I had never paid much attention to celebrity gossip or what was going on in Hollywood because that was so far from the lifestyle I lived as a poor college student, working as a barista to save up for my own house after graduation. But then, without...
I walked through the LAX airport, looking around in awe at how huge the place was. People were bustling around me in a hurry to get to where they were going, bumping into my shoulder and not even saying they were sorry.
I kicked my old suitcase to get it to lean over before I wheeled it out of the baggage claim area. Technically it was my Dad's suitcase, not mine, but he hadn't used it in years because we never took vacations. It had been collecting dust under his bed for at least ten years.
I walked over to the transportation area where Melissa had told me to meet up with the limo driver. There was a man standing there wearing a black and white suit and black hat, holding up a sign that said Brenley Jensen on it.
I walked up to him and said, "Hi. I'm Brenley Jensen," holding out my hand to shake his. He just looked at my hand like it was a foreign object.
"I'm your chauffeur. Right this way Madam," he said, turning on his heel and heading through the large sliding doors. I awkwardly dropped my unshaken hand and grabbed the handle of my suitcase, following after him.
Outside of the sliding doors I saw a row of limousines and he led me over to the nicest one. It was white and the front of it looked like a Porsche. He opened the door for me and I was surprised to see that it opened straight up, instead of out. I took out my phone and quickly snapped a picture of it before getting in.
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The interior was sleek, shiny and ultra modern with hand-stitched light tan leather seats and white and chrome accent panels. After the driver got in and shut his door, I looked around in awe and told him, "This is a REALLY nice limo. It's way fancier than the one Ellie's parents rented for us to take to Prom. Do a lot of people own limos out here in California?"
"Yes," he said flatly without elaborating. He pulled away from the curb and started heading down the road.
"Do you own a limo?" I asked him.
"No," he said with a straight face, looking straight ahead with a locked jaw. It was obvious he wasn't a very talkative person.
I snapped a picture of the interior of the limo and sent both of the limo photos and the one I took of the clouds from the plane window to my Dad, Dave and Ellie in a group text with a caption that said, 'I just landed in California and I'm riding in a limo! 😝'
I had promised that I'd send lots of pictures and update them on everything that was happening, so I figured creating a group text would be the easiest way to do that since my Dad didn't have social media. They were all way more excited about this trip than I was, so I was faking excitement for them. The truth was, I'd much rather be back home.
I had an anxious, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach from being in a city this size, so far away from everybody I knew. I watched the skyscrapers going by as we drove through downtown L.A. and then headed out onto the busy interstate, eventually taking an exit that said Malibu.
