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26
LENNOX
"Come on, Lennox," Perth's voice crackles through the speaker of my phone, which I've placed in the cup holder of the Audi. Ashton is driving, speeding about twenty-five miles over the limit, while I keep an eye on two silver SUVs tailgating us. I can't risk any physical contact with Ashton, not even a simple touch, because if the paparazzi catch a glimpse of it, it could ruin everything.
"All your daily logs are empty after 7:00 p.m.," Perth continues, his frustration evident.
I mouth the words "it's okay" to Ashton. I would reach out to comfort him, touch his hand or shoulder, but I remain vigilant, aware of the SUVs behind us. I'm not sure if they have long-range camera lenses, but even a brief moment of physical contact could be disastrous.
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