Page 75 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
Quickly, I flip through the rest of the album, looking for more photos with me and my mother in them. But there’s nothing—not a one—till the last page of the album, where I find a group shot of all five of the families that traveled together, along with the kids, outside the American Embassy in Moscow. Someone is holding a sign from the agency, and someone else is clutching a bottle of champagne. My mom is standing, holding me in the back. She is not smiling.
kenna
The total traveltime between Ephron and Disneyland by private jet and chauffeured limo is just over four hours. A short, comfortable trip. But as it’s almost ten at night, we’re still all tired. Orly is fast asleep in her car seat. Rafe sends the nanny into the hotel lobby to get our room keys and summon a bellman. We all sit silently, waiting for her to come back.
“I can’t wait to go to bed,” Naomi says. When she yawns, we all catch it, taking turns covering our mouths.
“It’s supposed to be the happiest place on earth,” Rafe admonishes, “not the sleepiest!”
“It’s just the jet lag.” Naomi waves his concerns away. “I’ll be the first one in line tomorrow.”
“There won’t be any lines,” Rafe says, shaking his head. “I booked a VIP experience.”
The nanny taps on the window of the limo, and Rafe cracks the door.
“We’re good to go,” she says, passing the room keys in. “The bags are on their way up.”
* * *
We follow a second bellhop through the lobby, heads down, hunkering behind the stroller and car seat-laden cart. With a baseball cap and sunglasses on, Rafe is still completely Rafe. There’s no way he’s not getting recognized. But it’s me, in the brown wig, who gets tagged first. As we pass a family in the hallway, they stop dead in their tracks, doubling back to the elevator with their phones out and yelling “Ember!” as the door slides closed. Orly stirs on her father’s shoulder, then resumes sucking her thumb as the elevator glides upward.
“Is it always like this traveling with you two?” Naomi asks. “How are we going to go on any rides tomorrow? Can you wear some kind of disguises?”
“That’s why I booked the VIP experience,” Rafe says, “that and the endless fast passes.”
The elevator dings, letting us out into a blessedly empty hallway.
“What does that mean?” I ask, excitedly. I’ve heard rumors about celebs getting special treatment at Disneyland, but it seems to be cloaked in secrecy.
“Well, you know my friend Zara Jones?” Rafe asks.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard of her.”
“Weren’t you all in the same films together?” Naomi glances back over her shoulder.
“Right,” Rafe says. “Well, Zara is a huge Disney nerd. She comes here all the time. Has a Club 33 Membership. She helped me make plans. We’ll have a cast member escorting us around for most of the day, and they will direct us to VIP entrances so we don’t have to wait in line.”
“No lines at all?” Naomi raises her eyebrows, looking impressed.
“Nope. And there are a few other things, but I don’t want to ruin the surprises. I also made reservations for lunch and dinner.”
The bellhop stops in front of a deluxe suite, with primitive masks flanking the doorway.
“This is it,” he says, “the Adventureland Suite. Have you stayed with us here before?”
“No,” Rafe says. “This is our first time.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll just check in with you guys in the morning, if you want to point me to my room,” I say.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lorelei. The suite sleeps five people. Rainey has her own room just down the hall. The four of us will fit in here just fine.” Rafe hands his keycard to the bellhop, who swipes it to open the door.
“It’s my favorite one of the themed suites,” the bellhop says. “Let’s start with the first bedroom.”
He leads us into a bedroom that’s been tented with white canvas. It’s what I would call safari chic. There’s a double bed and an en suite bathroom, and every last detail, from the dresser that looks like a steamer trunk, to the base, camp-style desk and mirror are perfect. The only thing missing are the elephants outside.
“It’s styled to look like a 1930s’ safari camp,” the bellman tells us, then he notices the sleeping toddler on Rafe’s shoulder and retrieves the porta-crib from the cart. “Looks like someone’s ready to hit the hay. Where would you like me to set this up?”
“Hmm. Well, Mom, I assumed that you’d take the safari bedroom. We can put Orly in the living room or in my room.”
