Paparazzi

3

Addie

I turned around and punched the guy square in the nose.

He stumbled back, and the thousands of people surrounding me gasped and started yelling questions, some of them swearing and others cheering.

"Get her out of here!"

The order was issued by one of my bodyguards and soon, I was whisked away from the exit of the concert arena and shoved into the limo. I looked over at my mother, who has sitting next to me with her mouth pulled into a thin line that tugged at the fakeness of her face.

"That was unacceptable, Addison," she said, her voice giving away how tired she was.

"Me? That guy tried to touch me in some pretty inappropriate places. I just had a natural reflex," I shrugged.

"That's not what the media will say. You know how much they like to manipulate the public and lie to them. What do you think they'll be publishing about you now?" my mother was almost yelling, and I could see that she was stressed.

I couldn't blame her. Being my mother is no pansy's job.

"As soon as we get home, I'm going to talk to Denver about what should be done and you will do what he says," she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, signaling defeat.

"Denver isn't my mother," I said, looking out the window at the passing street lights.

"I know," my mother said, "but he cares about you and he is very smart when it comes to things like this. You really shouldn't be so hard on him."

Truth be told, I didn't mind Denver all that much when he wasn't around. It was only when I could see him and feel his egotistical presence that he bothered the living hell out of me. It also didn't help that he was married to my mom - my step father. Yuck.

...

The next day, Denver and my mother were still talking in the study of what I like to call our 'mini mansion'. I had been up in my room, plonking out random melodies on my keyboard but now I figured was a good time to go downstairs and get something to munch on. Also to eavesdrop. Naturally.

I silently made my way down the carpeted staircase and down the hallway to the study door. I pressed my ear against it and listened carefully.

"... and we can't afford anymore of her slip ups, Lilian," Denver was saying.

"I've told her so many times. I don't know what else to do," my mother said.

"Well, last night she just dragged her entire reputation into the dirt and the media are going to have a field day with this."

"For the hundredth time, what should we do?"

"I think the only thing we can do is to beat the media at their own game. She needs to create a public image of herself that is so positive and innocent, it buries what happened last night at her concert. Permanently."

I could almost hear my mother considering Denver's words in the heavy silence. I held my breath.

"So you're saying, she needs to feed the poor and help the elderly? That kind of stuff?" my mother eventually asked.

"Not necessarily," Denver said, "That would be a bonus, but I think we need to use her personal life and backstory to win them over. Things they don't know about her that create sympathy and admiration."

"How are you plan-"

My mother was cut off by a phone ringing. My heart leapt into my throat when I realized it was Denver's cellphone... in the kitchen.

I jumped up and darted around the corner of the hallway into the massive kitchen. I quickly got some fruit juice from the fridge and leaned against the counter, trying to act natural and catch my breath at the same time. Denver appeared shortly after that and glanced at me before answering his phone.

I tried to subtly listen to as much of the conversation as possible, but all Denver said the whole time was, "Yes... Okay... Sounds good... Tomorrow?... Oh, today?... Sure... No problem... Thank you... Goodbye."

"Who was that?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Denver turned to face me, "An old friend. He's coming over soon."

"Oh okay," I shrugged and sipped my juice.

Anything to do with Denver and his friends was none of my concern. I began to walk back upstairs, when Denver's voice made me halt.

"Addie, I think you should stay down here to greet him," he said, a smile playing on his lips.

I frowned, but came back down anyway and waited for the guy to arrive. Why did I need to greet one of his friends? What did I have to do with this?

He's probably just looking for an excuse to annoy me because he knows I have other stuff to do.

I had sat on a barstool in the kitchen for half an hour, sipping juice and nibbling on a biscuit or two, when the doorbell finally rang. I stood automatically and moved into the entrance hall, Denver already there and opening the door.
He stepped aside and a young guy walked in.

No no no no no no no no no...

I stared, speechless.

The floppy, sandy brown hair. Those warm, hazel eyes. That crooked, goofy smile.