The Camera (Justin Bieber Competition)

Okay, I am not a fan, but because Fan Fiction is such a popular category on Movellas I decided to give it a go to see if I could write a successful Fan Fiction piece for the competition, As Long As You Love Me. Enjoy, and please comment on what you think as I am new to this. Thank you!

Molly is a teenage writer who hates nothing more than her own life. Her parents are pushy, her agent is pushy, and the pushiest person of all is the film producer who wants to turn her book into a blockbuster movie. It should seem like a dream, but when Max Champagne wants none other than Justin Bieber to star alongside Molly as the main characters, she can't imagine anything worse.


13. Max Champagne

Sun peeking it's way round the edge of my huge designer sunglasses, I held tighter onto Justin's hand; almost as he would bolt and leave me here with this bunch of strangers. But deep down I knew he wasn't going anywhere. Because Justin was mine now.

It's not that I didn't feel strange walking into the huge warehouse-type building marked 'Studio One', holding onto Justin's hand wearing one of his purple snapbacks, but at the same time... It felt so right. For once, I found myself enjoying this lifestyle, relishing the prospect of getting noticed, delighting in the fact that the staff wondering around at the entrance marvelled at the boy attached to my hand. I smiled.

Justin turned to me with his gorgeous eyes. "Fancy a coffee?"

"Yes, please." 

He turned and walked to a coffee machine at the other side of the room, while a young woman dressed all in black approached me and took off my light sweatshirt. I jumped back slightly, and she looked at me as if I was mad. "Can I take your jumper?" She asked me warily with a thick American accent. I blinked. Take my sweatshirt? 

"Yeah, sure. Sorry."

I saw Justin smirking. Giving him a look which meant, 'not funny', I turned around me to survey the place. Large racks of sparkly costumes littered the place, with dinky table clothed trestle tables covered with treats. As Justin walked back with my cappuccino, frothy, with chocolate sprinkled on the top (my favourite), he leaned over one of the tables and popped a grape in his mouth.

"Justin!" I warned him in a hushed whisper, "I don't think you're allowed. They're not for us."

He laughed again, and took out his camera once more and took a snap. I was so used to this by now, I had grown to ignore it. 

"Of course it is, Molly."

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

"This," he gestured to the tables, "this is all for us. We're special guests here."

"Even if we're here for work?" I argued. No matter how much I enjoyed it, I couldn't keep the incessant thought out of my mind that this was a job

Before Justin could reply a booming voice came behind me. It was a resonant tone, that rung in my ears. It was an important voice, a voice belonging to a man that was used to getting his own way. A voice that belonged to...

"Max Champagne," Justin sighed, raising his eyebrow at me. He wrapped his arm around my waist, straining me closer to him, and then we turned together to meet the director. 

My first impressions of Mr. Champagne weren't altogether positive. He was a large bulbous man with an equally huge personality; wearing a shiny pink shirt with the top button undone, revealing his hairy chest.

Although he wasn't a fat man, he wasn't tiny, and the tight leather legging-like trousers he wore clung to the fat on his legs disgustingly. His face had a squashed expression about it, like that of a walrus, and the few hairs he had left on his rapidly balding head were thin and grey-white. When he smiled, he revealed two unattractive, immense gold teeth.

He beamed at us. "My two lovebirds," he drawled.

"Hey, Mr. Champagne," Justin murmured uncomfortably, holding out his hand unwillingly to the walrus-of-a-millionaire in front of us. Max shook it, and then turned to me, stepping back a little so that he could survey me from top to bottom.

"Very nice," he muttered to himself, "very nice indeed. Coco," He called sharply, snapping his fingers in the air briskly. I looked at Justin questioningly, maybe this was a Hollywood thing, but he looked equally baffled. Then all of a sudden a mousy lady dressed expensively in a fine silk suit appeared beside Max Champagne. He turned to her, almost condescendingly I noticed. 

"Coco, please will you get Molly here that present I bought her." He smiled at me, giving me a generous flash of his disgusting teeth. "And Justin's too."

As Max was distracted, Justin put his mouth to my ear. "You'd think if he had enough money to buy us presents he'd at least pay to sort those teeth out. And a razor," he added quickly, shuddering at Max's chest hair.

I giggled, and then I found myself getting an eyeful of Champagne. "I like that laugh," he said thoughtfully, patting my cheek like a child. "We'll have to use that in a commercial." I must have looked stunned, for Max added, giving me a wink, "It's all about the business, baby."

"Can Molly and I... see our scripts please?" Justin suddenly asked desperately. He squeezed my hand, and I immediately realised that he was saving me from another moment of Champagne. I smiled at him gratefully. Max cleared his throat. "Certainly, J.B. It's all right if I call you that, by the way?"

Justin flashed him a winning smile, but I could tell it was forced. "For sure, sir."

Max Champagne shook both our hands again, and pushed us towards the door forcefully. "You're dressing room's down there," he droned, "And your presents are on their way."

The last thing I saw was the great puff of smoke from Max Champagne's cigar, cleverly concealed from us, making beautiful patterns in the artificial air. 


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