Hollywood Politics {BoyxBoy}

Chapter 3 - Potheads and Black Vans

Ryan POV

I had found my displaced clothes which had been spread out over the hotel room and had a quick shower before I found the note. It was sitting on the white bedside table, its words in an elegant script I would know anywhere.

                Dinner tonight, my place. 7pm.

                M xx  

He was a man of few words, but it was special all the same. In the year we had been together I had only been to his apartment a handful of times. The first time I had stayed there we were almost caught by Aria, so I tried to stay clear of that place as much as I could. His neighbourhood was also crawling with paparazzi, mine was too, but his had an especially denser population.

I was glad I didn’t have to work much, being able to wear my black tight jeans and white t-shirt with a colourful pattern over the front of it, large sunglasses covering my eyes a circle of blue and black threaded beads loosely tied around my ankle, not covered by the jeans. The outfit was one of the few I had actually picked out myself, my stylist telling me that it was too out there for my image. I had laughed at the girl.

Too out there?

I hated my reputation sometimes, I was supposed to be the good boy, the one who loved girls who ran over my heart with a truck or something. I was told to write more love songs, and sappy ones at that. Some of my recent stuff, I didn’t even write myself, I was told that the new lyrics suited my image more compared to the more alternative stuff I was writing. Some magazines made jokes that I was the male version of Taylor Swift, and they weren’t wrong.

The public knew me as the sweet talker, a charming man with a love for singing and pretty girls.

I was supposed to be infatuated with my beautiful current girlfriend, Claudia Grey, causing jealousy to spread like a microscopic virus around America, affecting teenaged girls.

If only they knew the truth.

I was crazy in real life, not like high on cocaine crazy, but like a mixture between a light pot smoker and someone who’s had a few vodkas.

I had learnt to keep the crazy inside, but with Max it seemed to spill out a little bit. I didn’t like the leak in my perfect ship of a personality but he claimed to love it, so I was a little torn.

I made my way to the first stop of the day.

Brunch with Robert.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

I got into my car and drove down LA’s busy streets to the restaurant where I was going to meet my manager/publicist, Robert Fields for lunch.

As I drove down one street I noticed a black van driving behind me and even though I had made four turns it didn’t seem to be veering from its path behind me.

I decided to see whether I was being paranoid or not, so I turned left at the next set of lights and made a big circle back around to where I was before, but nope, the car still followed me.

Oh god. I was seconds away from death.

Was this the end?

What if it’s the Russian mob! What if they have come to drag my sexy ass into their prostitution rings!?

Or it could be the CIA! Ooohh maybe they want me to be an agent! ‘Ryan Connors – Special Agent, Fighting Crime And Looking Good’.

Oh Ryan, get your head together.

This had happened before, and before you ask, it wasn’t the Russians or the CIA. Surprising right?

It was the paparazzi.