up something.”
That’s the last thing he needed. He just wanted to go home and enjoy his first vacation in years. An agent directed him to the Air France lounge, where he was then escorted to a semi-private table. A friendly face smiled up at him.
“Join me if you have time before your flight,” Gemma said, her eyes soft.
“Love to,” he said as he sat. The air seemed fresh, full of jasmine.
“Thank you for what you did,” she said.
He shrugged. “If not me–”
“Then who?” she completed.
Andre peered into her eyes. He didn’t see her typical posturing. She looked drawn, honest. She looked phenomenal.
“Do you get that all the time?”
“Every waking moment,” she said in a whisper. “I’m a target. Fair game. You see, fame inadvertently gives permission to have a camera shoved in my face wherever I go. I allow them to hang on my car, chase me down, and write anything they want about me. They know I will not retaliate. And if someone claims I did something wrong, true or not, I will always settle. Bastards like them can make a healthy living off me for as long as I matter.”
She paused, her eyes glistening, and glanced over her shoulder. Andre gazed in the same direction. Eyeballs were trained on them. She produced a rehearsed smile. One designed for public settings.
“Furthermore,” she whispered, “what I just told you will probably end up in
People
magazine. I can’t trust anyone. So why am I telling you?” Her smile faltered. “Call it temporary insanity.”
He was getting a sense for her world. Her small, suffocating world. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said, leaning in for more privacy. “And if I don’t, I’ll kick myself. It’s an important question.”
She sipped water through a straw, never breaking eye contact.
“Gemma, are you stalking me?”
She coughed, nearly spilling the water.
“Everywhere I go, you’re there.” He crossed his arms and leaned back. “This is getting very uncomfortable.”
“And I was so certain I’d covered my steps.”
“I’m very perceptive. Nothing gets past me.”
“I’ve noticed. Like, say, famous personalities?”
“Particularly those.”
“Yet you found your way to your stalker’s pathetic match.”
“What made it pathetic? I thought it was phenomenal.”
“That’s because the American won.”
“Are you sure? I was too busy watching two gladiators fighting it out. I wasn’t following the score. The score seems to trivialize the result, don’t you think?”
Her eyes widened. “Trivialize? In my world, the score is the only thing that matters.”
He considered what drove professional athletes: the love or the outcome of the game. “You were amazing. Poetic in the way you played.”
“Thank you, but I still lost.”
“Technical matter. Do you always let facts get in your way?”
“And how did you end up there? You were so convincing when you told me you didn’t know who I was.”
He read suspicion in her eyes. “It’s true. Sorry, didn’t mean to bruise your hard-earned celebrity. I had no clue who you were.”
“So it’s a coincidence? Breakfast, the bar, the match, and the airport?”
“Perhaps these things have nothing to do with you.”
She gave a sly smile. “Are you saying I think the world is all about me?”
“Well…”
“How dare you? Are you calling me self-centered? Do you know who I am?”
He rose his hands in surrender. “Not exactly self-centered, Your Highness. All I’m suggesting is you shouldn’t assume everyone’s out to get you.” He let it sink in for a few seconds. “Also, I thought we established you’re the one stalking me.”
“Sorry, I forgot.”
“As for the game, my client invited me to the match.”
“What type of work do you do?”
“I solve problems. The kind people think can’t be solved.”
“As in mysteries? What types of problems are unsolvable?”
“I suppose they are mysterious at first. I help with technical
That’s the last thing he needed. He just wanted to go home and enjoy his first vacation in years. An agent directed him to the Air France lounge, where he was then escorted to a semi-private table. A friendly face smiled up at him.
“Join me if you have time before your flight,” Gemma said, her eyes soft.
“Love to,” he said as he sat. The air seemed fresh, full of jasmine.
“Thank you for what you did,” she said.
He shrugged. “If not me–”
“Then who?” she completed.
Andre peered into her eyes. He didn’t see her typical posturing. She looked drawn, honest. She looked phenomenal.
“Do you get that all the time?”
“Every waking moment,” she said in a whisper. “I’m a target. Fair game. You see, fame inadvertently gives permission to have a camera shoved in my face wherever I go. I allow them to hang on my car, chase me down, and write anything they want about me. They know I will not retaliate. And if someone claims I did something wrong, true or not, I will always settle. Bastards like them can make a healthy living off me for as long as I matter.”
She paused, her eyes glistening, and glanced over her shoulder. Andre gazed in the same direction. Eyeballs were trained on them. She produced a rehearsed smile. One designed for public settings.
“Furthermore,” she whispered, “what I just told you will probably end up in
People
magazine. I can’t trust anyone. So why am I telling you?” Her smile faltered. “Call it temporary insanity.”
He was getting a sense for her world. Her small, suffocating world. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said, leaning in for more privacy. “And if I don’t, I’ll kick myself. It’s an important question.”
She sipped water through a straw, never breaking eye contact.
“Gemma, are you stalking me?”
She coughed, nearly spilling the water.
“Everywhere I go, you’re there.” He crossed his arms and leaned back. “This is getting very uncomfortable.”
“And I was so certain I’d covered my steps.”
“I’m very perceptive. Nothing gets past me.”
“I’ve noticed. Like, say, famous personalities?”
“Particularly those.”
“Yet you found your way to your stalker’s pathetic match.”
“What made it pathetic? I thought it was phenomenal.”
“That’s because the American won.”
“Are you sure? I was too busy watching two gladiators fighting it out. I wasn’t following the score. The score seems to trivialize the result, don’t you think?”
Her eyes widened. “Trivialize? In my world, the score is the only thing that matters.”
He considered what drove professional athletes: the love or the outcome of the game. “You were amazing. Poetic in the way you played.”
“Thank you, but I still lost.”
“Technical matter. Do you always let facts get in your way?”
“And how did you end up there? You were so convincing when you told me you didn’t know who I was.”
He read suspicion in her eyes. “It’s true. Sorry, didn’t mean to bruise your hard-earned celebrity. I had no clue who you were.”
“So it’s a coincidence? Breakfast, the bar, the match, and the airport?”
“Perhaps these things have nothing to do with you.”
She gave a sly smile. “Are you saying I think the world is all about me?”
“Well…”
“How dare you? Are you calling me self-centered? Do you know who I am?”
He rose his hands in surrender. “Not exactly self-centered, Your Highness. All I’m suggesting is you shouldn’t assume everyone’s out to get you.” He let it sink in for a few seconds. “Also, I thought we established you’re the one stalking me.”
“Sorry, I forgot.”
“As for the game, my client invited me to the match.”
“What type of work do you do?”
“I solve problems. The kind people think can’t be solved.”
“As in mysteries? What types of problems are unsolvable?”
“I suppose they are mysterious at first. I help with technical
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