Hi everyone! So, BTR has been overpowering my mind a lot lately, so i just had to write a story about. Sorry the first chapter is so short :-\ the others will be longer, I promise :)

R&R &heart

Daniela Rocque

Can I just say that finding a job in California during the summer is exceedingly hard?

I've looked everywhere. I checked out the beach, to sea I maybe they needed a lifeguard, but instead of a simple no, they told me that I was the fourth teenager to come ask them that question today. I went to the movie theater, only to see a sign that read, "We do not have any openings for jobs. Don't even ask,". I went to the tanning salon, against my better judgment, which seemed to be the only place that actually had jobs available. But when I went to meet the manager, I was scared away because literally, the guy was tan as tan can be, even tanner than Taylor Lautner in August, except or around his eyes, which were paper white. I decided that I was okay with my less than tan ivory skin color, and that I really didn't want to risk getting skin cancer. So I went on, looking for more jobs.

Which is how I ended up here, in the middle of Wal-Mart, looking for a sales manager or someone to give me a well needed job. I looked for people in blue vests, but none of them passed by. I gave up, and made my way to the cashiers.

"Hi," I said, giving them my trying to be nice, but am severely annoyed, smiles. "Can you tell me where I can find a sales manager? I'm looking for a job, and I really need one."

"Sorry, pussycat," said the elderly lady, who looked to be in her mid-fifties or sixties. "No jobs available."

I groaned, throwing my hand against the counter, feeling the anger burning in the pit of my stomach. "No, you know what, lady?" I looked down at her name tag. "Sheryl? I have looked all over this entire town, and this is my last hope. So you can either get a freaking store manager, or you can tell me where the hell I am supposed to find another job!" I was getting right up into this women's face, and people were staring, but it wasn't like I cared. I only cared, when I heard the cashier next to us calling or security. "Please," I said, a little calmer than before. "Can you just tell me where I can get a job?"

Sheryl shrugged. "I would try the tanning salon. I hear the pay is really good there."

I closed my eyes, my nostrils flaring, as I tried to control my anger. Sheryl looked at me expectantly, and a noise that closely resembled a growl came from my throat. "NO! Okay, you know what Sheryl?" I spat her name with as much venom as possible. "I am NOT going to go work at a tanning salon!" it was then that I felt two pairs of strong hands grab my arms, and carry me away from the counter. "If the pay is so good there, then why don't you work there, and give me a job here!" I kept yelling obscenities until I was outsides of the store, blocked by two men in black suits and black sunglasses. They looked, honestly, like they just stepped out of some Jackie Chan spy movie. I struggled trying to get out of their grip and humphed when I finally did.

A lot o people claim that I have anger management problems, but I'd have to disagree. It's not that I have anger management problems, per se, but its more that I get angry when something doesn't go my way. I mean, sure, my doctors put me on medication that's supposed to keep me from being so angry all the time, but normally I'm a chill as an ice cube. But as of right now, my ice cube persona is melting away from this freaking heat, and from my horrible day that is just about to get even worse. Why you may ask?

Well, for one thing, I was about to walk in front of my father's record studio. What's so bad about walking in front of my father's record studio? In short, my father has no idea who I am. He doesn't know that I'm in California, looking for him, or the fact that I know who he is. Sure, he knows about me, but he never even cared enough to come and find me after I was born. But I care enough to find him. And today, I am going to find him.

I stopped and look at the tall building that read "Rocque Records" on the side. I felt myself growing angry all over again, but this time it wasn't from some inept cashier named Sheryl. It was from knowing that my father was in that building, and he didn't even know who I was, or that I was looking for him. He knew nothing about me.

"Hey!" a women said, as she walked down the stairs at the front doors. "You do know that this is private property, right?" she asked, gripping to her clipboard, like it was a child that couldn't be put down or else, it'd run away. I immediately knew who it was; Kelly Wainwright. She's worked for my father for the past 14 years. I've never even met her before but I knew who she was.

"Sorry, its just-," I tried to come up with something clever to say, about how I was getting directions from someone and I ended up here, or that I was supposed to have zigged when I should have zagged, but instead I just blurted out the truth. "I'm here to see my father."

Kelly's eyes just opened wider. "Your father?" she asked, and I nodded my head. "Who might that be?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Do you really want me to call security?"

I scoffed at her lack of knowledge on me. "Please, it's not gonna be like it's the first time today or anything."

"Look," Kelly said, obviously aggravated. "I've been through a lot today, and I really don't want to deal with anything more. Can you please just tell me who you are?"

I sighed, giving in. "I'm Dani." She raised an eyebrow. "Rocque. My name is Dani Rocque. Gustavo Rocque is my father."

ooh, a cliffie! so, I'm going to try to post another chapter by Friday. I have exams this week, and if i fail them because i've been writing this, its totally worth it. Please R&R! Comments causes inspiration, which causes more chapters!

love it. hate it. review it.