I was really regretting drinking 4 martinis last night.

At the moment, I was huddled over the toilet vomiting my guts out. I had a pounding headache and felt extremely thirsty. And what was worse, I had to get to my first day on work in about an hour and a half. Just thinking about this made me retch into the toilet again.

"God, Val. You are such an idiot," Denise said, scrunching up her nose in disgust. She had my hair pulled back out of the line of fire. I stood up, feeling very dizzy and held onto the sink for support. I brought my other hand up to my forehead and closed my eyes.

"Remind me to never go get drunk ever again," I told her.

"Oh I will. But you won't listen," she replied. I groaned and looked in the mirror at the mess that was me. My hair was sticking up in all different directions, my eyes were slightly bloodshot, and my lips were pale. I looked revolting enough to make me want to throw up again.

I turned my gaze away from the mirror and grabbed my toothbrush. I needed to brush the vomit taste out of my mouth.

"They should have an instant tonic or cure for hangovers," I said as Denise began walking out of the bathroom.

"Why don't you get on that? In the meantime, I'll make some coffee. You get dressed," she said. She walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. After brushing my teeth and washing my face with a cleanser, I hopped into the shower and showered in cold water. The icy water felt good against my flushed skin and it helped to wake me up a little. I shivered as I got out of the shower and wrapped my towel around myself. I walked out of the bathroom and into my room to change.

I pulled out a black pencil skirt that went to my knees and a creme colored long sleeved blouse and put them on. I curled my hair into perfect waves and then applied an appropriate amount of make-up. I found my black pointy-toed heels and pulled them on and then stood to examine myself. After applying the make-up, my face looked more alive. I had put in eyedrops to reduce the redness in my eyes so that it wasn't' visible anymore. I smiled at myself. I looked presentable. Then I walked out and went to the kitchen.

"I need water," I mumbled, pouring myself a glass. I pulled out the aspirin from the medicine cabinet and popped two in my mouth, swallowing them with the cold water.

"Here's coffee. And here's a blueberry muffin," Denise said, handing me my breakfast.

"I love you," I told her, taking a swig of my coffee. I winced. She had made it extra strong to tackle the hangover. It was bitter, but I could feel my pounding headache disappearing. "What time is it?" I asked with a full mouth. Denise shook my head at my boyishness.

"It's 8:55," she replied.

"Shit. I have to go. i have to be there by 9:30," I said, stuffing the rest of the muffin in my mouth and then washing it down with the coffee.

"I can't believe you got a job last night," she said.

I couldn't either. After the woman, whose name was Patrice Jaque, told me I was hired, I had stood speechless and gawking at her.

"Close your mouth and don't look so shocked. I need you at the Sunset Studios in Hollywood by 9:30 tomorrow," she had said. Then she looked me over skeptically. "That should give you more than enough time to deal with yourself," she added. After that, she had finally flagged down a taxi and then left me still sputtering and staring in surprise.

Now, I was on my way to Hollywood. I had no idea what the nature of my job was. I had no idea what Sunset Studios was, but it did not sound like a large business corporation. But it didn't matter what the job was. It was a manager position and I had gotten it. It was a source of income. It was a new start.

After arguing for several minutes with the gatekeeper that I was not paparazzi, I pulled into the parking lot of the studios. I blinked in the blazing sunlight and gazed at the tall square building where I would be working at.

I was met with the same resistance at the entrance to the building as I had faced in the parking lot. What was wrong with these people? Why would they be having a paparazzi problem?

Once I was finally in, I asked for Patrice Jaque at the front desk.

"She's in Studio B," the male receptionist said. He was cute, but I could tell from his voice and his very nice style that he wasn't straight. i sighed internally. It was always the attractive ones.

I followed the signs to Studio B and after arguing to get past the security guard, I was in. The doors opened to a vast space that was decorated to create a large ballroom, with shiny fake marble floors and a high ceiling decorated with fake crystal chandeliers that looked real enough. I gazed at the sight in awe. And then I blinked, realization washing over me.

I was in an acting studio?

"Ah, new girl. There you are. 9:27, perfect timing," Patrice said, walking up to me. She walked towards me in a smart black pant-suit and black heels. She handed me a clipboard that had a schedule on it. Schedule: Duke Starr

"Duke is in his trailer right now. The make-up team is prepping him for his next scene. He wants his coffee when he gets here and a bottled water, so make that happen. I need to talk to the set director, so don't bother me," she said in her slow, drowsy/bored sounding voice. I blinked as she walked away, my mouth slightly open.

"Wait!" I exclaimed. She turned on her heels sharply and looked at me over her glasses. I felt oddly like a kindergartener that had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. "Who's Duke Starr?" I asked.

Her face showed no sign of disbelief or shock or aggravation. She walked towards me, instead, with a look of extreme scrutinization. I gulped, knowing instantly that I had said something wrong.

"You don't know who Duke Starr is?" she asked me in her slow voice. I shook my head.

"No, I-I don't," I replied, feeling myself trembling slightly. I was afraid I was going to get fired right away.

"If figures the girl that will be assisting Duke Starr doesn't know who he is," she said, more to herself than to me. She was now standing right in front of me. I had the strange image of a little kid peeing his pants in fear and thought how incredibly unprofessional and disgusting it would look if I did the same.

"Do you live under a rock, new girl?" she asked. I frowned. It was really obnoxious how she kept calling me that. I had a name.

"No, I just..." I began, but she cut me off.

"You must live under a rock if you don't know that Duke Starr is one of Hollywood's hottest actors right now, famous especially amongst the late teens to early twenty-year old demographic. He was been voted number one hottest actor of the year and has won several awards for his acting. He is everywhere. I have no idea how you manage to live so close to Hollywood and yet you don't know who Duke Starr is," she explained in a condescending tone.

I furrowed my eyebrows in annoyance. Well pardon me for not caring about the daily lives of celebrities. I have my own life to live, I thought to myself. 

"I'll do my research when I get home tonight," I said. She pursed her lips and looked at me sternly. Then, without another word, she turned around and walked away. Part of me wanted to stop her again. I had no idea where to get coffee from in this building and what kind this Duke Starr person preferred. I resolved to get the water first.

I wondered if he liked chilled water or room temperature. I thought back to numerous movies and TV shows where pampered celebrities always asked for room temperature water. So I found a snack table that had bottled waters sitting on it and picked a bottle up. Then I found a set worker and asked him where I could find a coffee maker or machine or shop and if he possibly knew what kind of coffee Duke Starr drank. He laughed at me and walked away, shaking his head at me and muttering something along the lines of, "Noob."

I frowned after him and frantically looked around me.

"You look like you're lost," someone said behind me. I turned around to face the very attractive Zac Efron in a dapper tuxedo. I gasped and nearly dropped the water I was holding.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked him. He smiled at me, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkling. I swooned internally, but externally kept a firm composure. "I'm new here and I need help finding where they make coffee," I told him.

"There's a machine back around there," Zac replied, pointing behind me. I sighed.

"Oh. Thanks so much!" I said to him. He smiled back at me. I began walking away and then realized he was following me.

"So you're new here," he said, falling in step with me. I nodded.

"Today's my first day," I replied.

"As what?" he asked.

"Duke Starr's manager," I answered. He raised his eyebrows at me.

"I thought that was Patrice," he said.

"But she hired me as a manager--" I began, then he laughed. I looked at him, frustration and worry etched into my face.

"She hired you as an assistant manager. Or in other words, just an assistant," he told me.

"I'm not following..." I trailed off. We had reached the coffee machine. I studied it. It was a lot fancier than the maker I had at home. And there were certainly a lot more ingredients.

"Here, I'll do it. I've worked with Duke long enough to know what kind of coffee he drinks," Zac said, leaning forward. "Basically," he began, as he pulled out a few bottles and began starting the coffee, "you get to do all of the things that Patrice doesn't want to do. You have to take Duke to his appointments, follow him around, fulfill his every order and request," he explained to me. He punched a button and two shots of espresso dripped into the cup. I watched, amazed.

"Wait, so I'm basically like an errand girl?" I asked. He nodded, an amused twinkled in his eye. He pulled out a stirrer and stirred the coffee. Then he placed a cap over on it and handed it to me. I frowned at him. "This sucks! I thought I was going to be in some management position," I said.

"Well you are. Just not a good one," Zac replied, grinning. I bit my lip, feeling disappointment creep up inside of me. I couldn't be reduced to an errand girl. It was just one step closer to a servant. No, I wouldn't do it. I would just go up to Patrice and tell her that this job was not what I had in mind.

"This stinks," I pouted. He laughed.

"I wonder how long you'll last. The other one was here for only a few months," he said. I glared at him.

"This job is ridiculous," I said. He shrugged as we started walking back to the set.

"Maybe, but it's a job," he replied.

"I am way too overqualified for this. I freaking studied at Berkeley, I graduated in honors. I don't need a job like this!" I exclaimed. He still had the bemused expression on his face. I wanted to slap him or something, but he was just too good looking.

"Think of it as a humbling experience. If you get through it, you know you'll be able to handle anything," he told me. My anger and frustration faded slightly. He had a point. But I still was going to quit. There was no way I was going to walk around and follow orders from a stuck-up celebrity.

"Thanks for your help," I said.

"No problem. I'll see you around..." he trailed off. I blinked and realized he was asking for my name.

"Valerie. Valerie Sparks," I finished.

"See you around, Valerie," Zac said in a kind voice. Then, whistling, he walked off towards the set.

There was a sudden commotion and burst of noise that came from the entrance to the studio. I looked over and saw a mass of people around a single person, who was not visible due to the many bodies.

I walked closer to the commotion to see what was going on. There were a whole bunch of people with hairbrushes and make-up chattering and yelling, flailing their arms. The person that the fuss was all over clearly didn't care for the attention.

"Where is my coffee?" I heard a voice yell over the noise. Everyone stopped talking at once and moved away to reveal a very attractive man wearing a tux that looked like an older version of Zac Efron. I figured that this was Duke Starr and it dawned on me that I was holding the coffee. I walked up to him and handed it to him. He looked at me, taking the cup from my hands.

"Who are you?" he asked, taking a sip of the coffee.

"I'm Va-" I began, but he let out a disgusted groan and shoved the coffee back into my hands.

"That's disgusting! Whoever you are, you clearly don't know how to make coffee," he spat. "Do you have my water?" he asked, his eyes narrowed at me. I handed him the bottle and he took a sip and then spit it out. "You can't even get the water right! Who hired this incompetent idiot?!" he yelled.

"Incompetent--" I started to say in an incredulous voice, but was interrupted.  There was a clicking of heels as the color rose to my cheeks in embarassment and anger. Patrice walked up to him and grabbed his arm.

"Duke! Dear, I'm so sorry. This is your new assistant. It's her first day--" Patrice began explaining.

"Fire her! Fire her now! She's even worse than the last one! She gave me room temperature water! Everyone knows I drink my water exactly four degrees below room temperature. And the coffee tasted like liquid shit," he said. I would have laughed at the last part if it weren't for the absurdity and intensity of the situation.

"It's her first day. And we can't afford to fire another assistant, Duke. I told you, we need someone to go with you to Italy. I will have someone explain to her what she needs to know. Just calm down. I'll get you your coffee and your water," she said in a calm and level voice. Duke's blue-green eyes flashed in anger, but he didn't say anything. He sent a death glare towards me and then walked past. I glared at his tall, muscular figure as he walked, no, strutted, onto the set.

I felt a cold hand on my arm and turned to face an angry Patrice.

"What is your problem?" she hissed.

"I just did what you told me to do! How was I supposed to know what kind of coffee he drinks? And who the hell drinks water that's exactly four degrees below room temperature?" I defended. She glared at me to watch my tone and I flared my nostrils at her. I could feel the effects of the aspirin I had taken earlier that day wearing off. I'd been here for less than an hour and already I had a pounding headache.

"If you're going to manage Duke Starr, you're going to have to be absolutely perfect. You need to keep calm and not get angry whenever he blows up like that. He's an actor and that's what actors do. They're dramatic. They want attention. They want everything to be perfect," Patrice told me.

"Zac Efron doesn't seem that way," I pointed out. She raised an eyebrow at me and I shut my mouth.

"I'll have Janet get you a binder of everything you'll need to manage Duke Starr. Memorize tonight," she said. "You'll also have to sign some confidentiality papers that bind you to secrecy. If you utter a word about Duke to anyone and people find out about it, you'll have a lawsuit that you'll be paying for until you reach your grave," she threatened.  I opened my mouth to say something, but she was already walking away, shouting orders left and right. The group of people behind me finally scattered, leaving me alone by the studio doors fuming. I saw Zac give me a sympathetic look from the set.

It angered me how Patrice and Duke had called me incompetent. Never in my life had I been embarrassed like that. The fact that it all happened, though, changed my mind about quitting. I wasn't going to give up. I was going to make it my goal to prove to them that I was more than capable of doing this job. And at the same time, I was going to make sure I would make them pay for all the embarrassment they had just put me through.

No, I was here to stay. Even if I would hate every second of it.

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A/N: What do you guys think of Duke? And yes, I put Zac Efron in the story. You're welcome. =)

Don't forget to comment and VOTE!!

XOXO

And you're welcome for that yummy picture of Ian Somerhalder. XD