FicWad

I jerked my head up as my boss entered my office without knocking. (As usual) I looked at him warily. Whatever he was about to tell me was probably either bad news, or he was going to force me to do something Ididn't want. It turned out to be the latter.

"Hey there jenna." He said in that tone you use when you tell people something you know they won't like.

"Hey." I said skeptically.

"I need a favor."

/Figures/. "Um... yeah?"

"Well, fall out boy is coming in about an hour for an interview and I was wondering if you could help them out. You know, make them more comfortable, show them around..." he trailed off.

I frowned. "Mark, you know I hate dealing with bands. I'm abehind the scenes kind of girl. Not to mention most of the people IN bands are all self-absorbed assholes." This was a conversation I have had with Mark and numerous other people at work and it still doesn't manage to sink into them.

"I know but no one else can do it and they're a really big band." He said hopefully.

All the more reason for me NOT to do it. "Fine." I said. I give in so easily./ /

His eyes lit up and I swear he was about to hug me. Instead, he flashed me a big smile and ran out of my office like a little kid. Well THAT wasn't weird at all...



As promised by Mark, an hour later four guys trooped into the lobby outside of my office. I sighed. Time for me to go save the world... or my magazine's reputation... or something along those lines. I checked myself in the mirror on my wall and stepped briskly out of my door. I was the very picture of professionalism. At least, I hoped I was. I walked over to the guys who were currently looked rather aimless and slightly confused. "Hi." I said, turning on my brightest smile. "I'm Jenna Ralston and I'll be helping you out today." This earned me four blank stares and a few blinks before one of them decided to talk.

"Hi Jenna Ralston. I'm Pete Wentz and I need coffee." He said in a tired voice. "Please?" He threw in.

I didn't know any other way to respond to this other than to get him coffee so I grabbed my assistant and asked her to make a Starbucks run. The other guys wearily placed their orders and she left.

I focused my attention back on the four boys before me. Istuck my hand out to each of them and they shook it and mumbled their names.

"Andy."

"Patrick."

"Joe."

"You know me already."

I smiled and said, "alright, Marie will be back with coffee in a minute but in the meantime, I'll get you ready for the photo shoot." I lead them into a room filled with clothes, shoes and accessories. "Pick whatever you want." They started rummaging through the contents of the room and I stood against the wall to think a bit.

So far, so good. I haven't gotten the urge to punch one of them in the face yet, so I see that as a plus. You may be wondering why I'm so opposed to rock stars and the like. Well, the thing is, there really isn't a particular reason. It's just that I've been working in this industry long enough to know that almost everyone who's famous thinks they deserve to be treated special simply because they are famous. I have no problem with treating people with respect, but I do draw the line when a person demands special treatment based on what they do for a living. It's just been my experience that this is the case with most famous people.

I was interrupted in my thoughts by Marie coming in the door and distributing latt