Page 85 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
“I don’t want you to go back,” Rafe says. And then he leans forward and kisses me in public.
Except Rafe isn’t kissingme. Not really. In the eyes of anyone and everyone watching, the rumors about Titanium Man and his costar, Lorelei, have finally been confirmed.
That’s a tomorrow problem, Kenna.
Naomi clears her throat, interrupting the kiss. She’s not actually succeeding at suppressing her grin. “Well, well. This is quite a surprise. You seem to be doing so much better, Rafe.”
After we go on the Pirates ride Rainey takes Orly back to the hotel room for her lunch and a nap. Rafe, Naomi and I have reservations at the Blue Bayou restaurant.
Our lunch transports us to a Southern plantation patio on a warm, summer evening. The sounds of glasses clinking and crickets chirping a serenade make it convincing. I have the hardest time choosing what I want off the menu, so Rafe insists we order a couple of extra entrées to split and share, so we can all get to taste more items.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell us what to order,” Naomi says as we rotate plates under the swaying lanterns. “You’re usually so decisive with a menu.”
“It doesn’t hurt to try something new,” Rafe says, as he slices a bit off a Monte Cristo sandwich and feeds it to me.
“Of course not. I like all this newness. In fact, I’d like to propose a toast to it.” Naomi raises her glass.
After a leisurely lunch, we do some shopping in the boutiques, and Rafe has all the purchases sent directly back to the room, so there’s nothing to carry.
When Rainey and Orly return, Poppy arranges for us to watch the parade in a special, roped-off, VIP viewing area. Afterward, Orly is treated to a unique, private, character meet and greet with all her favoriteStar Warscharacters. She suddenly becomes shy when she meets Rey. The photo op becomes a group shot when she refuses to get her picture taken unless Rafe and I flank her, holding her hands.
Throughout the day, I snap pictures—some posed, but mostly candids. Naomi clutching a bunch of balloons. Orly’s hand trailing outside the stroller, catching bubbles. Rafe holding a massive, dripping ice cream outside the shop on Main Street. I only wish there was a way to capture the sweet, waffle-cone scent that lured us in.
We all get Mickey ears and decide that the Jungle Cruise will be our last attraction of the day.
“I could get used to this no-lines thing. I’m not sure how I’ll ever come back here with your sisters,” Naomi says, as Poppy escorts us to a private boat.
“You know who stands in line, Ima?” Rafe asks.
She looks blank for a second, then narrows her eyes, sensing the trap. “Who?” she says warily.
“Neurosurgeons and rocket scientists,” Rafe tuts.
“Don’t forget the philanthropists and climate change experts,” I add.
Naomi smiles at her son. “You got me. I can see that your fame and fortune does have certain perks. But you know what fills my heart the most and makes me the most proud? Seeing how you’ve stepped up with Orly. Your father was right, Rafe. Of all my kids, you have the biggest heart.”
She turns to look at me. “You should be careful with that.”
* * *
We almost make it out of the park without any incidents. But then, we get cocky. We send Rainey back to the hotel and thank Poppy for her help curating and narrating what has genuinely been a magical day. We make one quick stop at the Starbucks on Main Street for some coffee before leaving the park.
Sitting on a bench near the railroad station, we rest our feet and indulge in some casual people-watching. A crowd has gathered to listen to the Dapper Dans singing an a cappella version of “We Don’t Talk About Bruno”from the filmEncanto. It’s one of my favorites. I’ve made Georgia watch it with me three times!
Orly is dancing around in front of us, filling the air with teeny, tiny bubbles from a battery-powered bubble gun. I get some great shots of her, surrounded by clouds of the sparkling, iridescent orbs.
And then I see him. My eyes do their weird needle-in-a-haystack thing. There’s no context at first. Just a sudden send of disruption as I unexpectedly register a familiar face while scanning the crowds. It takes my brain an additional six seconds for context to kick in while I sort out who it is, why they look familiar, and what I’m looking at now.
The same paparazzo that was hanging around the diner last week is here at Disneyland. I do a double take. It’s definitely the same guy. And he’s got a kid with him.Why does he have a kid with him? Is she his cover? That seems totally wrong.
Kid or not, he’s clocked us. The big lens is pointed toward us, and it may as well be a laser pointer.
Giant lenses like that always attract attention. Particularly in a crowded area. People notice the lens. Then they notice it’s pointed at something, and then they have to look. How can they not? It’s only natural to be curious about whatever it is that’s worth pointing such expensive optics at.
It happens quickly. So quickly, I don’t even have time to say the words. Suddenly, the Dapper Dans are not the main attraction on this plaza. There’s an atmospheric change. All around us, people start turning toward us. Phones are being raised. It happens in a wave. Slow and unstoppable. A tsunami.
“Guys …” I jump up and stuff the camera into my tote, preparing to scoop up Orly and make a run for it, if necessary.
