Starlet Scarlett

Chapter 2 - 'You've got a one up on Cinderella.'

"A dream is a wish your heart makes."

    -Cinderella



When I'm back in the main gallery, I manage to blend in quickly with the crowd. It's not too difficult really, but I find that I can't enjoy myself. There's a nagging in the back of my mind. Was dumping all of the blame on Cameron a decent thing to do? I mean, it was his fault, but if I hadn't been in the room in the first place then I wouldn't be in this situation.

I last only another hour before I decide to leave.

As one of the workers fetches my car, I stand idly on the sidewalk outside. There's a cool breeze picking up and so I cross my arms to try and keep out the cold. My car comes into view after only a short time and I make my way across the road to it. I realize though, that it's not the worker driving.

I fling open the door to the driver's side and point away from the car. "Get out."

"Not a chance, this car drives like a charm," Cameron says, stroking the steering wheel.

"I have half a mind to go back in there and get that worker fired for letting you get into this vehicle," I say and Cameron looks up.

"'This vehicle'?" he repeats. "Oh no, you're telling me you haven't given this baby a name? How cruel."

"What? What the flipping flip are you talking about?" I ask.

"This car doesn't have a name," he purrs, stroking the dashboard. "That's neglect, I could report you."

"Oh yeah? To who?"

"The car welfare society," he says, and I roll my eyes.

"Go for it, I'm trembling in my boots," I snide.

"Those are high heels," he comments, eyeing my feet.

"Congratulations," I say. I slam the door, because I realize there's no way he'll get out, and walk around to the other side, slipping into the passenger seat. He pulls the car away from the sidewalk. "Is there a reason you're driving my car?"

"Yeah, I'm stealing it," he comments dryly, to which I snort.

"And what a great job you're doing of that, real incognito," I tell him.

"No but in all seriousness, we need to talk," he says.

"Oh do we?" I ask. "I was hoping we could just sit in complete silence until you decide to get out of my car."

"As dashing as that idea sounds, I'm afraid it's not possible," Cameron says, turning off onto the interstate. I don't really pay much attention to where he's driving, mostly because I don't care. He can do whatever he wants, just so long as we don't get spotted by the paparazzi. "I'm calling you for that favour."

"Already?" I ask. "I probably should have cleared up my conditions. There's a twenty-four hour bracket before I'm eligible for this favour."

"Too bad," he shrugs. "You owe me and I need help now."

"You realize I could just say no?"

"And you realize I could just call up my friend at the gallery and tell him that it was you who ruined the painting?"

"You have a friend at the gallery?"

"How do you think I got out so easily? I just apologized and he said it wasn't a problem, the paintings are protected with this solution which makes them easy to clean."

"Well fuck me," I say under my breath and Cameron laughs.

"Anyway, are you hungry? I'm pretty hungry. That exhibition was hard going, don't you think? I'm feeling a McDonald's, how about you?" he rambles and I raise an eyebrow.