Accidentally Famous

Inspiration/context: Our subconscious minds combine items in unexpected, sometimes whimsical ways. Set a timer for twenty minutes and use at least three of these words in your draft. Write without stopping: a red scarf, windshield wiper, chrome, doily, blowtorch, spatula, CD-ROM, postage stamp, frittering, static cling, radio silence, kismet, calamity, heartburn, bandage.

I can't remember where I came by this exercise, but the following story is the result. (I may try the exercise with three different words sometime soon) Its at least three years old, so there may be some dated references, but nonetheless a fun chick-lit adventure.

Kismet wore the red scarf that day, not knowing how much of a difference it would make in her life. Wearing the red scarf was the least of her intentions, as the accessory would have offered too much red against her same colored blazer she chose to wear for the important meeting she had that day. Her electric had gone out overnight. Waking with an anxious start and unable to figure out what time it was, she got dressed in the dark. Between her hurry and the gray shade that hung in her apartment, she couldn’t see the red scarf from the green scarf until she stepped outside, and by that point she could do nothing but move forward with her day the best she could. Unfortunately, taking any nearby public transport was out of the question too, as vehicles were crowded to a stop all along the street. Sirens and flashing lights several blocks up hinted that a calamity was being dealt with and blocking traffic. Her next thought was to call somebody at work to touch base about her predicament, but her phone didn’t charge overnight either. Luckily, she knew of a nearby phone booth that still worked, just a couple blocks off her direct path to work, and she scraped just enough change from the bottom of her purse.

She tried ringing her best work friend but got the voicemail. Further dread dawned on Kismet that the important meeting was underway.

“Chloe! Its Kismet!’ She started, “My power went out, my phone didn’t charge, my alarm didn’t go off, and I can’t get a ride in. I’m at a phone booth on Twenty-Second Street at the moment, but I’ll be in as soon as I possibly can. I hope by some miracle the promotional meeting hasn’t started yet.”

She hung up, feeling ridiculous to hope she could still make it in time. She hadn’t set a foot out of the phone booth when frittering flashes out of nowhere took her sight.

“Melanie!” “Ms. Pearson!” She heard clamorous voices shout, along with shuttering cameras. Kismet froze as she tried to process what was going on. At least six or eight papparazzis had mobbed the corner and the phone booth, thinking she was someone else. Melanie Pearson was an overnight sensation who starred in the most popular rom-com film out right now, and her character’s trademark outfit was red-on-red with auburn red hair, not unlike Kismet’s. First, she was mistaken for Merida after Brave came out, and now people think she’s Melanie Pearson. The next thing she knew was that paparazzi mob had suddenly grown to the point she had to close herself back in the phone booth, and seemed to not let up until cop cars cruised up the street and cops on the street pressed them to move along. She stepped out again, but this time was met with who she imagined was part of Melanie’s entourage.

“Melanie Sophia Pearson!” The agent raised her voice to Kismet, “Don’t ever scare us like that again! If you didn’t want the deal for the next Disney feature, you should’ve said something sooner, but your resume won’t look good without it,” The agent whisked Kismet to the side of the curb and waved for a limo that stopped for them. The handsome bodyguard accompanying the agent opened the door for them. Kismet caught a glimpse of his face as when was ushered in the car and thought he looked familiar, but she had no time to think it over as the publicist who shared the car with them started a conversation.

“I had to call Kelly Ripa’s and Ryan Seacrest’s people, just in case we couldn’t show, but they were about to call to reschedule us. I hate it, but funny how that worked out. Now, we have to do something ahead of the flash mob paps from just now.”

Kismet barely understood the strategy they were talking, but a lot seemed to hinge on Melanie being part of an upcoming Disney movie. Sitting dumbstruck was all she could do until the publicist directed a comment to her. “Did you get dressed in the dark this morning? I thought the stylist picked out a Moschino Disney top for the audition? No matter; they’re meeting us at the coffee shop to help clean you up. You really should cultivate your own style that doesn’t involve your film wardrobe.”

By that point, the limo lurched to a stop at a high-end cafe. Everyone slid out and met an assistant holding coffee drinks for everyone. The publicist grilled the assistant on the whereabouts of the stylist, and muttering something about needing to be at a studio soon. Kismet politely took the drink intended for Melanie, and quietly stood by with the bodyguard, still trying to recall his face, and it finally came to her.

“Are you Patrick H.?” She asked softly, so she didn’t attract unwanted attention. The guard faced her with a puzzled look. “I’ve seen you on the Coffee Meets Bagel dating app.” Patrick lowered his shades to get another look at who was talking to him.

“Good grief! You aren’t Melanie!” He hushed back with surprise, “You must be Kismet M.,” he followed with a smile. The two of them had connected a few days before and been chatting ever since. Kismet herself smiled for the first time all morning, feeling like something was finally going right.

“We’ll have to go for a proper coffee or something after we figure out how to clear up the confusion,” Patrick continued, taking the drink, “Melanie has bad taste in her caffeinated beverages.”

Just then, the publicist’s phone rings. He answered and carried the conversation with a little confusion as he stared at Kismet.

“Melanie is at Kelly’s and Ryan’s studio,” He started after hanging up. “She didn’t know they canceled her today. I tried calling her about it, but she said her power was out, her phone didn’t charge, so she couldn’t get the message. But she’s getting a taxi here to meet us,” Turning to Kismet, “I’m very sorry we bothered you, miss. You look very much like Melanie at a distance.”

Kismet accepted the apologies. “And thanks for the adventure! I’ve been mistaken for several famous redheads a lot, but I haven’t confused their own entourage before.” They all laughed. Melanie’s entourage hailed her a cab for her to take to work, and she left her number with Patrick before they parted ways.

Kismet finally got to work and ran into Chloe, who met her with relief. “I’ve been worried since you left that message! That meeting actually got rescheduled for later. With the mess uptown, not many people could make it in.” Hearing that alleviated the anxiety Kismet had all day, and she settled in to the office, telling Chloe about her own morning.