Shooting Stars by Allison Rushby Read Free Book Online Page A

meaning.
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    “I will.”
    “Come on, Mannie, I’ll help you down the stairs,” are Wendy’s last words as she leads him, silent and stunned, out of the room.
    ★ ★ ★
    I manage to get to the airport on time, and it’s only after I’ve checked in (and learned Melissa has booked me on a fl ight that also stops in Chicago— wouldn’t be surprised if she’d done it on purpose) and am waiting at the gate for my plane that I start to worry again that Ned Hartnett is going to recognize me. I remind myself about the oversized clothes, braces, and baseball cap once more. I also know that he’s a celebrity; he’s probably met a million people in the time since he ran into me. Maybe he lectured them all?
    Still, I made sure that I’ve packed my bag accordingly. No caps, and the girliest clothes I have in my wardrobe. I don’t have a lot, but I managed to dig out a couple shirts and jackets and skirts and even locate a pair of pearl earrings that my dad gave me for my thirteenth birthday. It’s not what I’d usually wear, but a job is a job. I’m not going to look cool or be comfortable.
    My cell rings. Melissa.
    “Hi,” I say warily.
    “You’re at the airport?”
    “All checked in,” I tell her. “I didn’t realize I’d be stopping in Chicago.”
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    Melissa doesn’t skip a beat. “Ah, yes. Unfortunately that was the only fl ight available soon enough.” I note that there’s no “Sorry, Jo” before she continues. “One of the retreat’s staff members will meet you at the other end. You’re allowed a maximum of two numbers that you can call out to, but they need to be vetted by your parent or guardian. I’ve given them mine, but if you give me another number, I can add that as well. Do you have one?”
    I give her Wendy’s number.
    “Everything okay with the brief?”
    Melissa had e-mailed it to me. The brief, aka my job description, was straightforward: take as many pictures of Ned as I can get. Anything and everything. Ned in group. Ned sitting by himself. Ned and his new troubled friends. Shoot what ever there is to shoot and let them deal with the legal side of things. I felt slightly sick just thinking about it. “I still don’t really understand what he’s doing at this place,” I say.
    “Oh, you know. Getting ‘a little rest.’ All the stars need a little rest now and again from their oh- so- hectic party- going lives, don’t they?” Melissa jokes. “And you know what Ned Hartnett is like. It’s probably something about the pressure of his new album coming out. That he’s overworked himself and it’s all been too much. Blah- blah- blah. He’s such a feeler.
    A sensitive soul. It’s why people love him so much.” You’ve got to hand it to Melissa— she really cares. I can’t say I’d want to get on her bad side. “Okay,” I say. My mouth is really dry, and I can only manage the one word.
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    “Fantastic. The money will be in your account within forty- eight hours. I’ll see you on the other side, then,” Melissa replies, and then the line goes dead.
    For a split second I almost think she means hell. And, considering the job I’ve just taken on, she may well be right.
    ★ ★ ★
    “Josephine Taylor?” A guy in jeans and a checked shirt holds up a sign with my name on it, which I’m surprised I can still read considering how little sleep I’ve had.
    “That’s me,” I say, kind of shocked that Melissa used my real name. But then I realize it doesn’t really matter. No one here is going to know my dad is Mike Taylor, King of the Paparazzi. He’s hardly on their radar. And if he’s not, I’m certainly not. Sure, I’ve had a bit of media attention as the elusive, teenage Zo Jo, but I’m hardly