Snapshot

Chapter 2

"If you were a four-legged animal, which would you be?"

"Not a dog."

"That's not fair, you can't say stuff like that, you must come up with an inventive lie," Avery whines.

Nigel sighs and puts his papers aside. Heaven knows why he brought his work along with him. He can never get anything done when Avery's around. She has her legs propped up against the fancy car seat and is hanging upside down, from the chair, staring at him while her face goes red. It's very distracting.

"It's my turn to ask a question," Nigel says, giving her an amused look.

"Finally!" she grins triumphantly.

"Have you been in contact with Lexi?"

Avery sits up and turns around. She stares out the rear window with a sullen expression on her face.

"I asked you a question," Nigel reminds her.

"No, I have not."

"You see," he says, putting his spectacles back on, "This isn't a fun game."

"Fine. The game is over. Tell me why I'm taking this job and how you got it for me."

"Why do you deserve the truth? I have to get you to lie to me to find the truth."

"It is my life, Nigel, don't forget that."

He glowers at her from the top of his spectacles, but if there's one person who can glower like a pro, it's Avery. He really should have thought things through.

"Fine," he huffs, removing his glasses and leaning forward, "I had to figure out how to hide you the best. I like the hidden in plain sight approach. You'll be in the public eye, but not in an obvious way. No-one ever bothers to check who is behind the camera when a celebrity is around. Secondly, the band is about to go on a country-wide tour. That means you'll be on the move for the next few months. As to how you got the job, you entered a fan contest and won."

"But I'm not a fan," she pointed out since his logic was sound.

"Money can buy anything," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"How much did you 'donate'?" she asks, making air quotes around the word 'donate'.

"Who do you think is funding the tour, sweetheart?"

"You're ridiculous!" she bursts out.

A keen feeling of frustration is welling up in her. The feeling is so strong that she briefly considers opening the car door and jumping out. She's been told that she's a bit of a drama queen. But only sometimes.

"What? I thought you loved that band!"

***

"They're so cute!" Clara squealed, clutching her phone to her chest lovingly.

"Who?" Avery asked, trying to pry Clara's phone out of her hands.

"Fairly Chaotic, dummy, they're so awesome!"

"I would have pegged you as a Directioner," Avery teased.

"Oh please, they're for kids," Clara scoffed, her attention had been absorbed by her Twitter feed, and she was back to stalking the band's every move.

Avery rolled her eyes and went back to her homework. It was just a few months ago that Clara had declared her desire to marry Harry Styles and have dozens of curly haired little babies. But then again, Clara had changed. And One Direction, sadly, was no more.

"I do wish you'd stop ogling Kaden Knox while you're dating my cousin," Avery quipped sarcastically, referring to the band’s incredibly handsome lead singer.

"I can't help it, Ree," Clara said with a naughty grin, "That boy is so fine. Besides, Jeremy and I have an agreement."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"We can look, but we can't touch."

"That is very healthy. Well done, you."

"Judge all you want, but Jeri is such a bad boy. And bad boys get bored easily."

Avery raised an eyebrow at Clara's mistaken view. Jeremy had tattoos, he didn't cut his hair, he had a problem with authority, raced cars illegally and was a bit of a player. He wasn't a bad boy. He was troubled, and she was only fanning the flames by encouraging him to be a "bad boy".

"And if he's a bad boy, what does that make the rest of the squad?"

"You guys are his crew. His gang, if you will. I'm the nerdy-good-girl turned bad girl. Nigel is the wealthy benefactor, Lexi is the hacker, and you are the supportive best friend."

"That's great. Looks like I'm a secondary character in my own story. "

"No, sweetie, you're a secondary character in mine."

Clara had a fixed narrative in her mind. And if people weren't like the ones she had scripted, she would create the story herself. She knew what kind of story she wanted, she just didn't know how it affected others. Or maybe she just didn't care.

***

"Okay, so you'll stay on that bus with the band manager and I."

Avery is trailing after a man who considers himself a full-time hipster. He has the meaningful tattoos and clothes that he dug out of the bargain bin. He is the band's official photographer and is supposed to be training her.

He's such a great guy.

No, really. Avery loves it when people yell at her for being late.

"Keep up fresh meat," he yells over his shoulder.

"This is where I leave you," he tells her, stopping in front of a bus parked outside the massive arena. The band will be starting their tour tonight, and she is expected to start her new job. They will then be heading to the next destination. After the party.

"And no," he drawls lazily, tossing a single piece of paper at her, "You don't get to meet the band."

"How disappointing," she says sarcastically, examining the schedule he tossed at her.

"You know," he says folding his arms and examining her, "You don't seem like the typical fan."

She freezes and looks up at him. Think fast. Since when did he start being so observant. But then again, if she blows this, she can leave before Nigel comes to fetch her and disappear. BUT, he spent so much money on her. She feels guilty. She isn't completely heartless.

"I'm not," she says honestly, keeping her face impassive as he quirks his eyebrows, "This is one hell of a gig, I wasn't going to pass it up."

"I can respect that," he admits, shrugging his shoulders.

She smiles thinly at him and their moment is cut short when he slams the door shut behind him. Really. Such a great guy.

And according to the schedule, he had thrust into her hands, she has about four hours to kill before she's scheduled to start working. So, she does what anyone else does on their first day on the job. She starts working.

She starts by taking some pictures of the roadies. They smile and pose for some of them. Others grunt at her while they work. Either way, she feels more at home with the roadies than with the actual creative people she's supposed to be working with. Because Greg "great guy" Summers has yet to make an appearance.

She manages to find some decent shots during her tour, but she strikes gold when she heads to the top of the arena to take some overhead shots. Seated there, as though he were a normal guy, is Kaden Knox. Head singer of Fairly Chaotic and the guy who knocked into her a few days ago.

She should go and introduce herself, but she does something else instead. She lifts her camera and takes a picture. Just a quick snapshot.

He's sitting there, in ordinary clothes, twirling his pencil and staring at the work below. But the picture is interrupted by her flash. He looks at her, narrowing his eyes.

"Sorry," she mumbles, "I'll delete it."

His eyes soften, and his posture relaxes. He doesn't look like he's about to try and run away anymore.

"Are you a fan?" he asks gently.

"No," she mumbles under her breath, looking at her sneakers. It's odd how meeting a celebrity had reduced her to a star-struck mess. She didn't even know why she was star struck. She didn't even know if Kaden was his real name!

"I'm the new photographer," she says a little more clearly, trying to shake off her nerves.

"Oh, nice to meet you. I'm Kaden," he lifts his hand for her to shake, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Avery," she smiles and shakes his hand.

"So, why would you delete a photo of me? Don't you get paid per photo that gets chosen and put on our website?"

"Honestly?" she asks, and he nods thoughtfully, "I just couldn't care less. I'll get more during the show."

"Let me see it," he asks, holding out his hand again.

She hands the camera reluctantly, but he's her boss. What can she do? She also tries to ignore the small shiver down her spine as their hands' brush. She doesn't know him! He's a Rockstar, he's probably a player... Definitely a player. She was here to work not develop a crush!

"It's good," he compliments, handing it back to her, "More real than anything you’d get at the show."

"But your fans don't want real," she comments, putting her camera back in its bag. It caused enough trouble for today.

"What do you mean?" he asks, feeling bewildered.

"It's like this, they want you to be relatable, but not too relatable because their own lives are boring. They want to see you living the Rockstar life their money is paying for," she explains, sitting down in one of the seats.

"I never thought about it like that," he says in a monotone, staring back at the sky.

Lie, she tells herself. He thought about it all the time, he just didn't want to admit it. She gets up slowly, her work here is done, and the silence is kind of awkward.

"Wait..." he calls out, "Thank you, for deleting the picture."

"That's okay," she says, giving him a mischievous smirk, "It's two for nil now."

"What do you mean?" he asks in bewilderment.

"You never did apologize for knocking me down in the street," she teases.

"What?" he asks, genuinely confused.

"Don't recognize me without the blue hair?" she asks thoughtfully, running her hand through her newly obtained platinum blonde locks. She smiles as it dawns on him. But she leaves before he can say anything. The truth is that there is nothing more to say, and she doesn't want to get too attached. She won't be here for long anyway. She never is.