Chapter One:
First Time
The first time he meets her, he's not really paying attention. [He is drunk after all]. The house party is at his large house that's made of glass and brick with paintings that are supposed to be beautiful and made by up and coming artists. His house is packed with people with barely enough room to stand and people keep saying his name over and over again. They scream over the music or whisper in his ear.
He sits on a large black leather sofa with a pretty blonde on his arm and whispering in his ear.
And that's when he sees her.
She's standing in a crowd of drunk celeberities who are wearing the finest of clothes and she's standing around in a pair of ripped jeans and a white t-shirt.
"Spencer," she says as she walks over to the old director who's drunk off his ass. Robert isn't paying that close attention.
"Angela!" He yells as he wraps his heavy, meaty arms around the girl. "Robert, this is Angela. Angel," Robert noticed the slight twitch at the nickname, "you know Robert? He played as Sherlock Holmes, King Henry, and-"
"Spencer, I just need the key to the editing room-" she says as he pushed her forward. "Robert this is Angel." Her mouth twitches at the nickname. "She's helping me edit the movie. Can you believe she's only twenty one?"
By the looks of it, Robert thought she looked eighteen. He shakes his head and the old man drunkenly hugs the girl. He gives her the key and he places a sloppy kiss on her cheek.
Robert feels old. He's forty two.
