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“Sure you can,” I reply flippantly. “It’s already in your name. I’ll have it sent back to LA when we’re done here. All you have to do is move your stuff out of the old, pink jalopy, and?—”
“HEY!” A voice booms out across the lot, and we all whirl around to confront the angry-sounding security guard heading toward us.
“Oh, Scott, are you getting this?” I hear one of the cameramen hiss at the other.
I whip my head around toward them. “You could let him know we’re allowed to be here,” I snap, my good mood fading.
“You can’t be here!” the guard growls, his hand on his service weapon, ready to draw.
“Woah, buddy,” Forrest jumps in, offering his world-famous smile. “No need for all that, is there? We have ID?—”
The guard isn’t flinching, his beady eyes narrowing, unimpressed with Forrest’s explanation. “No one’s talking to you, buddy,” he cuts Forrest off. Mr. Hollywood tenses, his eyes narrowing. “You’re trespassing,” the security guard continues, sniffing, and puffs out his chest, hand still on his piece.
Blood surges in me as Forrest tries to de-escalate the situation, the camera crew doing nothing to alleviate the mounting tension. They’re happy to get this on video, undoubtedly counting their collective raises as Bennet steps forward.
“Step back!” the guard yells. “Don’t make me do something I regret!”
“You need to calm down,” Bennet growls. His tone is reasonable as Stella backs away. She’s visibly shaking, upset by this turn of events.
The guard fixates on her. “Where do you think you’re going?” he hisses, his arm reaching out for her. “Don’t try to run!”
His arm closes over Stella’s bicep, and she releases a squeal of protest. She looks about desperately for help as Forrest, Bennet, and I try to put ourselves between him and her.
The guard’s fingers tighten over Stella’s arm, and all I see is red.
“Let her go!” I roar, advancing without thinking.
My arm flies up as I move, two steps forward, hand closing into a fist. I’m not sure who cries out my name, but I can guess as my fist impacts the guard’s shocked face.
“STOP, GABE!”
“Don’t fucking touch her!” I hiss, advancing on his recoiling body.
Strong hands pull me back, the guard stumbling toward the cars as he reaches for his gun and his radio, the dazed expression on his face evident.
“That was stupid,” I hear Forrest hiss at me as he rights me, but before I can reply, someone yells from the building behind us.
“STOP! Don’t!” Everyone’s eyes turn toward Anya, her eyes on fire as she approaches us, wagging an admonishing finger as if we were schoolkids. “I should have known better than to approve this field trip,” she snarls. “Get back to the cabin, all of you. I’ll deal with this.”
Helplessly, Stella looks back at her new car, then at me, a mixture of disappointment and awe on her face, but no one says a word as we head toward the Hummer and pile inside.
“That was incredibly stupid,” Forrest growls when we start moving, but I ignore him, turning my attention to Stella.
“Are you okay?” I ask, scanning her bare arm for marks.
“He barely touched me,” she assures me.
“Hedidtouch you!” I snap.
Bennet agrees, much to my surprise. “He shouldn’t have put his hands on you.”
Stella bites on her lower lip and sinks back into the seat, shaking her head. “I think that’s going to be it for me.”
“Bullshit,” I counter. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That asshole was power hungry. You didn’t do anything wrong at all.”
“He’s right,” Forrest concedes as Bennet nods again.
“He shouldn’t have touched you.”
