on her heels in my direction, holding a large knife in her hand and pointing it at me.
My arms instinctively raised in defense as I fell into the chair behind me. “Whoa. Be careful with that thing.”
“How am I feeling?” She sounded angry, and I was suddenly worried that James had been wrong. She wasn’t a harlot looking for a meal ticket. She was a mass murderer on the loose from prison, and I was an easy kill.
“How am I feeling?” she repeated.
“I’m suddenly afraid to know.”
“I’m feeling like a prat. That’s how I’m feeling.
“A prat?”
“Like I’ve made an utter joke out of myself for the last month and you’ve let me.”
“Why? What happened?”
She slammed the knife onto the counter and walked out of the room.
“Kei?”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t you move.”
Fearing for my safety, I glanced at the back door and started to plan an escape, but curiosity won out over fear of death, so I stuck around. I wanted to know what she was so ticked about. My mind raced over our conversations from the last several days. I didn’t remember saying anything inappropriate or offensive; unless I said something that would only be offensive to a missionary from Africa, and that could be just about anything.
Her voice traveled from the hallway. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went into Oliver’s office to straighten it up a bit.”
“Yeah?”
She walked back in with a stack of magazines in her arms, and I immediately knew the jig was up. She’d found out who I was, and she wasn’t happy.
“Kei, before you say a word—”
“Thanks for informing me that I was spending time with, oh let’s see…” She flipped through the magazines. “‘The Eighth Wonder of the World,’” she practically shouted as she threw the magazine onto the table in front of me. “‘The Sexiest Newcomer of the Year,’” she continued. The magazine landed on the table with a thud. “‘The Man Every Woman Wishes She Could Have.’”
That one landed in my lap but thankfully did less damage than the backpack had.
“Should I continue? There’s approximately ten more here, and you’re on every single one.”
I threw the magazine off my lap and stood up. “I can explain.”
“And who’s this bag? You said you didn’t have a girlfriend. Does she know that?”
The magazine cover had a picture of my last co-star, Sofie, and me. It was taken at a premiere, and the headline read, “Moving In Together!”
“You can’t believe everything you read. We don’t like each other that much.”
“I can see why she doesn’t like you. You’re a liar, and who in their right mind likes a liar?”
“I didn’t lie. I withheld information. There’s a difference.”
“You keep telling yourself that. And in the meantime, explain how you let me tell you all about how it feels to have people staring at me all the time. You let me bang on, trying to explain what it felt like, and all along you were…were…bloody this!” she said, pointing at another picture of my face. It was People’s “Sexiest Man Alive” cover.
“Look, I—”
“Sack it!”
I shut my mouth and sat back down.
Kei flew around the kitchen, tossing pots and pans as she rambled. “Do you know that I Googled you? All I had to type was C-A-B and your name popped up.” She picked up the knife again, and I instinctively leaned back in my chair. “That means that millions of people type your name in that search bar every day.”
“I—”
“I’ve not finished.”
I slammed my jaw shut again.
“Have you seen how many websites are dedicated to you? Have you read them? Some of them are absolutely disgusting. Old women talking about what they wish they could do to you.” The knife flailed around in the air as she spoke. “Young girls talking about how they want to marry you. Geez. Homosexual men have sites dedicated to you. People don’t just fancy you. You’re like an idol or something. They bloody worship
My arms instinctively raised in defense as I fell into the chair behind me. “Whoa. Be careful with that thing.”
“How am I feeling?” She sounded angry, and I was suddenly worried that James had been wrong. She wasn’t a harlot looking for a meal ticket. She was a mass murderer on the loose from prison, and I was an easy kill.
“How am I feeling?” she repeated.
“I’m suddenly afraid to know.”
“I’m feeling like a prat. That’s how I’m feeling.
“A prat?”
“Like I’ve made an utter joke out of myself for the last month and you’ve let me.”
“Why? What happened?”
She slammed the knife onto the counter and walked out of the room.
“Kei?”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t you move.”
Fearing for my safety, I glanced at the back door and started to plan an escape, but curiosity won out over fear of death, so I stuck around. I wanted to know what she was so ticked about. My mind raced over our conversations from the last several days. I didn’t remember saying anything inappropriate or offensive; unless I said something that would only be offensive to a missionary from Africa, and that could be just about anything.
Her voice traveled from the hallway. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went into Oliver’s office to straighten it up a bit.”
“Yeah?”
She walked back in with a stack of magazines in her arms, and I immediately knew the jig was up. She’d found out who I was, and she wasn’t happy.
“Kei, before you say a word—”
“Thanks for informing me that I was spending time with, oh let’s see…” She flipped through the magazines. “‘The Eighth Wonder of the World,’” she practically shouted as she threw the magazine onto the table in front of me. “‘The Sexiest Newcomer of the Year,’” she continued. The magazine landed on the table with a thud. “‘The Man Every Woman Wishes She Could Have.’”
That one landed in my lap but thankfully did less damage than the backpack had.
“Should I continue? There’s approximately ten more here, and you’re on every single one.”
I threw the magazine off my lap and stood up. “I can explain.”
“And who’s this bag? You said you didn’t have a girlfriend. Does she know that?”
The magazine cover had a picture of my last co-star, Sofie, and me. It was taken at a premiere, and the headline read, “Moving In Together!”
“You can’t believe everything you read. We don’t like each other that much.”
“I can see why she doesn’t like you. You’re a liar, and who in their right mind likes a liar?”
“I didn’t lie. I withheld information. There’s a difference.”
“You keep telling yourself that. And in the meantime, explain how you let me tell you all about how it feels to have people staring at me all the time. You let me bang on, trying to explain what it felt like, and all along you were…were…bloody this!” she said, pointing at another picture of my face. It was People’s “Sexiest Man Alive” cover.
“Look, I—”
“Sack it!”
I shut my mouth and sat back down.
Kei flew around the kitchen, tossing pots and pans as she rambled. “Do you know that I Googled you? All I had to type was C-A-B and your name popped up.” She picked up the knife again, and I instinctively leaned back in my chair. “That means that millions of people type your name in that search bar every day.”
“I—”
“I’ve not finished.”
I slammed my jaw shut again.
“Have you seen how many websites are dedicated to you? Have you read them? Some of them are absolutely disgusting. Old women talking about what they wish they could do to you.” The knife flailed around in the air as she spoke. “Young girls talking about how they want to marry you. Geez. Homosexual men have sites dedicated to you. People don’t just fancy you. You’re like an idol or something. They bloody worship
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