One Direction's Assistant

Chapter 1 - Thinking Back

Note: This isn't one of my favourites that I've written, I actually think the whole plot is ridiculous, but readers can have their own opinions :) This was the first 1D fan fiction I ever wrote, so had always preferred the ones to follow it.

(this isn't the sequel I was talking about, by the way)

Anyway! Hope you like it! Please comment and tell me what you think and all that :) 

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Just one year ago I lived on the edge of London, squashed in a small apartment with my two best friends and a cat. My job was pretty good, considering I had only just left High School, working as the assistant to an assistant at the ITV studios. Not exactly the glamorous lifestyle I'd imagined. I had always dreamed that a better job, a better lifestyle, would be waiting just around the corner for me, somehow.

Now, however, waking up in my beautiful bedroom in my gorgeous house in a cosy part of London, I think I’ve got the dream come true. I can't help but smile. 

It all began one morning when I dozily wandered into work, Starbucks coffee in one hand and handbag in the other.

“Morning Cassie!” called the ever-cheery receptionist Jessica, “Caroline needs to speak to you in her office ASAP,” she added as I poked the button for the lift with my elbow.

“Thanks, Jess,” I called back, sipping my drink as the big metal doors clanged shut.

Caroline was my boss at ITV - so I assisted her whilst she assisted one of the big ITV bosses. Her office wasn’t really an office; it was cubicle number seven in a long row of identical white panels on the second floor. I called it Dull Central. Though I suppose it's better than my office, which is non-existent. 

When I got to her desk she was sat drinking from her large purple cup, probably full of her special fruit tea. Her folder was lying open on her desk, which gave the immediate impression that she was doing work, though the fact that she was painting her nails from the bottle balanced on top of the folder gave the exact opposite impression.

“Cass, sweetie!” she had exclaimed once she heard my boots squeak across the floor, “Come on, darling, we’ve got a meeting with Bobbie in ten!” Bobbie (I think he prefers to be called Robert) was her boss, whom I had never actually met before.

“We? What for?” I had questioned as she escorted me back down the corridor and into the lift. On my way I aimed the empty Starbucks cup at a nearby bin.

Caroline didn’t bother to tell me, she left that down to Robert. As we climbed the building in the lift, she babbled on about what she might wear for her cousin's 50th party in a few weeks’ time. 

Once upstairs, Caroline pushed me into a large office that must belong to one of the top producer guys. The back wall was entirely glass, looking out over the car park and surrounding structures. The walls were lined with photographs of visitors to the studios, top celebrities, plus a couple of Robert's family stuffed in a corner near a potted plant.

Robert, a gangly man with greying hair, was sat behind his mahogany desk looking bored out of his mind reading yet another piece of paper, identical to the ones on the piles on his desk. 

“So, Miss Hope,” Robert had said after I had timidly taken my seat opposite him, “Do you enjoy your job here?” His hands were clasped together on the desk and he was leaning forward awaiting my answer - classic signs of patronisation. 

“Yes,” was my simple reply, though said with enthusiasm. At this point I was panicking. What if they're sacking me? I had thought anxiously. My palms had begun to sweat and I was nervously staring around the room. Robert seemed relaxed, however, leaning back on his lather chair and muttering, "Good, good."

For a while I was sat counting how many green books were on his bookshelf as a distraction. Eventually, Robert leaned forward and pulled open a black folder, found the page he was looking for and passed his hand over the pristine paper, “So you wouldn’t want to leave the studio to work on The X Factor?”

At that moment, I honestly nearly died. Apparently, after a huge argument with the last assistant, Simon had asked the studio if they could arrange a new one for the Groups category on the show this year, and Robert had thought I would do well for the job after the 'many wonderful reports' which Caroline gave me. 

It didn't take much to convince me to take the job!

Later that week there was a meeting with Simon at the studios. I was so nervous, sat at one end of a conference table flanked by Robert and Caroline. Directly opposite me was Simon Cowell, armed with his own PA crew. Even sat there, I had felt so sorry for any person who had ever gotten on the wrong side of Simon. He was exactly how scary he's described.

For the interview he asked me a few questions, asked Robert why he'd recommended me, then spoke with his whispering assistants. Thankfully, he was quick with his decision (though at the time I had thought this a bad thing) and minutes later turned back to us.

“I like her,” he said to Robert with a smile, “She gets the job.” I started to breathe again. As Robert shook the hand of Mr Cowell, Caroline gave me a choking hug. 

After that I started work on the show almost straight away. Caroline was even tearful on my last day at ITV studios, enveloping me with a highly perfumed, yet very thoughtful and definitely less deadly, hug. 

I had begun at Boot Camp and worked my way to the live Finals from there, loving each and every moment. The media can say what it wants about The X Factor, but I think it's life changing. My whole experience on The X Factor had to be the best few months of my entire life, however crazy and stressful it could get backstage sometimes.

I roll over in bed, thinking about the times that weren’t as good. The worst part of every week was waiting backstage on a Sunday night. I’d sit with about ten others, waiting for the right acts to come shooting through that door with the verdict safe, for another week. And that didn’t always happen for me.

“OW! What you do that for?!” a voice shouts from elsewhere in the house, bringing me back from my daydream. I look over and see my door slightly ajar, and hear feet stomping across the landing. 

Jumping up from under my duvet and throwing my dressing gown over my pyjamas I get to the landing just in time to see someone disappear behind a door, holding a pillow over his head as if it were a large mallet. Not long after, I hear unnaturally high squeals from the other side of the same door.

“What’s going on?” someone else shouts from their bedroom, clearly annoyed.

“GET OF MEE! IT WAS A JOKE, NIALL, I’M –OW!” shouts Louis, who I’m guessing was the one squealing.

Simultaneously, Liam and Zayn poke their bed heads through a crack in each of their bedroom doors with foul looks on their faces. I just stand leaning against the doorframe, smiling.

“What time is it?” Zayn mumbles sleepily.

“Just gone nine,” answers Harry, coming up the stairs with a mug of tea in each hand, “Louis is in trouble now…” he laughs and Liam and Zayn both get fed up and crawl back into their beds.

Did I forget to mention the fact that my big house in lovely London is shared by One Direction?

"How are you awake so early?!" I exclaim at Harry, who's normally never awake to see midday.

“Shopping with Lou," he nods at Louis' bedroom door, "Here’s your tea, m’lady,” he adds, handing me one of the mugs.

“Why, thank you, Harold,” I joke and turn back into my bedroom. I’m always joking with the boys, but I think I'm closest to Harry. That's probably because he was the only one out of all of the contestants that I knew when we went to Simon’s house, so he was always there for me - even if he had four new band mates.

Sipping my lovely cup of tea, I use my foot to slam the door in his face.

Yep, we're really close.