please Leo.
“Come on. You spent a while in there with the staff.” I grit my teeth at his entitlement but force the soft smile to stay on my face, no matter how much I want to curse this man out.
“I was just chatting with some fans while I waited for my coffee,” I say, lifting the drink up and taking a step towards the car.
“I’m a fan, too. Give me something. When’s the next album coming out? Are you dating anyone?” He steps closer, crossing the line that isn’t so much required as implied. All of the paparazzi in town know not to get too close, to respect personal space, but this man is new and clearly doesn’t.
“I really—” I start, unsure of what to say or how to get out of this, but then he reaches for me, his fingers just barely touching my upper arm before Gabe pulls me back and behind him.
“Get back,” Gabe says, voice firm as he steps closer to the man and me.
“Oh, come on, she’s not in a rush, she just spent—”
“I said, get back,” Gabe says, voice rising.
“She’s being an uptight bitch,” he says, and despite everything, despite knowing the man is an asshole, it stings. I try to tell myself that nothing they say can hurt me. I have my shield on, because they aren’t saying it about me: they’re saying it about my shield. About the person, I show them.
But it still stings every time.
“If you don’t back off, I’m going to be forced to call the cops for harassment.”
“She’s a celebrity, this is what she signed up for,” the man says, and that familiar panic fills me, brewing and swirling in my chest. No amount of deep breaths will counter this; the only thing that will work is silence and a door between the crowd and me.
Instead of responding to the man, Gabe looks at me, reads my face, and sees it.
“Car, now,” he says, moving and opening the door, letting me slide in.
I don’t argue, not as he slams the door shut, then returns to arguing with the man.
I’m sure the press is going to have a field day with this, framing me as a self-important diva who is rude to fans, but I can’t focus on that right now.
Instead, I close my eyes, take deep, measured breaths, and remind myself that I’m okay in this moment, that I’m safe.
After a minute or so, Gabe slides into the car wordlessly and then drives off.
Once we’re far enough that he feels comfortable, he pulls over to the shoulder and calls Jaime on the car’s Bluetooth.
He fills his boss in on what just happened, but my mind is still swimming, so I barely listen to their conversation.
The call ends, and silence fills the car once again.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and I nod, even though he can’t see it before I speak.
“I should have just talked to him,” I whisper, my voice fragile even to my own ears.
“Willa—”
“He has a job to do,” I continue. “He has bills to pay, and if I had just—”
“His job is to respect boundaries. Everyone else can do it just fine. He should have respected both your time, personal space, and the fact that you were on private property.”
“But—” I start, but Gabe isn’t having it, his face firm.
“No. You’ve gotten way too comfortable with letting people push you around and thinking you need to accept it.”
“It’s all part of the job—” He turns in his seat, locking eyes with me and shaking his head.
“No, it’s not. I know Jackie tries to make it seem like your life isn’t your own, but there are hundreds of celebrities out there who don’t make themselves as available as you do.
You should be able to do something for yourself, to get a goddamned coffee, without them harassing you. ” I lift a shoulder half-heartedly.
“Well, after that, Leo’s probably going to send me off to some far-off land where no paparazzi can get to me until he’s ready for them to see me.” Gabe looks me over, his face going just a bit soft before he speaks.
“Maybe that would be good, Willa. Maybe you need that.” His words shock me to my core, and I don’t respond, too lost in my thoughts, but Gabe doesn’t push it, doesn’t try to get me to talk more, and I’m grateful for his ever-present silence.
After a moment, he turns back around and drives me home.
My hands shake the entire drive home, and I barely drink my coffee, and by the time I make it home, the only thing I can think about is getting out of the city.