I AM SO CALLING MY MANAGER
(One-Shot)
Starring: Rosalie Hale and Emmett Cullen (both are human)
Author's Note: Here's another one shot going out to the Twilight fans and well, just about everyone out there. R&R.
{Rosalie}
This is so not good for my image.
I still can't believe my manager slash best friend Esme Cullen would retire so soon! She's still like, 45!
I'm freaking out here because if her son screws up, my career's going to get screwed, and I'll just be another starlet who had her moment in Hollywood.
And I am so not going to be THAT starlet.
"Can I get you anything, miss?" someone asked me.
"Get the people to leave me alone," I responded coldly.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, miss. But maybe if you came in here in a casual Soho shirt instead of a Dolce and Gabbana ensemble, they wouldn't look at you like that."
That was frustrating! Nobody had ever insulted me that much before!
I threw the greasy menu down the floor and stood up before the jerk.
"Now listen here, dude! You think you fit in real nice in this town just because you wear the crappy clothes everyone else has on right now, do you? Do you even know who you're talking to?"
He was a really big guy. In fact, if I hadn't started yapping before I looked at him, I would have had second thoughts. But I wasn't about to let him get the best of me. Everyone's eyes in that diner bore down on me. I wasn't usually that self-conscious. I had nothing to be self-conscious about. I was Rosalie Hale! America's Little Sweet Heart!
"That's it," I said as I flipped my phone, "I am so calling my manager."
All of a sudden, that guy's phone began to vibrate and a woman's voice screamed, "Emmett Cullen, answer your phone! Do you hear me, young man? Don't you go on walking out of this conversation-".
How was that for a ringtone?
The guy took out his phone from his pocket and answered it-and then I heard his voice in the other line.
"Oh my god," I breathed.
He found it deliciously hilarious.
"Now I thought my mother was just exaggerating when she said THE Rosalie Hale had quite an attitude. But I guess I should've expected that from America's Favorite Spoiled Brat," he chuckled.
I didn't know what to say. He insulted me, for the second time. But this happened to be THE Emmett Cullen. My new manager. So what if I hated him for picking this smelly diner to meet for lunch? What if he just kept insulting and degrading me with each passing moment? He still had my precious career at the palm of his hand.
"I'm really sorry," I bit my tongue after that.
"I'm really sorry, too," he said, and then flashed a big goofy smile, "I think we're both even."
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.
He whistled in awe ludicrously and even checked me out. Afterwards, he said,"I think we got on the wrong foot. I'm Emmett Cullen, Esme Cullen's son, and fortunately, or unfortunately, your new manager."
"Well," I raised my chin a little bit,"I think you already know who I am. Everyone does."
"I'm sorry, you are?" Emmett Cullen shook his head.
"You didn't pass a single sign without my face on it yet? What, have you been living in a rock?" I ridiculed.
"It's 'under' a rock," he corrected, "And no. But I have been living in Africa before I came here to Forks. What's a girl like you still doing here anyway?"
"Modelling for the winter line of some overrated company. I didn't bother to remember its name. At least they paid me well."
"You say it as if you're not living every teenage girl's dream," he observed.
"I'm not. I should be having thousands of dollars worth of clothes and winning awards and kicking some papparazzi ass but I'm not."
"You can't be as famous as Tom Cruise in a single day, Rosie."
"Don't call me that!" I snapped.
"Okay, okay. But what I'm trying to say is that you need a different kind of exposure. Forget huge movie budgets and pathetic photo shoots. You're tired of them and sensible people are, too. That's why I have something new in store for you."
"What?" I faked enthusiasm.
He just rolled his eyes and laughed a short laugh.
"Africa," he said dramatically with all the hand gestures and stuff.
I nearly choked on my diet soda.
"You have GOT to be KIDDING me!" I shrieked.
"It's really for a good cause. Tell me, what do you think is the image you're showing to the public?"
"America's Little Sweet Heart."
"Enk! Wrong answer. You're the spoiled blonde girl. Like I said, America's Favorite Spoiled Brat."
"Would you stop calling me that?" I demanded.
"Only if you start being a good little girl. I have set up a foundation in Africa for orphaned children," he tried to explain.
But I cut him off.
"Sure. That's totally original."
"Oh don't be difficult. I'm not asking you to donate the money for your next Gucci bag."
I blew some air out causing my front blond locks to fly up.
"The foundation is called 'What's Up God?' and I was thinking more people would hear about it if I get someone in Hollywood to do a little TV series about it."
"You were scowering talents in Africa?" my voice squeaked.
"No!" he completely argued.
"So do I have to go to Africa?"
"Oh no," he said sarcastically, "we can always send the camera men back and forth for each episode."
"Okay, I'm sorry! I'm just freaking out here. I've never been out of America before. I'm nervous," I confessed.
"You'll love it there," he made it sound almost like a promise than a wish, "the people are all wonderful. It's not exactly paradise. The town's infested with ... erm ... never mind. You might change your decision. At least, if you're not going to like it there, you'd do it for the sake of your image. It doesn't really matter. Only to God."
He sounded almost sad and I fought that thick feeling in my throat.
"What are you? Christian or something?" I tried to change the subject.
"Devout Catholic."
"Figures."
Emmett Cullen ordered some food just to cut short the awkward silence after that. If only I had proven to him that I was not America's Spoiled Brat, I would have refused the Chicken Garden Salad he ordered for me. He guessed it was the healthiest selection in the menu I threw down the floor earlier. But it was still oozing with a hundred grams of salad dressing, the lettuce and other greens looked more than a week old, plus the chicken were fried and oily.
I knew where I was going after the meal.
He looked over to my side and grinned another one of his goofy grins.
"Is that for me?"
I looked over behind me and remembered the gift I planned on giving my new manager.
So much for good first impressions ...
"I totally forgot about it," I said.
I carelessly bent over and fell from my chair-yanking the salad down into my hair.
...
Curses.
"Rosalie, Rosalie, are you alright? No, stupid question. Can I get some napkins over here, please?" Emmett called as he helped me up.
Lots of people in the diner started laughing and talking about me.
They would have made a fortune if they'd taken a picture. But it was either they were too dumb to actually realize the money they would've made or they were too poor to get themselves a camera.
"That was stupid," I cussed, "Did you think it was funny?"
Emmett pursed his lips as he continued to wipe off the mayo from my hair.
He nodded slowly without looking at me straight in the eye.
And then I laughed.
He was right.
It was pretty funny.
I laughed like a maniac.
"I thought that you'd burst into tears for a moment there," he sounded confused.
"Come on, laugh! Laugh all you want. It was hilarious," I giggled.
I sounded really pretty. Mama always said I had such a beautiful laugh.
But then again, I was beautiful in every way. I should not have been suprised. Silly Rosalie me!
Emmett still had not laughed with me when all the other people in the diner were. He continued to look serious and even ... concerned.
"You could've been hurt," he said quietly.
Something in his voice told me that he was serious. So I laid the games to rest for a while.
"I'm sorry. I had no idea what I was doing," I took the bag slowly and handed it to him, "I really hope you'll like it."
He wiped his hands with a clean napkin and helped me up before opening the gift.
He looked downright stupid when he finally saw what was inside.
"Oh wow. A stuffed grizzly bear!"