"Brewer, whadda ya got?" Eric Rhodes demands as he glares at me from his spot at the head of the table.    

Like he doesn't already know the answer to that question.    

"Umm..." I sit up and flip through the folder in front of me and let out a small groan. I knew it. "Nothing."    

"Not surprising." He mutters and rolls his eyes. "Take Sunset. And take Reynolds with you... if she ever decides to show up."    

"You got it." I nod before gathering my paperwork and stuffing it into my messenger bag. "Anything else?"    

"Yeah... try not to spill anything on anybody this time." He smirks as the room erupts in laughter. I quickly flip him off, grab my bag and head out of the conference room.    

One day... I'm going to find a job that pays well, doesn't make me feel like shit, and most importantly... doesn't come with a douche bag for a boss.    

Fat chance of that, I know.    

I'm still kind of the new kid around here, so I guess it's only natural that I catch shit for every little mistake I make. But in my defense, they should have known my first week was too early to throw me to the wolves.    

When I graduated from UCLA with a degree in commercial photography, I was delusional enough to believe that the big name magazines would jump at the chance to hire a rookie.    

Believe me, it was quite the wake up call when Rolling Stone wouldn't even give me an interview based on my lack of experience. I tried several other magazines, and even a few small time newspapers, but nobody would bite.    

Apparently, it's become impossible to land a job without experience. Which is a pretty shitty rule, really. How the hell do you gain experience, with no job?    

Whoever thought that line up, really ought to do some self evaluating because clearly, their priorities are a bit fucked.    

So... I was forced into the lowest form of photography known to man.    

I managed to land myself a job with a celebrity gossip magazine.    

I had to let go of every last ounce of my integrity and spend time hanging around outside clubs, bars, restaurants, hotels.. you name it.    

If there's even an off chance that a celebrity could show up, we're required to be there. It's time consuming, slightly shameful, and sometimes boring as shit, but the money... the money is so damn good it's ridiculous.    

The magazine is willing to pay it's photographers outrageous amounts for something as simple as catching Brad Pitt in the grocery store.     

But... the stuff that really brings in the big money, are those compromising shots.     

A drunken heiress, the a-list actor falling on his ass, a pop princess snorting coke.    

That's the kind of shit people pay the big bucks for. If it'll tarnish an image, I stand to make a load of money off of it.    

And that's why I do this. I'm not out to hurt anyone or destroy reputations, I just really need the money.     

I've got student loans to pay off, an apartment, a car payment, credit card bills. It doesn't really justify it or make me feel better about invading someone's privacy, but that's the fact. I just need the money.    

Plus, this gets me the experience I'll need for a respectable job, so for now... this is just what I have to do.    

I round the corner to my cubicle and roll my eyes when I spot Megan at my desk, playing solitaire on my computer.    

I love this girl to death, I really do. But sometimes I wonder how she still has a job. She started with the magazine as a columnist, a few months before I did and from what I can tell, real work has never been her top priority. She'll screw around until the absolute last second, whip up this incredible story and blow people away.    

I guess that's why Eric keeps her around. She's landed more covers in six months, than most of the reporters here have gotten in five years. She knows her shit, and somehow... she gets the most reliable sources anyone can find.     

I'm not quite sure why they usually team the two of us up, but I'm definitely not complaining. There's a few folks around here that are sleazy enough to make your skin crawl. So, I'll take Megan and her procrastination over the creepers, any day.    

"You missed the staff meeting to screw around on my computer? Eric's gonna fry your ass."    

"He'll get over it." She gives me a dismissing wave and shakes her head. "What shithole is he shoving us in today?"    

"Sunset." I sigh and toss the folder on my desk.    

"Seriously? After the coffee incident, he's actually giving you Sunset?"    

"Apparently." I shrug.    

Why is it, people can't ever remember when you do something right, but they never forget what you fuck up?    

Like I said, I'm still the new kid.. so screw ups are inevitable. But, there isn't much room for error in this line of work and that's a lesson I've had to learn the hard way.    

My first week with the magazine, Megan and I were sitting outside of a starbucks, minding our own business and waiting to spot somebody. A mob of paparazzi showed up out of fucking nowhere and a few minutes later, a black escalade pulled up.    

Scarlett Johansson climbs out and goes inside, and of course, everyone is piling up against the building, frantically trying to get their shots in, and I was no exception. She comes back out a few minutes later and the crowd closes in on her.    

Being a good bit smaller than the other male photographers, I got pushed right up front and was practically standing on top of the girl. I can tell you with full confidence, that balancing a camera in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, is no small feat.    

When the crowd moved again, I lost my grip on the cup and dumped it down the front of Ms. Johansson's shirt. She screamed, I took off and I have yet to live any of it down.    

It sucks, but that's life, I suppose.    

And of course, Eric was beyond pissed and has since given me every shit assignment that's come up.    

Until today.    

Today, I've been given the opportunity to get some amazing shots, which means, I also get the chance to increase my paycheck, and that's always a plus.    

"Come on." I nod as I throw my camera bag over my shoulder and grab my folder.     

This is my first decent assignment since the coffee debacle. Dear God, please don't let me screw it up.

**************    

"Megan.. come on.. you've gotta get us out of this." I mutter and I glance out the window.     

"Oh sure.. I'll just put on the bat wings and fly us the fuck out of here." She rolls her eyes angrily and sighs. "It's Sunset.. what the hell did you expect?"    

Alright yeah... like any L.A resident, I know the traffic on Sunset Boulevard is bumper to bumper damn near all day. But we can't afford to sit here for another two hours.     

If I don't go back to the office with something, I don't even want to think about what kind of crap ass assignments Eric will send me on.     

Hell, there could even be a demotion in my very near future.     

Or, maybe not.    

I spot a blue BMW pulling into a nearby restaurant and roll down the window. I can just barely make out a figure, decked out in dark shades and a baseball cap pulled low over his face.     

There's somebody in that car. I haven't got the slightest clue who, but it's... somebody.     

"Think you'll be here for awhile?"    

"Seriously? You're seriously asking me that?"    

"Whatever. Doesn't matter." I sigh and shake my head, quickly digging my camera out of the bag. "If this ever clears up... circle back and pick me up."

"What? Abby.. what the hell are you doing?"    

"I think I saw somebody... and if I don't go back with some decent shots, Eric's gonna fucking kill me."    

"If by kill, you mean, put you on developing duty.. then yes." She chuckles and shakes her head. "Go. Be careful.. call me if you need anything. And take notes!"        

I roll my eyes and quickly climb out of the car, jogging across the street. I spot the valet right away and before I can so much as make it to the door, he stops me dead in my tracks.    

"Did you need something, miss?"    

"Uhh.. no.. I think I'm covered. Thanks."    

"We don't allow the media in our establishment."    

"Right." I nod and roll my eyes.    

He's atleast confirmed my suspicion that somebody was in that damn car, and that's good enough for me.     

And as luck would have it, there seems to be an outside terrace, but the large privacy fence is doing nothing to better my situation.     

I look around, hoping for a bench, small wall.. anything that I can stand on to get a better look. But, I doubt even that would help my short ass see over the seven foot fence.    

There's only one thing I can do.    

I slide the strap of my camera over my shoulder and casually stroll up to the nearest tree. I take a quick look around to make sure no one's watching, and I hoist myself up. Let it be known that being short and scrawny definitely comes in handy when you have to do shit like this.     

I throw one leg over the largest branch and pull myself into a sitting position, smiling at my accomplishment. If Eric could see me now, I'm sure even he'd be proud of my little stealth operation.     

I peer over the fence and that's when I spot my target. Just as I suspected, he's... somebody. The hat and glasses are off and it's impossible not to recognize him, or the woman he's with, immediately.     

I snap a few pictures of them laughing, talking during their meal, and it doesn't take long before I'm completely bored with this entire thing.     

Just as I'm about to move from my spot and climb out of the tree, the couple rises from their seats and heads for the door.    

Shit.    

I don't know why, but unlike most photographers.. I try to make it a habit of not being seen. There's just something about that 'in your face' approach that doesn't sit well with me and I try my best to keep my distance.    

The two of them are in front of the building now, just several feet away from where I'm sitting and I freeze.     

They hug quickly, before the woman heads off in the other direction and the man slides on his hat and sunglasses again, then makes his way to the parking lot.    

Now's my chance to get my ass out of this tree, get back to the office and show Eric that I'm not a complete fuck up.    

I move to climb down the same way I got up, but my shoelace catches on another branch. I roll my eyes and groan and I try to move my foot, but no such luck.     

I grab onto yet another branch and try to untie my shoe with my free hand, and that's when my other starts to slip. I just barely reach my shoelace when I lose my grip completely and land on my back with a loud thud, my camera smashing into pieces on the ground, while my shoe still hangs from that damn branch.    

God damnit.     

So much for showing Eric that I'm competent, eh?    

"Oh shit... are you alright?" I hear laughter behind me and shut my eyes tightly.    

Only me. I swear.. this shit only happens to me.    

"Umm.. yeah, I think so." I nod and sit up, rubbing the back of my head slowly. And that's when I notice the egg sized bump that's quickly forming there.    

"That was a pretty shitty fall." He chuckles and extends his hand to help me up.    

"Yeah well.. me and grace don't go so well together." I mutter and wipe the dirt off my pants. "Thanks."    

"What the hell were you doing in a tree anyway?"    

"Oh.. umm... bird watching." I offer lamely and roll my eyes.     

Could I be a bigger tool?     

Probably not.    

"You need a doctor or anything?"    

"Nah.. I'm fine. Really... thanks though."    

"You're sure? I mean.. that's a big ass bump there." He chuckles and rubs the back of my head softly. "Look.. I can give you a ride to the hospital or something."    

"Really... I'm fine. No permanent damage." I nod and cringe at the pieces of my camera scattered around on the sidewalk.     

"Seriously?"    

"Yeah.. I'm good. Thanks for the offer though."    

"You might have a concussion."    

Jesus Christ... this guy doesn't give up, does he?    

"I'll get it checked out." I nod, hoping this will satisfy him and he'll walk away.    

"Alright, good." He smiles. "I'm Justin, by the way."    

"Abby."    

"Abby..." He repeats and nods slowly. "You get that looked at, alright?"

"Will do."    

"Good." He nods again. "See ya around." He gives me a small wave and heads for his own car.     

I roll my eyes and scramble to gather the pieces of my camera, muttering to myself the entire way.     

As if I didn't feel bad enough about invading his privacy in the first place, he just had to be all gorgeous and sweet and just... ugh.    

I so need a new fucking job.