Disclaimer for the entire series:
Everyone in this story - and in real life - are 18+ years of age.
All locations, art and music in this story are real.
Any celebrity actions or motives similar to their real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
Tags are set for each chapter, not the series as a whole.
In the disclaimer for chapter 1, I wrote that this story would explore deeper themes. However, it will now just be a typical erotic novel.
Disclaimer for this chapter: This chapter is short and has no sex.
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Chapter 2 - Prague Streets
Prague was alive. There was a small breeze in the surprisingly pleasant winter night, and Angourie Rice wore a leather jacket over her blue polka dress. Her blonde hair was down simply by her side, looking much like her character, Betty Brant, from the film. She also decided for plain high heels, nothing fancy -- she’d never been a fan of fashion, preferring the simple natural look -- but considering the occasion, she’d decided to dress up a little.
Along with Tom, Zendeya and Jacob, the four manoeuvred through the narrow gothic streets, surrounded by the splash of vivid Czech culture, beautiful old cathedrals, and local marketplaces selling traditional food. A street vendor offered the group a Trdelnik, a traditional Czech cinnamon bun -- which they gladly accepted with beaming smiles.
This was the type of place Angourie dreamed of: an enriching culture, city lights, streets teeming with life and fascinating people, locals playing heart-melting renditions of Czech songs on violins and harps. There were jesters, preachers, more street vendors, and hundreds of tourists alongside them.
Angourie was feeling happy She was in paradise.
She looked over to her friends, who were equally dazzled by the foreign culture surrounding them, joking and smiling as they walked. Zendeya wore a stunning white silk dress, one that clearly cost a few thousand more than Angourie’s (which she’d gotten as a gift from her parents). She also wore her brown hair behind in a ponytail, unlike the frazzled look her character, MJ, usually has in the film.
Tom and Jacob looked sharp and poignant in smart casual attire. Tom wore an expensive muscle-fit buttoned-up shirt with jeans and an overcoat. Before they’d left, Angourie recalled confessing to Zendeya that she thought he looked cute.
Exploring Prague, they crossed over the Vltala river on the world-famous stone Charles Bridge, busy with flocks of people. They then passed the Prague Torture Museum, as Jacob eagerly tried ushering them inside.
‘C’mon, it looks cool!’
‘Next time, we have ladies present bro,’ replied Tom.
Knowing completely well that Zendaya would actually love going in, and would hate being called a ‘lady’, Angourie was glad she dismissed the comment for Angourie’s sake. They shared a brief smile, and Zendeya gripped her hand and gave it a tight squeeze as they continued along.
Eventually they reached the six-hundred-year-old Astronomical Clock, stopping for selfies and photos. Zendeya and Angourie posed, and she kissed Angourie on the cheek for an Instagram shot, making Angourie blush.
Finally, they made their way to the landmark Old Town Square, bustling with hundreds of people. Angourie was fascinated by the surrounding architecture, dominated by the incredible cryptic castle: Chrám Matky Boží před Týnem (Church of Our Lady before Týn). Angourie was impressed by the incredible light display that made it stand out in the dark night.
After a fantastic few hours, they finally made their way to the quieter, undergrown part of Prague. The bright, lively atmosphere of the friendly locals and excited tourists had now been replaced by a shady, secretive clubbing district. The fairy-tale-like music of the charming touristy areas had been swapped with a modern day, underground techno-grudge vibe.
Mobs of unfriendly-looking people dressed in black could be spotted in every direction. Many were smoking, some hooking up in dark side-streets, and others handed out fliers for strip clubs and brothels.
Many shot Tom and Zendeya looks as they recognised the young actors. However, just as many men looked at Angourie, eyeing her as she walked along. Zendeya, a few years older than Angourie, could sense Angourie’s growing nerves and once again took her hand. It relaxed Angourie, and she managed a smile.
They arrived at what seemed like the most non-confronting of the nightclubs and went over to stand in the back of the line. As they did, three men observed Angourie every step of the way, more conspicuously than everyone else. They all wore intimidating neck chains, had nose piercings, while the centre one had a shaved head and was covered in tattoos from arms to legs.
‘Who do we have here?’ he muttered in a thick Czech accent.
