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You fidget nervously, your grip on the camera around your neck faltering. Your hands are sweating.
“John Crocker,” Your appointed boss, Rose Lalonde, says. She’s taller than you by a few inches, with hair like corn silk and eyes like amethyst. Her lips are turned into a frown and caked in black lipstick, but it isn’t overbearing, and it doesn’t look like she applied too much. You shift from foot to foot, feeling like you’ve done something wrong, but you don’t think you have. “Son of Betty Crocker.”
Your throat is tight.
“Um, yes.” You respond quietly. You hadn’t even wanted this job, really; your mom had told you she was tired of watching you laze around the house, even though Jane and Jade do the same thing. Maybe it’s because they bake with her? You’re pretty sure you were always her least favorite.
Rose spins around in her office chair and stands, daintily adjusting the purple sash around her waist. The camera around her neck bobs with each step she takes, and for a moment you think she’s about to physically injure you. Instead, she stops in front of you and holds her hand out for a shake, which you carefully accept. “I hate to ask, but did mommy pull a few strings to get you this job?”
There’s a mocking tone in her voice.
You breathe evenly. This isn’t the first time one of your bosses has accused you of making a job only because your mother is Betty Crocker, but that’s never the case. You always go out and hunt your own job down, and like every normal person you go to an interview and compete with other job seekers.
After they ask that question, you usually get fired.
“No. I got this job on my own.” You try hard not to sound snappy, but you’re sure you still come off as rude. You’re pretty tired of being asked this question.
Fired in three, two, one…
“Oh. If I upset you with my inquiry, I apologize,” Rose says. The breath you’d been holding escapes. “Are you asked that often? I would only assume so.”
You shift again, nodding. Your palms are still sweating profusely, so you wipe them off on your pants when the blonde’s back is turned. “Yeah. That’s the first question my bosses always ask me, but they usually fire me for lying to them right after.” Your voice shakes, and you let out a slew of curse words under your breath. Why are you this nervous? It isn’t like Rose is some witch of black magic, who’s going to cast a dark spell on you or a curse or something silly like that.
“How awful.” Rose turns back, a manila folder in her hands. She holds it out for you, and you cautiously take it. You stare at it for a second, before Rose makes a motion that you read as, “get on with it already.” On the inside, there’s a profile of a celebrity, one you can only assume you’re going to have to photograph. “The paparazzi go through a lot of beforehand work before they simply snap pictures of a celebrity.” She explains, probably because you look confused.
“Oh. Okay. So...this is the celebrity I’m assigned to, then?”
Rose nods. “Yes, that’s Dave Strider. Famous director. I’m sure you’ve heard of him, haven’t you? I hear your taste in movies is godawful.”
“I resent that,” You respond. You’ve only known Rose for a few minutes now, but it feels like you’ve known her your whole life. Maybe in a past life, heh. While that’s a funny thought to entertain, it sounds stupid, and you don’t believe in things like that. You never have. “My movie taste is just fine. I bet Jade is the one who told you that, right?”
“Jade Crocker did indeed tell me that, yes.”
“Knew it. My movie taste is great, she’s just uncultured. But yeah, I’ve heard of Dave Strider. He directed Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, didn’t he? That movie was not good at all, I couldn’t even sit through five minutes of it.”
Rose snickers. She perches back in her chair, then gestures for you to have a seat on the violet one across from hers. You step to it hesitantly and plop down on it, accidentally making an “oof” noise when you hit the plastic. “Insulting. Dave Strider happens to be my biological brother, and I found that movie to be a piece of art.”
“God, really? I’m sorry.”
“John, you have nothing to be sorry about. While it’s true Dave is my brother, the other part of that was a joke. Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff is an atrocity. I rather would’ve grown up in a world where it didn’t exist, honestly.”
You chuckle nervously. “Oh, okay. Well anyway, I don’t think I’d go quite that far. While it’s bad, there were some okay actors in it, and Strider doesn’t seem to be too bad of a director? I’ve never seen him direct anything, so…”
Rose waves a hand. “Dave is actually a spectacular director. He merely chooses to use his talent for bad rather than good, is all.”
“Right,” You cough to cover your awkwardness, before realizing you’re still holding the folder she’d handed you. You set it aside. “So, when do I start?”
Smiling charmingly, Rose stands from her chair. She walks over to you, collects the manila folder, and ruffles your hair. The gesture is motherly, and if you had the ability to go back in time you would choose her to be your mother instead of the godawful one you were given. Rose looks older than you, but you can’t tell whether it’s only by five years or ten. Maybe more, but it’s doubtful. “Whenever is most convenient for you.”
You smile back uneasily. “Is right now okay?”
Rose hums, sliding the folder back onto a wooden shelf you hadn’t noticed before. It’s packed to the brim with both books and more manila folders. “Yes, that’s fine. If you need me at all,” She turns back, fetching a pen and paper. You watch her scribble in violet, and she hands the scrap over to you. “Contact me at either of these. I assume you use Pesterchum?”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks, Rose!”
She smiles gently, patting your arm. “It was my pleasure.”
Right.
This isn’t going as well as you’d anticipated.
There wasn’t exactly a guide on how to be a paparazzi, and the things your main boss had explained he’d gotten out in such a rush that you didn’t have any time to actually comprehend what he was telling you. You’d tried to duck behind a bush to take your pictures, but one of your red suspenders had gotten caught on a stray tree branch.
And now you’re dangling a few inches above the ground by one of your suspenders.
Untangling yourself and getting down should be easy, but you seem to be really caught on the tree, and you need help getting down. Luckily, the camera still hangs safely from your neck, so it shouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Dave Strider has yet to notice you swinging here, at least you think (those shades make it impossible to tell) but if he has half a brain he should soon.
You reach with your left hand and pull out the paper Rose had given you, then next for your phone. Calling her would attract unwanted attention, and you aren’t quite ready for that yet, so you message her on Pesterchum.
ghostyTrickster [GT] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]
GT: rose?
TT: This is her. John, I assume?
GT: uh, yeah. i need help.
TT: Are you okay?
GT: physically?
GT: yes.
GT: mentally?
GT: no.
TT: Dear me. What on earth is wrong?
GT: i tried to hide behind a bush, got caught on a stray tree branch, and now i am stuck.
GT: i have tried to get myself down, but it’s not working. i need help.
TT: You fool.
TT: Hang tight, I’ll be there soon.
GT: not funny.
ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]
“Kid, what are you doing?”
The sudden voice startles you so much that you almost drop your phone, but you manage to catch it before it can hit the ground. You breathe a long sigh of relief, stuffing it back into your pocket. Standing in front of you is Dave Strider, the person you were meant to photograph in secrecy, but that obviously didn’t turn out too well. “Just hanging around, how about you?”
“Ha-ha, very funny. We got a comedian here, look out,” He says. You aren’t really sure if he’s being sarcastic or not, since there was absolutely no change in his tone. It occurs to you that he’s all alone, and no one has seemed to notice him yet. That’s...that’s a little unnerving, you’re not going to lie. “You John Crocker?”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause the witch is constantly blabbing about her three gorgeous children during award shows? I do know people who are classified as “famous,” outside of film, you know.”
You roll your eyes. It hasn’t even been two minutes, and you already hate this guy. “Cool, because I really gave a shit,” You try to readjust your position, but all you really end up doing is getting yourself more tangled. “So, how’s your day going?”
“You know, you’re actin’ pretty casual for a kid who’s hanging from a tree and was about to take creepy paparazzi pics.”
You note that there is a slight twang in his voice, which is oddly satisfying to hear. Okay, you admit, Dave Strider is kind of hot. But if you add the numbers in your head right, he has to be at least ten years older than you. “Yeah, well, my rescue team is on their way.”
“And your rescue team is…?”
“Exactly one Rose Lalonde,” You say. “My boss.”
Dave raises an eyebrow. “Your boss?”
“Did I stutter?”
Almost as if she can sense when someone’s talking about her, Rose steps out of a sleek black limousine. Well, alright. She doesn’t say anything to you, only shakes her head and untangles your suspender from the branch. You hit the ground with a dull “thud,” and realize you probably should have tried to prepare better for the drop. “You failed your test, John. The target found you.”
“Oops,” You respond, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. “Do I get to try again?”
“Possibly,” and then Rose is gone.
You do, in fact, get to try again.
A week later, Rose sends you out after Dave Strider once again. You aren’t really sure why; you know he probably expects you to be lurking, now, and you’d bet she knows too. Still, she’s your boss, and if you argue with her orders you’re going to get fired. You make sure not to wear your suspenders this time, but you still keep your red bowtie.
The camera is heavy around your neck, and it bobs with each step you take. A few people whisper about you as you pass, the normal things, “look, it’s Betty Crocker’s son” and “it’s the third in line for the empire” but none of them bother you anymore. You spot Dave at the same place he was last week, but this time, there are actually a few people along with him.
You duck behind a building nearby, making sure to stay as far from trees as humanly possible. Once you’re sure you’ve hidden well, you peek around the corner, eyeing the people Strider’s out with. A girl, with choppy ginger hair and pointed red glasses. A walking stick with a dragon on top leans nearby, so you figure she’s blind. A boy, with ginger hair and burning gray eyes, who looks really really pissed off. And a kid about your age, with spiky blonde hair and pointed shades. You guess that’s Dave’s son, who Rose told you about. Dirk, you think his name was.
You snap as many pictures as you can before someone says, “Hey,” from behind you, and you jump at least three feet in the air. The kid from the table is there, and when you look around the corner again, he is indeed gone from his seat. What is he, a ninja? Maybe he should be a paparazzi.
“Yeah, hi. I’m kind of doing something.”
“That’s cool,” Even though you’d hoped he might just leave you alone, you hadn’t really expected it. He is related to Dave, after all. “Is it important?”
“Kind of, yes. So if you could stop distracting me, that would be great.”
Click.
Shit, you turned the flash on.
“Nah, I don’t think I will.”
Click.
“You’re as bad as your father.”
Click.
“So I’ve been told.”
Click.
“Hey, you’re hot, wanna make out?”
Click.
Wait, what?
The camera slips from your grasp. It clacks loudly against the buttons on your white shirt, but you aren’t really paying attention to that. You turn on your heel, standing face to face with the spiky-haired blonde boy who you’re pretty sure is named Dirk, but aren’t entirely sure about. “Excuse me?”
“I said,” He makes a motion with his hands, and you’re quite sure it was meant to insult you in some way. But you could care less. “You’re hot. D’ya wanna make out?”
You lean around the corner again, blowing out a long sigh when you see that the blonde kid had distracted you so long that they’d left. At least you’d gotten about twenty good shots, which means Rose will be proud. You hope. “No. Go away.”
“Are you sure?”
You are so ready to kill this Strider.
You turn back. He’s decent to look at, you guess. Taller than you by an inch or two, blonde hair that’s obviously not that pointy naturally, ridiculous pointed shades that look like they’ve been pulled straight from an anime. He has pale skin and freckles, and you wonder briefly if he burns in the sun. “No. Let’s make out.”
“Cool.”
It takes three weeks for Dirk, which yes, is his name, to ask you out. You’re sitting on his sofa one day, watching some soap opera that’s only on midday, like most soap operas. They were made for lonely housewives, after all. He actually seems to be pretty engrossed in it, which is laughable, in your opinion. You don’t even know what’s happening in it, and you don’t care to.
“Hey, wanna be my boyfriend?” He deadpans.
You nearly fall off of the couch. First of all, you didn’t think he was really interested in you quite that deeply. Second of all, what? “Excuse me?”
“This again?” He raises a slim brow, then tears his eyes from the TV and actually turns towards you, which he probably should have done in the first place. “Will you be my boyfriend? Seriously, it’s not even that hard of a question to answer, just a yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“See, easy.”
He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, kisses your head, and goes back to watching his soap opera. You heave a sigh, curling reflectively against him, and focus on everything you can that isn’t the TV. You’d rather be watching a movie, but if Dirk is genuinely interested in this bullshit, you might as well let him watch it.
“Dirk!” Someone calls eventually. You would usually assume it to be Dave, but the voice was too high and feminine. Whoever the person is tramps loudly through the kitchen, a few bedrooms, and a hallway, before they finally end in the living room. “There you are. Hey, Dirky!”
You try not to laugh at the nickname.
You can almost feel Dirk’s glare as he stands, reluctantly opening his arms for a hug. With a giggle and a hiccup, the girl falls into them. You’ve never seen her before, but she resembles Rose. Her hair is the same shade, only pointier. Her eyes are a vibrant shade of pink, almost neon. “Hi, I’m Roxy Lalonde.” She says to you after she releases Dirk from her hold, and you nod. So she is related to Rose, then.
“John Crocker.”
“Oh, no way!” She shouts, grabbing your face in her hands. Dirk looks amused by her actions, and you reach around her to flip him off. “The John Crocker? Janey’s little brother? God, you’re just as cute as she says! No wonder the Striders are so interested in you!”
“The Striders?”
“Roxy,” Dirk warns.
“Duh, ya’ dumb. Dave isn’t transparent or anything, but it’s pretty plain to see that he thinks yer a little cutie. And not like, “he’s my child,” cutie. Like, “I wanna fuck him senseless,” cutie.”
“Roxy!” Dirk shouts.
“Sheesh, I’m goin’, I’m goin’. Bye John, tell Janey I sent my love and kisses.”
“Roxy, are you dating Jane?” You ask. She nods once, then she treks out the same way she came in, and after a minute or two, the door slams. You stifle your giggles. “So your dad is interested in me, too?"
“Shut up.”
“And you got to me first.”
“Shut up.”
“You go, tiger.”
“Dude!”
You lean over and give him an open-mouthed kiss.
Four weeks.
You counted it, of course. Dirk breaks up with you after exactly four weeks, and it only takes him two days to get a new boyfriend. Jake English. He looks kind of like you, with messy black hair, square glasses, and tan skin. The main difference is, his eyes are fiery green, whereas yours are electric blue.
That morning, you have to drag yourself out of bed. You’d spent the entire day crying and eating ice cream, like the baby you are. You all-but crawl to work, and once you make it there, Rose takes one look at you and spreads her arms out. You collapse into them, telling yourself you won’t cry, but you start to anyway. She pets your hair gently and rubs circles into your back, and not once does she ask what’s wrong. You like that.
“He left me,” You hiccup. “And got a new boyfriend already.”
You don’t think you’ve ever seen Rose’s eyes burn so bright, and you’re pretty sure what’s burning behind them is the fires of hell. “If you’d like, I can kill him.”
A laugh bumbles out of your lips, but it sounds kind of pitiful. “He’s your nephew.”
“He hurt you.”
“It’s okay.”
It really isn’t.
You can tell Rose knows that.
She pulls you closer to her, and you bury your face in her chest. She hums some song, one you’re pretty sure you’ve heard before, but you can’t really place the tune. You wonder briefly if she’s trying to lull you to sleep, but that thought flies out the window when she pulls away. “We can go get ice cream and try to capture pictures of Strider, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Don’t call him Strider.”
Her eyes soften. “Right, my apologies. Dave.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
All of the pictures you take are godawful, of course. The two of you end up cracking up at the sight of them, and it doesn’t take long before Dave notices. “If you wanted pics, you could have asked,” He says, joining you two on the wooden bench you found. After he poses stupidly and you snort, that is. “Heard my kid broke your heart.”
You shrug. “It is what it is. I’m fine.”
Rose smiles, pulling you into her side. She’s the closest thing to a mother you’ve got, since your mother is anything but. “That’s the John Crocker I know.” She utters, patting your bicep delicately. You lean into her and hide your face in her shoulder, smiling. You only look when you feel a hand on your knee, and since Rose is already holding you, it’s doubtful that her hand is also on your knee. It’s probably Dave.
It is.
He claps your knee and smiles, something you’ve never seen him do before and something you probably won’t see often, if ever again. You’re half tempted to take the picture, but the camera is too far away to reach.
“Why not see a movie on Saturday? Just the two of you, of course.”
You turn your gaze to Rose, eyes wide. You give her a look that reads, “what are you doing? he’s too old for me!” but she only smiles. “Sounds great. You up for it, Crocker?”
You swallow the lump in your throat and tug at your shirt collar. “Yeah, sure.”
It’s only a movie, it’s only a movie.
No matter how many times you assure yourself of that, it does nothing to calm your nerves. When you’d told Jane and Jade, they’d both gotten excited and started calling it a “movie date,” even though you told them you really didn’t think it was a date. Jade had insisted you wear something fancy, but you’d told her no. Instead, you just went with wearing what you usually do; red shorts, a white button-up, red suspenders, knee-high socks, and a red bowtie. She told you you were lame.
Dave comes to pick you up, and once you’re in his car, it finally settles that he’s too old for you. Too famous. Too rich. You want to back out, but there’s no backing out now, since you’re already in his car on the way to the movies. He gets your door for you, and even though he towers over you by at least a foot, he ducks to hide behind you so no one notices him.
When you ask why, he tells you because he doesn’t want anything to ruin the date.
You blush, glad for the dimly lit lobby. Apparently, the two of you are going to see some for horror movie. Oh, great. It’s kind of you fault, since you hadn’t told Dave what genre of movie you had a preference for. It’s fine, you can make it through the movie without being a little baby.
Okay, maybe not.
Halfway through, you’re shaking in your seat. If Dave hasn’t noticed, then there’s something seriously wrong with him. He hasn’t made a sound since the movie began, or any moves (like the classic “yawn and stretch”) but after a few minutes of shaking he grabs your hand. That settles you down. You start shaking a lot less, thank god.
The movie has about twenty minutes left when Dave leans over and whispers, “let’s blow this popstand,” his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You shiver.
You stand, trying to take your hand back, but he keeps it firmly gripped in his. Fine, whatever. That’s fine. You’d been leading the walk, but once you’re outside of the theater, he swaps your positions. “Where are we going?” You ask.
“It’s a secret.” He responds, and you groan.
He leads you out the back door of the place and up a ladder. You ask him if what the two of you are doing currently is legal, and he tells you to shut the fuck up. You comply, but mumble complaints under your breath while you climb.
The two of you end up on the roof. The stars are easy to see from here, so you assume that’s the reason he brought you up here. “Hey, Crocker?”
“Yeah?” You ask, turning towards Dave.
He catches your lips in his, effectively catching you off guard.
“The stars shine for you.” He says when you break apart.
“Cheesy.”
Two weeks.
It takes two weeks for Dave to ask you to be his boyfriend, and his approach to the whole thing is a lot different than Dirk’s. “Yo, Crocker?” He says one morning, while you’re flipping pancakes in his kitchen. You’re wearing one of his shirts, since you’d decided last minute you were going to stay over here. It reaches your knees, surprise surprise.
“Yo, Strider?” You respond sarcastically, grabbing syrup from the fridge.
“Do you think I’m old?”
You almost chuckle, but there’s a serious undertone in his voice that stops you from doing so. “No, not really. You’re only, what, twenty-eight?”
“Thirty.”
“Thirty. You aren’t that old, it’s okay. I don’t think you’re old. Why?”
“Will you be my boyfriend?”
You pause what you’re doing.
After a few seconds you get back to what you’re doing, afraid that you might burn the pancakes. “I guess that’s a no. It’s fine.”
“I didn’t say that,” You bite quickly, flipping the pancake you’re currently making. It’s as big as the entire pan, and it looks really good. The only thing you’d gotten worthwhile from your bitch of a mother is baking skills. “I didn’t say no.”
“So what are you saying, then?”
“I’m saying yes.”
“Oh, okay.”
You slip the final pancake onto a plate that’s stacked with them. In retrospect, you’d probably made way too many. “Jesus, Crocker, are you trying to feed an entire armada?” You laugh and grab one of them, pouring syrup over it. You hold your hand out for Dave, and he grabs it. Dirk stumbles out of his room, Jake following closely behind, and they join you silently at the table.
“So you’re dating him, then.” Dirk says, like it’s a fact. Which, you guess it is.
“Yeah.” Dave responds. His hand is getting tense in yours, so you squeeze gently. All of the tension drains, and he squeezes back.
“Don’t break his heart.”
“Hey, fuck you. I’m not you.”
You’re afraid they’re going to fight, but Jake reins Dirk in with a soft touch to his shoulder, and you mouth “thank you.” Dave, on the other hand, seems to be steaming. You sigh, leaning over and pressing your lips to his. You pull back and murmur against them. “Hey, it’s fine. I know you won’t break my heart.”
He grabs you by the shirt and pulls you closer, your lips mingling again. He tastes like syrup and apples. “I love you.”
You go rigid.
So does he.
After a minute, you exhale warily. “I love you too.”
He kisses you again.
“So,” Rose says, spinning around in her chair. You hop from foot to foot, grasping the camera hard. Your hands are sweaty. “You’re together, then? If he breaks your heart, I will kill him. This time you cannot stop it, I’m afraid.” She breathes a dramatic sigh, and you chortle. A small smile crosses her face. She stands from her seat, walks over to her shelf, and pulls out a new manila folder.
“Here’s your subject.”
You grab it from her hands and flick it open, grinning toothily when you find yourself staring at Dave’s file. “Crocker, you’re fired. But I still want you to pursue this one.”
“Will do, Rose.” You give her a two fingered salute and stuff the folder into your bag, one you’d stolen from your mom. Since there’s a wooden spoon on it, it shouldn’t be that hard to tell where you got it from. As you’re about to leave, you turn back and yank Rose into a tight hug. She seems surprised at first, but it doesn’t take long before she settles into it, and her arms wrap around you. “Thank you. Love you, lady.”
She presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Love you too, kiddo.”
Your phone pings as you’re walking out.
turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT]
TG: so did she fire you
GT: of course she did.
TG: hells yeah
TG: are you coming home
TG: i got reservations at olive garden
GT: you dweeb! it’s the middle of the afternoon on a tuesday!
TG: any time is breadstick time
GT: you’re ridiculous. i’m coming home now.
TG: and then were going to olive garden
GT: yes, dave. and then we’re going to olive garden.
TG: sweet
TG: i uh
TG: ill see ya soon
TG: <3
GT: aww.
GT: <3
ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
You tuck your phone into the pocket of your shorts and smile fondly.