The Rejected Brides Holiday Romance

Chapter Five – Paparazzi

Chapter Five – Paparazzi

”Kristofer Gilbert goes into hiding after another bust up with Presley Wade, leaving the pop icon in tears as she leaves the reportedly trashed hotel suite at the Ritz in London. The 31 year old American actor who found fame ten years ago, known for his role as Officer Abel in the hit film franchise 'Crazy Cops', was last seen leaving the hotel in the early hours of the morning. Gilbert was supporting his trade mark ‘Tigers’ orange cap worn backwards, over his short dark hair, wearing a pair of stone-washed denims and black t-shirt with the orange ‘Tigers’ logo on the front, his old college football team, with a pair of over-sized sunglasses, as he rushed into an awaiting car, that sped him away from the scene. Sources tell us that Presley was once again left heartbroken by the Actor, after another loud argument, that had guests making complaints to the hotel reception and security team. ”

Kris sighed as he looked at his morning paper, it seemed he could not escape the tabloid scrutiny of his relationship with Presley. He had dated the top selling singer-songwriter for just over a year, and what a year it had been. Their turbulent relationship was fodder for the headline-grabbing entertainment magazines, and he was always painted as the ‘bad guy’. Little did the headline makers know that it was not him trashing the many hotel rooms, or even starting the arguments, but the pop sweetheart, who had the face of an angel but had the devil of a temper on her. He rounded his shoulders, the sting from where her fingernails had clawed at his back causing him to wince slightly.

“So, what was it about this time?” Gregg, his agent and manager asked, blowing out a puff of cigar smoke into the air. His blue pinstriped suit, buttoned at the front to hide his protruding middle-aged spread, his dyed black hair slick against his scalp.

“Same old s**t. I spent far too long signing autographs, and the girls were looking at me as if I were a piece of meat and I did not pay her enough attention on the red carpet at the Grammy’s.” Kris said with a sigh.

“She is f*****g crazy. I am done with it. Just…done.” Kris said one more, hanging his leg across his opposite knee by the ankle.

“What do you mean, you didn’t pay her enough attention on the red carpet at the Grammy’s? That was a month ago, and you were glued to her crazy ass hip all night.” Gregg said. He knew he had been there, as he also represented a new, up and coming rapper who was taking the world by storm.

“Apparently not, I spend too long signing autographs, and enjoying the attention of the female fans. She has been bringing that up for the past month as well.” Kris shrugged, wondering how his life had turned into the barrel of s**t he was now experiencing.

He had met Presley just over a year prior, she had been singing at the Oscars, and given he was nominated for best actor for his role as Officer Abel, they had met at the after party. Kris was drowning his sorrows having lost out on the prestigious award, when she approached him. Her smile had been as bright as the sun. They had embarked on a relationship, making it work for the first three months, between his filming schedule and Presley touring the US, with her then new album ‘Serenity’. Not that Presley Wade knew anything about serenity. Not that he knew that at the time. Things were going great, but then all of a sudden, the quietly spoken, ever smiling, 24-year-old turned into a nightmare on steroids, when she began to display bouts of rage and jealousy, at the female attention he received. With the press already invested in their relationship, and a string of other female actors and pop star exes in his wake, Kris felt pressure to remain with Presley, hoping that she would somehow begin to feel secure in their relationship. That was his biggest mistake, because as time went on, the arguments turned to violent attacks, where she would hit, punch and scratch the hell out of him. He never once retaliated, and he took great pride in that little-known fact. When he refused to react to her abuse, her attention would turn to objects, any objects that lay around the place, and begin to smash up the hotel rooms or homes they were staying in. Kris had found solace in bottles of high-proof Russian vodka, lots, and lots, of bottles in a bid to escape his reality. He was not drink dependent, but he knew if he continued on this spiral, he soon would be, and then he would have the gutter press enjoying making up the headlines for his trip to the 'Priory'. The paparazzi had already caught him on multiple occasions drunk out of his mind, staggering out of one club or another after he had drowned his sorrows, wanting more than anything to keep himself from going home where nothing but shouting and violence awaited him.

“She has keys to both my house in Virginia, and the penthouse in LA. I need to get the locks changed before she heads to one, or both of them and trashes those as well.” Kris added.

Gregg let out a sigh, and nodded his head, picking up his cell phone.

“Paul my man, how the hell are you?” Gregg said into the phone, as Kris sat, continuing to read the newspaper about the events of last week.

The press had one thing right, he had been hiding out. He had taken the next flight out of London, arriving in LA the next day, to avoid press intrusion. Obviously, they had been searching for him in England, but he was back on home turf, but he could not avoid them for long. It was only a matter of time before some paparazzi punk photographed him, and he would be headline news again.

“Yes, so all locks are to be changed, and a clean-up crew if she has visited. Send the keys to me, and I will get them to Kris.” Gregg continued, before cutting the call.

“I need to get out of here man.” Kris said to his agent, lifting his orange cap off his head, and running his hands through his dark brown hair, before placing it back. The scruff of his designer stubble was beginning to itch a little, as it had grown more towards a beard than the preferred short length he normally sported.

“ It doesn’t matter where you go, they will find you.” Gregg said with a shrug.

“There has to be somewhere off the grid. Somewhere where I can escape even for a few days, before I head to Hawaii and begin filming the new surfer movie.” Kris implored, his liquid caramel-coloured eyes swirling with his fraught emotions.

“I will call your security team, see if they have more bods to protect you.” Gregg offered.

“Naa, I need a total break. No security, no entourage, no chance of anyone leaking the information to the Paparazzi, man. Somewhere Presley doesn’t know exists. I just want to be me. Kristofer Gilbert, the man, not the actor. Get my head on straight. Detox, and prepare for this new movie.” Kris sighed.

“Do you want the f*****g moon and stars as well? You are giving me an impossible task Kris.” Gregg huffed out, his fingers tapping on his computer.

“That is why I pay you the big bucks.” Kris chuckled slightly at his agent and manager.

Gregg was the closest person he had to a friend. The ‘Hollywood friends’ he had acquired over the years were not ones he trusted. They would…and had in the past stabbed him in the back as soon as they looked at him. Some finding themselves out of work had leaked information about him to the press, for a small kick back, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, a lifeline if you could not find a part in a movie. But he had sold his soul to the devil of fame, over ten years ago, captivated by the glitz and glamour of the life of the rich and famous. He was a fool then, and maybe a bigger fool now, because for all he hated this life, he loved his work, and apparently was extremely good at it.

“How are you going to handle the press, are you seriously done with the psychopath?” Gregg asked.

Kris nodded his head, he was more than done, he should have gotten out of the crazy relationship months and months ago. But he had always ended up getting sucked in by Presley’s big brown eyes and seductive smile, believing her promises that it would never happen again.

“Put out a press release, stating that we have broken up, let them paint me as the bad guy, I don’t care, I just want her out of my life for good.” Kris sighed.

“Done, are you going to let her know that it is over for good this time?” Gregg asked.

“Nope, she can read it in the headlines. She will not suck me in again,” Kris said with determination.

Gregg continued to tap on his computer before his eyes widened, then his brows furrowed in concentration, before looking at Kris.

“Okay, so how do you feel about glamping in the Montseny forest on the outskirts of Barcelona? It is a brand-new site. The website has not been up for long. It is in the middle of nowhere. I can call in a favour, and get you on a private jet tonight?” Gregg asked.

“Do it. I owe you one.” Kris sighed and for the first time a genuine smile formed on his deep red lips.

“Let me call the site, it’s late over there, but if they want business they should answer.” Gregg said, picking up his cell and dialling the Spanish number on the website.

Kris sat crossing his fingers and toes, hoping this place could accommodate him for the three days before he needed to head out to Hawaii. He was desperate for the escape. He listened as Gregg spoke in Spanish, not really understanding a word he was saying. He waited patiently for Gregg to finish the call.

“Well?” Kris asked.

“Looks like you are going to Barcelona.” Gregg smiled triumphantly. Even if he said so himself, he was damned good at his job.

“What about security?” Kris asked, really wanting to be alone for the few days before he had to face the press again, and head to Hawaii for the three months of location shooting.

“Apparently, and I quote. They are very secure, and if anyone happens to find you, their security would be on them like a pack of wolves.” Gregg shrugged.

“Sounds good to me. When do I set off?” Kris smiled, relief flooding through him that he would have some time to find himself again.