The standoff at the hotel room door continued, with Jack and Simon's voices growing increasingly strained.
"For the last time, Lucas Knight is not here!" Simon's frustration was palpable, his knuckles white as he gripped the doorknob.
A persistent voice piped up from the hallway. "Then you won't mind if we take a quick peek inside, right?" The faux-cheeriness in the reporter's tone barely masked their determination.
Jack's jaw clenched. "Absolutely not. This is a private room we've paid for. You have no right to enter."
"Come on, just a quick look," another voice wheedled. "If he's not there, we'll leave immediately."
"No means no," Simon growled, his patience wearing thin.
The reporters' voices began to overlap, growing louder and more insistent. The tension in the hallway was rising, threatening to boil over.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps approached, and a new voice cut through the chaos. "What's going on here?"
The hotel's head of security had arrived, flanked by two burly guards. His stern gaze swept over the crowd of reporters.
"Sir, we have reason to believe Lucas Knight is in this room," one journalist began, but the security chief held up a hand, silencing him.
"I don't care if the Queen of England is in there. You're disturbing our guests and trespassing on private property." His voice was calm but left no room for argument. "You all need to leave. Now."
There was a moment of tense silence, broken only by the soft whirring of cameras being lowered. Then, reluctantly, the group began to disperse, casting longing glances back at the door as they were escorted out.
Jack and Simon slipped back into the room, their faces etched with relief. They nodded to Lucas and Neil, the tension in their shoulders slowly easing.
Neil ran a hand through his hair. "Sounds like those vultures weren't giving up easily."
Jack and Simon exchanged a look, their expressions grim. "They seemed pretty damn sure of themselves," Jack said, his voice low. "Kept going on about some 'reliable source' who spotted Lucas here."
Neil's eyebrows shot up. "Reliable source?" He echoed, his tone sharp.
Simon nodded, his face serious. "Yeah, apparently someone claims they saw Lucas entering the hotel."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Neil turned to Lucas, his eyes narrowing. "I thought you were in disguise when you came in."
Lucas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I was... I mean, I thought I was." His hand went to the back of his neck, a nervous tell. "I'm pretty sure no one could have recognized me..." The words trailed off, lacking conviction.
Neil's eyebrow arched higher. "Pretty sure?"
A sheepish chuckle escaped Lucas's lips. His mind flashed back to the airport, to the young boy's excited face. "Well, maybe my disguise wasn't quite as foolproof as I thought. There might have been... one or two people who recognized me."
Neil's sigh was long and weary. "And there it is." He shook his head, a mix of frustration and resignation on his face. "One recognition is all it takes these days."
Lucas slumped in his chair, the weight of his celebrity status pressing down on him. What he'd thought was a harmless interaction with a fan had snowballed into this mess.
Neil paced the room, his brow furrowed in thought. "This place is compromised. We need to move, find somewhere they won't expect."
Lucas nodded, his face grim. "You're right. It's only a matter of time before they find a way in."
A flurry of activity ensued. Suitcases were hastily packed, phones buzzed with hushed conversations. Jack and Simon huddled with the hotel manager, mapping out an escape route.
As they prepared to leave, Lucas peered out the window. The street below teemed with paparazzi, their cameras poised like weapons.
"Show time," Neil muttered.
The elevator dinged, and a phalanx of hotel security surrounded them. They moved as one unit, a human shield protecting their charge.
As they burst through the lobby doors, a roar went up from the crowd.
"There he is! Lucas!"
"Lucas, over here!"
"Are you and Jennifer engaged?"
Flashbulbs exploded like fireworks. Lucas ducked his head, pulling his hood lower. Neil's words echoed in his mind: "Don't engage. Keep moving."
Hands reached out, microphones thrust forward. The security team formed a tight circle, creating a buffer between Lucas and the frenzy.
"Just a quick comment, Lucas!"
"Look this way!"
They inched towards Neil's waiting car, the crowd pressing closer with each step. Jack and Simon flanked Lucas, their expressions stone-cold.
As they reached the vehicle, the crowd surged forward. For a moment, chaos reigned. Bodies pressed against bodies, shouted questions blending into a cacophonous roar.
Then, with a final push, Lucas was in the car. Jack and Simon dove in after him, slamming the doors shut.
The engine roared to life. Outside, hotel security strained to hold back the sea of reporters. Slowly, inch by inch, the car began to move.
Lucas slumped in his seat, heart racing. Through the tinted windows, he watched the frenzy recede. The clamor faded, replaced by the soft hum of the engine.
As they turned a corner, leaving the mayhem behind, Lucas let out a shaky breath. "That was... intense."
Lucas leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly as the adrenaline began to ebb. His mind drifted to past encounters with the paparazzi, each one a stark reminder of his growing fame.
He recalled a particular incident in New York, where a small group of photographers had staked out his apartment complex. They'd been persistent, even going so far as to chase him on motorcycles through the bustling city streets. But that had felt almost... manageable. After all, his residence was public knowledge to some degree. There was an expected element to their presence.
This, though? This was different.
Lucas shook his head, still processing the sheer magnitude of what had just transpired. A hotel he'd checked into mere hours ago, transformed into a media circus. The number of paparazzi that had descended upon the place was staggering, far beyond anything he'd experienced before.
Neil's eyes met his in the rearview mirror. "Welcome to superstardom, kid. This is just the beginning."
The car sped on, carrying them towards an uncertain destination and an even more uncertain future.
***
The car wound through back alleys and lesser-known streets, Neil's eyes constantly darting to the rearview mirror. After an hour of circuitous driving, they pulled up to a nondescript building, its faded sign proclaiming "Sunset Inn" in flickering neon.
Neil smirked. "Perfect. Last place they'd expect to find Hollywood's golden boy."
The room was small, with peeling wallpaper and a musty smell. Lucas sank onto the creaky bed. He looked up at Jack and Simon, their imposing figures almost comical in the cramped space.
"Hey, guys," Lucas said, his voice soft. "I owe you big time for back there. Without you two, I'd probably be buried under a pile of cameras right now."
Jack's stoic expression softened slightly. "Just doing our job, boss."
Simon nodded in agreement. "Although, I gotta say, it's never dull with you around."
As they chatted, a thought suddenly struck Lucas. His hand flew to his pocket, fishing out his phone. "Jennifer," he muttered. "She must be dealing with the same circus."
He quickly dialed her number, his foot tapping on the worn carpet. The phone rang once, twice, three times. No answer. Lucas's brow furrowed as he hit redial.
Still nothing.
Lucas stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the redial button. After a moment, he sighed and tossed the device onto the bed. "She must be swamped," he muttered.
Meanwhile, in New York...
Jennifer pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the van window, watching the blur of buildings rush by. Her heart was still racing from their narrow escape.
Just an hour ago, she'd been strolling down Fifth Avenue with her manager, Sarah, and her two bodyguards, Meg and Lisa. The bustling crowd had barely given them a second glance - just another group of well-dressed women in the city.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere:
"Jennifer! Jennifer Lawrence!"
"Over here, Jennifer!"
"What's the real story with you and Lucas?"
A swarm of paparazzi had emerged, their cameras flashing like strobe lights. Jennifer's eyes had widened in shock as Meg and Lisa immediately flanked her, creating a human shield.
"Move, now!" Sarah had barked, ushering them towards their waiting van.
They'd practically sprinted the last block, the sound of rapid-fire shutters and shouted questions nipping at their heels.
Now, safe in the van but still rattled, Jennifer reached for her phone. Her fingers brushed the smooth screen, ready to dial Lucas's number, but nothing happened. The battery icon blinked accusingly before the screen went black.
"Damn it," she whispered, slumping back in her seat. She'd wanted to hear Lucas's voice, to share this surreal experience with someone who would understand. This level of paparazzi ambush was new territory for her, at least solo. With Lucas, she'd had a taste of it, but this... this was different.
Sarah caught her eye in the rearview mirror. "You okay, hun?"
Jennifer nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just... processing."
---
Screens across the country lit up with the same grainy video: Lucas Knight, hood pulled low, surrounded by a phalanx of security guards as he rushed from a hotel. The caption beneath the viral clip read: "Lucas Knight: Too scared to face the music?"
Twitter exploded with hot takes:
@LucasFan4Ever: "Leave him alone! He deserves privacy!" @CelebGossipQueen: "If he's got nothing to hide, why run?" @MovieBuff2000: "It's called personal space, people. Heard of it?"
On a popular entertainment news site, veteran journalist Marco Vega penned a scathing op-ed:
"In an age of transparency, Lucas Knight's silence speaks volumes. The public deserves answers, not evasion. It's time for Knight to step up and address the rumors head-on. I call on him to hold a press conference immediately. Anything less is a disservice to his fans and the industry that made him a star."
Meanwhile, in different part of the country:
Paul's phone buzzed incessantly. He glanced at the notifications, each one mentioning Lucas, and sighed. "Here we go again," he muttered, torn between concern for his friend and frustration at the media circus.