Zane
"Hey, you're famous right?"
"Nope," I lied then steered my way out of the grocery store line, brown paper bag in hand, my vision blurring already from the extreme concentration it took to walk into a stupid public place by myself.
By the time I reached my Range Rover, I was already sweating.
My hands shook as I tried to hit unlock on the key fob. I struggled, missing it with my thumb at least three times before my lights blinked and the car opened.
I secured the package in the passenger's seat and put on my seatbelt, then drove across town to the beach house.
Everyone was asleep, or I would have begged, maybe even bribed someone to come to the store with me. I always made a joke out of it. "Come with me so I don't get sexually harassed."
When really.
It was fear.
It was alway
