The plane landed, everything went smoothly, blah blah blah... Well, except for Bob following me around. All was good. I came out of the airport, and smelled the air. You know, that freshness an familiarity. It was a perfect remedy for depression. Oh, and a good hiding spot.
I hollered for a taxi, and set on my way for the hotel. I was staying at Mariott in Ottawa. It's pretty fancy, and expensive. I've heard the security and client information is super tight. A lot of celebrities stay there for a hideout from paparazzi. It's a cool place. I booked a room under a false name. My name is unofficially Nikki Grey. I fet like a top secret spy. Which I kinda was, to tell you the truth.
I entered my room, ignored it's plush furniture, and dumped my duffel bag on the bed. I washed my face, and stared at my reflection. I looked horrible. I had bags under my eyes, my skin was pale, my eyes looked dull and lifeless, my hair had no shine, and it was tangled. The person in the mirror was not ME. This girl, she was, she was... dead. Two creepy eyes stared back at me.
I hopped in the shower, allowing the hot water to massage my tense muscles. I shampooed and conditioned my hair carefully, letting my thoughts wander. I wonder how much my education is gonna suffer cuz of this... Almost immediately, my shoulders involuntarily hunched up. Stop thinking of that! I chided myself. Hmmmm... I hope I run into Justin Bieber...
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After my loooong shower, I looked considerably fresher. I was in a good mood, so I hummed to myself. I pulled on some denim high-waisted shorts, and a quartersleeved, flowy white buttoned shirt. Which I tucked in. I left some of the top buttons open, purposefully showing my navy blue tanktop.
My light brown hair was cascading down my shoulders, creating unnatural waves. My hair was actually straight, but sometimes I could coax it into light waves, like now. I planted my D&G sunglasses on my head, going for a typical look. I looked pretty average, and thats was exactly what I wanted. I need to fit in, to blend. Oh, and I wore some navy blue wedges on my feet. My finger and toenails were painted a paisley pink, finishing up my entire innocent girl look.
I brushed on some mascara, and popped a light dab of lipgloss. There, I was ready. But as I looked at my reflection, it didn't look right. Or feel right, either. It was perfect, which was bad. It looked exactly like, like... me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Heyyyy people! I'm pretty proud of this chapter, I like it. Hint: She's gonna change her style!!! :D Bye...
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The Agency
Teen Fiction16 year old Vivian Richards is being hunted by unknown men. She doesn't know whats going on and she neither does she care. All she knows is that her past is haunting her once again. Her main goal is to stay undercover and keep her family safe. That'...
