“Clover, where’s Roman?”
“How’s filming going?”
“Do you think you’ll be as good as Hailey McDonald would’ve been?”
Okay, seriously, fuck these guys.
Looking forward, I can see Jill’s stopped moving, it’s like she’s frozen in place. I nervously tug her arm, but she doesn’t respond. The few seconds I wait feel like an eternity before I finally snap into action. We need to get out of here, and if she’s stuck for some reason, I’m going to act for the both of us. Istep around and in front of her, pulling her behind me. I’m taller than she is, just as tall as some of these assholes, and I’m going to use that to my advantage.
“You’re going to move,” I instruct one with daggers in my eyes, remembering how Roman handled the paparazzi outside of the cafe. I go for the inch of space between him and the next photographer. “Now,” I order as I get closer. Either my voice has enough authority, or he’s smart enough to realize I will literally push through him, because he steps to the side and lets us through. I break into a run, pulling Jill behind me. Luckily, she’s semi-snapped out of it, because she runs with me as we evade the paparazzi.
After a few quick turns down some side streets, I pull Jill into the nearest coffee shop.
“What the hell is wrong with those guys?” I breathe heavily, turning to Jill. When I see her face, it’s clear that something is very wrong. “Jill?”
She’s gasping for air, but not like she just had a workout. She’s gasping like she can’t breathe, and her eyes are wide and filled with unshed tears. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s clear to me we need privacy immediately.
Rushing up to the counter, I ask for the key to the bathroom. I purchase a bottle of water when it seems like the cashier is about to tell me to pound sand, and she reluctantly hands the key over.
I return to Jill, who hasn’t moved a fraction of an inch, but is clearly deteriorating, and pull her toward the bathroom. When I get us both in there and secure the space, I turn back to her, hoping to see any sign of improvement.
“Are you okay?” I ask—possibly the most inane question on the planet right now. Obviously she’s not. She’s trembling, and her lips are wobbling now, breaths coming in short little gasps that are getting shorter and coming quicker. Herbeautiful deep blue eyes are filled with something that looks like fear to me, and I hate it.
“Hey, hey,” I try to comfort her as I rub her arms. It does no good. She backs out of my hold and sinks to the floor, appearing to give no second thought about sitting on the ground of the bathroom. It’s a strange contrast seeing one of Hollywood’s most famous actresses crumpled up on a bathroom floor. Tucking her head between her knees, she begins to hyperventilate hard.
“Jill? Jill? What can I do?” I hover nervously, feeling about as useful as pretend pockets.
She gives no answer, but now there are tiny vocalizations accompanying her breathing. It’s like she’s trying to cry, but the sound is being strangled on the way out. I feel completely helpless as I watch her unravel in front of me.
In all my time with her so far, she’s seemed so well put together, composed and eternally gracious, but right now she’s breaking.
“Jill?” It’s obvious that whatever I’m doing isn’t cutting it. And while it’s not my favorite idea, my first instinct is to reach out to Roman. I’m out of my depth here, and if there’s a chance that he knows how to help, then I need to take it.
“Can I call Roman for you?” I ask.
Jill ever so slightly nods her head between her breaths, and that’s all I need to whip out my phone.
Roman picks up after a couple of rings.
“Couldn’t go a whole 24 hours without talking to me?”
Idiot. I roll my eyes and get straight to business. “It’s Jill.”
“What happened?” His tone drops to deadly serious.
“We were out shopping and some paparazzi kind of ambushed us,” I say, struggling to find the right words for the interaction. “They started shouting a bunch of awful questions at her, and now she’s...” I look over to the poor girl on the floor. “I don’t know what to do, Roman.”
“Where are you?” I give him the name and location of the coffee shop.
“I’m on my way. Don’t move,” he orders. I don’t get a chance to respond because he hangs up immediately.
Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I peek around it and see Roman there. He blocks the doorway with his body so that anyone walking by couldn’t see into the bathroom.
I gesture to where Jill is, and he steps inside. It seems like a very private moment, so I head outside and guard the bathroom door, wanting to give the siblings the space they need.
A few minutes later, the door to the bathroom opens, and Roman has his arm around Jill’s shoulders. It’s clear she’s been crying, and she leans in to him for support.
“I need to get her home.”
