Chapter 4

                                    

                                          
"Wait. What?"
                          
"You heard me," How can she be so excited over this. Five minutes ago she was whining about her sleep deprivation (while she could have been napping or, more importantly, while you could have been napping) and now she's saying that she's set me up for a series of photo-shoots. Can someone please tell me how this woman works? You think to yourself, One moment she's complaining about the job and the next she's creating more work for herself - for the both of us!
                          
"Well what do I have to do?" You question.
                          
"Just pose for a few pictures solo and with your co-stars and then you're done."
                          
That didn't seem so bad to you. A few pictures and you'd be out of there. You could handle that. And with your- "Wait. With Eren?!" Sweet mother Teresa on the hood of a Mersadies Benz, please no.
                          
"Well, I don't want to say I told you so, but..." Your mother laughs. "I warned you about pissing off your coworkers."
                          
You turned to her, terrified, "You didn't tell me anything about a group photo-opp afterwords!"
                          
"Since when are photo-shoots not a necessity in this industry? Besides, would you have gone through with the prank of you had known?"
                          
"Of course not!"
                          
"Then why did you do it in the first place?" Not wanting to admit your mom had a point, you sat silently with your arms and legs crossed. She just grinned. "Just because I'm your manager doesn't mean I've forgotten my job as your mother."
                          
As your car ride - a stiff and quiet one due to your stubbornness - came to an end, your driver came to open your door. Still not looking at your mom, you strut up to the building entrance in a manner that could only be preformed by a sassy runway model or a pissed-off, equally-sassy teenager. Watching you, your mom sighs but walks in none the less.
                          
The agent who set up this whole fiasco greets the two of you at the door. "Welcome, ladies!" The woman walks up, not noticing your mood, and moves to shake your hand. When you don't make a motion to reciprocate the notion, she begins to move back only to have your mother step in to grab the outstretched hand.
                          
"Thank you." Your mother says tersely, beginning to get into manager mode. "This is a wonderful opportunity for us both. We cannot wait to work with you." You swear you can hear some of the other woman's bones cracking.
                          
"What a... powerful woman you are Miss." The now much-paler woman whimpers. "This way please."
                          
Dropping the woman's hand, your mother moves behind you.
                          
As you follow the agent down the hall, completely oblivious to the young woman shivering out of fear of you and your mother, you reach a pair of white double doors. "This is the studio, miss. Please let my associates know if you need anything." The lady nearly jogs away from the two of you, looking over her shoulder every other second, in panic. 
                          
Once you step into the studio you are met with the quiet chatters of lighting crew, make up artists, and photographers. Your mother immediately struts over the photographers to check in and get the schedule. As you watch her go there's a tap on your shoulder. "Excuse me miss..."
                          
Tilting your head over your shoulder, you glance at a small, mouse-like woman with a name tag reading 'Cindy'. "Hmm?"
                          
"I was hoping..." Cindy trails off. 
                          
"Yes?" You prod her. 
                          
"C-could I get your autograph?" The small woman looks down in embarrassment, "You can say no! I-I mean, I'm just an intern and I'm not really suppose to ask but I..."