I heard the employees softly snickering from behind the counter—“Can’t she read?” “Why is she doing that?” “Blondes are dumb!”—but I ignored them.
I lifted the handle one last time, kicking the door as I did it, but my other foot gave way and I fell onto my back, splattering coffee all over the parquet floor.
“Oh my god! Are you alright, ma’am?” the barista shouted from across the store. “Nobody move! She might try to sue!”
I reached up and touched my wig, making sure it hadn’t slipped off. My back instantly ached, but I didn’t feel like getting up. I knew I looked stupid and I needed a chance to collect myself.
This is not my life…This is not my life…
“I think she’s okay,” someone touched my forehead. “Do I need to call 911?”
Did I hear 911? If I get taken to the hospital, I can put off meeting my mother for a lot longer…I can act like I have some type of mystery disease and get airlifted back to New York. Then everyone will feel sorry for me, forget all about the scandal, and fall in love with me all over again. Yes! Yes! Yes! They should call 911 and I should—
I opened my eyes and saw leather jacket guy looking down at me. I completely forgot my plan.
“Are you okay?” he looked into my eyes.
Jesus…
“No.” I snapped out of my trance and sat up. “No, I am not okay and I don’t want your help. Go back to sipping your coffee or whatever you were doing.”
He reached for my hand anyway and helped me to my feet. One of his hands was around my waist, steadying me, and I could feel a sudden shock of energy coursing through my veins.
He seemed to be asking me questions but I couldn’t make out any of the exact words. I was too busy gazing at him, wondering if he was even real—if I should take my chance and kiss his lips before he disappeared, if I should—
“I’m going to let you go now, okay?” he looked down at me and smiled again.
You can’t be from Fayetteville…
I nodded and he released me.
He strolled over to the counter, grabbed a new drink, and handed it to me. “She made you a brand new one. Are these your shades?” he picked up my Chanel frames from floor.
“Yeah…” I stared at him a few more seconds before putting them back on.
“All you had to do was push,” he walked to the door and held it open, “the word is right there…”
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but I didn’t give him the chance to. I quickly rushed past him, outside to the spacious patio, and took a seat on the far end.
What the hell was that? Why did I act like I’ve never seen a hot guy before? There’s definitely something in the water down here…Or maybe I’m still drunk…
“Earth to Selena….Earth to Selena…” Joan cut through my thoughts and sat down. “How long are you going to wear that ridiculous disguise?”
“Until we leave Fayetteville…I don’t want people recognizing me right now. As you can clearly see,” I took off my shades, “I’m vulnerable right now.”
“Ha! Anyway, since you only have a personal assistant now and I’ll be juggling Katy’s former duties, we need to make some changes ASAP.”
“Like what?”
“For starters, here’s your new phone,” she slid me a pre-historic flip phone. “I need your old one right now.”
I picked it up and saw that there were buttons on the keypad. Buttons.
There was no touch screen. There was no camera. There were no apps—not a single one. There was nothing but buttons and a screen so small I could barely make out the home screen’s menu.
She’s out of her mind!
“Is this a joke?” I tossed the phone to her. “I know you don’t know me that well, but are you fully aware that my name is Selena Ross? I don’t do flip phones.”
“Are you fully aware that I could live off the severance package Matt gave me for the next twenty years? That I really don’t have to be here?”
“No…”
She slid the phone back to me and I reluctantly handed her my iPhone 5.
“Of the contacts in this phone, who do I need to give direct access to your line? Who are your friends?”
I don’t have any...
“What’s that, Selena?”
“I don’t have any friends…”
She raised her eyebrow. “Well, I’ll forward any important emails and updates to the flip phone. As of today, I’m deactivating your Twitter, your Instagram, and your—”
“What! Why? How will my fans keep up with me? How will they survive?”
She gave me a blank stare. “We also need to work on re-building your image. Katy was nice enough to give me the promo plan she was working on. For now though, keep a low profile. We’re definitely here for another five and a half weeks. Speaking of which, how was your mother when you visited her yesterday?”
“Um,” I slurped my coffee, “I never got around to that. I figured that since—”
“We had a deal. You were supposed to meet with your mother before I got here. Didn’t you say you hadn’t spoken to her in four years?”
And I’m trying to make it to five…