“This guy assaulted me,” the photographer snaps back.
“What? He broke into my home. I didn’t touch him!” My mouth drops open at the audacity of this guy to act like he’s the victim after invading my space.
One of the officers glances between us, then says to the intruder, “I think we’d better have this conversation down at the station, don’t you?”
While one of the officers walks over to my intruder, handcuffs him, reads him his rights, and leads him away, another comes up to me and says, “Are you all right, sir? Do you need anything? Someone to stay with you? Anything to make you feel safe.”
I shake my head. All I need is for this to be over. “I’m okay, thanks. Just a bit shaken.”
“Will you be all right on your own?”
“I will. Thank you.”
What I don’t tell him is that I’m going to have to move again. This seems to be the way my life is. Always having to move. No permanence. No true home.
The officer smiles. “Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you.”
“Thank you,” I say again, twitchy with desire for everyone to leave.
“Oh, and one other thing,” he says. I raise both eyebrows in question. “Would I be able to get an autograph from you? My daughter is a huge fan of yours.”
I smile thinly. “Of course,” I say, because how can I refuse?
It makes everything clear to me all over again.
I have to get out of this place.
CHAPTER 2
JACOB
“But you don’t want to commute?”
“No,” I say. “Commuting is awful.”
“Even though you’re only in the office about two days a week?”
My realtor, James, stares me down with his icy blue eyes. He has this knack for looking at you like he’s looking directly into your soul. I guess that’s why he’s good at what he does.
“Look, Jacob,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be honest with you. We’ve pretty much exhausted all Central LA options for you. Living in the city is great, but you’re going to have to face facts. I don’t think there’s anywhere I can find for you where you’re going to be able to walk to work anymore.”
“I’ll take the subway,” I say.
“Will you?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I would. Or a cab. I don’t want to be traveling for more than twenty minutes to get there, though.”
He shakes his head. “I have some fabulous places in the suburbs. You can have a whole mansion to yourself.”
“But I like the city,” I protest. I know I sound like a petulant child, but it seems so unfair that everyone else who wants to live in the city should be allowed to, and I can’t.
“Maybe a change of scene would be good for you,” says James.
“Maybe,” I agree with a frown and no heart.
“Let me show you some of these mansions. They’re real nice places.”
He pulls them up on his computer, and he’s right, they do look really nice. I can be beachside. I can look at the hills. I can see the twinkling lights of the city. Whatever I want, it’s just going to take me an hour both ways to get to work. I’m rich enough. Shouldn’t I be able to afford not to commute?
