The Curse

Chapter 5

"Interview?"

"Yes, that's what I just said,"

Lauren blinked once and then twice, unsure whether or not she was hallucinating. "But I'm a photographer. Not a journalist."

"Aren't they the same thing?"

"Not even remotely close,"

Simon hummed in contemplation. "Well, what if I paid you extra?"

"Money isn't the issue," Lauren spluttered.

God's truth, it really wasn't. Her mother was a professor at a regional university while her father dedicated his time working as a chemical engineer. They were more than financially comfortable.

"I just don't know if I'd be the right person for what you need. It feels like they can barely stand me sometimes."

"Normani tells me you get along quite well,"

"She's being nice,"

"Lauren," Simon laughed. "Can they not stand you or is it just Camila?"

Lauren lowered her gaze to the floor as if she was too embarrassed to admit the truth. "Just Camila," she said quietly.

"Ever since you started taking pictures of them, my bosses have gotten off my ass about how I let them run around like animals. You're changing the way people see those kids off of some buttons you press. Can't you see? This interview, uh... Segment thing—whatever you want to call it—can turn things around."

"So, what do you want me to do?"

"I want personal candids of them. Just alone, the spotlight should be focused on each girl perfectly. You'll ask a few corny questions about their childhood, why they started playing music, the whole nine yards. In the meantime, I'll make a few calls and see which magazine is dying to have the interview featured in their next issue. Deal?"

Lauren knew that Simon wasn't a man you could say no to. He had a way of convincing you into doing just about anything. In a way, it sort of freaked Lauren out, but she figured now wasn't the greatest time to be thinking about it.

"Okay, yeah. Consider it done."

-

"How are you liking it?"

Lauren stared at her depressing salad and stabbed a piece of lettuce with her plastic fork. "It's great, mom," she lied.

She wanted to go home and lie in the comfort of her childhood bedroom, not be bossed around by a bunch of pricks who coerced her into doing things she didn't want to do.

"Don't lie to me,"

"I just..." Lauren shut her eyes and huffed. "I'm feeling really homesick right now,"

"You'll be home for the holidays at least, right?"

"Not Thanksgiving. Their tour picks up again the night after, so I don't see a point in me flying back home for a day."

"Maybe your father and I can visit you," Clara suggested. "Oh, that would be fun, wouldn't it?"

"I'll have to ask Simon," Lauren murmured. "I miss you and Thunder,"

Clara laughed, the melodic sound causing the tension in Lauren's chest to ease up. "He's been sleeping with your blanket every night. The second anyone tries to take it from him, he starts growling. I'll send you a video next time your father messes with him."

At the thought of her dog being possessive over a tattered Mickey Mouse blanket, she smiled before saying, "What if I'm not cut out for this?"

"Well... What do you mean, sweet pea?"