Dean tugged his baseball cap further down over his forehead and headed for the First Class Lounge. He was relieved to be away from his house phone, which hadn’t stopped ringing since he’d returned yesterday afternoon, and he had turned off the cell phone in his pocket. Although he’d been doing his best to stay calm, the constant vibrating reminder that he was being hunted had been driving up his anxiety levels. There was no denying he was facing an anxiety issue, although he had no idea where it was coming from.

Last night, in the privacy of his bedroom, blackout curtains drawn, Adam had set up a video camera and a couple of standing lights “borrowed” from the now ghostly set. If Dean had thought that his panic attack had been a one-off and easily surmountable, that camera had convinced him otherwise. He’d been totally prepared and feeling great. He’d had his lines ready in his head and Isabella had been facing him smiling encouragingly, or was she just eager to practice her role? Anyway - he’d done this a million times.

But when Adam had shouted “Action,” and that little red light popped on above the camera lens, Dean had lost it. This time around he knew what to expect, and at the first sign of that gaping maw of the black, glass lens creeping across the room to swallow him up, he sat down on the end of his bed and thrust his head between his knees. His heart pounded and someone must have turned on a sprinkler connected to his sweat glands, because it poured in rivulets down his face.

Isabella had simply said, “Wow!”  

Adam had shaken his head sadly. “Yeah, we have a problem.” He paused for a minute and scratched his whiskery chin. “I have an idea,” he said. “Don’t freak out. Hear me out first, okay?”

“Okay…” Dean had told Adam that he trusted him. That he would do whatever Adam told him to do, and he’d meant it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling distinctly worried. Adam had some crazy ideas.

Adam told him the plan. First and foremost, they would need to get him away from the stress of the invasive press, second, they would need to get him out of the mind of Ed and the producers. If they caught a whiff that Dean’s “issue” was more than a one-time thing, the wolf in all of them would come out, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Sara’s in Italy.” Sara, Adam’s wife, was indeed in Italy. She had left a month ago for a week’s vacation when their new baby was only a few weeks old. After the second week he’d asked Adam how long she was planning on staying and he’d practically bitten off his head, chewed it and spit it out. Dean hadn’t mentioned it again. “I think you should go and stay with her.”

“Italy?” Dean said. “Why would I go all the way to Italy?”

“No, listen, this makes sense, right? I say that you have a sick relative in Italy. No one would question that. We’ve made up your entire family background anyway, what’s one more nonexistent relative? The media will back off. They’d ignore the story leaking from our fifteen-minutes-of-fame seeking extras, and assume they were just attention hounds, which we all know they are anyway. You’ll be out of Ed's and the Producers' sight, so they won’t get a hint of how bad you are, and I’ll tell them that Italy is a mental health move and you only need a few weeks. They love that shit. Plus, you’ll be in Italy, buddy, in some tiny mountain town in the middle of nowhere where people will leave you alone and you can recover. I mean even George Freaking Clooney can walk around Italy without being harassed, and, no offense Dean, but you’re no George Clooney.”

“Who is?” Isabella piped up dreamily from the corner where she was lounging on his script reading couch. He decided to ignore the jab.

“It could work.” He thought of the few times he had been outside of LA since his surge to fame. He’d been able to walk down the street in most places. He’d occasionally gotten stopped, but it was more of the “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” kind of queries than the all-out celebrity assault. It could work. He wasn’t crazy about being away from Ed that long, out of sight, out of mind and all that, but did he really want to be on Ed’s mind when he was freaking out every time someone turned a camera on him?  Probably not.

“Of course it will work.”

“Okay. I’ll do it, Adam. If you think it’s a good idea, I’ll do it. Will we leave tomorrow?”

“Who’s we?” Adam and Isabella said together.

Dean looked back and forth between the two warily. They wouldn’t make him do this alone would they? “Well, okay, I guess you can’t go, Adam. I really need you here, building my case with Ed and the guys. But you’ll come, Isabella… right?”

She looked at him blankly and didn’t answer.

“There’s no room really,” Adam said, whipping out his phone and presumably texting his secretary to get her working on the flights.

“If there’s room for me, there’s room for her, Adam. We sleep in the same bed remember?”

“Yeah I know. I just think it would be taking advantage of my Mother-in-law’s hospitality and all that. I mean the house isn’t that big.”

Dean knew that Adam didn’t like Isabella but this seemed a bit cruel.

“No, it’s okay, honey,” Isabella said. “I’ll hold down the fort here. I should stick around for auditions anyway.”

He’d been pissed at Isabella at the time but since yesterday he’d decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. He was wrong to expect so much of her. She had her own life after all. Now Dean was trying to relax in the deep leather seat in the quiet lounge, listening for his flight to be called. He was on his way to Italy, and it was the last place he wanted to be.