Chapter Two

           "Sofia, I will personally cut off all your vocal chords if you don't stop," threatened my aunt. I couldn't help but giggle in response to my aunt's anger. This only caused her face to turn a slight shade of rose. Being an annoying niece, and client was something I was good at.

           "Sofia Adams, stop!" my aunt yelled at me. "Just stop fooling around, we have to get this down, and ready go for the meeting in twenty minutes."

           I was currently in downtown LA with Aunt Delilah at the studio, where management was. We were going to discuss the upcoming of a new album, a tour, and something else that they refuse to tell me until the meeting. And they've asked me to bring a new song to start the album with. Usually, how this works, is that my song I've written would get tweaked into something I hated, but management loved. They would finish the song off, have me record it, and it would be sent out to the public.

           They've changed my songs on my way too often. When they've first did this to me, I was enraged. I couldn't believe they had the guts to do something like that to me. Was my song not good enough? Eventually, I stopped caring. It was management, and they were going to tweak things around without my knowledge anyway. Why stop them?

           I groaned, and raised a hand to fix my bangs that were now out of place. Glancing down at the song, I reviewed with my Aunt, trying to think of anything that might have gone wrong when I wrote this a couple weeks back.

           Well if there was a night like this one...

           There was nothing wrong with that line. It had went perfectly with the music I imagined in my head. The music and the lyrics were harmonizing to near perfection.

           I'd want to be immortal.

           Being immortal, you could re-live nights like the one described. It had went great with the song. I couldn't find anything wrong with that line.

           Live it forever, and never be done.

           The last line was tied in absolutely. It brought things together, showed the main part of the song, and what it was about... I couldn't find nothing wrong with the rest of the song. Regardless of how finished I thought it was, I continued to look over it. Aunt Delilah still hadn't forgiven me for the incident of flicking off that critic's aunt.

           Occasionally, my phone buzzed, and that was most likely Tatiana letting me in on the latest parties to go to. Tatiana, who was actually paid to be my best friend, continually talked to me because of the fat pay check. It was 'her job' as she once put it. I beg to differ. It's called being a kiss up, gold digger.

           I checked the messages from Tatiana anyway, curious as to what she'd sent.

           Tatiana - New party tonight at the Club of Aces, all celebrities, no fans. Wear something whore-ish like you usually do.

           Another reason why I hated Tatiana? She was constantly calling me a whore. Granted, I had sex once in my life and regretted it since then, it doesn't give anyone the right to call me a whore. Wearing clothes less than what a nun would wear could get you called a whore. Anything more than a nun, you're a prude. And that's all coming from Tatiana.

           She's a joy to be around...

           "Sofia Adams?" a voice called out.

           My attention was ripped away from the piece of paper in front of me, and was directed towards a stout woman with vibrant red hair. I stuffed the paper inside my mini purse, and headed towards the woman, glancing over her outfit.

           It was the standard outfit that women wore here: open toed shoes, black skirt reaching either mid thighs or knees, a white button up, and a blazer with ¾ sleeves. It was utterly boring, and I was thanking my lucky stars I was in the music business rather than stuck being a secretary for a shitty boss.

           "Follow me, please," she began to direct us down a hallway, towards an elevator.

           She, Aunt Delilah and I all climbed inside as the short secretary pressed button three on the side. The elevators here usually played that horrible elevator music you always see on TV and movies, but today, they had on the Top Hits station, which I found unusual.

           "Why are you guys playing the Top Hits station?"

           Another amazing thing about the studio was that there was a radio station tied into it, so it wasn't just a studio. And the radio station was basically the top hits, hosted by John Magnum himself, legendary music star.

           "One Direction came in for the day," the secretary explained, her voice turning nasally. "They're choosing the songs, answering calls from fans, giving out interviews every four hours."

           I bit down on my lip, trying to keep my harsh words inside. My Aunt, before we arrived at the studio, grilled me about being mean, and harsh. She threatened to take away all my movies. After that, I shut up and began acting like the good person I wasn't.

           Movies were something I loved collecting. I practically had a movie store at home. If you wanted a movie to borrow, you'd come to me because I basically had everything from Star Wars, to Red, to The Hunger Games. I had every type of movie from every genre. My movies were my babies.

           And, I wasn't planning on losing my babies, even if it meant I couldn't say anything bad about One Direction.

           Out of the corner of my eye, Aunt Delilah eyed me carefully. She knew where I stood with One Direction - hell, practically everyone did - and was watching to see how I would react.

           Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to respond to the short woman. "Oh, that's pretty cool."

           Before I could mull over the fact that One Direction and I were in the same building, the elevator doors opened after hearing a short 'ding'. The short woman rushed forward, and Aunt Delilah and I followed her carefully.

           We were directed towards a mahogany door when the secretary knocked three times on it, and opened the door, revealing the faces of my management team. I smiled through my teeth as I made my way inside.

           "Ah, Sofia!" cried out Thomas. "You're here, so happy to see you. Sit down, sit down. We have so much to talk about. Oh, Delilah, you look ravishing, how are you?"

           Thomas had a little thing for Delilah, even though she was a married woman. He didn't care, he lusted after my aunt anyway. My aunt, though, wasn't complaining. She completely adored the attention, simply because she was showered in gifts from Thomas. The way those two acted together, it was disgusting.

           "Oh, I'm fantastic! It's great to see you, Tom!" my aunt cried out, placing a hand on his bicep.

           Okay, if they don't stop, I thought to myself, I'm going to throw up. I can already feel the bile in my throat rising.

           I sat down across from Mack, a forty-some year old who was in charge of my management team. Eventually, my aunt sat down next to me with 'Tom' sitting across from her. I dug around in my purse and pulled out the piece of paper, setting it on my lap until Mack or Thomas asked for it.

           "Ah, Sofia, you look great today," Mack sent me a tight lipped smile.

           "Yeah, whatever," I waved him off. "Can we get down to business?"

           And with that, Mack started introducing the album he wanted to happen. The must haves he set for me was that it couldn't have any of the things it had on my last album (you know, party, sex, drugs, the stuff an artist shouldn't typically sell). He didn't want a single swear word, or anything that might give me a negative review.

           He also said that I was going to have three to four people who would also be featured on the album, and that I would be given a list of choices. The album had to be finished - written and produced - by at least March. That gave us at least five months to write, plan and produce the album.

           Mack and Thomas also explained that we would be having a tour if the album produced well, and was given good remarks. The tour itself would be a world tour and would be a year long. Granted, the sound of being on tour for a year wasn't good, but at the current moment, I needed it. I not only needed the money, but I needed the attention as well - or so my aunt put...

           I handed over the piece of paper, my hand stretching across the mahogany table. "There's the song you asked for," I told Management. "Everything you need to know is on the back."

           "Looks great," Mack said, giving it a two-second glance over, and set it aside.

           "Now," Thomas said, folding his hands over the table. "We need to discuss something big, something that will definitely help your career now, more than ever."

           I thought to myself, what could be bigger than a world tour and an album?

           "How would you feel about having a reality show based on you? Or a documentary?"

           As soon as the words flew out of Thomas's mouth, my blood ran cold. From the very start of my facade, I said no to documentaries, and reality shows. It was a firm no, and I kept saying it every now and then. I was completely against the idea to begin with, and management never seemed to understand.

           I've said this over, and over again, telling management no to these ideas.

           But the fact that they don't listen, makes me angrier than what media has said about that sex-tape released on me a few year ago.

           I stood up from my spot at the table, and grabbed my purse, clenching it tight in my hands. My eyes narrowed at the management team, steam nearly coming out of my ears. "No," I growled, the venom clear in my voice. "I've said this multiple times! I fucking refuse to do any kind of show involving me! How many more times do I have to say it, huh? Do I have to stamp it on your thick skulls!?"

           I slammed the chair against the table, and stormed out of the meeting room. As I left, I heard Thomas yell out, "Just think about it, Sof!"

           That only made my blood boil even more than it already was.

           No one is allowed to call me Sof, no one but Ella.

           I refrained myself from stepping back into the meeting room, and stormed throughout the halls. I made my way to the stairs, not bothering to take the elevator. Too much anger was pushing through me at the moment, too much to handle an elevator. My feet flew down the stairs, two at a time. My eyes felt like they were burning a hole in the cement.

           God, the nerve of them!

           Does the management team have a pair of ears? I don't think so, because if they were listening with the non-existent ears they have, they would have known that I loathed the idea of a reality TV show, or a documentary about me. It would never happen, not even in a million years, so frankly, management should stop even trying. They're simply wasting their time.

           I pushed through the first level door, and eyed the exit of the building, not too far away. I growled underneath my breath and took a step forward, only to hear a low moan. I froze in my steps and looked around, only to see a mop of curly hair, a lean and masculine body lying on the floor.

           I raised an eyebrow as the guy let out another low moan, and turned his body over. A gasp left my lips, and I turned to run, only to hear the slow, British accent stop me.

           "Oh, nope, you're not going anywhere. Help me up," demanded the British lad.

           I groaned, and turned to face him. "No," I told him, my voice firm. "I don't have to do shit."

         With that being said, I ran out of the building and into my silver car, leaving Harry Styles on the floor.

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Oh my god, how was chapter two? I know it's a tad short, but hey. It's better then nothing right? Anyway, I hope everything was okay with this. Ya'll are lovely people and you're so nice, ohmigawd. I'm so happy to have you as fans <3 I love you! -Chey, xx

PS, I have a facebook page! Just go to the external link and like it, please. I'd love to talk to you guys on there <3