Fighting the Distance ~ {n.h.}

Chapter 4: Plans

Chad's Point of View

Holy shit, where the fuck is this place, I think to myself as I try and navigate the streets using a huge map. Freshmen can't have cars on campus, so I left my dorm two hours early to try and find this damn office. As I look down at my watch, the time reads 3:45...shit! I only have fifteen minutes to find this place, or else my pay day will be over. I turn a corner to see a line of shops down the street...this paparazzi office must be here somewhere. I pass a few bridal shops and mini marts to see a sign that reads 'Leiman and Associates.' What a fucking strange name. This must be it. 

I open the wooden door, red paint peeling off in the corners, to find a woman sitting at a wooden desk with the name of the company plastered across the wood in black capital lettering.

"Hello," she smiles, seeing me approaching. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Yeah...Chad," I tell her. She looks down to her computer and types away furiously for what feels like forever until she finally looks back to me. "Mr. Leiman is ready for you," she smiles. "Right this way." The woman stands up from her desk chair and leads me down a long corridor to the last door on the right. "He'll be in to see you in a few moments," she smiles before closing the door behind her.

After the clicking of her heels fades, I decide to investigate this place. I look around the office; it's actually quite impressive, despite the building's rough exterior. Leiman's desk is a dark maple wood, adorned with magazine covers, which I'm guessing have some of the scandals he's uncovered plastered on the front. The cream walls are also covered with magazine scandals; I notice several of them have the One Direction idiots on them. After looking around for a while, I decide to sit down in the white leather chair in front of the desk, tapping my foot impatiently waiting for this guy to walk in.

After waiting for ten minutes or so, the door swings open to reveal a short, fat bald man around 45 years old. Large circular glasses sit atop his large nose and he's wearing black pants and a hideous plaid shirt.

"You must be Chad," he says plainly, reaching his hand out for me to shake. "Ryan Leiman."

"Nice to meet you," I smile, accepting his outreached hand. 

"Please," he starts, motioning to the chair I was just sitting in, "sit."

I follow his request as he sits down across from me, folding his hands together on his desk. 

"So Chad," he smiles. "I'm very interested in this proposition of yours. As you could probably tell, One Direction is quite a popular target here at Leiman and Associates."

"Yes, I did," I respond, nodding. "Why is that?"

"I have nothing against them," he tells me as he leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.  "They're the most popular group in the world, so any scandal involving the five of them is quite the pay day for anyone."

"I'm sure," I smile. "So as I told you on the phone, I'm friends with Niall's girlfriend Brooke. I can easily get her to cheat on him."

"Ah," he chuckles. "That's what I like to hear. We'll need proof of this," he states, wiggling his finger at me.

"And what would that be?" I ask.

"Any kind of photographic evidence," he responds. "A picture of you two kissing would be great." He pauses for a moment, chuckling again before continuing. "I don't want anything more than kissing because we want this evidence on the cover of every magazine out there."

"I won't disappoint," I assure him. 

"I hope not. So you're probably wondering how much you'll get paid, hm?" He asks, leaning forward against his desk.