Unconditionally (fan fic featuring Tom Hiddleston)

I was supposed to not have any phone calls this week when it came to work. This was my week to visit my nephew, Cameron, at St. Jude's for the week. When I planned the trip, I didn't realize that it was the week of the huge Make-A-Wish Foundation Christmas celebration. When my sister-in-law, Caroline, found out I was coming she informed the publicist of St. Jude's and before I knew it, I was roped into performing for the children one afternoon. 

I didn't mind performing for the kids. It was the kids, not a huge stadium full of people. That wasn't my gig. My gig was taking care of people who performed in huge stadiums. I only had a handful of clients, but I had one that as of late was giving me fits. After Mr. Garis came to me personally and asked me to take on the NFL player as a client as a favor to him, I couldn't say no. I had just checked myself in at the Crowne Plaza in downtown Memphis when my cell rang. 

Seeing his name on the screen, I wanted to scream, but I didn't. My strawberry blonde hair was in a messy bun on top of my head. My blue green eyes looked tired. Pulling my bag with my right hand, I had my hang-up bag and smaller bag in my left. Racing towards the elevators, I saw people piling onto one. 

"Hold the elevator please!" 

I saw a hand stop the doors from closing. I ran and slid into the elevator as I answered the phone call. 

"Thank you," I said to the man without looking at him. "Rob, I'm on vacation this week. What do you need?" 

Rob was going off about getting hurt and how he needed to manage his time. I knew what he was getting at. He had gotten into trouble last time with Coach Belichick and I had to smooth things over. 

"Ma'am, what floor," the guy beside me asked. 

"Oh, 8 please. Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

"Gronk, listen to me. The last time you were hurt and had the extra time on your hands, you went out and made an ass out of yourself and fooled around with that big-breasted, bleach-blonde hoochy. I stuck my neck out for you and clean up your mess," I said, getting firm with him. "This time, I'm not going to be so nice. Stay away from the girls, do you understand me?" 

He responded in Gronkowski fashion and I paused. 

"Excuse me? Let me correct you something, no man is God's gift to women! I don't care if you play for the New England Patriots," I said as the elevator began to stop. "Rob, not even Thor could get away with doing what you want to do, and he's a Norse God... And, no I'm not talking about Chris Hemsworth, you twit," I said and realized it was the eighth floor. The doors opened and I pulled my bags snug against me; "I swear, if you call me again this week, I'm going to drop you in the fucking grease and Garis won't be so nice in saving your ass," I said and I walked off the elevator. 

"Excuse me, ma'am?" 

I turned around to see Chris Evans staring at me. 

"Yes?" 

"You dropped this," he said with a smile. 

He held out my small pocket book. I took it from him. 

"Thank you so much. You have a good evening." 

"You too, ma'am." 

I turned to the left and headed to find my room after I hung up with Rob. I swear, dealing with that kid exasperated me to no end. 

Usually people get giddy around celebrities. They didn't bother me because I dealt with them practically on a daily basis. That was the joy of being a publicist. You got the life of a celebrity when you weren't one. I had six clients and that was enough for me. I had one very famous client that was busy filming a movie at the moment - Michael Fassbender. Rob was my sports client.