We've already spent most of the day out and about, a few fans asking for our autographs and photos and she made time to engage in conversation with each one. She shows respect to our fans by doing this and meanwhile giving her a positive reputation, she does give them time with a smile. It's beginning to annoy me, the constant interruptions and I've had it. "Babe, let's go," I insist, tickling her side and she squirms.
She apologizes in Japanese and accepts a hug from the fan, politely dismissing them. "What's wrong, Josh?" she softly asks me.
"I'm getting irritated by them always bothering us."
"You told me to respect our fans and make time for them, though," she echoes back what I'd told her years ago, confused.
I sigh defeatedly. "Babe," I reply, pulling her close to me in a tight hug, "I know I did, but we should dress like them and blend in. They might stop bugging us."
She looks around at the local women in the shop, watching some come and go. She grabs a few outfits for herself, watches the men and does the same for me. She approaches the manager, able to read the Japanese symbols and I send Nick a text thanking for teaching her to read it fluently before we left the States. The manager guides us to a back storage room and we quickly change, paying for it at the front counter. Sam slipped her an origami letter in Japanese thanking her for her understanding and the hospitality, emphasizing the fact that we'd appreciate her to remain quiet until we leave the country in four days. "Read it when you're alone," she requests in the local dialect, smiling gently. We dip out, slipping on sunglasses and I kiss her.
"You amaze me."
"I try, baby," she retorts, smiling. Our fingers interlock and we walk away from the shop, her free hand happily swinging the bags of clothes. We rent a small car and go to the places she wanted to see. We get to Tokyo's equivalent of New York City's Central Park and she starts acting sketchy after an hour.
"What's wrong?"
"Paps, US, 3 o'clock," she whispers. I glance to our right, spotting the TMZ reporter and slowly begin to pack up.
"Let's go," I tell her once it's all put away. We casually walk to the car, the reporter following us.
"JC Chasez? Lil Breanna?" he yells out, a camera man in our way. Sam hasn't experienced this side of paps, so she's trying to seem calm and I damn well know she's scared. She's got a tight grip on my hand with both of hers and I step in front of her, blocking her.
"Leave us alone," I demand, anger coming to the surface.
"Josh, please," she quietly pleads, fearful. I squeeze her hand and glare at the camera, staring at the reporter as I consider our escape routes. I crouch down and she climbs on my back, holding on tightly. I race around them and press the unlock button on the keychain before we get to it, she jumps down. We get inside the car, thankful for the fact that she picked a car with an ignition button and she skillfully burns rubber as we speed off.
"Are you okay?" I ask as she sits back, running her hand through her hair and slowing down to the speed limit nearly 45 minutes later.
"For just being forcefully taped by TMZ for the first time? I'm just fucking peachy," she nervously retorts, her nerves on end. I know she doesn't mean to bite my head off, but I have to admit I was a little scared and a hell of a lot pissed off. I let my anger show while I stayed composed enough to get us out of the unfortunate situation safely and quickly, fear having claimed my beautiful new bride.
"Baby, pull over. You need to calm your nerves and I want to hold you," I softly tell her.
She glances at me, silently asking if I'm crazy. "So they can catch up, Josh?" she snaps, gripping the wheel tightly.
"Baby, we're in the country and we left them so far behind that I wouldn't doubt they're lost. Please, pull over. I promise we can keep the engine running just in case they catch up and we need to make a quick get away, Letty."
She laughs at my reference, knowing that's her favorite character from the 'Fast and Furious' movies. She obliges, shaking her head once we've come to a stop. "No, I'm more like Mia and you're more like Brian," she corrects me.
"Why? Is it because of the whole muscle thing?" I ask, feigning shock.
She laughs again as we get out if the car. "No, you have no record and we have kids, got married. We're also running from people in a foreign country," she rationalizes.
"I guess it makes sense."
I pull her to me as I sit on the hood of the car, sitting far enough back for her to join me and she leans back against me. "Nick's more like Dom and Cass is more Letty than I could EVER be.
"How do you figure, mami?" The sun begins to set and we're watching it together.
"Cuz of how they are. Need I educate you on the Letty/Dom dynamics, Joshua?"
"Not a 10 hour movie marathon," I groan playfully.
"No, just a quick point. Dom and Letty break up and get back together, their love is too strong to be without each other for too long, but they have short and violent temperments that ensures difficulty in staying together. They both keep too many secrets from each other."
Now that I think about it, she has a valid point and it does make sense. "Who's your favorite guy in those movies?"
"It varies on my mood."
"Right now."
"Roman," she simply states, no thought required.
"Why?"
"He lives for the thrill."
I smirk, thinking of a scene from the first movie. "Monicaaaaa!" I yell and she cracks up.
"I said you owe me a ten second car, not a ten minute car."
We laugh for a minute, her phone ringing interrupts us and she ignores it. "The sunset is beautiful."
"We should make more time for this when we get home, Josh," she happily sighs, snapping a photo of it without moving from her place.
"We should take the time to see the beauty around us every day, mami," I agree. She looks at me with a grin, knowing what I mean.
"We do as we peek into the kids' rooms every night," she reminds me.
