Paparazzi- A One Direction Fanfiction

"Your father wants to see you."

WARNING!: EXTREMELY CHEESY AND SOMETIMES CARROTY FANFIC AHEAD. IF YOU PROCEED TO CONTINUE, OKAY THEN, BUT BE WANRED, THIS WAS MY FIRST EVER BOOK AND I WAS LIKE 12 AND SJNFDKSNKDVM

Paparazzi

©crazygloss

~*~

“Allison, your father will see you in his office now.” said Barbra, my dad’s office assistant otherwise known as this thing they call ‘secretaries’. I’ve always wanted a secretary. I don’t know why but the idea of someone writing down my whole days schedule kind of amuses me.

I got up from the stupid, uncomfortable, plastic chairs they have at this place and walked over to Barbra’s desk. I reached for the glass bowl that had these candies for visitors and got one of the lollypops.

“Thanks Barbra, and I’ve told you a million times to call me Al or Ally.” I smiled at her taking the wrapper off the lollypop I got and throwing the crumbled piece of paper on her desk, well, I threw it at her face and then it bounced off from her face, and landed on the desk. She couldn’t really do anything about it, I mean she did work for my dad and with one word I could have her fired. I knew that, she knew that, everyone knew that.

“And I’ve told you many times not to leave your trash on my desk!” she snapped in her sharp voice clearly getting frustrated at me for many things not just that. She wasn’t really much of a threat. She was an old lady, probably in her 40’s with some gray hairs sticking out of places. Her curly hair and glasses really gave her that old ‘granny smith on crack working at a library’ look. She had a mole right on the side of her jaw bone with a hair sticking out of it. Her red lipstick was all over her two front teeth, which I have to say were unhealthily yellow, and was a little bit smudged. I wonder what she’d been up to… I leaned up on her desk, and whispered so low I’m pretty sure she didn’t even catch what I said

“And I’ve told you many times to stop having sex in the janitor’s closet with the mail boy down in B1.” I smiled at her before putting the cherry flavored lollypop back in my mouth and savoring the taste. Her faced turned embarrassingly red before looking down at her computer and fixing her glasses that weren’t even crooked.

“Your father wants to see you.” she repeated and started typing something on her computer not looking up at me. I smirked at her, knowing that I’d won, and went down the hallway that led into my dad’s office.

I hated it here. Not only because the employees were just self centered jerks looking for an embarrassing photo of a celebrity so my dad can go out and publish it on some cheap shot magazine and give it a stupid title like ’Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez having sex on the beach while drinking a sex on a beach!!!’ no, it was the way they did it and the way that they intrude someone’s private space. ‘Yes’ is the answer to your question. My dad is the owner and editor in chief of this ‘super cool and interesting’ magazine called ‘PAPARAZZI!’ and yes, my dad is the boss of the paparazzi and everything having to do with them. If you are a famous celebrity and you just walked out of your house and the paparazzi are there, BOOM! Richard Miller must have sent them. Like seriously, he knows everything about everyone, that is famous of course, and what they are doing at this exact moment. Seriously, if I ask him where Adele or Bruno Mars are or what they are doing, he’ll give you an immediate response. Sometimes, I think that in his spare time he makes these albums, one for each celebrity, and just fills them in with everything about them.

I walked down the narrow hallway ignoring all the dirty looks the other employs were giving me and went up to the last door. I opened the double doors and saw my dad, with a big brown Cuban cigar in his mouth, pacing back and forth and back and forth, making a phone call to who knows what person about who knows what celebrity. I took a seat in front of his desk but knowing him and how long he takes on just one phone call, I examined the room.