PAPARAZZI - h.s.

4

[harry’s pov]

 

“What did you just say?” I stopped in the middle of the room trying to understand what I had just been told. It couldn’t be! Seriously? Right now. Right now she would do this?

 

“Yeah - she’s going this week too. Probably in two days time. I’m gonna try get the hotel name for you man,” the voice whispered back at me with intensity.

 

I let my hand through my messy morning hair in frustration - fucking unbelievable! Of course I had to go then. Perfect timing. Just fucking perfect! I walked back into my bedroom where I had left behind a tangle of sheets and a blondne, whom I wasn’t sure was either named Crystal or Christina. It didn’t really matter anyway. I grabbed the pair of black jeans on the floor, while my source kept feeding me details about Naomi Fay’s recent and future movements and plans.

 

I nodded as he listed what else he would make sure to include in the mail to me. It was a solid deal - he was close to Naomi, he told me details about her calendar and I gave him a fair share of the reward from the shots I got.

 

“But why Paris? I mean that’ll just slow things down - she could be a clear candidate for the award shows at the end of the year here in the US and the Festival de Cannes was in May!” I managed to pull on my jeans and absentmindedly filled the coffee machine with water. I leaned against the counter as the machine slowly started letting the water run through the filter with coffee.

 

“Why the hell do you care? She’s going to Paris and no one will know. You’ll probably be the only American pap there - and the French for sure won’t have any idea she’s coming. So just buy the damn plane ticket and get going for crying out loud!” My source whispered almost angrily. I could tell the person was nervous - I would probably be too if I was selling information on a close friend to a pap without permission.

 

“Chill yeah? Just sent me the damn email so I can get started on planning this. Jesus.”

 

My source agreed and immediately hung up the phone. I shook my head lightly, but with a grin - if I could get another shot of Naomi Fay alone in Paris trying to recover from a broken heart … I could just imagine Fred’s voice. And Liam who would joke about me paying for the drinks for the rest of the bloody year.

 

Paris. Paris. Interesting. I had never been abroad before. But of course I had to follow her. This chance was too good to miss out on. And Paris couldn’t be too bad. I imagined how the romantic feel of the place could give me some great shots of her weeping her eyes out, as the scent of coffee filled the room.

 

Lost in thoughts after the conversation I barely noticed as the blonde stepped out of the room - almost fully dressed. My head snapped up as I suddenly noticed her presence - she was wearing the black thigh length skirt from last night and the bra. She was grabbing her shirt, which was on the floor in front of the door to my bedroom. I honestly didn't remember that her heels had been that crimison red - had I really been that wasted?

 

She smirked up at me, as she put her bag on the floor and slipped into the shirt. I was kind of grateful she seemed to be one of those who wasn’t going to complaint and go all psycho-obsessive-girlfriend on me. I mean what the hell did they expect? Meeting them in the city, bringing them here, one night of fun and then what - we were automatically in a relationship? Hell no.

 

“Thanks for last night babe,” the hot blonde said to me, as she even managed to open the main door all on her freaking own. Maybe I should keep this one afterall, just because she was so far from the whimpering type.

 

“Right back at you - pleasure was all mine,” I sent her a crooked smirk, as she winked at me and closed the door behind her. Leaving me all alone in my place again. I couldn’t keep my thoughts on the topic of Naomi and Paris anymore - it was too quiet in here. I turned off the coffee machine after having slipped into a shirt with black and white stripes and grabbed my phone and keys from the counter. It was warm enough outside to not need a jacket, instead I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans and made the short walk to my almost finished photography studio.

 

The sky was crystal blue and the sun was shining warmly. I hurried up the stairs to the studio, unlocked the several locks and pushed the door open.

 

It still needed some work - but it was already pretty damn great. With the mainroom having the bare red brick walls and the white photography white screen. Several specialized lamps were already in place - and my good friend Perrie had made some prints with some of her favorite photographies of mine. She had kept them in black and white and hung them on the walls - two big ones in the mainroom and some smaller once in the kitchen, which also functioned as entrance.

 

Furthermore there was a toilet, which was big enough to work as a changing room and lastly the big window sections on the long side of the mainroom revealed the most amazing view over Brooklyn bridge. I had gotten hold of some black shades, which I could use if the natural light disturbed the setting.

 

“What the hell do you want with that place?” Liam had asked me more times than I could count. And what did I want it for? Maybe I just didn’t see myself as a pap for the rest of my life as he did it - and the others too. Even Fred. But I wasn’t going to do that shit for the rest of my bloody life, that occupation had just been a step on the way to get this place going. It had paid the bills and now look at it! It was basically ready for use.

 

I was good at photographing. I knew that. And not only as a pap - no the problem with my studio in Miami had been my age. Hell I had knew nothing about the business back then - I had been a naive little innocent boy with pretty green eyes and an amateur camera, believing he could make it all on his own.

 

I quickly located my computer, which I had left here a day ago - it had pretty much been parties non stop since that shot of Naomi hit the magazine. New clubs, loud music, new girl each night.

 

Paris. Paris. Paris.

 

I settled and opened the silver macbook as it rested on my lap. It was still open on a safari page, which showed the camera I was going to buy for this place. I had used too much money on the parties the past four days - it was probably Liam too blame for that. Every afternoon he would call me up and convince me, that we had to celebrate more. Of course the paycheck would be on me as well - I wasn’t sure what it was with that guy. But he always managed to get the … the worst most dark side out of me. When had I turned into such a party freak? 

 

I promised myself I wouldn’t let him convince me today, as I checked my mail. A smirk grew on my lips as I read the new email I had been promised only this morning. It contained everything I needed - her hotel, flight time, appointments during her time in Paris. Every-bloody-thing.

 

With quick fingers I typed in the flightroute;

 

JFK International Airport - to - Paris-Charles de Gaulle Airport.

This trip better pay off with some damn good pictures, so I could quit this job once and for all.  

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