"Emma, can we go now? God, you always take forever." I hurried down the stairs, careful not to trip in my heels. Kylie could never wait a god damn minute. She was impatiently tapping her fingers on the door rolling her eyes as I stepped in front of her.
"Ready princess?" I shoved her hand away, and opened the door. "Fuck off Kylie." She knew I hated that name. She was the one with the rich parents, and I get called a princess.
The air was cold and bitter, almost hard to breathe in. Nothing a cigarette couldn't fix. "Ky, do you have a lighter?" I felt a hard object pelt into my head. "Ky, what the hell!" She shrugged her shoulders, and walked past me. "Do you know which way Emma?" Yeah, like I was like type of person to look up directions. I grabbed the lighter off the frozen ground and lite my cig. Taking a deep inhale of smoke, I grabbed Kylie's arm. "Beck said it's somewhere downtown. I'm sure we'll find it."
Kylie knew her way around London, but I definitely didn't. I usually just wandered around, hoping to find my way eventually. Kylie got us to the club in a matter of fifteen minutes. "Kylie, I think this is a record." She reached for her phone and pressed it to her ear. "Yeah, usually it takes forty minutes, with you stopping to take pictures of everything in London. Hello? Beck, we're outside."
I carried a camera everywhere I went. One day, I'd be a professional photographer, it was just taking longer than I expected. Beck appeared from inside the club, waving us in past two body guards. I kissed his cheek, ignoring the yells from the people waiting in line. "Kylie, Emma. You two look as gorgeous as ever." Beck was a bartender here at the Warehouse, one of the most loved clubs by the locals. Kylie's parents owned it, as well as a shitload of other properties in London. The one good thing about Kylie is that she never acted rich, although she was loaded.
"Beck, why was there two security guards out there?" Kylie didn't recognize either one, therefore they wouldn't recognize her. It was a good laugh when the bodyguards bowed to Kylie's feet, knowing she had the power to fire them, even though she never would. Beck lead us to the bar. "Supposedly, there were some celebrities spotted her last week. So now they're being extra careful with the people who get in here." Beck handed me a shot of tequila and a beer, which I took graciously.
"You hear that, Kylie? A celebrity! Woo!" Kylie laughed at my sarcasm. I hated how famous people acting like the world revolved around them. Just because you're in a few movies or sang a few songs, doesn't make you emperor of the universe. Kylie and I took our shots and scanned the room. "The guys are pretty decent tonight Em." I nodded my head, smiling at two brunettes approaching us.
"Can we buy you two ladies a drink?" Kylie winked and giggled, nodding her head. She was real good at playing the dumb, flirtatious girl role. I, on the other hand, played the mysterious girl. We made these roles up once as a test, to see if they actually worked against guys. That night, we had collected 9 different numbers each. We turned to Beck, waiting for him to bring us drinks. There was a science behind it.
Beck knew every guy who came in here. Depending on the drink he gave us, Beck could signal is the guy was worth a shit. He threw us two beers. Definitely not worth it. "You know what, I'm gonna have a cigarette." I walked away with my beer, smirking at Kylie, who was planning her escape. Halfway across the club, I felt a strong tug on my arm. "You're not going anywhere. You're staying her with me." One of the brunettes were holding my arm so hard; I thought I'd have a bruise. "Get off of me, you prick!" I struggled against his grasp, spilling half of my beer all over my skirt. His eyes weren't friendly, I had been in this same position before. Similar images of a man pulling my arm blooded my brain. I didn't get away that night. "Listen, you're going to come with me. Don't scream, or ill hit you." Instinctively, I kicked him straight into the crotch, allowing my arm free from his grasp. Then I ran.
It was a few seconds before he caught up to me. He recovered faster than I thought. He had me by the waist, but I was struggling against him, whipping body away from him. "I don't think she wants to dance, mate"
The brunette pushed me to the ground, whipping his head at the sound of a man's voice. I didn't stick around to see who it was. I ran out the back exit, into an alleyway behind the bar. I left my feet sink to the ground, my back against brick. I pulled out a cig, my hands shaking.
"Hey, you ok?" I was startled by the man's voice. I looked up at his face, hidden slightly by a hood. "I need a light." I spoke bluntly, unable to comprehend what just happened. He nodded, and sat beside me, offering a lighter.
I took deep puffs, enjoying the calming sensation that hit my throat. "I could have handled that myself, you know." He pulled out a cigarette of his own, taking back his lighter. "It didn't seem that way, love." I shook my head and put out my cigarette. I took out my camera and took a picture of the man beside me, his white hands bringing his cig to his pink lips.
"What the fuck?" He shouted at me, causing my cheeks to blush. "Did you plan that whole thing? So you could get a nice shot of me? Fucking pathetic." He got to his feet, throwing his cigarette down. Sometimes people got angry when I took their pictures but never like this. I was a little bit confused, pushing my camera back into my purse. "What are you talking about? Did I plan getting harassed by that guy? Is that serious?" I felt my anger bubble to the surface. He looked at me, his lips pulled into a tight line. "Do you know who I am?"
I laughed at him, shaking my head. "I don't know, a fucking jerk?" He shook his head and slowly pulled off his hood. I squinted at him, a sudden realization hitting me. He was staring at me, waiting for my reaction.
"Big deal. So you're Rupert Grint? I'll delete the photo if you want, I'm not a reporter. Just a girl who likes photography." I moved towards the door, passing Rupert. "Nice meeting you." My words were harsh, but I didn't care. He was a typical celebrity, expecting everyone to know him, expecting everyone to fall at their feet. Well, I'm not just anybody.
