“Just let me out here, Miles. I’ll run in and grab it myself.”
“Miss Lane, you shouldn’t be doing that.”
“It’ll be fine. Nobody comes to Marino’s.” Nobody considered worthwhile in this town, at any rate. It’s not one of the hot spots, which is one of the reasons I’ve always loved it. That and the almond croissants, of course. One of the few indulgences I allow myself now and again. Not every day or even every week, but today is definitely a day when I need a treat.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes, let me out.” The air in thecar is suffocating.
Miles hasn’t even come to a complete stop when I push the door open, jamming a baseball hat onto my head. It’ll be fine. Based on the number of times I’ve been photographed with a Marino’s cup in my hand, it’s well known as a favorite spot of mine. But I rarely go inside myself now. It’s always a PA or Miles.
I rush through the tourists clogging up the sidewalk, pushing open the glass front door. The barista behind the counter looks up as I walk in. He gives me his biggest smile, displaying a set of perfect white veneers. Even the baristas in this town are screen-ready.
I keep my head ducked down, trying to shield as much of my face as possible, and between the giant shades and the hat, I think I’m doing an okay job. Until he asks for my order.
I clear my throat. “Caramel crunch latte with extra whipped cream, soy milk, and cocoa powder please,” I say.
His eyes widen, but he keeps his cool. “And an almond croissant?”
I’ve been had, but this could still be fine.
I add a twenty-dollar tip to the order, hoping he’ll keep my presence under wraps until I can slide into my getaway car.
He leans over the counter, glancing around. “Can I get an autograph?”
“Can you keep this quiet until I get back to my car?”
He nods, handing me an empty white paper cup and a marker. I quickly scribble my signature on it.
After he rings me up, I slink over to a shadowy corner near the pickup counter, back pressed up against the wallso I can keep track of every person coming and going. My arms are crossed and I’m trying to maintain a casual posture as if I haven’t got a care in the world, when in reality every muscle is tense, ready to run.
“Viv.” The barista behind the espresso bar calls my fake name out in a bored voice, and I hurry over to grab my treats. My heart is pounding in my ears, but I made it. I did it. I shoot Miles a text to let him know I’m leaving and exit the little store smiling and relieved.
The relief is blasted away by a familiar blinding flash, followed by another, and another. My heart goes into overdrive, and my breath quickens.
Voices are shouting at me amidst the relentless onslaught of cameras, hands grabbing at my clothes.
“Aurelia, Aurelia, did you leave rehab early?”
“Is it true you slashed Brad’s tires?”
“Did Kelly and Brad really take a restraining order out on you?”
“Can you confirm that you poisoned Kelly’s dog?”
Each question is more ridiculous and fictional than the last one, and it’s all too much. The nearest pap shoves his camera in my face and I step back, jostling someone behind me. They grab my arm, tugging me to face them, and I spin around, swinging at the invasive touch. My fist lands with a disgusting crunch, and a hot spray hits my face. The noise level ratchets up and my vision blurs around the edges.
Oh my god. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t lose it here.
I’m about to swing again when someone wraps their arms around me. “It’s okay, I got you.” Miles’ voice is a lifeline in the chaos. He yells at the paps to back off, pushing his way through them.
More car horns shriek at us when we make it through the crowd. Miles jerks the door open and helps me in, shutting it gently behind me. There’s an immediate sense of relief as the car door seals me off from the crowd of people now gathered to watch the spectacle.
Miles settles into his seat, joining in on the honking to try to get us out of this mess. Palms and fists pound on my window, and I shift over to the other seat, trying to get myself as far as I can from the grasping hands.
The car finally moves with a jerk as we’re able to rejoin the flow of traffic.
I’m still having trouble breathing, and I know it’s going to take everything I’ve got to keep the panic at bay. I count backward from ten, taking deep, even breaths.I got this. I’m safe now.
