A/N: Ok. So this is my first story up here on and it is based off the WWE. It's my first story so please be nice, I know it isn't perfect but I hope that it's good enough to grow even a few fans. So leave me a review if you like it, or even if you don't, but just be gentle please. I'm fragile. This only the prologue and it's only here basically to introduce my OC Riley to you guys and kick start the real story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, and any OC's of mine that I have thrown into this story.

Paparazzi

By, RogueWriter17

Chapter: Prologue

"Massaro? Where is she?"

I gasped and quickly shoved my chair away from underneath me and ducked away to disappear underneath my desk just as the door to my office swung open and I heard it pound against my wall rattling the framed items tacked up onto them. I was seriously beginning to wonder if this dude had ever heard of knocking before.

"I saw you," he said in a terse tone.

Sighing, I reluctantly crawled back up onto my knees so that my head poked over the surface of my junk-cluttered desk. "Harry? Hi, I was just… looking for my contact lense," I lied, patting my hand around on my carpet looking pretending to search for the nonexistent object.

"Riley?" he asked.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"You're wearing glasses."

Dammit.

"Um…" I struggled to come up with my next move. I scoffed and pretended to be offended. "A girl can't try to switch things up every twenty-two years." I emphasized my point with another scoff as I pushed myself back up onto my feet. "It's that kind of attitude that kept women from voting during the eighteenth century, mister."

"Can it, Massaro and take a seat," he ordered. I quickly and obediently did what he asked as he closed the door to my office, separating me from any witnesses before he stalked over to stand before my desk and tossed a stack of white papers onto my keyboard. "What is this crap?" he demanded, stabbing a finger in the direction of the file.

I craned my neck to look at the title of the document and instantly recognized it to be my latest article. "Um… my latest article?" My voice wavered so much that it came out as a question.

"No, that is dozen loyal readers tossing our sports magazine into the trash at the first sighting of that crap. Cheerleading, Massaro, seriously?" he inquired, giving me a dumbfounded look. Okay, so maybe doing a piece on the art of cheerleading for a magazine where men made of seventy-five percent of its fan base wasn't one of my better ideas.

"I was a cheerleader in high school, Harry," I replied knitting my plucked brown eyebrows at him.

"When you strolled in here for the first time looking for a job a year ago," Harry continued as if I hadn't even spoken. "I was a little skeptical about hiring a girl to do reporting on sports, but you promised to work diligently and meet deadlines—which you always have—and you being easy on the eyes tipped the scales in your favor a little as well." I scoffed which he ignored. "But this is not the type of work I'm looking for here, Riley. Your first few articles have been fair, but you haven't given me anything to really wow our readers, and now you give me this crap!" he said, waving a hand in the direction of my unacceptable article. "It seems to me like instead of improving, you're moving in the opposite direction. Maybe Train Magazine isn't the right place for you—I'm sure In Style however…"

I wasn't until the middle of his lecture that I realized what he was getting at and my jaw dropped. "Are-are you firing me, Harry?" I asked in disbelief. I'd been working here for two years now; Train Magazine was all I knew, and getting fired from a place like this wasn't going to help me get picked up by Sports Illustrated anytime soon.

"I'm sorry, Riley. I'll give you till the end of the week to finish cleaning your stuff out." With that, he walked out of my office. I stood there, frozen where I stood until I heard the door close behind me and my entire body shivered. I was unemployed. How would I eat? How was I supposed to pay my bills? Oh, god. I'm going to have to move back in with my parents!

Glancing around my office, looking at the antique bookshelf shoved against the wall that was lined with books all related to today's sports world, and my beige walls that were lined with photos of famous magazine and newspaper icons, as well as my bachelors' degree in Journalism I'd received when I graduated top of my class from Princeton. Everything I had in my arsenal destined me for greatness, yet I couldn't deliver at a job working for a low-budget sports rag? Four years, and thousands of dollars I threw away attending Princeton gone down the drains.

Wiping away the hot tear rolling down my cheek with my index finger, I took in a breath and collected my purse before I made my way out of my office, closing the door softly behind me. I'd come back later with my dad and brother to start gathering my things. I wasn't ready to face that embarrassment of having my fellow all-male coworkers watch me fail like they'd all anticipated I would as we carried my things out in large brown boxes.

I slide slowly into my car before I stabbed my key into the ignition and started off in the direction of the condo I shared with my only sister, Ashley and her daughter. My sister had always—and probably will always be—been the first person I went to whenever something awful happened to me. If I couldn't tell Ashley, then I wouldn't talk to anyone about it. We had this bond that just made it impossible for me to share things with other, even my closes friends, before I shared them with my sister.

When I stepped into the condo thirty agonizing minutes of me trying to force the tears away later, I found Ashley and Lexi sitting on the couch in the living room, both their eyes glued to the television. I'm guessing that it was Lexi's SpongeBob Square Pants time. I'm pretty sure that they hadn't even heard me enter the condo. Sighing softly, I decided to leave them be and just go into my room and hide away from the world underneath my pillows and act like the big failure that I am.

"Hey, Ry," I heard Ashley call to me one I was beginning to make my way towards the hall. I forced a soft smile onto my face and turned around to face her and Lexi who were both now watching me.

"Hey guys. How was school today, Lexi?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

"Billy Borelli spilled glue onto my math homework – so I punched him," she replied easily with a shrug before turning back to the television.

"Oh, that's right," Ashley said tapping the eight-year-old lightly on her back. "You're grounded, missy. To your room."

"But, Mom," Lexi began to protest.

"You can come out when you realize that violence is never the answer. Now go." I couldn't help but giggle at the identical stubbornness of the mother-daughter duo as Lexi stormed out of the room in a huff and stalked away down the hall into her bedroom. I then turned back to Ashley who sighed and turned off the television. "Kids today, girl. Teacher told me that she broke the poor kid's nose – I'm so proud of her!"

Now I nearly doubled over with laughter. "Only a Massaro could be proud of her daughter punching out some other kid," I giggled as I walked over to plop down into the empty space beside her that was still warm from Lexi being here.

"Oh no, the big plop and squat," Ashley mooned. She tucked both her legs up onto the sofa and turned to face me. "What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?" I replied trying my best to put on what I hoped to be a secure expression.

Ashley didn't appear to be fooled. "Seriously; out with it."

"All right fine," I huffed. "I got fired today."

"What?" she cried instantly jumping up. "Why? What happened?"

"From Harry's perspective, my article would have lost us more readers than it would have gained. Maybe he's right though. I was working in an environment that just wasn't right for me. Train is a men's magazine; I was way out of my element."

"And televised wrestling was once considered a male sport, but then people like Fabulous Moolah, Sensational Sherrie and, heck, even Trish Stratus! They all came along and broke the status quo for women to make it in the WWE and other wrestling industries across the world!"

One thing about Ashley, she was a big wrestling buff, like nearly everyone else in my family besides my mom and I. Even though she didn't work for the company anymore, she still watched that WWE show that came on Monday nights every week she could.

"Well that's not going to help me, Ash!" I groaned. "To convince Harry that I'm worth anything to the business I need a kick ass story and I need it, like, soon." I moaned as I slapped my palm onto my forehead and dragged it down my face. I am so unemployed.

I noticed then that Ashley had gotten quiet for a moment, and with Ashley Marie Massaro, quiet was never a good thing. I removed my hand from my face and turned to Ashley who now had this big, sneaky grin on her face, which, again, with Ashley, was never a good thing.

"What are you thinking?" I inquired, not sure I'd like what came from her mouth next.

She turned and directed her smirk at me. "If it's a story they want, then it's a story they'll get you."

I'm sure my expression was as confused as I felt. "You lost me," I admitted.

"I need to call in a quick favor but first I have a question – How do you feel about doing a little undercover work?"

I eyed her curiously, wondering just what she meant. Little did I know that that question was the start of a plan that I never thought I'd be able to pull off in a million years.