I found a curling iron, hopefully it was suitable to Keira's needs. One thing good about being her personal assistant is she spends 97% of her time in New York. She lives in New York, the studio where she films the show is in New York, and she doesn't really do interviews that often, which saves me a lot of effort. I enjoy traveling around the world, but not while I'm pregnant.
I drove to the set of her show, that was in Manhattan and waited to be let inside by security. One thing I hated about this job was how tight security was. Obviously it's for a good reason, but when you're job is to basically be called in whenever the hell, you're not always going to have a badge that says you're allowed to be on the premises.
Finally, security let me in and I ran inside (more like walked fast) to give Keira her hair styling tool. I walked in and saw Keira covered in fake blood, well at least I hope it was.
She turned to me with a smile, "Hey, You got it!"
I shrug, "This is what I get paid for."
She giggles, "You had a doctors appointment today right? Ooh! Did you find out if you're having a boy or girl?" She asks excitedly.
I shake my head, "No, the baby was in a position where they couldn't see its genitalia."
She frowns, "Man that's a bummer."
"Yeah, but we'll try to find out again in two weeks."
"Oh wow, it's cool having a pregnant assistant. You're so cute! I can't wait to see you get the big belly and all." She says.
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I let out a soft laugh, "Yeah me too."
"Sorry for making you get up and get this curling iron, you're free now!" She exclaims.
"It's alright, I'll see you tomorrow." I say and walk out the studio.
As I walk to my car, my phone buzzes. I look down and see its a text message from Cara. I slide my phone open to read what she sent me.
"Can you believe this?" With the message is a screenshot of a new headline from Hollywood reporter.
"Tea McClair released from jail this morning!"
I immediately felt unsafe, I felt like I was having a mini heart attack. What the actual FUCK? How the hell could Tea be released from jail? First Donald Trump is president and now THIS? What more could white people put me through? Haven't I suffered enough?
I put my phone in my purse and try to calm down a bit before getting into my car. I breathe in and out for ten seconds and feel a little better. What would really cheer me up and help me forget about all this crap? Candy.
I drive to a random pharmacy and grab a small basket to put the candy in. I practically ran to the aisle that had sweets in it. I impulsively started throwing any bag of chocolate and other unhealthy candies into the basket. I stood in the aisle, trying to remember what type of candy Harry liked. I then scroll through the messages between us on my phone. I know two weeks ago he texted me what candies he liked.
