The Celebrity's Ex-Wife

Chapter 2

“Ms Grave! Ms Grave!” Ugh. The paparazzi had found me. My agent promised I wouldn't be found in New York for at least a month. News sure travel fast here.

“Mrs Grave! Why did you and the famous Hunter Grave divorce?” A microphone found its way through the crowd and right under my nose.

I wanted to make it clear, I WAS NO MRS GRAVE.

“Any thoughts on Hunter Grave?” One from behind called. I hussled my way through the crowd, finding it useless. Finally, I decided to get backup. Rummaging my hands into my pocket, I found the on button and guessed my way through my contacts. Hoping I had got the right number, I tried to type based on memory of my keyboard.

Need help ASAP! Go to the audition place and find me. Trust me this mob isn't really hard to spot.

Screaming pierced the air as I struggled uselessly. The paparazzi was a fierce crowd, no match for such a small figure like mine. I cursed under my breath.

“Oh my god! It's Hunter Grave!” I heard a voice scream. All the questions immediately died. The situation changed drastically. The focus was now on finding Hunter, which no one wasted time on. The crowd disbanded as I stumbled backwards.

“What are you waiting for, silly? Run!” She grabbed my hand as we ran into the parking lot, searching for her car.

“Where is it?” Flustered, she scrambled further into the parking lot. “I found it!” She squealed. We both got in the car hurriedly. A growl of the engine, cold air filling into the car, and we were off.

Lydia Blakes, my best friend and my agent. She was a blonde with smoky grey eyes and bad girl attitude.

Lydia jumped between boyfriends and had no stable relationships in her life, coming to my house every other day for boyfriend advice. Her currrent boyfriend, Dave Castallion and her were in a on-off relationship.

One day you'll see them fighting and throwing things at each other, another day you'll see them making out on a couch or sharing sandwiches. Lydia hastily reversed the car, turning the direction of the car towards the exit.

“My trusty agent to the rescue hmm?” I giggled and put on my seatbelt.

“Don't push your luck, I was here by coincidence. Dave and I were having a date to make up for the argument we had yesterday. While I was the restroom I saw Dave hitting on another girl, his hands were all over her. I stormed out and told him it was over.”

She sniffed and pushed the pedal, and we started moving in accelerating speed out of the carpark. I plastered on a fake shocked face. Every time Lydia said it was over, give it two days and she would be writing love poems for him.

“I know right? He's such a man whore. I can't believe I even dated him. I'm saving this hot stuff for someone else.” She huffed, obviously missing the sarcasm. “Give me a break.” I rolled my eyes as she took a sharp turn.

“Where are we heading to anyway?” I queried. We were heading the opposite direction of my house, and Lydia's house was at the other street. “Well...” she hesitated and smiled sheepishly. “You'll see.” As much as I didn't had much confidence of Lydia's ideas, I let it pass. I did owe her from getting out of the pararazzi anyway.

Five traffic lights and two lefts, we reached the grand entrance of the famous 5 Star, The Kingfisher Hotel.

“Lydia, why are we here?” My instincts told me to run far far away from here, but Lydia pulled me out of the car and into the hotel.

Cold air brushed against my face, a blood red curpet with the words The Kingfisher Hotel written in cursive with specks of gold visible. The sound of professionals talking and cleaning of cultery from breadfast sounded surprisingly comfortable.  Cold marble floor and walls decorated with gold platters with hotel achievements.

“May I help you?” A bishop dressed in green with gold sleeves bowed. “Its alright, we came here for the audition.” Lydia smiled with a hint of pride. - Audition?