I saw the headlights in my rear-view mirror just as I was turning off of my street. I knew what that meant and pressed the pedal closer to my designer floor mats.
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No, no, no, no, no! This is my date with Sere, alone. This is exactly what I didn't want: the paparazzi. I'm driving my uncle's SUV. There's no way that they could have figured out that it was me... unless someone tipped them off when I left.
I am 'putting the pedal to the metal,' as people often say. My speedometer reads over eighty miles per hour, but I don't stop. When I reach the edge of LA, I decide that it's time to lose these parasites. Weaving into the busy traffic of people coming into the city, I dodge and speed past cars in my lane and the four others. An upcoming off-ramp is the chance I've been waiting for: a detour. Swerving in front of the two right lanes, I don't brake as I hurtle down the ramp. I almost don't slow down when I reach the bottom, but a semi crossing the road forces me to stop. I find myself constantly looking in the rearview mirror for a black SUV, but no cars are waiting behind me. I decide that it isn't worth taking chances and turn onto a road leading me into a dark neighborhood. Slowing down and taking a look around me, I'm appalled of what I see.
Broken porches, dark uninviting alleys, not a place a celebrity should be found, especially not now. What would the paparazzi think if they saw me here? What would the public think?
A black SUV pulls up behind me as I'm frozen in awe at the terrible living conditions. The paparazzi! I hit the gas and swerve around the corner, not expecting a little girl drawing on the sidewalk with chalk...
