A Side Effect of Celebrity

Eight

The only thing about being famous is, it's weird. The only people who get how weird it is are other famous people – Margot Kidder

Claire had walked past The Casita many times but she'd never been inside the luxury condominium building. It seemed daunting and yet welcoming for those elite enough to own property inside of it.

Twelve floors high, containing a couple of dozen units, with a twenty-four-hour doorman, fitness centre, and a rooftop terrace – at least, according to Google. The building was sleek and modern and elegant.

And Claire was completely out of place in it.

Even standing on the sidewalk in a pair of jean shorts, a tank-top, and converse made Claire feel cheap. She was sure that anyone passing by knew that she had no place being inside of a building like this – except she did.

It was an effort to take a breath but she did as she walked towards the door. There was a man standing just inside of it – he held it open for her to pass through.

"Can I help you?" the doorman asked. He was tall with a crop of dark hair and brown eyes. He smiled politely.

"I have an appointment...With Mr. Dawson?"

A blink was his only sign of surprise. "Come inside. I'll let him know that you're here."

Claire stepped past him into an elegant lobby. Overly white with dark brown-black accents and simple, clean furniture. She felt as if she were standing in the middle of a very expensive hotel. Except she was in a building where the apartments went for millions of dollars.

The doorman went over to a desk with a computer and phone. He tapped away on the keyboard, made a brief call, and then turned back to Claire. His smile was less polite now, warmer. "You can go on up. Elevators are there," he pointed. "Floor seven, unit number two."

"Thanks."

Claire stepped in the elevator and was surprised that even that was nicer than any she'd been in before. The walls were a rich mahogany and the carpet was soft enough that she thought she could lie on it and take a nap if she pleased. The elevator hardly made a sound the entire way up to the seventh floor, the ascent slow and steady – almost as if they were floating on a cloud.

The pleasantries of the idle rich, she supposed. Nice carpets and a smooth elevator ride.

It was easy to find Jay's apartment once she reached the seventh floor since there were only two units – one on each side of the floor. She walked down the hallway and rapped lightly on the door.

As she waited for the door to open, she fidgeted. It had been two weeks since she and Jay had wandered Central Park together. She'd seen him only once since then – a brief encounter at the grocery store. But they'd spoken and it had been comfortable and easy.

She didn't know why, but Jay was always easy to talk to. Like an old friend she'd had since childhood. Often, it was easy to forget that he was a movie star and she was nothing.

Yet in moments like these, standing in the middle of an expensive condo building with evidence of wealth all around her, it was the opposite. All-too-easy to remember that they came from different worlds.

And then she heard excited barking and the door opened, exposing Jay who stood on the other side of the threshold grinning at her. His dark hair was unkempt with a few strands sticking up in the back. A simple t-shirt was tight against his chest and his jeans were slung low across his hips.

Before either of them had a chance to utter a greeting, Scout wormed his way between Jay's legs to launch himself at Claire. He jumped up, front paws balancing on her thigh which was impressive given the missing back appendage.