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Lost and Found	By : skyvalley Category: Individual Celebrities > Johnny Depp Views: 4218 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Johnny Depp. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3

When she had first heard the knock at the door, her immediate absurd instinct had been to turn off the lights and cower silently in the living room. She hated herself for doing it, but she just never expected visitors, never wanted them for that matter. Well, that was a blatant lie, of course she wanted them, but she just couldn’t deal with actually talking to them. She supposed that was why she still lived out here, away from the majority of people who might come knocking. It was a lonely existence, but she’d learned to accept it. She didn’t really have any friends, but she had learned to accept that too. Sometimes the best and only thing she could do was to pretend she was happy alone, that she didn’t crave the ability to really talk to, to really connect with another person, but deep down she couldn’t deny that it was a lie. She knew she pushed most people away, they thought she was unfriendly or just plain strange because she barely spoke to them. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to; it was just that she couldn’t. She’d never known how to explain that feeling, the irrational fear, the worry, the feeling of being physically unable to speak, even though she wasn’t. It sounded stupid even to her …especially to her. She had considered that maybe she had a mental illness, but she had never pursued it. Maybe she just didn’t want to know.

On good days, she managed to go into town to do some shopping, always keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact – she couldn’t stand to look at people, knowing (or at least believing) that they were laughing at her inside - on bad days she couldn’t handle seeing anyone at all, or even leaving the house.

Unfortunately, Johnny hadn’t chosen such a great day to turn up on her doorstep unannounced and when she had realised that he actually knew she was at home, she’d started to worry… she didn’t know whether to open the door, what to say or what on earth he’d think of her. He’d have to think she was crazy. Maybe she was. When he’d mentioned he was an actor, she had peered out from behind the curtain… and was shocked to find he had been telling he truth. Johnny Depp. She was a fan, not an obsessive one, but still quite fond of his movies… and she was leaving him out on her doorstep. She felt like crying out of frustration at how she was behaving, trying to reason with herself that nothing bad would come of allowing him in the house - except of course for her complete humiliation, a racing thought corrected – she pushed it out of her mind with an effort and tried to think more rationally.

In the end, it was the sweetness that won her over - even though he was an actor, and a very famous one, she still wouldn’t, no, couldn’t have opened the door, if he hadn’t sounded so sweet. She knew that talking to him would be a nightmare and that later she’d torment herself going over what she’d said to him in her head, wondering exactly how idiotic she had sounded and whether or not he had been completely disgusted with her, but she decided on the spur of the moment that she couldn’t leave him outside. Besides, he seemed rather persistent.

Watching him talking animatedly on the phone, she was glad that she had agreed to help him. He had immediately put her at ease, not fully, but she felt more able to talk to him than she did the majority of people. It was just a shame that in a couple of minutes he would be gone from her life forever. She thought of asking him to stay for coffee and then blushed at her stupidity – as if he’d want to spend time with her, he was a movie star; with undoubtedly better things to do and more beautiful women to see. He wouldn’t want to spend time with The Little People, especially one as bizarre as her. She didn’t exactly make for stimulating conversation. She wondered whether he’d tell anyone about meeting her, she could hear him in her mind making a big joke about it to his movie star friends. He was sweet enough to keep his laughter to himself while he was here, but who knew what he’d say when he left. Suddenly she wished she had just told him to go away…

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Johnny trudged back to his car deep in thought. Someone from the local garage would be meeting him there shortly… well, at least if his vague ‘umm I’m on a country lane, near some woods and a woman named Angela’s cottage’ had been of any help – it seemed it had been though, since they were apparently sending someone. God only knew what that someone would think of him: Johnny Depp, stranded, probably ridiculously close to town and out of petrol. He rolled his eyes as his car came into view, still parked safely on the grass verge. When he reached it he shook a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, leaning against the side of the car leisurely.

His mind kept going back to Angela… she was a strange one. Just when he had thought he had gotten past the initial discomfit, she had suddenly seemed to draw back into herself and had almost herded him out of her house. As far as Johnny was concerned this was not acceptable! He was not going to let someone as intriguing as her get away so easily. At least not if he could help it. He thought maybe he’d visit her again, since he was probably going to be here for a while. He had to admit she had piqued his curiosity as no one else had in far too long and he was determined to get to know her better.

‘I must be mad,’ he muttered. ‘I’m becoming obsessed by a woman I met about 20 minutes ago and who didn’t even really seem to want me in her home and who appears to be, to all intents and purposes, a recluse.’ Of course he was one to talk, he wasn’t too keen on the outside world either.

He was eventually roused from his Angela-centric thoughts by the sound of an engine; he looked off to the right and saw a truck heading his way with a garage logo on the side. It came to a stop a few feet from his car and Johnny looked on with a mixture of relief, interest and trepidation as a man climbed out and headed over to him carrying a can of what he could only assume was petrol.

He sighed as he realised that his trepidation had indeed been well founded; the man was looking at him with a ridiculous expression of awe. He waited for the inevitable ‘Oh my dear sweet Lord, you’re Johnny Depp, aren’t you?’ Instead what he got was:
‘Oh wow, you’re that pirate guy, who was in that movie with all them pirates!’
He wasn’t sure whether to be mildly relieved or mildly insulted… or mildly indifferent. He settled on the last option and forced his face into a smile, thinking all the while what a Long Fucking Day it had been.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Oh wow, that was a good film, my daughter is obsessed with it! I think she fancies you and that other pirate fellow. Say, I’ve never met a famous person before; can I have your autograph? The man looked at him hopefully and then added, almost as an afterthought. ‘For my daughter of course.’

Johnny fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead signed the paper held out to him. After a hideously long conversation - or so it seemed to Johnny – about everything from how he ‘shouldn’t be driving alone down country lanes, like’ to how ‘it’s not everyday you meet an actual, bone fide movie star’ to how he had ‘a very impressive car, obviously not short of a bob or two are you?’ - the Damned Mechanic, as Johnny had now come to refer to him in his mind, finally filled up the petrol tank and Fucked Off. It had been a most unwelcome interlude in a day that had progressively worsened only to get better for about half an hour, only to apparently worsen again, because according to someone up there in the sky he hadn’t yet suffered enough.

Johnny put his car into gear with an agitated sigh and set off into town to find his hotel, hoping that it would actually be that simple, his mind flitting between thoughts of strange mechanics, strange women and the ever elusive sleep that he by now he would be very happy to find.

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