The 21st century was the age of being famous for absolutely no reason with the Kardashian family being the prime example of that. And Demi Lovato shamelessly followed that trend. Beginning in high school, she used the fortune that her dad left behind to make herself famous for no other reason besides the fact that her life was perfect to project on Instagram and YouTube. She lived in a multimillion dollar mansion with her mom, she had a custom made white Mercedes G-Class, and she was drop dead gorgeous. After abandoning her glasses and her braces in the eighth grade, she learned how to do her own makeup, started tanning more, got a small yet noticeable boob job, and began to wear extensions. After six years, she had over 20 million followers and a popular YouTube channel. She had it all, and everyone knew it.
But it wasn't like she was untalented. No one knew but she could play piano, guitar, and sing extremely well. Of course that had something to do with the fact that her dad was the late and great Donny Lovato. He had been in several hit bands during the 70s and the 80s, went solo in the 90s, then went on to become a legend in rock and roll. Last year he had passed away. His publicists told the media that it was from a heart attack, but their family all knew his real cause of death. It cost a pretty penny to fake an autopsy, but it was worth it.
"Demi, don't you have class at two?" Her mom questioned as she entered her room. Even though she was 19, she still lived with her mother and attended the local community college. It wasn't because she wasn't smart or anything, but it was because she didn't know what she wanted to go to school for. If she went for music, it would draw unnecessary attention to herself, which was ironic considering she loved attention, but she didn't want to get into a good performing arts school just because she was Donny Lovato's daughter. She didn't want to live in her father's shadow. So she was taking classes at her local college until she figured out what she really wanted to do.
"Mom, this isn't high school. College isn't mandatory," she grumbled from underneath her silky Versace sheets.
"Demetria, I pay your tuition and you live in my house. So, it is mandatory," Dianna said as she ripped the covers off of the bed. Demi just rolled over and ignored her mother.
"Actually, dad pays my tuition and it's his house. And he thought college was useless. So, it's not mandatory," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. She counted to three then heard her door slam. Bringing up her dad was always a guaranteed way of getting rid of her mother. She was going to go to class because she wanted to, not because her mother was nagging her to.
After taking a quick snapchat selfie, she uploaded a few pictures to Instagram from a party that she had attended last night with Kylie Jenner. Yes, they were friends. Barely. Demi promoted her cosmetic line and did a few photo shoots for her. They only hung out when necessary, aka when Kylie was about to restock her lip-kits and she needed Demi to post a positive video review on her YouTube page.
Seeing that it was almost noon, she rose out of bed and picked up the covers that her mom had snatched off. Then she went to her en suite bathroom and decided to start her two hour long process of getting ready for the day. It's not like paparazzi followed her around or anything; she wasn't that famous. But you never know who you're going to run into so she always wanted to look her best. For all she knew, she could run into her future husband today.
Odell Beckham Junior hated being in Los Angeles. He was a New York guy, first of all, and second of all, everything about the city was entirely too fake. And every time he was there, he got caught up in some mess. They had a game against the Rams, so the entire team had to spend a week in California leading up to Sunday's game. The only thing that was good about being in Los Angeles was that he didn't get followed around or photographed. There were so many celebrities here that no one was really worried about him, and he loved that.
