Page 5 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
The idea of meeting Rafe Barzilay in the flesh is thrilling. Scary, but thrilling. He is iconic. As nervous as I am to even potentially meet Rafe, the thought of meeting Lorelei Dupont gives me butterflies. For totally different reasons. Dean Riley wasn’t the first person to tell me I look like her.
I’ve been hearing how much I look like Lorelei since I was eight and she was America’s darling, starring in a top sitcom on the leading kid’s network. Everyone was always commenting how much I looked like “Moxie McAllister,” the sassy, freckled, redheaded kid detective. Except with blonde hair and fewer freckles. I’d loved hearing it, too … until Moxie and her show both jumped the shark.
After the show was canceled, Lorelei dyed her hair black, hit the party circuit, and was at the center of a number of unfortunate tabloid scandals. “Poxy Moxie” became a meme when someone suggested she was spreading STDs. When that shithead Bryce Holm called me that at a house party our freshman year, Georgia had nearly beaten the shit out of him.
That episode had really cemented my friendship with Georgia. She is a badass force that is not to be messed with.
Lorelei Dupont dropped out of the mainstream media for a while, mostly acting in indie films, but she’d come back as a supervillain—the Ember Enchantress—in the two final Titanium Man films.
I’m surprised that Dean made the connection between us. Grown-up Lorelei 2.0 looks nothing like Moxie, or me. As the Ember, she is pale and severe, with long, glossy, black hair and a vaguely Russian accent.
My phone buzzes. There’s another notification from the dating app. The cute cop has sent me a message. I pause to perch on a park bench while I open the app to read it. First, I look back over the cop’s profile. He’s no Rafe Barzilay, but he’s cute. Medium height, obviously into bodybuilding and working out. His photos show him lifting weights, hunting, and fishing. No dirt bikes, bongs, or gaming consoles. A good sign.
Tentatively, I open his message.
Hi, Kenna. Would you be open to a throuple? My wife and I are looking to spice things up. We’d love for you to be our cinnamon bun.
Ummmm … no. No. No! And why? Why does this happen to me? The last guy I dated off this app asked me to go in on a cosmetic surgery groupon with him. I’m done. I’m going to be alone forever.
No thanks!
Immediately, he unmatches and blocks me, leaving me to wonder how many people he’s propositioned with pastry references. Yeuch!
“Hi, Angie, I’ve come bearing muffins,” I announce myself as I walk in the pet shop.
“Well hello, dear.” The kind-eyed, older woman in a tie-dyed “Man’s Best Friend” tee greets me as I march into the shop and seat myself into the comfy, wingback chair. It’s still sitting in the middle of the store, and it just doesn’t feel right there. I drag it back toward the register, shoving it awkwardly in the corner. It’s a little cramped behind the bassinet, but I can still sort of fit. I fling myself in my seat properly, sitting sideways with my legs draped over the arms, legs swinging rhythmically as I think.
Angie sets aside her romance novel and pushes her reading glasses down her nose to look at me. “Oh, dear. Is it that bad?” Absentmindedly, she jiggles a pink stroller parked beside her, as if to keep a baby asleep. An elderly pug pokes its head up, and I cannot help but notice the dog’s pirate costume. I raise an eyebrow.
“It’s not International Talk Like a Pirate Day till September, but Daisy Bones here was feeling saucy,” the woman explains. Angie is one of the local shelter’s biggest benefactors. When she is not working there or filling in here at the boutique, she can be found dressing up her rescue mutts. She was the natural choice to mind the shop in Georgia’s absence.
“I need some advice, Angie,” I say. Perhaps Angie has some sage wisdom to share.
“Advice? From me?” She looks flattered and stands up straighter, brushing pet hair from her shirt. “I’d be honored. What’s this about? Boy trouble … again? You know, if I were you, I would spend more time volunteering at the pet shelter. You never know what kind of man you might meet there. We get some real super heroes passing through. You know, serious alpha males? Abs of Steel. Top dogs? You catch my drift?” She winks and wiggles her eyebrows at me like she is performing a vaudeville act.
I let it go. Clearly Angie, like everyone in Ephron, still associates me with my big, bad breakup with Cody, even though it’s been over five years. It’s like my bio reads:Poor Kenna, she has the worst taste in men. Once a doormat, always a doormat.
“Nope, it’s not about a boy.” I open the bag and take out a muffin, pausing to offer one to Angie before stuffing my face. She waves the bag away.
“It’s about the theater—” I start to say, but my phone rings, interrupting me. I check the screen. It’s Carlos.
“One sec.” I hold up a finger and answer the phone.
“I’m so sorry, Kenna,” Carlos apologizes. “I don’t want to steal your break, but we have a big delivery order that needs to go to the theater, ASAP. They were going to pick it up, but they just called back to ask us if we’d bring it to them instead.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” I say. “Can you wait till I get back to take it?”
“Okay, but everything is ready now. Also, my car is getting detailed. I can’t do the delivery. They want it right now. I don’t know what to do.”
“Fine. I’ll deliver it then. Can I just take five minutes to pee?” I ask.
“Well, that’s the other thing,” Carlos says. “Hurry. That guy from earlier is back. The one with the Brooklyn accent? He said he found a fly in his coffee, and he needs you to make him a fresh one.”
lorelei
“Seriously,”Rafe says to the local actor playing the part of Puck, “next time, you have to let Lorelei pick out your lunch. It’s freaky how she always knows just what to order, for anyone.”
“Thanks a lot, Rafe.” I roll my eyes at him. He’s correct, of course. Ordering the perfect items for people is my superpower, but it’s a large group, and I don’t really know them all that well yet. Now everyone is going to be coming to me like I’m the DoorDash oracle.
