Page 4 of Paparazzi

He’s right, he can, but I’m not afraid. Showing weakness is not in my blood, and it would not help my case. To be weak in front of a person like him means having your throat slit. He feasts on easy and helpless prey. “But you haven’t done it yet because you know I’m the best.”

It’s true. My investigative ability, combined with my intuition and the ability to take excellent photos, makes me particularly good at what I do. I’m incomparable when I’m following my prey and shooting in burst mode.

Luckily, Ron decides not to answer me, gets up annoyed, and walks out of the cafe without even turning around. The pleasant adrenaline rush I felt when meeting Thomas slips away, leaving only guilt. I’m not so naïve as to delude myself into thinking this is an honest job, not from an ethical point of view. I take pieces of other people’s private lives and hand them over to people who have no scruples. I have to admit my own share of guilt. One fragment of my soul at a time, I’m selling my dignity for a piece of bread. I’m afraid if I keep shoving down all that guilt that weighs down my heart, over time, there won’t be any goodness left in me, only the rottenness this business has created.

“Wow. That man can sure suck the happiness out of a room.” Emily’s sweet voice brings my attention back to reality and the smile back to my lips. Her large dark eyes and ponytailed hair welcome me as she sits down with a cappuccino and a cupcake. I met Emily a few years ago when I was trying to sneak into a journalism class at NYU that I wasn’t enrolled in but that she attended. She helped me get books and notes from all the classes and, in the end, we became friends. I can say she’s the only person I trust blindly in this town.

“I don’t know if he has a soul or if he’s possessed by Satan himself.” I smile at her as she cuts a cupcake with icing in the shape of a tiny Santa hat and hands me half of it.

“Is everything okay? Do you need money?” she asks with disarming calm. She is the only one who is aware of my distressing economic situation.

“No, don’t worry. I’m not that desperate. I have pictures I could sell to Ron, but I only keep them in case I’m really desperate.” I smile at her and taste the cupcake. “Have you finished your shift?” I ask, trying to deflect the subject.

Emily’s always been the one who helps me make ends meet. She introduces me to her classmates who pay me to do their class papers, and I’m glad she decided to continue with her specialization and master’s degree here in New York. I don’t know what I’d do without these rich kids who can’t even tie their own shoes.

“Yes, now I have to go home and start studying,” she whines almost desperately, making me smile. Sometimes I don’t know how she holds down two jobs while also studying for her thesis. I respect her for that.

“Do you have time for juicy gossip?” I whisper conspiratorially.

Her eyes light up, and a smile appears on her lips. She scoots closer to me on the bench so the conversation stays between us. “Studying can wait.”

I look around to make sure the tables next to us are free from prying ears. In my line of work, I’ve become paranoid about my private life.

“I literally fell into the arms of Thomas Simons.” I smile and wait for the news to settle in. I talk to her so much about the Jailbirds, and my obsession with their music, she’s come to love them as well.

“Thomas, the sexiest drummer on earth? Don’t look at me like that—those are your words, not mine. By now, I know the shoes size of every member of that band!” She squeals quietly, like a little girl trying not to be heard.

I giggle, amused at her reaction, and nod vigorously. My stomach does flip flops again as memories of less than an hour ago make their way into my mind.

“I want to know every single detail. In particular, I want a play-by-play of ‘literally falling’ into his arms. Were you dressed or naked?”

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I start rattling off my story like a 15-year-old with her first crush. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about these things without being judged, even if she does know what my job is.

“And he doesn’t know why you were there?” she asks when I’m done.

“No. I tried to act cool, but I felt the guilt crawling up my stomach. After what happened, I was afraid he’d find out who I am.”

“Stop feeling guilty about that old story. I’ve told you a thousand times, you’re not the only person who’s responsible. It’s all over, and everyone is fine. You can’t keep punishing yourself.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t do wrong.”

I feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment when I think back to what I did, but Emily throws me a look that keeps me from basking in my guilt again.

“And how does he look up close? Is he gorgeous, like you see in the papers?” She knows the previous subject is difficult for me, and I appreciate her attempt to focus on the sweet part of the encounter.

“He’s gorgeous. I think he’s physically perfect, with those dark curls and blue eyes... And then those arms. You have no idea what arms that man has!” I hide my face behind my hands in embarrassment. I have to admit, I’ve had lustful thoughts about all those muscles. Over and over again.

Emily bursts out laughing. “You didn’t ask him to show you his biceps, did you?”

“No, I’m not like his fans. And it was obvious he was embarrassed about that. He’s so sweet when he’s embarrassed,” I confess candidly.

Emily smiles excitedly, as though she were there. “From the way the papers paint him, he looks like a heartless womanizer—like everyone in that band, by the way.”

“I am living proof that you don’t have to listen to gossip newspapers. They print a lot of bullshit to sell. You see Damian, since he met Lilly, he’s become another person. Maybe he wasn’t that bad before either.”

I almost feel compelled to defend them. I have no idea what’s true about what they write about them, but I know that ninety percent of what you read is fake news slapped onto photos that have no context.

“Do you think you’ll see him again? Why the hell didn’t you give him your number? I can’t imagine someone that famous asking for the phone number of a woman raining down on them from heaven!” She’s incredulous at my refusal.

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