Five Minutes

Jet City Woman

Having a low key Thanksgiving eliminated an immense amount of stress for Veronica. It was a stress she didn't need considering that ordeal she was facing. She knew even if she did celebrate it with friends she wouldn't execute it as well as she did it in the past. It was nice not having to stuff and prepare a giant turkey for everyone.

And the paparazzi. They were everywhere. Making her stress even worse than it was. When she went shopping. When she stepped outside into her pool; she could spot them in the distance. When she made plans to see Landry or Sallie. These people were sneaky little leeches who popped up and greedily sucked away any fragment of privacy in her life

She had gone out to Whole Foods in the morning on a Wednesday. Of course she knew they would be around so she deliberately delayed the trip until it was necessary and her refrigerator was nearly empty. And even while in the store, there were eyes on her; she could see them in her line of vision. Curious eyes of nosy customers. Haters, supporters, she didn't know which way they went with her. If they were believers of her accusations. Or part of the group who assumed she was a massive liar desperate for fame and attention.

Either way she did not appreciate the constant scrutiny.

The paparazzi were several feet away as she stepped outside with her large cart filled up to the top with overflowing bags. She tried to pretend not to see them; seemed easy to manage since she was wearing sunglasses.

Society was just going to think this was an intentional shot; that she purposely called these monsters to take photos of her so the world could see she was just like everyone else! That was the furthest thing from the truth.  She knew she couldn't tell or dictate what people assumed but the thought bothered her a lot. All she yearned for was to go about her daily activities in peace but she couldn't be granted that. Not anymore.

She never had been the type who staged these kinds of photos. For the same reason she had done independent films for so long. There wasn't as much of a spotlight. She was a person very intentionally private about her life. Most of the photos of her on the internet, up until recently, were set photos of her either filming or relaxing in between takes. Occasionally there had been pictures of her hanging out with cast members around the city. But those were expected.

On the way home that same day, she stopped for gas and, yes, unsurprisingly, they were photographing her there too. At a damn gas station. With her wearing her hair in a messy ponytail, with a makeup free face, and oversized sweater with shorts and worn sneakers.

The tears were forced away until she got home. She was sitting in the kitchen, perched on a stool with a glass of whiskey in hand because she needed something to numb her distress. Not that it helped. She hoped she could drink enough to pass out for a few hours; then she didn't have to think about anything. "I'm...just tired. It's like...I can't go anywhere anymore. They're like vultures just waiting until they can attack me."

Ralston listened - listened as he always did without offering advice or interrupting her; he knew it would only make her angrier.

"It's gotten to a point where I feel like I can't even take a shit without someone watching," she said. "I know no one can really see in our bathrooms but...they'll find a way. They're like flies; they'll fly in somehow."

"Why don't you dress like you know they're watching?" Ralston asked. "Give them what they want. Look at them and smile. They won't leave you alone but you get more control that way. Make it seem like you're happy to see them. But look like an even bigger slob."

"Should I wave and blow a kiss too?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "Yeah...and show them you love them; make a heart with your hands."

"I'd feel stupid doing that." And there was no chance it would even work. How many other celebrities had tried doing that? The paparazzi were pathetic, but she doubted they were that gullible.

Ralston looked at her but said nothing. They were likely both thinking the same thing; she didn't have any other choice. Besides locking herself up in her house. And that really hadn't worked well for in the past.

She, defeatedly, took the advice. Any time she wanted to run errands she dressed in normal
loungewear, she kept her head up and grinned broadly, happily, with a wave. Other times she took Ralston's other suggestion and made a heart shape with her hands. She was an actress! She had to play pretend; play the part of the woman who appreciated and even loved having pictures taken of her. It wouldn't look like she staged everything if she fully and obviously acknowledged their presence looking like she rolled out of bed. She didn't even carry a bag or purse; she knew the paparazzi were obsessed with brands celebrities wore.

For an extra touch she wore her reading glasses.

It didn't even take her a minute to prepare this look.

LA was a city full of celebrities so it was easy to get shots of them doing everyday activities. What Veronica was curious, and annoyed about, was who tipped them off to find her. They knew where she lived. But how did they know when she was shopping when she didn't call them herself? Did one of the workers tip them off? She didn't want to fall deeper into speculation; she knew it would only irritate her. Clearly somebody called them. Someone who knew she liked to shop at Whole Foods. It really had to be one of the employees or a customer who saw her shopping there more than a few times.

But that was fine. She was going to keep this charade up.