"Wonderful, Hannah! Brilliant!" exclaimed Liza, behind her high-priced camera. The tall, stylish woman ran one of the top photography studios in the business. And her job today was simple-capture pop-singing sensation Hannah Montana on film. For over an hour, Miley Stewart had been trying hard to look hip, hot, and Hannah-ish. Beneath her blond wig and sunglasses, she was totally working it. But, boy, was she tired of smiling! While Hannah struck pose after pose in her glittery clothes, her dad stood a few feet away. With his big arms folded, he quietly watched the photo shoot behind his usual disguise- a huge fake mustache, long-haired wig, and baseball cap. "You look gorgeous, radiant," Liza told Hannah. In the backround , the studio's sound system pounded out Hannah's latest hit. "This is the life," the photographer squawked along with the song. "Hold on tight...." Hannah's beaming smile suddenly fell. She couldn't help it. Liza may have been a talented photographer, but she was one lousy singer. "Stop, stop, stop!" Liza cried, seeing Hannah's expression go sour. "Darling," she scolded, " we're doing an ad for skin cream, not wart removal! What is that face?" Mr. Stewart stepped forward. "I think it's reaction to your singin'," he drawled. Hannah burst out laughing. But Liza was not amused. She narrowed her eyes on on the strapping man in sunglasses. "And you are?" She asked pointedly. "Hannah's manager," he replied, keeping it simple. "Well, Hannah's manager," Liza rudely snapped, "I'm award-winning photographer, so why don't you push your tusg off my set."
Mr. Stewart frowned. Clearly, the woman needed a little information. "I'm also her father," he informed her. Liza blinked in surprise. Then she turned to her photographer asaistan. "I need a chair for Mr. Montana's tush!" she shouted "Now!"
The young man quickly brought over a chair. Mr. Stewart sat. "Comfy?" Liza asked, her voice suddenly sweet as honey. Mr. Stewart grinned. "Like a monkey in a banana bath." Liza pictured that idea and shuddered. "How charming." She weeled back to face Hannah. "Okay, now, Hannah, darling, Magic Glow skin cream, everyone's favorite zit zapper, is using this bill board to launch a worldwide campaign. So give me jubilance peppered with rapture and sprinkle it with a dash of "je ne sais quoi." Say what? Hannah thought, scrunching her face up in total confusion. "No, no, no, that's not even close," complained Liza. Hannah sighed. "Well, if you lighten up on the SAT words, it might he'll." Now the photographer was the one who looked confused. So, Mr. Stewart suppressed a chuckle and gave her a clue. "How _'bout, 'Say cheese'?" Liza shouted over his shoulder, "I need some cheese for Mr. Montana!" Mr. Stewart shook his head. "Slow down, there," he drawled as he moseyed over to the photographer. "All I'm saying is, you might get a little more out of Hannah If you just keep it simple." "Yes, Mr. Montana, anything you say," Liza replied through a stiff smile. Then she turned to her assistant and whispered, " Just what I need. Jethro's chicken-fried wisdom." With a sigh, Liza looked through her view finder again. "Okay, Hannah..." she declared, "say cheese!" Hannah took a deep breath. She knew what the photographer wanted, but she was so tired of posing and smiling that is wasn't easy. Just then, she noticed her dad doing something right behind the photographer. As the Hannah Montana music played in the background, her dad began to dance really badly. Hannah laughed. Her happy expression was genuine and beautiful. It was that million dollar look Liza had been waiting for.
"Perfection!" she cries, snapping away. "I've done it again!"
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RandomLessons: No matter how pretty we are in the end of the day our pretty will never save us