Plain Choice (The Plain Fame Series Book 5)

by Price, Sarah

  “Look!” Celinda said, reaching for Amanda’s hand. “Louis Vuitton!” She pulled Amanda with her as she crossed the street. “I could use a new outfit!”

  Amanda glanced over her shoulder and saw the crowd following them. While Amanda wasn’t certain if the street would be shut down, she certainly suspected they’d need a police escort to return to the hotel.

  Once inside the store, Celinda moved toward the back of the building while Amanda lingered at the front, amazed by the marble floors and high vaulted ceilings. It reminded her of Cartier in Beverly Hills, but it was larger. Fancy shoes on glass shelves lined the walls, and farther from the doors were displays of cocktail purses and evening clutches, most of them embellished with crystals. Nothing in New York City or Los Angeles compared to the opulence of the store.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” a saleswoman said as she approached Amanda. “Pourrais-je vous aider?”

  Amanda didn’t understand and merely shook her head.

  Before the woman could translate, something distracted her and she glanced over Amanda’s shoulder. The expression on her face changed as she took a step toward the front windows. “What in the world?” she said in English. “Why are there so many people?”

  The store’s security guard mumbled something in French; the saleswoman turned to look first at Amanda and then to Celinda. After a quick back and forth, she gestured toward the front door and the security guard nodded, locking it shut against the crowd that had gathered. Amanda suddenly realized what was happening. A mass of young women stood outside, pressing together and trying to shoot photos through the window. From the looks of it, over a hundred people stood out there, waiting and hoping to meet Amanda and Celinda. Amanda walked toward the window and paused, lifting her hand to press it gently against the glass.

  Immediately, the women on the other side of the glass began to scream, a few with tears of joy streaming down their cheeks while others continued shooting pictures.

  “What are you doing?”

  Amanda turned around to face the saleswoman, only partially surprised to see the angry expression on her face.

  “Do not entice them!” the woman snapped. “We will have to call the police to disperse them.”

  As soon as she said that, Amanda heard the sound of an approaching police car. Apparently, someone else had alerted the authorities about the unexpected crush of fans blocking the sidewalk and spilling into the street. Simultaneously, Amanda’s phone vibrated. She dug into her handbag and withdrew it. Alejandro had texted her:

  Do NOT leave that building.

  I have sent security to pick you up.

  V.

  She didn’t need to guess how he knew so quickly: without doubt, social media was abuzz and someone on his payroll had noticed photos, most likely with the hashtag #parisprincesa. She shouldn’t have been surprised. That hashtag had been hitting the top trending tags on different social media platforms even before Alejandro and Amanda had arrived in Paris. However, knowing that his day had just been interrupted, she immediately felt guilty. She should have known better than to leave the cafe without security. How many times had he warned her about the danger of crowds surrounding her in public? She knew that she’d have to confess that she had created this willingly. Without a doubt, he’d be angry with her.

  I’m sorry.

  A.

  That would suffice for now, she thought. She’d apologize later when she could explain exactly what had happened. If nothing else, it was a lesson well learned and, except for the blocked traffic on the Champs-Élysées, there was little harm done.

  From the back of the store, Celinda came bounding toward Amanda and, seeing the throng of people, stopped short. “Oh!” She took a step closer to the windows and lifted her hand to wave. The fans responded with more cheers and banging on the doors.

  “Please. You must stop!”

  Ignoring the irate saleswoman, Celinda stepped away from the window on her own accord. She cringed, looking as surprised as Amanda felt. “Oops,” Celinda said under her breath. “I didn’t count on that.”

  “On what?”

  “Beating the boy band so fast! Where did all these people come from?” Once again, she gazed over her shoulder toward the window. Flashing lights could be seen and the crowd started to move, the police trying to force their way through the people. “I can only imagine Justin’s response to this media circus,” she said, more to herself than to Amanda. “Celinda and Princesa, shutting down the Champs-Élysées!”

  Amanda didn’t respond. While she repeatedly professed to not understand people’s fascination with celebrities, she knew that she was finally seeing firsthand how dangerous fame could be. As horrible as the situation looked, with police trying to disperse the crowd and Alejandro sending security to rescue her and Celinda, there was a positive side. The fans were thrilled to see them, the social media was buzzing with photos, and the Louis Vuitton store would be front and center in all of the magazines—not that they needed the publicity.

  The staff at the store paced back and forth, speaking rapid-fire French, a language neither Amanda nor Celinda understood. Amanda figured it was probably better that way. She couldn’t imagine they were saying anything particularly kind about being trapped in their own store. A few other customers lingered in the back, bewildered by the two celebrities as they waited for security to arrive and escort them to safety.

  It took at least twenty minutes for the police to get a car in front of the building. As they waited for the officers to make a path through the crowd so that Amanda and Celinda could exit the store, Amanda glanced down at her phone. She had two messages: one from Charlotte and another from Alejandro.

  Your social media is exploding, my dear. Brilliant!

  ~Char

  Amanda rolled her eyes. Charlotte would see only the publicity opportunities. Knowing her, she’d be after Louis Vuitton for an advertising campaign.

  She deleted Charlotte’s message and looked at Alejandro’s, feeling guilty once again when she read it:

  Be careful leaving the building.

  I’m waiting for you at the hotel.

  V.

  Certainly he had cut short his meetings to wait for her at the Hotel George V. While it was only just a short walk from the shop, Amanda knew that the crowds would continue to delay their departure, even with police and security.

  An officer rapped at the door and motioned for the two women to exit the building. Amanda followed Celinda, pausing just a moment to apologize to the staff at the store. Then she walked through the door and along the safe passage created by a line of police officers. No sooner had they darted into the backseat of the black Bentley than police sirens sounded and the car slowly moved through the crowd.

  Celinda covered her mouth and stared at Amanda. “That probably wasn’t the best idea,” she admitted. “I’m so sorry.”

  Amanda shook her head. She could have said no to Celinda, but she hadn’t wanted to disappoint her friend. Even more to the point, Amanda had to admit that there was some part of her that wanted to test the boundaries of her fame. She couldn’t deny that she felt a sense of excitement when she realized how popular she was with so many people.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Amanda admitted. “I think I have become far more worldly and accustomed to too much attention. It’s not gut.”

  Celinda laughed. She leaned over and nudged Amanda with her shoulder. “Oh please, Amanda. You are the least worldly and vain person I have ever met! You sacrifice enough for your fans. There are times when you can stop to enjoy it a bit, no?”

  If only Amanda was enjoying it. Being with Alejandro was enough excitement for any person. It was the extra commotion—the travel and hordes of fans and media scrutiny—that Amanda didn’t want. She just wanted to be with Alejandro, but she knew that it was a package deal. To have Alejandro, she needed to sacrifice so many other parts of herself: her family, Isadora, even a steady home. She also had to sacrifice her freedom. This was just anothe
r example of something that Amanda could no longer do: visit a store sans security to extricate her.

  “Alejandro will be angry, for sure and certain,” Amanda said at last, turning to look out the window as she anticipated his reaction.

  She didn’t have to wait long. As soon as the car pulled up in front of the Hotel George V, the door was opened and both of the women were quickly whisked past a waiting crowd and into the hotel. Alejandro stood in the lobby, flanked by Andres and two other men Amanda didn’t recognize.

  “Princesa!” He hurried away from the men when he saw her walk through the door. “What happened?” He addressed the question to Celinda. “You shouldn’t be unattended. You know that something like this can happen.”

  Celinda apologized. “It was my fault, Viper.”

  Amanda glanced at her. She didn’t want her friend to take the blame for her. “Nee, Alejandro, I knew, too. I should have come back here instead of going to the store.”

  If she thought he was going to be angry, she was immediately surprised. Instead of being upset with her, he led her over to Andres. “Amanda, if I am not with you, you’ll go with these two men.” He motioned to them. “They will travel with us and be assigned to you alone. We cannot risk having you injured by these mobs, whether on the streets or at a venue.”

  She nodded her head, still feeling guilty for having put so many people through so much trouble. If vanity was a sin, she had sinned deeply that day.

  Before the concert that evening, Amanda sat in the greenroom. She was waiting until security came to fetch her. It was the first night she would be wandering the floor, taking photos with fans and selecting a few to move up to the front of the stage. After the afternoon’s episode at Louis Vuitton, her stylist, Jeremy, had arranged for her to wear a simple white Louis Vuitton dress with a gold belt that matched her shoes. With her hair fixed in a low bun and her makeup fresh and perfect, Amanda knew that she looked the very princess the public wanted to see.

  “¡Ay, Princesa!”

  She looked up and smiled as Alejandro walked into the room. He reached down for her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. Holding her at arm’s length, he gestured for her to turn around. When she did, he whistled.

  “¡Ay caramba, Princesa! I am quite positive that Louis Vuitton will sell out of this dress, no? A kind way to thank them for your mischief this afternoon.”

  Amanda blushed and looked away, still ashamed of herself.

  He gave a soft laugh and put his finger under her chin, forcing her to look up. “Mischief or not, it was a smart publicity move, Amanda. Reckless but smart.”

  Part of her wanted to tell him that Celinda had come up with the idea, but she didn’t want to point the finger of blame at anyone else. She was an adult and knew what she was doing.

  The day’s events had, however, made her wonder about Celinda’s loyalty to her. Once things had calmed down, it hadn’t taken Amanda long to realize Celinda had encouraged the mob scene more to capture Justin’s attention than to play with their fans. She also realized that Celinda wanted to be aligned with her, showing the public that they were close friends, casually shopping in Paris in the afternoon before the concert.

  She felt as if Celinda had used her and that did not sit well with Amanda.

  “Forget about it, Amanda,” Alejandro said softly. “I know you feel bad. I can read it in your face, mi amor.”

  Do not cry, she told herself. If she cried, she’d have to go back to makeup, and that was something Amanda did not want to do.

  “What is it?” he persisted when she pressed her lips together and blinked her eyes. “What is troubling you?”

  She shook her head. “I . . . I feel so different, Alejandro. It’s just not like me to do things like that.”

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he knelt down and stared into her face. “Look at me,” he demanded in a caring tone. “Amanda.”

  She did as she was told and lifted her eyes to meet his, shining a bright blue.

  “You feel different, sí,” he said. “You are different. You are no longer that naive Amish girl who crossed the street in New York City without looking both ways. But that does not make you a bad person, Amanda. It makes you a different person—and I love that person, whether you are shutting down streets in Paris or curled up in my arms in the early-morning hours.”

  “I don’t want to be different,” she whispered.

  He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head as he looked at her. “What you want and what you get are sometimes two different things, sí? Living this life is bound to change you. You cannot travel from city to city, living in hotels and surrounded by an entourage that protects you from the vultures wanting pieces of you, without changing. Accept it as part of God’s plan for you, Amanda. This is what he wants for you, and for us.”

  None of that made sense to her. How could God want this for her? It was so far removed from everything she had learned during her twenty years before she met Alejandro. Now, in just one year, she had left her family and community, traveled the world, married a rap star, and become a celebrity in her own right. How any of that fit into God’s plan was beyond her comprehension.

  “I see you thinking,” Alejandro said. “Let it go, Amanda. Look for the good and forget the bad. That is the only way you will remain sane.”

  Andres, the head of the security team, leaned through the open door and motioned to Amanda. “¿Listo?” he asked.

  Amanda nodded. She started to walk toward the door, but Alejandro stopped her, pausing to gently kiss her forehead.

  “I am proud of you, Amanda,” he said. “Now, go make a difference in the lives of some people.”

  Obediently, she followed Andres to the corridor that led to the floor. There were several security guards standing at the closed doors. When Andres approached, the guards stepped aside, one of them pushing open the door. It took a moment for Amanda to adjust to the level of noise on the arena floor. It was deafening to hear the people in that grand space. When the fans closest to the door recognized her, the screaming intensified into a wave that roared throughout the stadium.

  “Princesa! Princesa!”

  Amanda followed Andres onto the floor while another security guard walked behind her, ensuring that no one grabbed her from behind. The crowd opened up before her, spreading like the Red Sea. But as she walked, it filled in behind her, the throngs of people trying to crush each other to get to Amanda. The security for the stadium maintained crowd control as Amanda moved down the aisles between the sections of seats.

  One young girl who looked to be no older than fourteen began to cry as Amanda paused in front of her. She was not French; that much was clear. With her ginger hair and freckled face she looked more Irish. When she spoke, she had a thick accent Amanda could not identify.

  “I can’t believe it’s you!” the girl sobbed, her shoulders heaving under the weight of her emotion.

  Amanda gave a soft laugh. “And you cry over that?”

  The girl tried to calm down but failed. An older woman behind the girl placed a hand on her shoulder to help calm her.

  “What’s your name?” Amanda asked, barely able to hear above the screaming fans around her. Several held their arms out, desperate to just touch Amanda. Between Andres, his team, and the venue’s own security team, Amanda knew she did not have to worry.

  “Lucille.”

  “Lucille,” Amanda repeated. “That’s a lovely name.” She paused and glanced over her shoulder at Andres. He gave a nod of his head, and Amanda turned back to the bewildered girl. “Lucille, I would like you to come with me.”

  The girl stopped crying and looked up at her with confusion in her eyes. “What?”

  “Come with me.” Amanda held out her hand as Andres stepped aside so that Lucille could climb over the barricade that separated Amanda from the rest of the crowd. “You will watch the show tonight in a special place, ja?”

  The girl looked around wildly, not believing what she was hearing. “Bu
t . . . my mother . . .”

  Amanda gestured to the woman with her. “She can come, too.”

  The rest of the people in the area began screaming for Amanda to pick them, too. But as Alejandro and Geoffrey had trained her (and Charlotte reinforced), Amanda merely smiled and waited for Lucille to take her hand. She could not select everyone, but she could select one or two who would never forget the night Princesa took them out of the crowd and brought them backstage.

  She continued walking through the fans, Lucille and her mother behind her. She paused at several places so that she could stand next to people who wanted a photo of her. With Andres and the rest of security nearby, she did not fear the crowd. Instead, just as Alejandro predicted, she felt an overwhelming sense of joy as she talked to the audience. Many of them cried; others just jumped up and down screaming. A few gushed their gratitude to her, telling her that she had made a positive impact on their lives. Amanda did not have much time to talk with each of them, but she thanked anyone who took a photo with her and then let Andres guide her across the rest of the floor.

  When they came to the other side of the arena, Andres rapped on a door and it opened, letting them slip through into the backstage.

  Lucille and her mother stood there, their mouths hanging open as if they did not believe their good fortune. One of the guards motioned for them to follow Amanda, who was immediately surrounded by a team of people to touch up her makeup and her hair as she walked.

  “Lucille,” Amanda said at last, turning to reach for the girl’s hand. “Come walk beside me. Tell me about what made you cry.”

  The young girl blinked her eyes and swallowed, accepting Amanda’s hand and walking beside her. “I . . . I don’t know why I cried,” she admitted. “I’ve just wanted to meet you forever.”

  Amanda gave a soft laugh. “Your forever must not be very long, then. Last year at this time, I was just an Amish girl visiting family in Ohio.”