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Myra did her best to keep Chris from seeing the tabloids. The only problem was that they were everywhere. Every place they went to there was a fresh stack of them sitting somewhere in the store.
Chris did not how Myra was acting but chose to ignore it. After all, his minds were on other things to do that day.
They had parked the car in a massive three story parking garage. Myra kept her hands in her jacket pockets as she walked, her mind still reeling from last night.
"Are you okay?" Chris queried.
"I'm fine," Myra claimed.
Chris knew that was a complete lie. Though he only knew her for around a month and they hadn't seen each other in months, he knew when she lied.
"No you're not," Chris insisted as her grabbed her by the arm, making her go into a complete stop.
"I am," she insisted. "Can we keep going?" She tried to move but he kept his grip on her.
"We will move when you tell me whats going on," Chris said firmly. "We're practically dating, so I deserve to know whats going on."
"Okay, first of all, we are not dating. Second of all, It's my business and I have a right to not tell you," Myra argued.
"I just wanna know! You don't have to act like a bitch all of a sudden," Chris scoffed.
"Oh, so now I'm being a bitch? You're the one trying to pry into something you have no part in," she shot back. "You know what, I'll see you later."
Myra henceforth stomped away, leaving Chris standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She put the hood of her jacket up, not wanting to see the stares of the people who saw her recent outburst.
She didn't return to the hotel right away. She decided to run despite the jeans rubbing harshly at her legs. She didn't stop until her legs felt tired and she slowed to a walk.
She saw the park where she and Chris had met. The same tree was still there, the leaves all thrown on the ground from having fallen off for the winter.
In the park she saw people reading either newspapers or magazines. In the hands of a few of them she saw the tabloid with her and Michael on. This time she didn't stop in.
She kept her hands in her pockets as she slowed to a stroll. She took her hood down, letting her hair free.
She kept her eyes to the ground, watching whatever she could. She saw stray pieces of trash sitting on the sidewalk, a plastic bag blowing away in the wind. She didn't notice a small crowd across the street from her, holding the very tabloid with her in it, and looking right at her. Cameras hung around their necks, ready to snap pictures. A couple held a video recorder in the palm of their hand.
They discussed amongst one another briefly. All of the features matched up and the faces matched. Maybe she was the girl Michael went to the Grammys with.
She wasn't expecting really any attention. That's why she was taken for surprise when All of a sudden camera flashes were in her eyes.
"Did you go to the Grammys with Michael? Are you two dating?" The questions were thrown in her direction in less than a second.
Myra didn't know how to answer. She knew how it would sound to say that they weren't dating but they went together. She decided kept her mouth shut.
"What was it like in Thriller?" They asked, having seen her in the video. "Will there be any more projects with you two?"
The camera flashes began to blind her. She shielded her eyes from the flashes as she tried to move forward. They only followed her, reminding her of a pest that refused to leave.
"We're not dating," Myra insisted. "But I did go with him to the Grammys. Please leave me alone."
She took off in a faster walk, hoping to get rid of them. To her dismay it didn't work. She asked for them to leave her alone over and over again, but it didn't work.
They threw questions at her. Mainly they were about Michael, but some were about her. They asked about her personal life which she refused to answer.
Not able to take it anymore, Myra ran. She ran down the street, pulling her hood over her face. They ran after her, cameras flashing and them recording along the way.
"Please stop," she begged as she crossed the street, hands shielding her face. "Please stop."
"Myra, It's okay!" A female voice yelled from the crowd.
She felt her heart beating nearly out of her chest and she felt as though she couldn't breath. Her hands trembled in her pockets, her knuckles white from clenching them together.
Nothing felt real. She felt as if she was in some fantasy. Only the feeling of her about to throw up let her know it was real. Her chest hurt, feeling as though it was constructed by an unseeable force.
She ran to her hotel where they followed. She pressed the elevator button maybe a thousand times. Hotel employees blocked them from her as she got in the elevator.
When the door finally closed, she released a breath. She leaned against the back of the elevator, the panicked feeling staying with her. She clenched her shaking hands, holding them until the elevator reached her floor.
When she arrived in the quiet of her hotel room she found herself crying. She sat on the bed, the tears streaking her face. She still fwlt as though she couldn't breath, barely able to get a breath out.
She saw the phone and got an idea. With trembling fingers she picked up the phone and dialed a number she never thought she would have to dial.
