The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

“What?” I whisper in shock as I look around the space. All eyes are trained on me, inspecting me, measuring me, and to most, I don’t add up. People are curious, those that don’t know me. The only ones paying attention to their food are the regulars. The Fishes and the gossipers are the ones seeming as if they can’t turn away.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. But I think you may need to lie low for a while.”

Nodding I tuck myself back into the kitchen just as my phone starts vibrating in my apron. Glancing down I see that it’s Devyn calling. My hand pauses halfway in reach of the device. I’m so shaken up from walking into the diner that I’m not sure that I can speak to him right now when I’m not even sure that I know exactly what’s taking place. It vibrates again before finally silencing.

A few hours pass and I stay tucked away, but it doesn’t stop the people harping the staff to get a good look at me. Or more or less my scars.

It doesn’t take long for the murmurs to escalate. And a quick peek at an internet search shows the media turning their attention away from Devyn and Elena, but instead to the monster trying to tear them apart. Apparently, up until my visit in Chicago, no one realized the severity of the damage to my body.

The repo

rters are curious and doing their damndest to dig up dirt on the mysterious woman. Only one column put two and two together from the previous images on social media of Devyn in this diner.

That surely explains the rise in the crowd. Everyone wanting to clamor for a glimpse of me.

The ringing of my phone starts up again and I leave the cooking to Tucker as I head to the corner to answer.

“Hey,” I respond to Devyn’s hello.

“Angel, are you okay?”

“Um. . .I don’t know. I’m not really sure what’s going on.”

“I don’t. . .I just. . .they’re piecing it all together, at least into a story that their readers believe.”

“Why, Devyn? What did I do?”

“You were seen with me. And now with the movie and things with Elena, they’re just. . .tearing you apart.”

“What. . .what are they saying?” I whisper, my mouth so dry that I can barely form the words.

“God, Larsen. . .I’m trying to fix this -”

“What are they saying!” I shout, cutting him short.

“Shit, Larsen, I need you to get out of there. Three people are running a live feed on social media right now.” I stop and glance around the kitchen wall just as he shouts, “Not now, Tessa. Give me a minute.”

That’s when I spot them. Two are sitting at a table with a direct view of the kitchen where I’m standing, their phones poised in the air. The other stands outside the diner, his phone pressed against the window.

On impulse, I slap my hand against my mouth, but I can’t turn away from the onlookers.

Like a superhero, I watch as Cole jumps over the counter and rushes into the kitchen, his eyes darting around until he lands on me. Speaking into his phone, I hear him say, “Yeah, I see her. I’ll take her somewhere safe.”

“Are you talking with Cole?” I ask Devyn.

“No, your uncle. . .who is talking with Cole. You and Jeff trust him, so will I. Let him get you out of there, okay? At least I know that he’s big enough to protect you.”

“Okay,” I tell him as Cole steps into my space.

“Call me when you get to his place? Okay?”

“I will.”

Staring at Cole, I witness the concern in his eyes, the protective vibe pulsing off him in waves. Since the magazine fiasco a couple weeks ago we haven’t spoken much, but now that seems like water under the bridge.

“I’m so sorry, Larsen. I didn’t want this to happen.” Devyn hangs up before I get the chance to say my goodbyes, but I’m still in so much shock that it barely registers.