Mimi's soul-searching didn't last long.
Because Martin stepped out.
"Hey, Martin! Over here!"
Emma bounced and waved excitedly. It had been a while since she'd seen her lover, and her heart was practically bursting.
Then, from nearby, another voice rang out, equally thrilled: "Oh my God, Martin! Right here!"
Mimi turned, startled.
It was a tall, slender woman in a fitted T-shirt and jeans, wearing sunglasses and a face mask. Judging by the skin on her neck and arms, she seemed young.
Mimi eyed her outfit, feeling a spark of recognition. She glanced at Emma beside her—jeans, T-shirt, sunglasses, mask. Same vibe.
Is this woman a celebrity too? Mimi wondered.
Meanwhile, the other woman shouting "Martin" noticed the scene and turned to look.
The film crew emerging from the airport exchanged confused glances.
Daniel Radcliffe whispered to Chris Pratt, "What's going on here?"
Chris shrugged. "Beats me."
Cameron Diaz leaned in to Martin, murmuring, "I see Mimi. Who are the other two?"
Martin whispered back, "Mimi's with Emma. The other one's probably Keira—Keira Knightley."
"Wow, one, two, three, four—you've got your hands full!" Cameron teased.
Martin played along. "Three? Where'd you get four?"
"What, I don't count? You're heartless!"
"Hey, you lot, head straight to the hotel. The bus is across the street," Martin called to the rest of the crew. "Popo and I have some things to handle."
Daniel and Chris Pratt boarded the bus with the others. Though their roles in Joker were small, they were eager to please and quick to handle grunt work. Martin brought them along for the promo tour to give them exposure and experience.
Once settled on the bus, Daniel peered out the window and whispered, stunned, "Four women together, and nothing's blowing up? It's so peaceful! Honestly, I've seen this kind of thing before, but it shocks me every time. How the hell does Martin pull it off?"
Chris glanced outside. "Last time I told you to ask him, you chickened out. Guess that mystery's staying unsolved."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "I'd have to be insane to ask. Why don't you?"
Chris grinned. "I'm not curious. To me, Martin's like a god—nothing surprising happens on his watch, you get me?"
Daniel stared at him. Damn, I'm outclassed. This guy's still kissing Martin's ass even when he's not around. That's some dedication.
"Cameron, you all know—call her Popo," Martin said, starting introductions.
"Keira, this is Mimi Yang—you can call her Mimi. And this is Emma Watson—just Emma."
"Mimi, Emma, meet Keira Knightley. Call her Keira."
After introductions, Martin asked, "You all drove here?"
Emma and Keira nodded in unison.
"Alright, then I'll—" Martin paused, spotting a familiar Rolls-Royce pulling up. "Oh, Diana's here to get me. I'll ride with her."
He strode toward the sleek black car, opened the door, and slid inside.
The four women exchanged looks. Cameron broke the silence. "Keira came alone, so I'll ride with her."
Across the street, a white Volkswagen was parked, a paparazzo snapping photos of Martin relentlessly.
When he saw Martin climb into the black Rolls-Royce, his finger froze on the shutter. "Wait, isn't that Lady Diana's car?"
His partner in the car scoffed. "No big deal. Martin and Lady Diana are like siblings—it's no secret. She's publicly called him her little brother. They're practically family."
The photographer watched the Rolls-Royce start up, then mused, "You think there's anything… improper going on between Martin and Diana?"
His partner smacked him on the back of the head. "What's wrong with you? Martin's a playboy, sure, but do you really think Lady Diana's that kind of person?"
"Fair point," the photographer mumbled, sheepishly shrinking back. "I'd sooner believe Prince William's girlfriend, Kate Middleton, is hooking up with Martin than Diana having that kind of relationship with him."
Say what you will—Diana's sterling image in England was deeply ingrained.
Once inside the car, Martin realized Diana was driving herself.
"I missed you too much, darling. With a driver, there are things I can't say."
Diana turned, gazing at Martin in the back seat with a warm, lingering look.
Martin glanced around. Except for the front windshield, the side and rear windows were tinted with reflective film, shielding the interior from prying eyes.
So he climbed from the back to the front passenger seat, resting a hand on Diana's thigh.
Diana let out a soft gasp, her cheeks visibly flushing.
"Stop it, you. Let's get to the estate first."
Martin caught her meaning instantly. Plenty of time for that later.
He pulled back his wandering hand and shifted topics. "How're the boys doing?"
"William and Kate are going strong—they're planning to get engaged next year. I really like Kate; she puts up with William's bad habits."
"Like his wandering eye?" Martin quipped.
Diana shot him a look, her 47-year-old charm still radiant. "Worse than yours?"
"Hey, don't compare me to William. I keep all of you happy."
Martin's shameless boast made Diana's blush deepen. Being with her little brother always sparked a thrill she couldn't resist.
"How's Harry?" Martin asked.
"Harry graduated from Sandhurst in 2007 and joined the Household Cavalry as a reconnaissance officer. He secretly served ten weeks in Helmand, Afghanistan. Got recalled last March. I was a wreck the whole time, terrified he'd be kidnapped by terrorists who knew who he was."
Diana went on, venting about her sons' love lives. William's playboy reputation was no secret, and Harry seemed to be following in his footsteps, on-and-off with his girlfriend Chelsy Davy, caught by paparazzi partying with escorts at nightclubs…