You guys are so great, thanks for supporting this fanfiction so much! I got so much love right away that I figured I would update ASAP :D Technically, I should be working on school work, but you know what? I would rather be doing this anyway. Here's your next chapter, sorry if it's somewhat short.
Selena
I felt terrible. It was like every step from Demi was another knife stabbed into my heart. I have no idea what's going on inside of me, but I know it's not anything good. I shouldn't be feeling bad, I should be feeling proud of myself. Although, there's not enough time to really feel anything. I need to find another job, and quick.
After getting some coffee and a newspaper, I looked through the job section. I had no college education, and I don't really know much about serving food or cleaning. Unfortunately, that was pretty much everything I could probably get with my nonexistent degree. Scanning the articles, I didn't see anything I would be interested in. Sighing, I threw the paper in the trash and went back to my car, where I drove to the apartment.
The phone was ringing when I got through the door, and I barely answered it in time. "Hello?"
"Hey, Selena, it's Jen! How are you?"
I got a sinking feeling in my gut. "I'm okay."
"I forgot to tell you, we got a bill in the mail before I left. We need to pay the monthly apartment fee thing."
The sinking feeling got worse. "Yeah."
"Are you okay? You sound… stressed."
I swallowed. "Everything is fine."
"Great! I have to go, I'll see you in a day or two!"
"Okay, have fun."
Putting down the phone, I realize I need to find a job, and fast. No more being picky. Like it or not, I'm going to have to stick with whatever I can get. There's no way I'm going to put Jen and I out on the street, and there's definitely no way I'm going to admit defeat so soon. So what if I lost that sucky paparazzi job, I can do better!
Someone knocked on the door, and I wondered if it was Demi, coming to get her keyboard. When I opened the door, I was disappointed.
"Selena, I heard what happened. I'm so sorry." Miley, a chick from my magazine, was holding out a box of chocolates. "I came to give you these."
"Knock it off, we both know you're just here to gloat," I spat, glaring at the blonde. It was true; she had always wanted my position in the magazine. I was head photographer, and she was just an extra. Now she probably was taking my place.
"Okay, fine," she opened the box and started chewing on one of the candies. "I am here to gloat. Taylor just wanted me to give these to you."
I smiled softly. Taylor was my friend who was a reporter for another magazine. Now the chocolates were actually worth something. I snatched them from Miley's grasp.
"Thanks, clown face. Now get off my property."
Slamming the door, I let myself laugh quietly for a moment. I never had been able to insult her, since we were working for the same magazine and she would've reported me. Now it felt good to be able to let the words fly.
Unfortunately, I couldn't really dwell on this for too long. I hated to do this, but if I couldn't find a job, what else was my choice?
I picked up the phone, dialed, and gritted my teeth when the person answered, hating the sound of their voice.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Justin. It's Selena."
"Hey 'Lena! How's your life been? The photographer business treating you well?"
I hate him so much. "I've told you many times, I'm a paparazzi, first of all. Second of all, I need some money."
"Money? Got into some trouble, did you little sis?"
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. "It's none of your business."
"If it involves my money, it involves my business. By the way, what's up with the whole hiccup thing? I swear, you're even more popular than I am now."
Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP. "Just forget about that please. Okay, fine, I'll tell you if you promise not to tell anyone else."
"Deal."
I sighed into the phone. "I lost my job, thanks to that 'whole hiccup thing.' Now I have no way to pay rent."
"How much do you need?"
"A thousand?"
He started laughing, and the speaker squealed at the sudden, loud outburst. My ears ringing, I shook my head.
"What?" I demand. Why on earth is he laughing?!
"That's all? Sis, geez, I didn't think you wanted pocket change. Sorry, I just… I'm so used to having all this money, ever since I became famous… I'll send the money, okay?"
My face was red hot. He's been rubbing his popularity in my face for so long, I'm stained with it. He never lets me let it go. I swear, he brings it up in every conversation just to bug me. "You know what Justin? Forget it. I can figure all this stuff on. My. Own."
I slammed down the receiver and huffed. Two and a half seconds later, I realized I now have no way of keeping the apartment. Now I really need a job.
Have you ever felt so jealous of a single person; you can't stand to even think about them? That's how it is with Justin. Ever since he was around sixteen, he's been living my dream. He didn't even have the dream to be a singer. He wanted to 'create the world's best tissue.' Seriously, that's what he wanted to do. He would spend days in his room experimenting, so he could create a perfect tissue.
I loved those days. I would tease him to no end. He was fifteen and had never kissed a girl—never had even had a girlfriend. Then he became a celebrity, and I was left in the dust. He never realized how hurt I was, I don't think. It just seems like he has to remind me of my failure and his success every time I talk to him. Whether or not it's on purpose, I don't know, but it hurts… a lot.
Wandering into my room and sitting at the computer, I start scrolling through some jobs offered. This is a big city, so the list drags on. I filter the ones that require a college education, and anything that involves children. I don't trust myself with little kids. Now the jobs are mostly food service. Great.
I have to keep reminding myself not to be picky. I click on an offer and realize it's practically perfect for me. The restaurant is only a couple of blocks away, and the pay is decent. Jen and I would have to cut back on extra spending, but we could manage. I didn't want her knowing that I had gotten fired, though, so I would just have to figure out how to tell her but not tell her… if that makes any sense.
Somehow, I would have to pull it off. Now I had to go down there and talk to the manager. So far, I haven't really been home that often today.
The drive only takes a couple of minutes, and then I park. The restaurant itself is pretty shabby, but there are a lot of cars parked outside; it won't be running out of business any time soon. I go inside, and the tables are packed. There's only one employee at the counter, lounging lazily and reading over a newspaper. He looks up when I get there.
A pair of piercing blue eyes study me. Blonde hair is swished up in a stylish way, I guess. When the guy smiles, I feel like I need to smile, too.
"I'm here for the job opening," I say, meeting his gaze.
He looks me up and down a couple of times, then smiles widely. "You'll be perfect."
"So, I'm hired? No resume? No interview?"
"You have the job. Do you want to start now? We're low on people, and it's lunch hour."
I nod. What else is there to do? He gestures for me to follow him to the back.
The kitchen is a smoky, hot mess. There are cooks shouting incoherent things to one another, and employees rushing in and out. I couldn't really make out much due to the smoke.
"I'm Chad, your manager. Here's the employee outfit, you can change in the ladies room. We can work out your hours later. How about this is your trial time?"
"Okay," I stare at the clothes he shoved in my hands and go to the restroom to change. The more I put on, the less I'm covered. By the time I'm fully dressed, I've never felt so exposed in my life.
I'm wearing a tiny dress that goes down about halfway to my knee. The V-neck is more like a U-neck, and barely covers anything. He also gave me a pony tail and a strange hat, so I put my hair up in the way I guessed I was supposed to have it.
When I look in the mirror, I grimace. The 'employee outfit' doesn't leave much to the imagination. However, this was the best paying waitress job, and I need the money. So, still cringing, I walked out, holding my other clothes in my arms.
"Perfect," Chad said, not paying any attention to the state of clothing I was in. He took my clothes and put them in a bag. "You can come get these after the shift."
"When does it end?"
He checked his watch. "I only need you for around three hours. Good luck."
With that, I was on my own. I grabbed a pencil and notepad and went to the first table.
"Hello, welcome to Coopers, may I take your order?"
The table consisted of around four men, all looking to be around their mid-thirties and all sporting beer bellies. The first man looked up at me with half-sunken eyes and a twisted smile.
"I'd like you, little darlin'."
The men all laughed, and I just went with it, laughing awkwardly. I heard someone come up behind me and a hand on my shoulder.
"Sorry, let's pick something on the menu, why don't we boys? Stop hassling the new girl."
It was Chad. I smiled to myself; it was really nice of him to stand up for me.
"Alright, alright, fine. Spoil our fun," the teasing man grumbled.
"Excuse us for a second," Chad said to them, pulling me away from the table. The second we were out of earshot, he turned to me with a serious look on his face. "If they're bothering you…"
"It's fine, really," I said. "It's just teasing…I'm pretty sure."
A mischievous smile twisted his lips. "Then I'll tell you the secret to big tips. Flirt. Flirt until you can't flirt anymore."
"Flirt?"
"Flirt."
And so I did. With every customer who walked in, boy or girl. At first, I was really shy, but as the tips grew bigger, I got bolder. By the time my shift was up, my eye was getting sore from winking. My arms, not used to carrying weight, were also sore from carrying trays, and I had said 'hey sweety' so many times it's becoming a reflex greeting. When Chad walked up to congratulate me, I almost slipped.
"Hey, swe…I mean, hi Chad."
He just grinned. "Don't worry, everyone in hear has called me hot stuff or sweety at least once. Good job on your first day, you are definitely hired. When can you start?"
"Tomorrow," I said immediately. "I can start tomorrow."
"Okay, the shift is four to twelve. Think you can handle that?"
"Four… in the afternoon?"
"No, four in the morning."
I mentally groaned, but outwardly, I just smiled. "Sounds good to me."
"Alright, see you tomorrow!"
I grabbed the bag of my clothes and changed, then went outside, to my car, and drove back to my apartment.
Demi
At first, I thought she was going to come back. I waited on my bed, completely sure that she wouldn't stay away. That she would come back and apologize for blaming me.
So I waited. But after four hours of sitting here, I realize she's not coming back. She really meant everything.
I can't believe it. How is she blaming me for something that is completely not my fault. Okay, sure, I should have stopped her and called off the concert, but I had fans who trusted my word! And my word was they would get another song.
Maybe I should've redone another one of my songs that didn't need a piano. The more I think about it, the more stupid I feel. There were so many things I could have done instead of let Selena go onstage drunk. Something was bound to go wrong. You just don't do things like that and expect everything to turn out perfectly.
Now I would never see her again, according to her. I don't know why, but this hurts me. The more I think about it, the further I come to a realization that both scares me and exhilarates me. Ever since she had told me she loves me… while drunk, I must mention, my heart and my mind have finally connected in a breakthrough.
I'm in love with her.
Hehehe, you're welcome :D
