ADA

The automatic coffee machine drones in the empty break room. Huntley's staff photographers are probably all out doorstepping, waiting for celebs to leave their penthouses so they can get their shots for the day.

I'm re-posting some of the pictures of Liam and Mia to Instagram and watching my follower counts skyrocket as I keep an eye fixed on Agnes's office door. She disappeared in there over an hour ago to sell the pictures we took at the park this morning.

I uncross and re-cross my legs beneath the table, mentally running through what I'm going to say. I'll stage as many shots as it takes if she'll give me points for them. Especially since Liam—for whatever reason—seems cooperative. I don't know why he put on such a show for the cameras, but he certainly gave me the perfect opportunity to pitch my plan to Agnes.

Her door swings open, and I jump to my feet, almost tripping over the chair leg. Swiping my bag off the table, I dart into the hallway.

"Agnes, do you have a second?"

She glances over at me, pushing her glasses on top of her head. "Miss Datchery? I thought you'd be out chasing stars by now."

"I had an idea I wanted to talk to you about first."

"An idea?" Surprise registers in eyes.

I nod, crossing my fingers inside my fists.

"Come in then." Agnes tilts her head back toward her office, vanishing inside.

Following, I take a seat across from her. The chair looks like it would be comfortable with its black, leather cushions but it's surprisingly stiff.

Where most people have framed photos of friends or family decorating their office walls, Agnes has shots of herself with various celebs: Halle Berry, Jennifer Aniston, Denzel Washington. A collection of awards litter the credenza behind her, winking in the sunlight filtering in through the window. I read the engraving on one. Top Producing Agent 2019—The Huntley Agency. It's obvious Agnes is a career-driven person. I wonder what her life's like outside work.

Agnes folds her arms over the desk, hoisting an expectant eyebrow at me. Now that I'm sitting here, everything I planned to say has fallen out of my head. My tongue is thick and clumsy.

Touching the screen of her phone, Agnes not-so-subtly checks the time.

Spit it out already, Ada. "So, um, how did the shots from the park sell?"

Taking a sip from her thermos, Agnes settles back in her chair. The smell of stale coffee drifts through the room.

"Your photos sold quite well." Agnes nods toward a whiteboard, which fills one of the walls. She's written each of our names on the side in big letters with our scores next to it.

Ada: 16

Chrissy: 11

Tyler: 8

I have a decent lead, but the others are closing in more quickly than I imagined. All the more reason I need to get Agnes on board with this plan.

"I actually meant the pictures the other interns took of Liam and me together."

"Oh." Agnes blinks. She waves a hand at the scoreboard. "Those did very well. As you can see."

"That's what I was hoping. I, um," I grit my teeth, forcing the words out. "I staged those photos on purpose so they could get the shots."

Agnes drums her fingers on the desk, sighing. "I assumed as much after you tipped them off about your location." She rubs her eyes. "Miss Datchery, we're not in the business of helping our employees turn themselves into celebrities, so if that's what you're trying to do—"

"Oh, no! That isn't it at all," I rush to explain. "I saw how the tabloids were going crazy over the pictures of Liam and me, and I thought if I set something up, then Huntley could get the shots."

Agnes rocks back in her chair, narrowing her eyes. "How insightful of you."

"And I thought that maybe if I keep staging photos of the two us together, you might be willing to give me points for them." My hands twist into pretzels in my lap.

"I see," Agnes says. "And here I thought you were being a team player."

My cheeks flame. "It isn't that I don't want to be a team player, but I want that position at the end of the summer more. This job is everything to me. I thought since this would benefit both of us..." I lift a shoulder in a shrug, daring a glance up at Agnes.

One corner of her mouth is curved up. "Well, I'll admit I admire your nerve. I need photographers working for me with some grit if I'm going to win another one of these." She gestures toward her collection of awards, considering me. My heart is a riot of beats inside my chest.

"Alright. I'll agree to it."

"Really?" My voice comes out in a squeal.

"But," Agnes lifts a finger in the air, "I'm not paying you for the photos. You'll be awarded points in accordance with how well they sell. That's it."

"That's all I care about. Agnes, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm not finished. Not only do I expect you to deliver on this, but there's something I want you to do as well."

My euphoria slowly deflates as I wait for the catch. "What did you have in mind?"

Agnes swivels her computer to face me. A picture of Liam and me fills the screen. My back is to the camera. His hand is wrapped around my arm. The expression on his face is tender, affectionate. The jerk really is a good actor.

"Since you said you staged this photo, I'm guessing it's safe to assume you do not, in fact, have feelings for Liam Anders?"

"Oh, God no. At least not any positive ones."

"And does he have feelings for you?"

"He despises me."

"Why do you think he's making it seem like there's something going on between the two of you then?" Agnes rotates the monitor back to its original position.

"Believe me, I've been wondering the same thing all morning."

"If you want me to give you extra points for this scheme of yours, then you'll need to do better than wonder. I want you to find out exactly what's going on with Liam. Why he broke up with his girlfriend and why he punched that photographer last year. There's a story there, and my gut's telling me it's something that could make us a lot of money. You just have to get us the photos we need to reveal it."

Something heavy lodges in my stomach. Setting up shots is one thing, but exposing someone's secrets feels shady. Grams always told me to stop at nothing to make my dreams come true though, and I don't want to end up regretting not taking this opportunity. My teeth dig into my bottom lip.

Agnes leans forward, the buttons on the cuffs of her shirt clacking against the desk. "You bring me a big enough story, Miss Datchery, and I'll make sure you have a permanent position with this company at the end of the summer."

I think about Liam calling me a bottom feeder and a stalkerazzi and the disgusted look on his face when he saw me this morning. The uncertainty nibbling at the back of my mind fades.

"Deal."

Agnes reaches forward to shake my hand. "Consider yourself on full-time Liam Anders duty until this all blows over. And remember, I want shots that make it look like the two of you are a couple. That's the story the tabloids have decided they want, and I need pictures I can sell. You've got to make this convincing."

She studies me as though trying to gauge whether or not I'm up to the challenge.

"I can do that." I force more confidence into my voice than I feel.

I can't guarantee Liam's going to keep faking it for the cameras. Today could've been a one-off. And I have no idea how I'm going to convince everyone this relationship is real or how to start trying to uncover Liam's secrets.

This was my idea though. I have no choice but to try.

Agnes gives me a crisp nod, and I grab my bag, recognizing I'm being dismissed.

"Oh, and before you leave, a word of advice," Agnes says. "You're going to be spending a lot of time around these people, but they aren't your friends, Miss Datchery. You'll do well to remember that."

At least, that's one thing I'm confident I can deliver on. "Don't worry. Liam Anders and I will never be friends."