"You're sure you don't want security detailing you?"
It's a common question. One I've answered far too many times, but hey, who's going to listen to me? The star, the person actually potentially needing security. Don't you think I'd have some say in what happens with my day? Today, it's gonna be my call.
The car bounces over the speed humps in the entrance to the gated community; I've been here too many times to count and should probably just buy property here, but one move is enough for right now. As the back tires land back on the flat pavement, I struggle to hold my phone up and type at the same time, getting frustrated.
"Do I need to say no in another language, would that help?"
Did I need to snap? No. But I didn't sign up for this - my wonderfully generous British friend did, insisting I owe him one, but not sure when the last time he gave one was. It's a game of give and take and I appreciate him dearly, but the favors I'm handing out lately...too many to count. Did anyone show up besides the moving company to help move into the new property this week? Not yet. Granted, I'm not even fucking there, but that's what hired help is for. None of us want to be doing the heavy lifting, I guess. No, I'm not Stark when it comes to this shit.
"Just drop the bags at Gordon's, you have the key code to the garage I sent you?" I ask the driver next.
"Yes, sir," is the affirmative.
"Great..."
It's a mumble as I answer my incoming texts on my personal phone; not the promo one, didn't feel it was necessary to have Jim bring that along today.
JRich: Suck it up, buttercup.
Getting out of the house is good for you, you're becoming a hermit.
RDJ: I am no such thing.
JRich: Whatever you say.
Talk to the ladies, gotta be some good Malibu pickings there, no?
Leave it to Jimmy to have girls on the mind. Haven't cared much for them recently. Occasional one night thing, set up date to a premiere, whatever. Rehab kind of cleared that addiction out, too. Kind of. Not completely, I'm still a guy.
RDJ: And if I'm not in the mood for tits and ass tonight?
JRich: Then you give their car my address and I'll keep a light on.
RDJ: Remind me again why you didn't come with me to this oh so important event?
JRich: I don't do weddings.
Rolling my eyes, I pocket my phone in my suit jacket and prepare for my departure, small gift in hand to leave on the bride and groom's table. PR insisted. I have absolutely no idea what it is, though.
I honestly don't even know the family, outside of the parents. They're financing our Random Act fundraiser in a few days, donating more than $50,000. One conversation led to another, turns out Gordon knows them too, and now here I am, agreeing to sing one - and only one - song at the reception and show face as a thank you.
I don't mean to be negative, I just don't have the time to deal with small things like this. Smaller crowd? Yes, wonderful. More expectations? Also yes. I don't do gatherings or conventions for a reason, and this fits into that category.
Thankfully, someone's at the gate to escort me in and they take me to a quiet corner of the courtyard immediately after my entrance. My gift is handed off, someone offering to take it to the table for me, and then I'm quickly embraced in a big hug from Gordon himself, guitar in hand as he tunes it.

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Every Move You Make [RDJ] - IN PROGRESS
FanfictionA spin off of Every Breath You Take, a previous RDJ fanfic I wrote for a request someone put in. (The old story is still ongoing.) Due to popular demand, I decided I'm Stephanie Meyer'ing you all and pulling a Midnight Sun type ordeal... This is...