It was this past summer when I took an old friend up on an offer to come out to L.A. and work for his photography business. My prospects were pretty dim for the summer when I accepted. So I packed up my old Honda Accord and made the drive west (always helps to have friends willing to pay for your gas money). When I finally saw the skyline of Los Angeles and the "Hollywood" sign, I knew I was in another world. My friend Chris had a burgeoning business doing promotional photography work and my experience with computers really helped him. We'd known each other for years and he gave me the nickname of "Hollywood Jim", mainly because of my love of films and show biz in general. After just a few days there I knew this was where I wanted to be. The idea that I was actually part of the place I'd only read about before, If only on the peripheral edge of it, was incredible.
One day Chris told me about a super secret assignment he'd accepted doing some new promotional photos. He couldn't tell me of whom, just that it was a secret and if it got out the world would be encamped on his property. I was intrigued but with a town like Hollywood this could be anyone.
When the day arrived I came to work as usual, but noticed several SUV's in our parking lot loaded with guys toting long lens cameras, jabbering into cellphones and looking at me with a mix of suspicion and envy. It was as if we'd suddenly opened a used car lot. I was forced to park behind the studio by the garbage dumpster, how un-Hollywood.
"Hey Chris, what's with the extra trucks out front?"
"Did you tell anyone about today?" he sternly asked
"Of course not! What's going on?" I asked again
"OK, I guess I can tell you now. The shots are for Paris Hilton, she's got a new perfume line coming out and needs photos taken, so she hired me for the shots. I kept it a secret because of what's outside. I've seen how those guys operate and it's not pretty."
"Paris? Really, wow!" I said
"Yeah, yeah you get to do some star gazing today. Just don't drool on the merchandise" Chris said with a touch of world-weary cynicism as he checked his watch.
"Well, what time does the princess arrive?" I said with the same tone
"Right about...now," he said as his cellphone rang "She said she'd call when she was pulling up so we could get her in fast."
Chris grabbed me and we dashed to the door amidst a chattering of cameras and flashbulbs and let Ms. Hilton in. She struck me as a little shorter than I imagined, a little bit thin, perhaps. But with every possible detail taken care of in the looks department. She was definitely rattled by the crush of paparazzi. Her assistants followed her in and brushed me aside and went off with Chris to do the preparations for the shoot. I think I heard her say "hi" to me with that typical Paris smile. But that was the extent of my encounter with the heiress.
Or so I thought!
Over the next 2 hours I could hear music booming on our sound system, scattered chatter from Chris and the assistants and the "pop-pop-pop" of the flashbulbs and strobe lights. I poked my head in a few times and could see Paris in several slinky outfits. Among them a hot pink mini-dress and a white silk nightgown that seemed to ooze romance. But my job was to watch the doors and make sure no prying eyes got in, other than my own. The shoot seemed to be going well from what I could hear.
When I finally heard Chris yell; "OK everybody that's a wrap!" I could tell he was excited. He dashed over to me and said
"Hollywood, we've hit the big time! Suit up pal, we're partying tonight!"
One of Paris' assistants then called him over and said;
"We've got a problem."
"What?" Chris said in fear
