Welcome to Hayleywood

Chapter Fifteen: What She Really Wants

<fantaaa92> so, ur telling me this really happened???

<iheartthebeatles> yes, & I have no clue what to do.

<fantaaa92> just do what ur mom told u to do. If anyone knows Hollywood well, it’s her.

<iheartthebeatles> I guess ur rite….

<fantaaa92> everything’s going to be OK

<iheartthebeatles> I wish I could believe that…

<fantaaa92> just trust me, ok??

<iheartthebeatles> *sighs* ok, I will. I’ve g2g. staff meeting.

<fantaaa92> alright, ttyl. Have fun J

<iheartthebeatles> *gags* I will try.

            I look up from my Sidekick to see Cameron bobbing his head to a Mayday Parade song.

            “Cameron, I can’t go in there.”

            He looks up, turning down the volume. “What do you mean?”

            “I just- This job is really awkward. It’s like I’m almost working against my mom. Do you know how weird that is? We talked last night about it, and she said I should stay and work here. But, it really kills me. I can’t do this.”

            “Yes, you can. Do you know how many girls would kill for this spot?”

            “A lot.”

            We pulled into the parking lot. I thanked him for the ride and then hopped out.

            I walked towards the building, stopping by a bench to tie my shoe.

            I sat down and laced up my purple high-tops.

            I glanced up, surprised to see no one pop out at me. Hmm. I guess they were trying to keep a low profile; for now, at least.

            I sauntered into the building, feeling the same cold chill sweep over my body.

            I say hello to Sara, the receptionist and walk towards the room where the staff meetings are held.

            Inside the room, eight people are seated. I spot the co-worker I befriended last week, Charlotte, sitting by herself with a notebook sitting in front of her along with a Starbuck’s coffee cup.

            I take a seat next to her. “Hey,” I say casually as I put my messenger bag on the floor.

            “Hey, what’s up?” she greets me.

            “Nothing really,” I sigh.

            She examines me over like a doctor. “Something wrong?” she asks, concerned.

            “No, I’m just worried about what Stacy is going to tell me today. Shopping for Ashley Tisdale’s clothes wasn’t exactly easy-I didn’t even know what the heck I was supposed to buy!”

            “It’ll be alright. If anything, it’s up to what Ashley likes. If the client is happy, then Stacy is happy,” she reassured me.

            “I hope so,” I murmured.

            The loud chatter on her Blackberry announced her presence.