Paparazzi Princess

Chapter | 1 | Stakeout

I ate a total of two angel cakes today. That didn't include the Big Mac and large order of fries. Of course, I had to wash down the food with a large refreshing coke. So, this has become my life daily, sweets and fast foods. Can't forget to mention I practically live out of my car, chasing down the famous, and gaining an extra few pounds along the way, well, that's my glamorous life as paparazzi.

A drop of ketchup falls onto the lens of my camera. I swipe it off with my thumb, and lick the rest of the yummy residue with my tongue. The smear won't create good pictures, so I give it a final wipe with my t-shirt.

"You always drip food everywhere," says Sam, sitting in the passenger seat. He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe you still own that piece of crap, anyway."

I examine my Nikon. "It works just as well as it did when I took photography in high school five years ago."

"Seriously?" he says, smiling.

Rolling my eyes, I say, "Sorry I haven't officially joined the paparazzi ranks of godly! I'm going to land the best pictures real soon. Then, I will get a new camera. Sound like a deal?"

"Damien Wolfe," he says with a straight face.

"Excuse me?" I say in mid chew, dropping a hot pickle onto my chin. "Ouch! Gosh, I do that all the time. I should just become rich and sue them for putting too hot of pickles on my Big Mac."

Sam laughs, "I love you, gorgeous."

I pinch his cheek. "Love you too, Snoopy."

"Hell no, not that name, Amber."

"Snoooopy," I tease.

He throws his hands up into the air. "Fine! I surrender!"

I giggle, taking a big bite of my oh-so-delicious cheeseburger.

"Now that you've had a mac-attack, hopefully not a heart attack, back to Damien Wolfe."

I raise an eyebrow. "The super gorgeous, super arrogant, famous dude that has a bad reputation with paparazzi? What about him?"

"That's your new target," he says point-blank. "None of the paparazzi have gotten a clear picture of this guy! You, my dear, could be the goddess amongst the paparazzi!"

I snort. "Excuse me? Aren't we being a tad bit dramatic, Sam?"

He shakes his head, not saying a word.

I grab his iPhone from his lap, typing in his password. His brown eyes grow wide. He knows I'm about to text his new girlfriend. He lunges for me, but I stick the cell out the window, waving it around through the air.

"Stop! Just you stop right there," I say. "I will tell her why your nickname is Snoopy."

He frowns. "You wouldn't."

I nod. "Oh, I would."

Sam throws his head back against the seat. "Alright, I won't mention Damien Wolfe ever again." He looks over at me, giving me the sweetest puppy eyes. I cave in and toss him back his phone. "You're a doll," he says.

I watch Sam slide his finger through his text messages. He's cute in a conventional way. His thicker framed glasses make him look like he should be a creator of some billion dollar software company. His collared shirt never misses a button. Today, he's wearing a salmon colored top. The shade looks nice against his sun-kissed skin. Our friendship over the last two years has only ever, and will forever be plutonic.

He ruffles his shaggy hair. "She wants to go all the way tonight."

"What?" I choke on a fry. "I mean...that's great, Sam! Wow."