She shook her head, her expression hovering somewhere between exasperation and begrudging amusement. “Honest? You’re just proving you can’t help but comment on everything.”
“Hey,” I shot back, falling into step beside her again, “they’ll thank me when they don’t pass out on the way.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t press the issue. For a second, I almost thought I’d done something right. Until we passed a hot sauce stall, and inspiration struck.
Normal people tried things, right? They were adventurous. Adventurous was real.
“I’ll take your hottest sauce.” I puffed up like a guy who knew what he was doing.
The vendor grinned. “Someone’s feeling brave.”
Anna’s arms were folded across her chest. “He’s not brave. He’s foolish.” To me, she said, “Don’t do it.”
“Watch and learn.” I grabbed a cracker loaded with fiery red sauce.
The second the hot sauce touched my tongue, my brain short-circuited. Every nerve in my mouth lit up like a fire alarm, and my lungs betrayed me by demanding air in loud, desperate coughs. My eyes watered, and I’m sure my face turned a shade that should only exist on stop signs.
Anna handed me a bottle of water. “You’re trying way too hard.”
I sipped my water, still trying to cool my burning mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I felt myself getting defensive.
“Everything about you screams ‘performance.’ You need to be real.”
“I’m not performing.” But deep down, wasn’t I? The charm and confidence were all a mask. People liked that version of me, the one who always seemed sure of himself. As for the real me? Even I wasn’t sure there was much worth liking. It was easier to stick to the act and let everyone believe in it.
Anna turned to me, her expression unreadable. “Time to go.” She started walking without waiting for me to follow.
I stared after her, catching the edge of her annoyance in her voice. This was not going well.
9
ANNA
Why hadI agreed to this?
I guess it was because I thought playing tour guide to a movie star would jump-start my writing career. Well, that plan had gone down in flames faster than Luke had after a single drop of hot sauce.
I stopped walking and glanced back at him, now doubled over, wheezing and attempting to down a bottle of water like it was his lifeline. His Hawaiian shirt was rumpled, his straw hat sat at a ridiculous angle, and sweat poured down his face as if he’d just run a marathon.
I could already see the opening of my novel. It would be a thinly veiled fictionalized account of a movie star in disguise, trying to blend in among regular people. Except the whole premise would collapse if my protagonist did what Luke was doing now: loudly drawing attention to himself with every step, mimicking locals as if he were auditioning for a sketch comedy show. Somehow, he managed to look more conspicuous in his attempt to hide than if he’d just strolled in wearing a tuxedo.
No one would believe it. I mean, I was living it, and I couldn’t believe it.
I guess I would have to find another topic to write about. I couldn’t get rejected again. I don’t think I could take it.
I walked back to him. And instead of focusing on my failures, I focused on what was right in front of me. I folded my arms. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. Your idea of blending in was to wearthatshirt, take down a vendor’s stall, lead some tourists astray, and guzzle the hottest hot sauce in town?”
Luke, his face still red, managed to croak, “I was... embracing the culture.”
“You were embarrassing the culture.”
He opened his mouth to defend himself, but I cut him off. “And seriously? Dropping two thousand dollars like it was confetti at a parade? While so many people around us are struggling?”
He blinked, caught off guard.
His bodyguard named Hal stepped forward, concern etched on his otherwise stoic face. “Boss, you okay?” The man, who looked like he could bench-press a car, held out a monogrammed handkerchief. “You’re sweating like you’re auditioning forSurvivor.”
The second bodyguard, Tom, balancing a comically small café au lait in one massive hand, nodded in agreement. “You should’ve stuck to the mild sauce. Heck, I think you’re more of a ‘lemon pepper’ guy.”
