Blindsided (3 page)

Chapter Three
– Fame Seekers, Users, Gold Diggers and Cheats

Jesse

“One more try, I’ll do it this time, I swear!”

This was the third time Hunter had been defeated by an egg-firing bird, and I was itching to show him how to do it right but he kept the Wii remote firmly in his hands as he prepared for a fourth attempt.

“Hello, boys.”

The voice wasn’t familiar, and it caught Hunter’s attention quicker than mine. I was too busy staring at the eggs slamming Mario in the stomach, as Hunter turned his head.

“Hey there,” Hunter said, straightening up and running a hand through his brown curls.

I guess this girl is hot.

When I turned to see for myself, I could understand the appeal. A tall redhead stood beside Georgia in the doorway. There was no way in hell it was her natural hair color, but I pegged her as one of those rich girls who spent more time in salons and shopping malls than anywhere else. She knew what looked good. Actually, she’d probably make an excellent soccer wife one day, with her perfect make-up and figure-hugging clothes.

She’s too young for a boob job, right?

They were practically bursting out of her low cut shirt, and Hunter was salivating beside me.

“Hunter, Jesse, this is my friend from college, Mischa.”

Georgia looked slightly apologetic as Mischa breezed into the room, a huge smile on her face, and placed air kisses on our cheeks.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hunter replied, “Like, really.”

She winked at him, then turned her attention to me. “You must be the football player. I can tell by your muscles.”

Without a hint of subtlety, she ran her hand across my left bicep, and squeezed.

I pulled away from her. Did she really think that sort of behaviour worked on guys?

“Aww, how cute, he’s shy,” she said. “It’s okay, I can be very gentle.”

Hunter laughed, obviously digging her style. I thought she reeked of desperation.

“I’m not shy,” I said. “A little scared, though. Hasn’t anyone ever told you you come on too strong?”

She shook her head. “No. I thought you’d be used to it, being such a sexy famous boy!”

Oh for God’s sake.

“Excuse me,” I said, standing up to escape to my room.

I didn’t want to be rude, but I was sick of girls showing interest in me just because I played soccer. I knew most guys my age would have loved it. Hunter sure thought I wasted my “fame” by keeping away from all the horny women who wanted to date me. But that wasn’t my style.

At the top of the stairs, I noticed Isabelle’s bedroom door was open. As I walked by, I saw her laying on her bed, deep in thought. I was going to walk on, not wanting to disturb her, but her pretty brown eyes seemed sad.

“Hey,” I said, peering around the doorframe. “Everything okay?”

Isabelle’s head snapped up, her face flushed. “Hi. Yeah. I’m okay.”

Does that mean I should stay and talk to her, or carry on back to my own room?
I hadn’t really talked to her with nobody else around before, even though I’d wanted to do just that since the moment I re-met her.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked. “I thought you’d be downstairs with Mischa.”

“That’s actually why I’m up here. Somebody needs to tell her to tone it down. I ran away like a little girl.”

Isabelle’s unhappiness fell away. “Yeah, she can be a bit frightening when she has her sights set on someone.”

“She has her sights set on me already? She only met me for thirty seconds.”

“Well, she knows what she likes, and you’re just her type.”

“Her type? You mean, I’m breathing?”

Isabelle laughed, and the sound made my stomach flip. “Yeah, something like that.”

I lurked awkwardly, still unsure whether to keep talking or leave her alone. I’m pretty sure I looked like some kind of pervert, hanging around outside a pretty girl’s bedroom, but I wanted to talk to her, I couldn’t bring myself to move. Isabelle sat up, crossing her legs, and said, “Would you like to hide out in here for a while?”

I smiled. “Can you protect me from the scary girl?”

“I can’t promise anything. She’s very persistent and she usually gets whatever she wants.”

Her words didn’t fill me with enthusiasm. I really didn’t want to spend all my time in England hiding from Mischa.

“I hope she finds something else she wants. Fast,” I said, stepping into Isabelle’s bedroom.

It would have been way too forward to sit next to her on the bed. Instead, I sat down on her desk chair.

She looked sweet sitting there in blue jeans, and a white t-shirt that hugged her curves in a way I wished I hadn’t noticed. Trying not to stare at her was always difficult, but even more so once my brain had registered the clinginess of her top. “So, what did you and Hunter do today?” she asked. “Besides playing Mario.”

“We had another quiet day, hanging out around Notting Hill. Jetlag has been a bitch, but tomorrow we’re heading out into the city. We have to do some touristy stuff, like Buckingham Palace, and Big Ben for Hunter’s school project.”

“Hunter has to do a project?”

I nodded. “Yeah. His school only let him come over here with me if he promised to turn it into an assignment, so we’re gonna learn some stuff about the history of London. We want to get it done soon so we can enjoy the rest of our time here.”

“Well, if you need any help, let me know. I’m pretty good with history.”

“Thanks, I think Hunter will take any help he can to get this over with. I told him we couldn’t go for a beer until he finished his homework.”

Isabelle laughed. “Very responsible, I’m impressed!”

“Someone needs to keep him in check!”

“That’s true.”

See, this is easy. She’s not scary at all.
Not that I ever thought she was scary. She was too shy to be scary, but she was much easier to talk to than I thought she’d be.

“Did you have a good day?” I asked. “Wait …I don’t even know what you’re studying.”

“English literature, English language, sociology, and photography.”

“Photography? Awesome, do you have anything you can show me?”

Her face flushed again. “I have a portfolio. My stuff isn’t very good, though.”

“Oh come on now, I don’t believe that. But,” I added, not wanting to push her, “if you don’t want to show me, it’s okay.”

She smiled, and stood up. “I’ll show you, but, you can’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh? What do you take photos of?”

Isabelle chuckled as she pulled out a folder from underneath her bed, and laid it out on the bed. “Come and see.”

I stood up, and went to sit beside her, trying to keep my eyes on the photos, not on her.

Isabelle opened the folder, and talked me through shots of nature, still life, and digitally enhanced photos. With every page turn, I became more and more astonished by her talent. She was way more than just a pretty face. When she reached the last page, a loose photograph fell out of the folder. Isabelle gasped, and quickly tried to snatch it away, but not before I caught a glimpse.

“Wait,” I laughed. “Why are you trying to hide that?”

“Because it’s of me so … obviously I couldn’t have taken it and you wanted to see my work.”

“Isabelle, come on. I already saw some of it. Show me.”

Shyly, she passed the photo to me, and I’m pretty sure it made my heart stop. The picture showed Isabelle perching on a tree stump, sideways to the camera. Her blonde hair was blowing in the breeze, and even though she was only dressed casually, the photo oozed beauty.

“Wow. Who took this?”

“My friend, Willow. She’s in my photography class. In the summer, we went out to experiment with different styles, and Willow thought I’d look ‘cute’ sitting on a tree stump. I took a similar photo of her too.”

“Willow was right. This is a beautiful shot.”

For about the millionth time since I met her, her face turned red, and she mumbled. “Thanks. When people see this photo, they always assume it’s Georgia.”

I shrugged. “Easy mistake to make.”

She shook her head. “Georgia’s the pretty one.”

I couldn’t stop myself laughing out loud. “You’re identical! If someone thinks Georgia is beautiful, they think you are too.”

“No,” she insisted. “Georgia has all the perfection. I don’t think I’m ugly or anything. I’m okay with my appearance most of the time, but if you look closely, there are differences between Georgia and me.”

True story. After all, I thought Isabelle was stunning, but Georgia merely pretty. I just hadn’t figured out what the differences were yet.

“So how do people tell you apart?” I asked. “I mean, physically. You’re obviously very different in personality.”

Isabelle’s face turned stony for a second, then she gave me a large, unnatural grin, showing her teeth.

“Oh,” I said. “People tell you apart by your uncanny Cheshire Cat impressions!”

“No!” she laughed. “My teeth are … wonky compared to Georgia’s. Hers are all straight. My two front teeth … one is slightly bigger than the other.”

“That’s it?” I asked, laughing again. “So, to tell you apart, I have to ask you to open your mouths?”

“Yeah.”

“If two very slightly uneven teeth is the only difference, you’re lucky. It’s barely noticeable.”

“Thanks, but I know it’s there, and I hate it.”

She was far too pretty to be worried about the size of her teeth. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, and tell her how ridiculously attractive she was but there were two reasons I couldn’t. Firstly, my respect for Hunter and his family meant I didn’t want to abuse their kindness by hitting on their daughter. If she rejected me, the rest of the stay would be awkward for us, and if she didn’t … well, everyone else would probably feel awkward. Secondly, she was too fragile. Not the unstable kind of fragile, but so delicate and shy, I didn’t want to frighten her. And finally, it was way too soon.

She sighed, and I got the feeling she needed me to leave, so I stood up.

“Thanks for letting me hide in here,” I said. “Your photography is really great. I’m glad you shared it with me.”

“You’re welcome, Jesse.”

Her soft voice speaking my name really tested my resolve, but I threw her a smile, then went back to my own room.

I sat on the edge of the bed in my pink room, and put my head in my hands. It wasn’t fair that girls like Isabelle didn’t exist in L.A. Or if they did, I’d never been lucky enough to run into one. I’d met fame seekers, users, gold diggers and cheats. I once got propositioned by a woman in her forties who was married with a son my age.

I loved my job, but being in the public eye made me a target for people who wanted something from me I couldn’t, or didn’t want to give. I was never like Hunter. As much I admired his ‘Go get ‘em’ attitude to women, I wasn’t that guy. Relationships were always better to me than hook-ups. Not that there had been many of either. My only serious relationship was this year with a girl who may or may not have broken my heart.

Maybe you need to re-consider the hook-up thing. You’re obviously doing something wrong!

“Hey, why did you run away?”

I lifted my head, and Hunter stood in front of me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I just don’t like being pawed by strangers.”

Hunter smiled. “If you’d stayed a bit longer, she wouldn’t have been a stranger.”

Fair point.

“She wanted to invite us to her Christmas party in a couple of weeks. We have to go.”

“I think I’ll pass on that one.”

“Come on, bro, we need to spend some time with sexy British chicks!”

“Are you telling me you like Mischa?” I asked.

“What’s not to like? Hot, confident, great rack. Perfect for a little vacation action.”

“She’s all yours.”

“No,” Hunter laughed. “She’s all
yours
. Maybe you didn’t notice, but it’s you she’s into.”

I’d kind of hoped once I left, she’d turn her attention to Hunter. Obviously, she was more persistent than I’d given her credit for.

“I don’t want her,” I said. “She’s not my type.”

“She ain’t taking no for an answer, buddy. She got halfway up the stairs before Georgia could drag her back! If she’d caught up with you … let’s say … she’d have cured you of your ‘shyness.’”

“I’m not shy, I just don’t need another psycho chick.”

“What’s your problem, man?”

“My problem is that I came here to get away from girls like Mischa. I didn’t expect to be pimped out by your cousin!”

Hunter stepped back in surprise, and I sighed.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I just don’t want to spend the whole time fending off a horny college girl.”

“I get that, but she’s just a girl. She’s not Taylor.”