"Sorry Mr. Jackson, hear what?" "That guy is a director of that bloody show that's filming nearby! They want our best rooms for their so called celeb'...!" Dean had a little be of a smirk on his face by this time, and his boss could see it. "Seeing as you love these shows so much, I'm making you their personal SLAVE. What ever they want you get for them, and don't bother, coming to bother me about them. Just keep them out of my way at all times! Got it!" Dean couldn't believe his ears! His boss. Of course he had to start there! He unclipped my pink pocketknife and asked, “What’s this for?” I zipped my lips. My bad attitude was doing me no favors. I heard the familiar click of the knife snapping open. After a moment, I sighed. “I mostly use it to cut the tags off of new clothing and to cut chip bags that are too hard to open, okay?” Why was I telling him this, I didn’t owe him any honesty! “You look like a nice girl,” he began. I didn’t want him looking at me. All of a sudden I realized. More

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