Painted Lady {h.s}

kiwi *

{I'm having your baby}

★ LORELAI ★

July 20th
1997

I've always been a big fan of gossip magazines. Reading through celebrities drama and horror stories in the industry. It was always a mind numbing activity to distract myself from the real horrors of my own life. I'd spend hours reading through them, always picking up the newest and juiciest copy. Reading about my favorite celebrities divorce, or their drug problems. Reading about an actress who 'gained weight' and her steps to get rid of it quickly. Reading about my favorite musicians' life outside of their tour life.

I'd follow up on the stories like they were fact. I'd believe what the, probably underpaid, journalists wrote and take their words for what they were. I didn't ever take into account the reality, and the fact that the people the stories were written about had to read these too. They had to read the outlandish claims made about them and either hate that they were right, or hate that they are lying.

These types of magazines can change your perspective on a certain celebrity. The way that the journalist portrays them, and what they say about their character, it changes everything. They bring light to hidden secrets and call out people's mistakes. It blasts them to the world, and then all of sudden that celebrity's head is served on a platter for everyone to witness.

It's a scary ordeal, but it's one I never put that much thought into.

That is until today.

I was walking down the streets of whatever city we are in today, merely on my way to pick up some groceries for the bus. I couldn't help myself but to stop at the newspaper stand and sift through the latest gossip column.

Then I saw something interesting.

In big bold lettering, the cover of one of my favorite magazines.

All There Is To Know About Painted Ladies' Frontman, Harry Styles, Mysterious Girlfriend

I quickly snatched the magazine out of the bunch, having the elderly man at the booth ring me up. I found a bench to sit on and read the article to myself, my face only growing more and more dumbfounded with every word I read.

They did get a couple things right. They talked about my old job at the bar, and the city I lived in. They even somehow got information on my life growing up, which freaked me out. They talked about my presence at the shows, all from "credible sources". They even included some photos of Harry and I from that day we were bombarded while getting off the bus.

They got even more things wrong though. They said that I had met Harry at one of his gigs, and was swindled in by his magnetic stare. They talked about my job within the band, saying I only got it because of my relationship status. If only they knew Harry was with Caroline when I was offered this position. They painted me as a mystery woman who merely leeches on Harry's success. That's where I drew the line.

I disregarded getting the groceries, and instead I stomped my way back to the bus. Rage filling my body and seeping out of every pore. I burst through the door to the bus, not seeing anyone in the front. I walk through the bunks and towards the back, throwing open the rickety door in my entrance.

Harry lays on the small couch casually, a beer in his hand as he watches whatever is on the small television. He's the only one here, and his eyes snap to mine in my arrival. A smile forms on his face until he notices the distraught expression on mine.

"Hey baby, what's up?" He asks calmly, finishing off his beer and grabbing another.

"Read this." I throw the magazine to him, and he catches it skillfully.