Absolutely Famous
Chapter 1
Drew and I are having a great time. We’re laughing, as in full-out, from the gut, uncontrollable laughing. Something I would have thought impossible after what happened last month and the pain we’ve both been through.
It’s warm for mid-April in Vancouver, British Columbia, so we decided to go miniature golfing. The golf course has a pirate theme and Drew keeps saying he’s going to make me walk his plank whenever I try to take a shot. I just roll my eyes when he says it, because if I look at him again I’ll die laughing.
Currently, I’m beating him by three strokes, so he’s trying to distract me as much as he can. I’ve discovered that he can be a pretty sore loser sometimes.
I line up my putter with the hole across the bridge from me and Drew stands too close, smiling like an idiot. I haven’t seen him smile in so long that I’ll take what I can get, even if it means losing at mini golf. His face is way too beautiful for him to frown all of the time.
“Want to raise my flag?” he says as he leans in and tries to block my shot. I look at him and snort. He’s wearing a horrible brown, shaggy, mullet wig and sunglasses, his face has a week’s worth of growth on it and of course, his repulsive Red Sox hat is in place front and center.
“No one would want to raise anything on you with that dead rat on your head,” I tease. “Now please move so I can finish kicking your ass.”
Drew feigns offense at my insult and steps aside, trying not to laugh at me. “You’re one to talk, Joan Jett.”
“Hey! I think I look hot with short, black, shaggy hair.” I went all out too, wearing all black and tons of dark eye makeup and chain bracelets so I look like a punk rocker. “Better than the lumberjack,” I mutter as I tap my ball and it goes over the bridge and drops into the hole. “Woo hoo! Beat that Paul Bunyan!”
His enormous plaid shirt and jeans are just awful, which is exactly why we’re having so much fun. After being under virtual house arrest for more than three weeks back in New York, it’s great to be out walking around like normal people. We’ve worn our repellant outfits all over Vancouver for the entire week that we’ve been here. The paparazzi know that Drew is in town to film a movie, but they haven’t found us yet thanks to our disguises.
Drew said he wears his wig a lot when he wants to go out with his friends to a ball game or a bar. He enjoys hanging out like a normal guy, not one of the world’s highest paid actors and this year’s reining “Sexiest Man Alive”. It pisses his friends off when they keep getting interrupted by fans all night, so he says that he ‘sucks it up’ for them since they just can’t handle his hotness.
Nice, right?
I end up winning the game of golf, so Drew begrudgingly treats me to a salted caramel gelato at Bella Gelateria. According to the teenager that takes our scorecards at the golf course, they make the best dessert in the city. Drew orders a cup of hazelnut for himself and we sit at a tiny table in the crowded little shop just like everyone else and no one looks twice at us.
It nearly broke Drew when I miscarried our baby after a stalker attacked me. Even though I was the one who had surgery and spent several days in the hospital, I think I came out of it stronger than he did. Now he doesn’t want me out of his sight, and he’s very bossy about it.
My new bodyguard is sitting in the car with Drew’s regular driver, Bruce. Drew insisted on bringing Bruce with us to Vancouver. He refuses to let someone he doesn’t trust drive me around all day when he’s at work and he said hiring strangers just causes problems. As for the hired muscle, I like Steve enough, but I know I’ll hate having someone follow me everywhere.
He’s worked for Drew a few times before, so he trusts Steve to be alone with me, not that Drew has left my side since I left the hospital. Once he starts filming in a few days, I’m sure I won’t be sitting in the hotel all the time and I’ll need Steve and Bruce to keep Drew focused on acting instead of worrying about me.
We finish our desserts and stand up to leave and I watch a group of girls flinch away from Drew, revolted by his presence as he walks over to throw out our trash. I laugh out loud, and they shoot daggers at me. If they knew who was under those disgusting clothes they sure wouldn’t be acting like that.
I really, really love these outfits.
Steve sees us coming out of the shop and jumps out of the car to make sure no one on the sidewalk gets too close. He’s ripped and scary looking which is probably the point, but once you get to know him he’s a really nice guy. Drew told me he’s a former Navy SEAL and I’d believe it. The man misses nothing. He’s only about five foot ten inches, but with his military buzz cut, muscles that would make an MMA fighter jealous, and full sleeves of colorful tattoos; he looks like a man who knows how to kill someone with his bare hands. Which, I’m sure, is exactly what he was trained to do.
Drew and I are having a great time. We’re laughing, as in full-out, from the gut, uncontrollable laughing. Something I would have thought impossible after what happened last month and the pain we’ve both been through.
It’s warm for mid-April in Vancouver, British Columbia, so we decided to go miniature golfing. The golf course has a pirate theme and Drew keeps saying he’s going to make me walk his plank whenever I try to take a shot. I just roll my eyes when he says it, because if I look at him again I’ll die laughing.
Currently, I’m beating him by three strokes, so he’s trying to distract me as much as he can. I’ve discovered that he can be a pretty sore loser sometimes.
I line up my putter with the hole across the bridge from me and Drew stands too close, smiling like an idiot. I haven’t seen him smile in so long that I’ll take what I can get, even if it means losing at mini golf. His face is way too beautiful for him to frown all of the time.
“Want to raise my flag?” he says as he leans in and tries to block my shot. I look at him and snort. He’s wearing a horrible brown, shaggy, mullet wig and sunglasses, his face has a week’s worth of growth on it and of course, his repulsive Red Sox hat is in place front and center.
“No one would want to raise anything on you with that dead rat on your head,” I tease. “Now please move so I can finish kicking your ass.”
Drew feigns offense at my insult and steps aside, trying not to laugh at me. “You’re one to talk, Joan Jett.”
“Hey! I think I look hot with short, black, shaggy hair.” I went all out too, wearing all black and tons of dark eye makeup and chain bracelets so I look like a punk rocker. “Better than the lumberjack,” I mutter as I tap my ball and it goes over the bridge and drops into the hole. “Woo hoo! Beat that Paul Bunyan!”
His enormous plaid shirt and jeans are just awful, which is exactly why we’re having so much fun. After being under virtual house arrest for more than three weeks back in New York, it’s great to be out walking around like normal people. We’ve worn our repellant outfits all over Vancouver for the entire week that we’ve been here. The paparazzi know that Drew is in town to film a movie, but they haven’t found us yet thanks to our disguises.
Drew said he wears his wig a lot when he wants to go out with his friends to a ball game or a bar. He enjoys hanging out like a normal guy, not one of the world’s highest paid actors and this year’s reining “Sexiest Man Alive”. It pisses his friends off when they keep getting interrupted by fans all night, so he says that he ‘sucks it up’ for them since they just can’t handle his hotness.
Nice, right?
I end up winning the game of golf, so Drew begrudgingly treats me to a salted caramel gelato at Bella Gelateria. According to the teenager that takes our scorecards at the golf course, they make the best dessert in the city. Drew orders a cup of hazelnut for himself and we sit at a tiny table in the crowded little shop just like everyone else and no one looks twice at us.
It nearly broke Drew when I miscarried our baby after a stalker attacked me. Even though I was the one who had surgery and spent several days in the hospital, I think I came out of it stronger than he did. Now he doesn’t want me out of his sight, and he’s very bossy about it.
My new bodyguard is sitting in the car with Drew’s regular driver, Bruce. Drew insisted on bringing Bruce with us to Vancouver. He refuses to let someone he doesn’t trust drive me around all day when he’s at work and he said hiring strangers just causes problems. As for the hired muscle, I like Steve enough, but I know I’ll hate having someone follow me everywhere.
He’s worked for Drew a few times before, so he trusts Steve to be alone with me, not that Drew has left my side since I left the hospital. Once he starts filming in a few days, I’m sure I won’t be sitting in the hotel all the time and I’ll need Steve and Bruce to keep Drew focused on acting instead of worrying about me.
We finish our desserts and stand up to leave and I watch a group of girls flinch away from Drew, revolted by his presence as he walks over to throw out our trash. I laugh out loud, and they shoot daggers at me. If they knew who was under those disgusting clothes they sure wouldn’t be acting like that.
I really, really love these outfits.
Steve sees us coming out of the shop and jumps out of the car to make sure no one on the sidewalk gets too close. He’s ripped and scary looking which is probably the point, but once you get to know him he’s a really nice guy. Drew told me he’s a former Navy SEAL and I’d believe it. The man misses nothing. He’s only about five foot ten inches, but with his military buzz cut, muscles that would make an MMA fighter jealous, and full sleeves of colorful tattoos; he looks like a man who knows how to kill someone with his bare hands. Which, I’m sure, is exactly what he was trained to do.