The Girl Behind the Camera

Chapter 3

"Wait..."

I slowly turn around and Sloan stands to his feet. He takes a few steps forward until he's towering over me.

"If I agree to this, how long do I have to do it?" he asks.

I haven't even thought that far ahead. This isn't a job I want to keep doing forever by any means, but the money is too good to give it up just yet. How long do I want his help?

"Six months," I reply.

"Three," he shoots back.

Damn. He's a negotiator too. 

"Four. Final offer."

He sighs, raking his hand though his golden brown hair. "Fine, four months; but no one can know I'm a part of this."

"Fine, but I make the rules and you do as I say. After that, I'll delete the photos and you can go on with your glamorous life."

He nods, extending his hand to me. "Deal."

"Deal," I reply, shaking his hand.

__________________________

It takes a couple of days for everything to really sink in. Sloan Cole was in my apartment. I touched his hand. He drank my beer. I kept said beer bottle that his lips touched because I'm creepy.

There's something else that also takes a couple of days to sink in. Sloan found me. How? How did he know that I took the photos? I've never been caught before and I know maybe five whole people in the entire city. 

I promise myself to ask him that question at some point in time. Right now, I need to focus on the task at hand. Sloan has agreed to get me into an exclusive club called Pulse tonight. I've never been to a club on the ritzy side of town. I've hung back in the dark alleys next to them, but even then I was over a hundred feet away. My camera is good, but it's not magical.

I have no idea what to wear to a place like this. You'd think that someone who stalks celebrities for a living would know how to dress like one. Not me. I have zero fashion sense. I don't own a dress and I'm guessing jeans aren't going to cut it at a place like that.

I guess it's time to go shopping.

"Where are you going?" Harry asks when I grab my bag and head for the door. He's sitting on the sofa, wearing nothing but his tight, white briefs.

"Uh, shopping?" I reply, trying to look away from him.

He stands up and I quickly cover my eyes. "Dude, cover you man parts!"

He looks down at his bulge and back at me before the most mischievous smile spreads across his face. "I'm not wearing any pants."

"You don't say..." I open the door and make a quick exit before things get any weirder.

I guess in order to look the ritzy part, I'm going to have to shop in the ritzy part of town. I'm in no way dressed to mingle with those kinds of folks with my messy bun, torn jeans, black tank and white Converse. I'm sure to catch a few noses turn up at the sight of me, but I don't care. I may look like a bum, but my life is way more interesting than any of theirs.

I pull into an empty parking space in between a Range Rover and a solid gold Jaguar. I don't bother locking my car since I'm sure if someone decides to commit grand theft auto, my Fiat is the last car for ten miles anyone would want to steal.

I pull my shades over my eyes and try my best not to stand out. I catch a glimpse of Taylor Swift having coffee with Gigi Hadid at the cafe on the corner and I stifle a laugh when I realize they're dressed pretty similar to me.

I guess the I don't give a s**t look is in style this season.

I walk into a boutique that has a French name that I couldn't pronounce if my life depended on it. The dresses here are nice if you like the high class hooker look. I skim through a few that I might possibly be able to pull off. I grab two off the rack and hold them up against my body, checking my reflection in the full length mirrors that line the walls of the boutique.

"Mocha is a great color for you," I hear a voice say behind me.

I turn around to see a drop dead gorgeous brunette with stunning green eyes and full red lips. She's giving me a genuine smile like she actually means what she said and not just trying to make a sale.

"Thanks," I mutter. "I'm not really much of a dress girl. Actually, I don't have a clue what I'm doing here."

She takes the dresses from my hands and holds them both up beside me. She narrows her eyes as if she's sizing me up. "Mocha is your color, but the empire cut is the most flattering to your figure." She bites her bottom lip and appears to be deep in thought for a few seconds. "Wait right here."

I watch her as she walks away and wonder why the hell she's being so nice. I expect girls that work in places like this to be class act bitches. She's the complete opposite. She's not looking at me with judgemental eyes, she's honestly trying to help me find the perfect dress. 

She walks back over to me holding up the most gorgeous dress I think I've ever seen. "This is all you girl!" She says excitedly. "Go try it on."

She points me in the direction of the dressing rooms and I nervously make my way to them, draping the dress over my arm. The dressing rooms in this place are ridiculous. Bright lights line a runway in the middle with four dressing rooms on either side. Mirrors line the front and back of the runway with chairs on each end. Fancy.

I take off my clothes and carefully slide the dress over my body. She was right about the color. Thanks to my Latin heritage, I've got a natural tan and the mocha looks great against my skin and brings out my blue eyes.

I take a step back and look at myself in the mirror. The dress hugs all of the right places and sits about mid-thigh. It's sexy, yet sophisticated.

I need this dress.

I step out of the dressing room and onto the runway.

"Wow! I love it," the girl says, taking in my appearance. She does a full circle around me and clasps her hands together. "You look amazing!"

"You think so?" I ask, turning to look at the back of the dress in the mirror.

"Yes!" She begins poking and pulling at my hair. "So what's the occasion anyway?"

"I'm going to check out Pulse tonight."

She steps back and looks at me as if I just told her I'm the Queen of England. "Pulse? As in the hottest nightclub in LA?"

I nod. "What? Is this dress not enough-"

"Oh yes, yes, yes! This dress is perfect for Pulse! It's just that...well, that's a pretty exclusive club. How did you get in?"

I can't exactly tell her that I blackmailed Sloan Cole into getting me in, so I'll have to get creative.

"It's for work actually. My boss wants me to do an...interview....and he was able to pull some strings and get me in."

"You are so lucky!" she squeals, pushing my hair all around my head. "Who is doing your hair and makeup?"

"Uh..." Damn. I didn't even think about that part. "Me?"

She pauses and meets my eyes through the reflection in the mirror. "You?"

Okay, maybe she's not as nice as I thought. "I don't really...I mean, I've never...I don't know..." I stammer.

"Can I do your hair and makeup?!" she asks with pleading eyes, squeezing the tops of my shoulders. "It's my dream to be a hair and makeup artist to the stars! I promise I'll make you look fabulous!"

"Uh...okay?" 

She squeals and wraps me in a lung crushing hug.  "I'm Brittany, by the way."

"Alexa." 

Brittany goes on and on about all of the ideas she has for my hair and makeup, so I take the opportunity to check the price tag. 

$4,000? Is this dress made from the hair of Jesus Christ?

It doesn't matter. I have to have it. It will be worth it. Getting into this club means more pictures which means more money. It's an investment, really.

______________________________

Brittany comes over to my apartment after she gets off work to do my hair and make up. I'm really surprised at how normal and down to earth this girl seems to be. While she works to make me look presentable, I learn that she's from Arizona, her father is a veterinarian, her mother is a yoga teacher, she's terrified of space and all things related to space and she is obsessed with everything Tim Burton.

This girl is as weird as me and I love it.

"All done," she says, flashing a victorious smile.

I look into the mirror and gasp at my reflection.

Who is this girl?

My hair is in flowing waves and looks so...perfect. My make up is natural, but my eyes look amazing. My lips are shimmery pink, which is so not me, but I pull it off with this dress. 

And this dress...it is simply amazing. I mean, for four grand, it sure as hell better be.

"Thank you so much, Brittany. I'll have to use your services more often."

She smiles bashfully. "I'm glad I could help. You look amazing. And by the way, call me Britt. That's what my friends call me."

I smile, thankful that I met this mascara wand waving fairy god mother. "Thanks, Britt."

_______________________________

Sloan and I agreed to meet at my apartment at 9 o'clock. I'm pacing around, feeling like I may be sick. I've never been so nervous in my life. This night could be huge for me.

The door opens and I nearly jump out of my skin. "Dammit Harry! You scared the-"

"Who they hell are you?" he asks, slowly moving closer and studying every inch of my body.

Oh yeah. I probably look...different. "Harry, it's me, you moron."

He just keeps staring.

"Lex. You know, your roommate for the past two years?"

He nods slowly. "So you know my roommate then."

"Uh-"

Before I can say anything else, there's a knock at the door. I cautiously walk past my lunatic roommate while he continues to eye me suspiciously. I open the door, but my eyes are still on Harry since I'm a little afraid he may try to kill me or something. 

"Whoa." 

My head snaps to the person in the doorway and I'm taken back by his reaction. He's looking me up and down with eyes as big around as saucers.

Sloan Cole is checking me out. Oh my God.

"My eyes are up here, Cole," I deadpan, trying to play it cool.

He smirks. "Damn. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Neither did I." I push past him pulling my bag over my shoulder, pretending his reaction doesn't affect me, even though it very much does.

"Are you here to challenge me sith lord?" I turn around at the sound of Harry's voice. He's only inches from Sloan's face.

Sloan opens his mouth to speak, but I can tell he doesn't quite know what to say or think.

"No, Harry. He's not a sith lord. He's a Jedi." I take Sloan by the arm and quickly pull him away.

We make our way to the elevators while Harry calls out doomsday threats behind us. When we get into the elevator, Sloan gives me a questioning look.

I roll me eyes. "Don't ask."

He smiles and inches his way closer to me. I hug my arms around my body to hide the goosebumps. 

"You look amazing tonight," he whispers right against my ear, sending shivers all over my body.