Read Online Decline (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #1) by Michelle Irwin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michelle Irwin
Ads: Link
miracle, he was with Alyssa, I didn’t necessarily want to see her when the whole purpose behind my trip was to get her out of my head. Just before he disappeared around the next corner, I heard him ask, “So how do you think Phoebe’s going to go while you’re off on this little adventure?”
I didn’t hear the reply. Once I heard his voice retreat far enough away I moved out of my hiding spot and toward the counter. I purchased all three magazines I’d been looking at. The covers were warped and bent due to the sweat from my palms seeping in as I’d wrung them while hiding. Besides, I wasn’t willing to risk hanging around the newsagency any longer than I needed. Josh and his friend might realise they’d forgotten something and return. If they did, I didn’t want to risk running into them.
While I debated possible safe hiding places, I thought about Josh’s words.
“ You’re off on this adventure. ”
I presumed that meant he was saying goodbye to someone and not flying himself. On that assumption, I headed straight to security. At least if he didn’t have a ticket, he couldn’t haunt me through there.
I shoved the magazines into my carry-on luggage and placed it down onto the conveyer belt. After checking to ensure that Josh was nowhere to be seen, I put my wallet, keys, sunglasses, and hat into one of the little boxes and slid that behind my bag. The security officer called me through the metal detector.
He looked a little bored as he waved me through, but then he did an almost comical double-take as I walked closer to him.
“Holy fuck! You’re Declan Reede.”
Oh really? I’m glad you told me because I’d been wondering who the fuck I was . I bit my tongue and smiled as politely as I could manage. “Yeah.”
“Can I get you to sign something for my son, he’s a huge fan.”
Sure, your “son.” I resisted the eye roll that was building. Most people asked me to sign for someone else, but I often wondered how many were just using it as a ruse rather than admit the autographs were actually for themselves.
“No problem,” I said. “Have you got a pen and paper?”
He hunted for something, and I wanted more than anything to just tell him to forget it and walk away rather than let him waste any more of my time. It was the usual issue though, and the biggest problem with doing autographs. If I refused to sign things, the fans thought it was because I was too arrogant. If I did sign stuff, anyone who saw me assumed it was because I was full of myself. It was absolutely a lose-lose scenario.
My jaw tightened as the guard took another minute to find something. I didn’t owe him anything—not my time or my squiggle. I was on holiday, not there in any official capacity.
Maybe Danny won’t be too pissed if I tell this guy to fuck off.
The only thing that stopped me was that I’d learned long ago the two groups of people to never be rude to: those who prepared anything I ate or drank and those who had special potential to make my life more difficult. The guard definitely fell into the second group. I’d likely be held in some interrogation room, strip searched, and probed if I was too rude.
When he shoved a pen and paper in front of me, I quickly scribbled down a note. It was just the usual, “Race hard! Declan Reede” crap, but it made him happy. Handing it back to him, I breathed a sigh of relief that no one else had noticed. Or at least, no one else had approached. I understood that fans were important in the grand scheme of things, but when I was at a fucking airport trying not to draw attention to myself, the last thing I needed was a pack of autograph hounds chasing after me.
I quickly slipped my cap and sunglasses back on, ready to return to some semblance of anonymity, but it was too late. I’d barely taken two steps when the people who came through security behind me raced after me, calling my name loudly before asking for my autograph. Half an hour later, with a severe cramp
I didn’t hear the reply. Once I heard his voice retreat far enough away I moved out of my hiding spot and toward the counter. I purchased all three magazines I’d been looking at. The covers were warped and bent due to the sweat from my palms seeping in as I’d wrung them while hiding. Besides, I wasn’t willing to risk hanging around the newsagency any longer than I needed. Josh and his friend might realise they’d forgotten something and return. If they did, I didn’t want to risk running into them.
While I debated possible safe hiding places, I thought about Josh’s words.
“ You’re off on this adventure. ”
I presumed that meant he was saying goodbye to someone and not flying himself. On that assumption, I headed straight to security. At least if he didn’t have a ticket, he couldn’t haunt me through there.
I shoved the magazines into my carry-on luggage and placed it down onto the conveyer belt. After checking to ensure that Josh was nowhere to be seen, I put my wallet, keys, sunglasses, and hat into one of the little boxes and slid that behind my bag. The security officer called me through the metal detector.
He looked a little bored as he waved me through, but then he did an almost comical double-take as I walked closer to him.
“Holy fuck! You’re Declan Reede.”
Oh really? I’m glad you told me because I’d been wondering who the fuck I was . I bit my tongue and smiled as politely as I could manage. “Yeah.”
“Can I get you to sign something for my son, he’s a huge fan.”
Sure, your “son.” I resisted the eye roll that was building. Most people asked me to sign for someone else, but I often wondered how many were just using it as a ruse rather than admit the autographs were actually for themselves.
“No problem,” I said. “Have you got a pen and paper?”
He hunted for something, and I wanted more than anything to just tell him to forget it and walk away rather than let him waste any more of my time. It was the usual issue though, and the biggest problem with doing autographs. If I refused to sign things, the fans thought it was because I was too arrogant. If I did sign stuff, anyone who saw me assumed it was because I was full of myself. It was absolutely a lose-lose scenario.
My jaw tightened as the guard took another minute to find something. I didn’t owe him anything—not my time or my squiggle. I was on holiday, not there in any official capacity.
Maybe Danny won’t be too pissed if I tell this guy to fuck off.
The only thing that stopped me was that I’d learned long ago the two groups of people to never be rude to: those who prepared anything I ate or drank and those who had special potential to make my life more difficult. The guard definitely fell into the second group. I’d likely be held in some interrogation room, strip searched, and probed if I was too rude.
When he shoved a pen and paper in front of me, I quickly scribbled down a note. It was just the usual, “Race hard! Declan Reede” crap, but it made him happy. Handing it back to him, I breathed a sigh of relief that no one else had noticed. Or at least, no one else had approached. I understood that fans were important in the grand scheme of things, but when I was at a fucking airport trying not to draw attention to myself, the last thing I needed was a pack of autograph hounds chasing after me.
I quickly slipped my cap and sunglasses back on, ready to return to some semblance of anonymity, but it was too late. I’d barely taken two steps when the people who came through security behind me raced after me, calling my name loudly before asking for my autograph. Half an hour later, with a severe cramp
Similar Books
