Page 11 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

I don’t want to be here anymore but where the hell am I supposed to go?

I stuff my belongings in my bag, put my wet hair up in a bun and put on my huge sunglasses.

Of course, no matter how big the sunglasses are, I’m still recognized by someone. And one person is all it takes for the entire room’s attention to be on me.

I’m in the lobby when it begins…

“Sienna Lane!”

“Have you talked to Holden Gray since he got engaged?”

“When does filming for the next movie start?”

I try to drown out the noise, but it’s hard to ignore when your worst fears are coming to fruition.

I hear the “whispers” now from onlookers: “What happened to her acting?” and “she’s not looking like she used to.”

No shit, old man. That’s because girls aren’t sixteen forever.

Panic explodes, my chest tightening as I rush through the lobby, dodging flashing cameras and another group of paparazzi that have just arrived on scene.

I speed away in my Bentley convertible, leaving with more tension than I arrived with. I make it to the intersection, looking left and right. I have two options: up or down the mountain.

Down will only lead me to more drama, more noise.

The only chance I have to escape is up, away from it all.

I make a sharp right and head for the heavens before the press can catch up to me. Snow starts to fall, and my stomach clenches. What if I really do get snowed in up here?

I press on the gas pedal and start my ascent up the mountain. The radio announcer runs a weather report, and it feels like he’s personally warning me about the incoming blizzard as I climb higher.

Safety can suck my ass today.

And the news always dramatizes everything anyway, so I’m sure it’s no biggie. I get rid of the news and put on my favorite new band. Yes… that’s better.

The snow starts to fall harder.

My window wipers do their best. I increase the setting and ease off the gas a little, starting to see a build-up of snow on the road.

I speed up and slow right back down to prepare to round the next corner.

The higher I climb, the sharper the turns get. I gulp and hope that my nervous stomach doesn’t get the better of me.

I fly right past a heavy snow warning sign, deciding it’s just more drama. I’m sure there will be some quaint bed and breakfast soon that I can check into, and no one will recognize me.

I bring my attention back to the road in front of me, pressing harder on the gas. The Bentley is handling the snowy roads pretty well, considering I rarely drive it outside of always-sunny LA.

I don’t know much about driving at this kind of elevation, but so far, things seem to be okay. I take it steady around each bend…

Until a fallen tree appears out of nowhere and I’m forced to pull an emergency-stop. The car skids on the ice. I duck my head, bracing for the worst, heart going crazy in my chest.

I suck in a breath and release it only when I know I dodged the tree.

Maybe I should turn around…

“She must be going through a rough spell.”

“There is no art.”