Outlaws // Taron Egerton

Four

She got a bad reputation
Nobody gets too close
A sight of a soul when it's breaking
(Shawn Mendes - Bad Reputation)

• • •

Two Months Later...

IDRIS

     How long do I have to wait before I start spewing madness around? The fourth date. And it's three dates down now as Taron and I both depart from a restaurant to take a stroll and expose ourselves to the hired paparazzi scheduled after our lunch date.

     "Do you even have movies to do?" I ask, trying to make a normal conversation so we don't get bored out of the unusual silence of the supposed to be 'busy streets.' We are still holding on to the 'surpise' paparazzi appearance. We weren't given an exact time they will show up just so the stunt could remain looking 'natural' and 'accidental,' according to my manager.

     "It's already done. I'm just waiting for the release to promote it which is very soon. But, I have an upcoming audition."

     "What for?"

     He shrugs. "It's still tentative, but it's for a musical."

     I smile. "Perfect for you. You sing all the time!" I act like I'm faking interest because I notice my slight slip off of character.

     Silence, yet again, falls between us, but he turns to me as the familiar clicks begin to surround us. He holds my hand with no hesitation and we shield ourselves from the blinking flashes as we continue to walk. It doesn't even matter if the sun is up, it's still a bit painful to simply gaze at.

     Taron lets go of my hand and he positions his arm around me to pull me close to him, making the impression that he's 'protecting' me from the 'cruel' paparazzi. And I pretend to be the 'cute' girlfriend that is startled by the paparazzi and I wrap my arms around him.

     He pulls away to look at me, then kisses my forehead and pats my back. "It'll be fine. You'll be fine."

     I clutch on my fist and rest my chin on my knuckles like the paparazzi really does frighten me. I've never acted this way before, but I just want to try something new because the fans of the artists I've 'dated' might still be figuring me out to this day, and they don't consider these 'investigations' of theirs as a joke and can even potentially land a job as FBI agents based on how good they observe patterns on someone's behavior. I have to take a step ahead of them even if I know they could catch up eventually. They're geniuses with their countless theories and 'proof' to expose me-but none of them ever came close to the truth, as far as I know.

     The paparazzi are violent. I know how deadly they can already be, but this one is also different. I didn't think they would be this aggressive. Now, I wish this was a time where I could throw a fit, but I can't start a drama unless I'm told to do so.

     "Where the fuck is the van? I can't do this anymore!" I hiss. There is a hint of honesty in Margaux's words, because this is genuinely pissing me off. Slowly, the fear I was pretending to feel begins to turn real. "Taron, where the fuck is the van?"

     "I don't know!" He screams so I can hear, and I notice a bit of panic in his voice too. It's like he's on the verge of tears.

     Margaux, your boyfriend is getting upset. Do something. I think.

     I'm going to lose my job, but they've hired shitty paparazzi, and as Margaux, she should be yelling at them right now. Plus, it's something I also want to do. These people are assholes.

     And everyone shuts up almost instantaneously. I find myself off of Taron's arms and leaned towards the paparazzi. "Leave us the fuck alone!" I repeat.

     They do what I say. They all scatter away and some are even running in fright. When internet gossip articles said everybody is afraid of Margaux, I didn't think the paps were also included. But in this situation, I am thankful they are.

     The van stops in front of us, and Taron slides the door open. He swings his arm, pointing at the seat and I climb in. He knows by now that I always call dibs on the window seat. I look at him as I've seated and he looks pissed.

     He shuts the door and he's oddly quiet. I decide to gaze at the tinted window and see the outside, he chimes in. "We need to talk," he says in a tone that would scare anyone immediately.

     I face him. "What about?"

     "You weren't supposed to do that. Not until our next date."

     I shake my head. "Do what?"

     "Create a scene? Those paparazzi were hired, you know?"

     I roll my eyes. "I know."

     "Don't you roll your fucking eyes on me," he spits as he roughly clutches on my arm.

     Of course, Margaux has to fight back. She can't be treated like this. "What did I do this time, huh?"

     "We are going to be in big trouble, Margaux. And it's all because of you!"

     "What do you mean 'we?' I'm taking the blame, right?" I fake chuckle. "Of course, because I always take the blame. So what if I yelled at the paps, I'm the one to blame anyway because I did it, not you. So, as far as I know, this does not concern you."

     "Oh, yes it does. They're not going to believe you, Margaux. They are going to find ways to call me out when you think your plan of bearing the pain for the both of us is foolproof. If you think all managements are the same, this one is actually different, so get used to it."

     "I'll fix this, okay?" I swallow and sigh. "I...I was just trying to protect you."

     "Protect me from what? You're the one who kept hiding herself from the paps, right?"

     "For fuck's sake, Taron. You obviously hate them."

     Tears start to stream down my eyes. Although Margaux has a stone heart, we can't deny that it was Idris who did that. And this is Idris and her emotions. This is Idris getting hurt.

     "You're taking my fucking act as it is," I sob. "But you should've seen your face."

I'm in my manager's office because I demanded that Taron should not be reprimanded for something he didn't even do. So it's double-trouble for me. I got fucked up by the publicist and I'm about to get fucked up by my own manager.

     "You won't understand how violent they were."

     "Idris, they're violent because that's what they are."

      I shake my head vigorously. "I know they are, but they're not supposed to be like that."

     "Well, unfortunately for you, the paps that were hired were the types you've never encountered before."

     I groan.

     "Just because you've encountered loads of paps, doesn't mean you've encountered them all, Idris."

     "Whatever. I still thought it was disrespectful and inappropriate."

     My manager's hands slam on the wooden desk. She narrows her eyes, glaring at me. "Don't pretend like you're such an angel, Margaux."