Golden (rewrite)

3

"Do you have anything to declare?" A bald man, dressed in a  professional suit asked.

"I'd like to declare my independence." You glared at him with baggy eyes. The bickering, screaming, fighting and yelling among the crowd kept you awake for three days. Of course you're ticked off, you just want to get his autograph and go back to Motel motel.

You were even attacked by his rabid fans once, leaving you some nasty bruises on your face and body. You didn't provoke them, they just... randomly attacked you. Linda, Tony, Mike and even Karen defended you while you squirm away.

Turns out, you lost the 'Lanette' badge. Making them think you're only in it for the money and you're not a 'real fan'.

You resorted to writing "I LOVE LANETTE" in all capital letters on your white shirt with a black marker. You didn't get attacked anymore, but you did get some glares from the same group.

"I can see why ONE autograph is worth 'round ten grand..." you thought to yourself as the male pat your body down for any restricted items.

"Okay, once you're in there, do not—"

"Yeah, don't touch him yadda yadda. I know, I know. Can I go now?" You gritted your teeth.

He gave you one last suspicious look before letting you go. Once you're out of his sight, you flipped the bird on him.

You sighed and took a deep breath before knocking on the fortified door. A bodyguard from the inside opened it. You muttered thanks and entered, gripping your pen and paper tightly in anger.

You couldn't see Lanette yet, which made you raise an eyebrow.

"Turn right." A soft, smooth and masculine voice echoed throughout the spacious room. You twisted your head and saw nothing there.

"That is your left." Your cheeks turned somewhat red as you corrected your action. Finally, you met this oh-so-handsome man, Lanette.

Yes, he is handsome. Drop dead gorgeous with his blue eyes, matching the sea. Porcelain skin and his luxurious long hair made him look like a doll. His face is chiseled to perfection. You gave a tight-lipped smile as he stared at you, with no emotion or warmth in his cerulean eyes.

You advanced to him and placed the paper and pen on the marbled table. He

"Greetings... uh, sir! It's an ho-"

"Name." He interrupted you, he's using his own fountain pen.

"Wow, rude." You maintained a fake smile.

"No name sir, just your signatu—"

"Then I won't sign it." Your mouth is open in disbelief.

"Usually my fans would want their full name written down... and those with pecuiliar requests like yours—" He glared at you.

"—usually have an ulterior motive." He continued.

You inhaled and exhaled, pondering what is the world's most common name so that it would increase your chance of selling it.

"Err..." you clench your hands behind your back. His piercing, judgemental eyes are staring through you. The fact that he's not smiling makes the situation even worse.

The longer you made him wait, the more his left eyebrow rose. "Holy shit! If he 'runs' out of forehead to raise his eyebrow, I'm dead meat!"

"See um... the thing is..." you tried force the words out, but you couldn't.

"Do you speak english? Do you have a preferred language?" He asked, growing impatient. "普通话? Français? Tagalog? Español? عربى? Nederlandse taal?" You flinch at the harshness of his tone.