Lights! Camera! Attention?

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A/n: If you laughed once, or even just smiled, please vote for it! It just takes a second of your time! Enjoy and thanks for reading!

Peanut butter, check.

Now where are those kosher pickles mom likes?

 I scanned the shelf thouroughly while noticing the complete absence of shoppers at Trader Joe's Grocery today. Where was everyone and their shopping carts?

"Yes! Kosher pickles!" I

I slowly reached out my tip-toes to the top shelf, a sudden pull latched onto my scarf- gagging my neck. 

I was so agast that I couldn't even yell for help. A boy of about 18 started stealing my sunglasses and scarf.  His face looked like it was already well-covered in fear, I really didn't think that he needed to accessorize with anything else.

"Quick, I need your makeup or girly lipstick stuff, NOW! Get it out! You need to put some on me, I need to have a disguise from them!" He yelled.  

Wide-eyed and obeying his command, I rolled off my Dooney and Bourke tote and began to quickly rummage through it- looking for that ugly lipstick my mom had bought me for my birthday last year. I pulled it out and marveled at its ugly magenta color, why would Chanel ever mass produce this? Why was even in my purse still? Screw the lipstick, what the hell was going on with makeup boy on aisle seven over here?

 "Hurry, they know where I am and they're coming soon!"

"Okay!" I stuttered out- trying to regain my speech. "Are the freaking aliens coming? What the fu- "

 "Hush it! Pipe down! Just apply this makeup and everything will be fine."

  The overall mood changed from frightening to ridiculous and unbelievable in a split second. I now marveled at the fact that I was frantically applying makeup (now my own, personal mascara) to a boy of my age. But who was he talking about, who was coming? The aisle reeked of sour kosher pickles; I accidentally dropped them whenever makeup man startled me.

"You need to drive me out of this place, Fast! I have a couple hundred- is this a deal?"

 I snagged the money without question and shoved it into my now unorganized purse. The money bribe really sealed the deal- regardless of if he was a dangerous stranger or not.

The boy continuously took glances out of the store and into the parking lot.

"Here's the plan, we're going to walk out of this grocery store- calmly! Starting now, we are calm, relaxed people. Nothing has happened; think calm and nothing else. Laugh, talk and act like we are best friends, please. If paparazzi are already outside and ask you about the whereabouts of anyone, say you just saw a suspicious guy leave just left- please, for me. I swear I'm not dangerous- no will I do anything to you. I can't talk to them because of my accent- you will have to explain if anyone asks."  

 Although this boy was wearing makeup and dressed like a girl, you could tell by his sincere voice that he was serious about every word- no matter how bogus it came out.

 "Where's your car?" He asked, while adjusting my scarf to fit his neck.

 I innocently pointed over to my dad's BMW ActiveE. Ah, the car. A smile always came to my face when the car came into conversation. I swear, when my mom and dad announced they were going to Italy for their anniversary, it took weeks upon weeks to convince him to let me use it. Of course, I could always drive my piece of junk around town. Lately, my 1995 Ford Explorer wasn't exactly making the cut- given the fact that the neighbors kids dented it with a football, my dad failed at giving it a paint job, and to top it all off, It was missing a window (that was now covered in duct tape). North Hollywood High just let out for summer and this week dad's car to myself, the house to myself, and well deserved free time from all the books, tests and drama of NHH.

   "Remember what to say. I already see the photographers out there." He commented before biting his lip and mumbling, "Shit... how do they find these things out so fast?"  

His deep, British voice didn't exactly match the quick coat of lipstick, eye shadow, and mascara I sloppily applied (the lipstick was the only thing that was applied neatly-I was taking my time to savor the moment). Even though we just met on the canned food aisle in the store, I knew he no longer meant harm to me. Right before we left the store exit, he put on my 'stolen' sunglasses and put his hood over his head. 

"Just smile and redirect the paparazzi." He said through his shut teeth as we walked out of Trader Joes.   He was right, several paparazzi (or whatever the plural form of it is) were outside lurking around the outside of the store. A bald, lanky man began to approach and stare us down. 

"Excuse me, Ladies, have you seen any suspicious activity around here? We got a call that a celebrity  was at an outing with his girlfriend. Tell me the truth- big money is involved with the picture I take!"

 Like the boy had told me to say, I coolly responded. "Um, I saw one guy that looked like him just running across the road."

 "Thanks gal, you're a doll!" The man handed me a business card from his pocket and continued, "If you ever are thinking about modeling, here's a company you should consider to work for. And your friend over here-" He pointed to my newly found 'friend' and added, "I think she's more of a natural beauty.Take off the makeup, stubble, headscarf and then they might have a slight desire for you- maybe."  

I found it a little disturbing that the boy that lived under this 'girl' wasn't bad looking- at all. Maybe it was the fact that he already had naturaly long eyelashes.

 "If you only knew!" I joked as we headed to my car, all smiles like he had told me.  

The second we got in dad's car, we immediatley dropped our smiles and I told him to spill or else he no longer has a ride.

 "You really are clueless, huh?" He chuckled while taking off my scarf and glasses, putting them in the cup holders of the car.

"Blake Wesley? Does it ring a bell? London singer?"  

That dim light in my head had finnaly switched on! Back when school was in session, my friend Kloe never failed to live a day without mentioning the new Blake Wesley song! I finally knew who Blake Wesley was.

....So who is this guy in my car?

 "Yeah, I know who you're talking about now. So what about him? Are you friends or something? See, I have this friend Kloe and if you could just get Blake's autograph for me i'm sure she'd love it! I have never listened to his music but I'm sure if I did-"  

 "You want Blake's autograph, huh?" He said grinning ear to ear while pulling out a Polaroid-style, posed,  photo of a cute guy (Blake Wesley, maybe?)  from his messenger bag.

 "You have a pen?" He asked while looking in the compartments of dad's car. Of couse I had a pen. My dad, a bank owner, had stored about 15 business pens in his side pockets. I pointed over to them and the boy pulled one out and signed the photo.   "Here's 2 official Blake Wesley autographs. I made one for you, just cause."  

I took the pictures slowly in shock and directly compared them to the guy sitting in the passengers seat of my car- staring at me with a full smile. In my mind, I photoshopped off the makeup that I had applied ten minutes earlier in Trader Joe's. They both had those deep blue eyes, chestnut brown short hair, and were wearing the same shark-toothy necklace. Could it be that...? I looked in the corner of my autograph that read:  

Dear Girl I just met in Trader Joes, are you still clueless? ~Blake  Wesley