High Life

Chapter 7 & 8: Superman

Chapter 7
The first thing I did was duck my head. I grabbed my hat and yanked it quickly onto my head. Shoot. My bun had come undone. My long hair tumbled onto my face, and I brushed it to the side so I could still see.

The crowds of people were being held back by a human barricade made by the police. The patrol cars had been parked in the middle of the street, blocking the rush hour traffic in the morning. The paparazzi were still flashing their cameras, trying to move in with the crowd of fans to get a better close up picture of me.
Did they really want to see me this badly? If I didn't get out of here, I was going to get trampled to death. Literally. I panicked, and searched for a way to escape. The mob of people were quickly closing in, and began to press me up against the glass windows of Nespresso. I was trapped.
Larissa must be watching the news, I thought. She'll send for Robert and Bobby to help me. (They're my bodyguards.) I scanned the crowd for them. No one. Then I turned around. Piper was inside. She could come help me. But the crowds began to shift around me, blocking the way into the cafe, and out into the street.
I was scared to death. Nothing like this had ever happened before. If I had just told someone where I was going, and not left in such a hurry, this wouldn't be happening right now. I struggled to make sense of the situation, to just breathe... A tear escaped my eye and trickled down my cheek. The paps were yelling such personal questions, I felt like slapping them. The mob circle was so close by now, I could've reached out and touched them. The police were losing ground- they couldn't maintain their position any longer. If one of them fell from the hold they were creating, I was toast.
Which was exactly what happened next. The policeman to my left stumbled and crashed to the sidewalk, and the crowds surged forward. I was engulfed. People pressed in around me from all sides. I felt papers and pens being waved around in front of my face, and shouting in my ears. Someone tried to hug me, but I pushed them away roughly. Fan or not, I wasn't in the mood for a hugging session with strangers at eight in the morning. I was stuck in the middle of this chaos, and I wanted out. I was just about to scream my built up frustration with the world, when suddenly, I felt a warm hand grasp my wrist.
I whipped around, ready to karate chop their hand off. But it was that guy. Christopher. The panic in me lessened seeing him there. For some reason, I calmed down. He had pushed his way through, and gotten to me. Not for an autograph. Not for a selfie. But to help me get out of this. I stared at him, disbelieving.
"You wanna get outta here or no?" he yelled over all the people.
I nodded slowly, in a trance.
"Then let's go!" he tugged on my hand and began to pull me through the throngs of people. The paparazzi shoved cameras and microphones in our way, but I held a hand up and shielded my face. Everyone I passed tried to pull me back, tried to graze my jacket or hair or purse to say they actually physically met me. Sorry. Not today.
I ran forward with Christopher as he led me out. Man, this crowd was huge. How did so many people gather here in such little time? At one point, Christopher's hand slipped from mine, and I blanked out. Fear welled in my chest at being separated from the only person who could help me now. But a few steps forward, he was waiting right there, pressed between a girl with flaming blue highlights and an old man.
"Hurry!" he called. I put on a burst of energy and caught up to him, then clenched his fingers tightly.
Finally, when we reached the end of the crowd, I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He glanced at me, a funny look on his face. Then he burst out laughing.
"Well, that was close..."
"You think?!" I tucked my hair behind my ears, swiping it out of my face, and glared at him. "I almost died! How serious is that!? And you have the nerve to LAUGH?" I exploded.
It was wrong. After all he'd done, I shouldn't have had started yelling like that. But I had to let out the frustration that was building inside me those last few minutes.
A cold wind blew through the street. I shivered, despite my warm jacket. I looked behind me and saw the crowd begin to realize that Roselyn Blissica was not in the house. They were shouting and pointing fingers in our direction. As fast as lightning, Christopher grabbed my hand and ran. He pulled me along, down the sidewalk, across the street, and into an alley.
I sighed. "Thanks again. Sorry about that. I owe you one." I wrapped my scarf tighter around me. I slipped on my leather gloves and sat down on the grimy road; I didn't care about the designer jeans at this point.
"So... " he began. "You're really... Roselyn Blissica?"
I nodded.
"The Roselyn Blissica?"
I nodded.
"And I just rescued Roselyn Blissica from a fan mob?"
I nodded again.
"Whoa. Dude, that's like awesome! I saved you! Am I hero now, or something?"
I laughed. "Sure you are. Just remind me to ask my bodyguards about you joining secret services. It could totally work!"
He laughed too, grinning at me.