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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 4

Well, finally. Here he was.

The Hotel.

Johnny looked up at it ominously. He felt slightly ridiculous glaring threateningly at a building, but he was just not in the mood for anymore trouble (Sleep his mind screamed, I want sleep!), so if he felt the hotel needed threatening, by God he would threaten it. It made him feel a bit better about the fact that he couldn’t really glare ominously at the hotel staff. Chances were they wouldn’t appreciate it.

He entered through the front doors and made his way to the desk. The woman behind it was sickeningly perky, but at least she didn’t look like she was about to swoon and fall at his feet, so he supposed he could forgive her little transgression.

‘Good evening, Sir. How may I help you?’ She smiled at him, in a very it’s-my-job-to-smile-at-you kind of way. He couldn’t be bothered with the insincere smiling part and so decided to simply cut to the chase.

‘I have a reservation, name is Johnny Depp, can I have my key now, please?’ He looked at her almost pleadingly, mentally daring her to say no and face His Wrath.

‘Erm, certainly sir.’ After looking momentarily put out, she began to do some receptionist type things, which he didn’t really care about, while he studied the clock, just for something to do. ‘Just sign here, please.’

He dragged his gaze from the clock, over to the paper and signed there.

Mercifully she gave him the key. He clutched it like it was a lifeline and then looked around urgently for a lift. He spotted a couple of them in the far corner and started over to them his mind on sleep and only sleep, well, with a bit of Angela thrown in, but thoughts of her were about as far from sleep as he could get so he tried to stop them. Sleep. Only sleep.

‘I’ll get someone to bring your luggage up, if that is agreeable,’ the receptionist called after him.
He muttered something that he hoped was an affirmative and took the lift up to the third floor, where, when the doors pinged open he was greeted with the wonderful vision of Room 302.
He couldn’t help a little ‘yes!’ escaping his lips as he let himself in and flopped down on the bed to drift off to sleep.

He woke the next morning to the hideous ringing of what he could only guess was a phone… or perhaps a fire alarm (!). He began to wonder if possibly the building was burning down around him, but before he could really start to worry about that, he decided it was more prudent to worry about where the Hell he was… He attempted unsuccessfully, to block out the thing - which he had now decided must be a telephone - while he tried to remember the previous day.

Long Drive.

Stranded.

Angela.

Damned Mechanic.

Hotel.

Sleep.

Ohhh.

He sat up; looking around for the source of the infernal noise… why anyone would use a telephone with a grating ring like that for anything but a torture device he had no idea. Still, people were strange.

It was on the bedside table looking every bit as ugly as it sounded. He rolled over and snatched up the receiver.

“Hello?” He said, stifling a yawn.

“Hello Johnny. Is that you? The receptionist put me through.” Great. Agent. And at this time in the morning.

“Bloody hell it’s only…” Johnny caught sight of the clock. “Erm half past eleven in the morning,” he finished lamely.

“Sorry, I was just ringing to make sure you managed the drive there alright…”

“Of course I did, I’m not completely incapable. I got here without a single hitch.” He smiled proudly to himself despite the fact that what he was saying was blatantly untrue. SO there had been one or two hitches. Big deal… he willed his proud smile not to slip.

“Yeah, congratulations, but I’m really sorry mate. The director called me last night and er, it looks like he probably won’t get the movie off the ground after all. So…”

“WHAT? So there’ll be no meeting? So, I drove all this way for no reason? I could have DIED. Did you know I got STRANDED? In the middle of nowhere!”

“Johnny, what are you talking about?” His agent sounded faintly exasperated at first, and then with the ease of someone long aquainted with Johnny he completely ignored what had just been rambled and moved the conversation onwards. “Oh never mind. Listen, stay there for a few weeks why don’t you? I have it on good authority that it’s a nice place. You may as well have a little break.”

Great, this was all he needed. Fabulous. Oh well, he supposed there wasn’t much else he could do. “Guh, fine, call me if the situation changes.” He put the receiver down with irritation, mumbling something about ‘a little break, I’ll give you a little break!’ as he slumped back down on the bed wondering what on earth he was going to do here for a few weeks.

As it turned out he managed to think of something, because later that day he found himself driving back out past the edge of town. At first it had seemed like a wonderful idea. ‘I know I’ll go see Angela!’ However, like all supposed good ideas it had probably just been a bad idea in disguise and now as he drew ever closer to the woods that concealed her cottage he was beginning to have second thoughts. He had to admit she confused him. She had gone from seemingly friendly to seemingly glad to be rid of him, for no apparent reason. He had pissed enough women off in his life to be fairly sure that it wasn’t anything that he himself had said or done. She was obviously shy, but he had thought he had been making progress. Evidently not. And now… well would she really want to see him?

He parked his car near to the place where the track to the cottage began and sat staring out of the windscreen debating the best course of action. Finally with decisiveness he did not at all feel he got out of the car, his head filled with absurd phrases that sounded like things his mother might say… ‘if you don’t try you’ll never know’ and the ever faithful ‘she can only say no.’

“Pftt.” He muttered.

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