Our Food

Demyan 

I helped Malia out of the car as the lights of the paparazzis flashed in our faces that I could tell it took her a second to gather herself once she was on her feet. My eyes were so used to flashes that I believed I was a rare form of humanity that had evolved to adapt to paparazzi. I was used to cameras from the day I was born because whenever Pa stepped out it was complete chaos. 

She placed her hand in mine as we rounded the car and I gave the valet driver the keys as he gave me a small number token. We climbed the stairs to the exclusive five star hotel Dad and Pa were staying at for their stay. 

"I thought you said there would be no paparazzi," she pouted once we entered the lobby as one of the connoisseurs led us to the restaurant. 

"I thought so," I shrugged then chuckled, "I guess news spreads fast that the richest man is staying here."