Behind the Camera Lens [On Hold]

Chapter One

4:56 P.M., Seattle-Tacoma International Airport (Miranda)

            “I’m here, I’m here,” I breathed as I sprinted to the airport’s entrance. Everyone was in a rush, talking on their smart phones, hailing taxi cabs; so at least I didn’t look like a total idiot. As soon as I was inside, I made a beeline for some coffee. Sure enough, there was a Starbucks straight ahead. I clutched the strap of my messenger bag and darted past the fountain where a group of teenage girls were giggling and talking to a group of boys.

            I was starving, but could only afford an iced caramel macchiato. It’ll have to do, I thought as I walked inside the tiny, claustrophobic space. After getting in line, my phone beeped. It was a text from my friend Jasmine, Jaz for short: Just landed, should be getting out soon. Where r u?

            Starbucks, is what I texted back. She would know. I have this infatuation with coffee, it’s kind of ridiculous. One grande mocha could keep me going for five hours.

            As soon as I got my drink, I grabbed the first empty table I could find. “Whew,” I took a sip and sighed. So good.

            Okay, so I guess I should probably explain. I was waiting to pick up my friend Jaz, who’d just gotten back from a trip the French club took to France. I had missed her dearly those two weeks, and forced myself to drive in traffic just so I could be the first person to see her. Sounds pathetic, I know; but believe me, she is probably the only loyal friend I’ve ever had. We’ve been friends since sixth grade, and here we are in our senior year of high school. We do practically everything together: we go shopping, have late night fro-yo runs, movies, the typical stuff. I’m probably boring you with our friendship story but you’re going to have to deal with it until I figure out something better to tell you.

            OH-and we take pictures. LOTS of pictures. I’m not even exaggerating, not the cliché mirror or let-me-stick-my-butt-out-in-this pictures. We take pictures of everything imaginable. I guess half the reason has to do with the fact that both my parents are photographers, so it runs in the family. If anything, I’m encouraged to have my camera with me wherever I go. You never know when something will happen and you’ll want to get a pic or video of it. I got Jaz into it a couple years ago and ever since, we’ve been hooked on it.

            I pulled out my baby-a.k.a. my Canon EOS Rebel T3i, from my bag and looked through some pictures I took last weekend when I went hiking. There were zoomed-in shots of colorful flowers, distant gravel roads, and tall, drooping trees. I smiled and admired them until I was caught off guard.

 

Limousine- Seattle, Washington (Wes)

             “No, I told you, he is not going to do the interview,” my publicist, Randy, was practically yelling into his phone.

            I sighed, and rested my head against the tinted window.

            “No means no,” he hung up the phone angrily and tossed it next to his pile of papers.

            “So…did you work everything out?” I tried not to get him angrier than he already was.

            “Yeah, I think so,” he scratched the back of his head and seemed to have calmed down. “You already have three interviews lined up for the next few days, and there’s no way we can fit in another one. People are crazy.”

            I nodded, showing him that I understood and asked our driver, “How much longer until we get there?”

            “About five minutes, sir,” he replied politely.

            I leaned over towards Randy and whispered, “I told you I didn’t need any of this limousine, famous people crap. It’s so stupid, why can’t I just ride in a regular car?”

            “Because we want you to be as safe as possible,” he said nonchalantly.

            “Like riding in a limo doesn’t give away enough hints already,” I muttered and pulled my hood over my head. “And do I really have to wear a disguise again?”

            “Well, it’s what’s best. I mean, nobody has recognized you yet with it on, and we’ve been trying this for six weeks.”

          “Don’t you think I look kinda ridiculous with it on?” I questioned him.

            He shrugged and said, “It doesn’t matter how you look, it matters that no one recognizes you.”

            Even though I didn’t want to listen to him, he was right. I couldn’t risk being mobbed by hundreds of screaming teenage girls. Sure, I was Wes Montgomery, lead singer for a famous pop/rock band but sometimes the attention was too much. Sometimes I just wanted to be alone and not have all these people wanting my attention, or pressuring me to do things that I didn’t want to do.

            I pulled out my “disguise” which consisted of a pair of what I liked to call my “nerd” glasses, color contacts and a beanie. It wasn’t that bad, but it still wasn’t very good either. The good thing was I didn’t look anything like myself so that was good; I guess.

            “Here we are,” the driver pulled to the back of the airport and dropped us off.

            We thanked him and Randy said he had to make an ‘important’ phone call so I went into the airport to walk around. It felt good to stretch my legs after the countless hours I’d just spent in the car.

            I started for the nearest coffee shop, craving something warm to escape from the forty-degree temperatures outside. Oh, how I wanted to go back to California.

            Walking into Starbucks, it was kind of crazy that I passed plenty of girls and none of them knew. None of them would ever know. I ordered my drink and scanned my surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, just people drinking coffee. I could be normal for once too, I thought.

            Grabbing my drink, I bumped into a huge, burly guy and almost spilled all my coffee on a girl sitting nearby.

            “What the heck is your problem?” she spat out at me. She had dark, chocolate brown hair and blue eyes. She looked furious.

            “I-I’m really, really sorry,” I wiped the few drips I’d gotten near her camera.

            “You almost got it on my camera! Do you have any idea how expensive these are?” she exclaimed.

            “I said I was sorry,” I stated.

            “Whatever,” she ignored me as I walked past her. What a bitch, I thought. I walked back to the limo and didn’t look back. Some people have real problems.

Please let me know what you guys think of this! I'm trying to combine some aspects from my She's Got the Rhythm and also a little bit of Hayleywood, too. I think it'll turn out good, but we'll see.