Fame ***

“I have to say,” Jessie Lewis mused as she shifted a series of hangers to the side to take a look at a specific garment, the metal scraping against metal in a horrific screeching noise, “I’m surprised you invited me to go shopping.”

I looked over at her and smiled, ignoring the fact that her wide-leg Gucci jeans looked tacky, since she didn’t have the figure to pull it off, her wide hips keeping the silhouette from looking streamlined like it was supposed to. “Why are you surprised? We had so much fun at the Oscar party a couple of months ago!”

“Okay,” she responded slowly, “but we haven’t spoken since then. I sort of figured that you’d forgotten you met me.”

“Forgot I met you?” I laughed. “There’s no way I could do that. You offered yourself up for a threesome with me and Ian Somerhalder.”

She started to snicker as her face colored with embarrassment. “I still can’t believe I said that. Alcohol goes straight to my head, that’s for sure.”

I turned my back, pretending to look at a floral-patterned dress, as I rolled my eyes. I didn’t care how much alcohol she had; the fact that she grinded up on me when I was trying to look like a professional partygoer for the cameras was humiliating and infuriating.

Thankfully, none of the paparazzi got a shot, so we made it out scotch-free. I still disliked her, though, with her soft Australian accent that I knew she was capable of suppressing from the various movie roles she'd done, yet she refused to do it in real life, and her incredibly curvy figure that she liked to show off, even though it was kind of disgusting in society’s view.

I didn’t always hate Australian accents, but there was something about that girl that just made it seem forced, played-up. After all, everyone just adored the Sweetheart from Down Under. Gag me.

“What do you think?” Jessie questioned, breaking me out of my seething trance.

I glanced over to see her holding up a pink sundress, adorned in a tasteful amount of embellishments, in front of herself. It was cute, for sure, but when I got a look at the size, I knew it wasn’t for her. She couldn’t fit into a size four if she starved herself for weeks.

“It’s totally you. I love it,” I replied instead, censoring my thoughts.

“Me, too,” she agreed with a smile, draping it over her arm. “Now what are you looking for? You’ve been such a help to me. Let me return the favor.”

I thought about what I could say for a second before sighing. “I kind of want to get a boyfriend, a real one. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had anything but a little play thing that I’m ready for something serious. And to reel one in, I’m going to need something that says that I’m a blonde bombshell, a catch, and I’m proud of it.”

Jessie nodded in approval, not that I needed her okay before I embarked on my mission. “That’s a great idea. I think a boyfriend would be good for you.”

I struggled to keep from glaring at her and telling her off for thinking that her opinion mattered, but I managed by some miracle to keep my sentiments inside.

“So, is there anyone you have in mind? To start off with, anyway?”

I ran a hand through my hair and nibbled on my lip to try to look bashful before saying, “Well…I’ve kind of had my eye on someone from One Direction, if you must know.”

“Oh, that curly-haired one?” She giggled some shrill, mind-shattering noise before nudging me a little too hard in the side. “I saw a story yesterday on the internet about you two. You’ve already had sex, yeah?”

“Harry?” I forced a laugh and shook my head. “No way. Been there, done that, if you know what I mean.” I winked before straightening up again, focusing my attention on the dresses in front of me. “I was actually more focused on the blonde one now. Niall Horan?”

“He’s cute,” she responded offhandedly. “Not like Harry, but he’s still a cutie. Kind of innocent for you, though, don’t you think?”

“The boy needs a little corrupting.”

The statement, though I hadn’t thought of it before, was absolutely true. No one could remain as pure and real as he was forever. It was just downright disgusting. How he stayed so grounded when the world around him was in the clouds would never make sense to me.

But it was up to me to fix the problem before it became unsolvable.



“How did your shopping trip go?” Heather questioned, her tone sounding extremely distracted, as if she were reading some story about one of her clients instead of paying total attention to our conversation.

“Good,” I answered coolly. “I found a dress that will totally knock him out. All it’ll take is a way for us to meet.”

“Well, inside sources say that he’s staying at a hotel just around the corner from your apartment building. I bet he’ll be hanging around there, getting food and coffee and things. Though, if you’re really desperate, I’m sure you could find a way to get up to their room. You’re you, after all.”

It was true. I could make anyone do anything I wanted, within reason. Or, occasionally, outside of all reason. It just depended on how much I was willing to do to get it.

“I think that’ll make me look pathetic,” I responded in a harsh tone. “That’s not exactly the image I want the tabloids to run away with.”

“I was just suggesting,” Heather defended, her tone getting somewhat mousy as she started to regret what she said. “Just do it your way, then.”

“Maybe I’ll meet him at an event coming up,” I voiced, standing up and running a hand through my hair. “What do I have?”

Sounds of clicking filled her side of the phone as she brought up my schedule. I rolled my eyes at how long of a wait I had to sit through as I pulled a bottle of expensive water out of the door of my fridge.

“Okay, you have a movie premiere two days from now, which One Direction will not be attending, but they’re performing on X Factor on Friday, and if I call and ask, I’m sure I could get you an invitation to the after party.”

“Perf,” I approved, grinning. “Do that. And then get back to me on what the dress code is so I can know which designer I’ll be wearing that night.”

“I’ll do that right now,” Heather responded. “So I’ll let you go. Bye, Lilah.”

Without returning a parting phrase, I pressed the end button and tossed my phone onto the couch. I hated standing around, or sitting around, and waiting for my agent to do her job. She already knew about my plan, so she should have called ahead and gotten me an invite beforehand.

Sometimes, I had to do absolutely everything myself.