She says “he’s still coming just a little bit late; he got stuck at the Five and Dime saving the day.”

Andy’s P.O.V.

I stretch as I wait for my car to come pick me up. It’s about six in the morning, and I admire the way the it’s pitch-black outside and I’ve been awake for an hour already.

I should really make my hours later, I muse as the wind blows, going straight through my jacket, causing me to shiver. Where is my driver? He should be here by now.

Speak of the devil- as soon as I’m debating calling my driver, he pulls up in front of me. “Sorry miss,” he says, hastily opening the door for me. “My kid is sick.”

I frown. “Why didn’t you just call me and say that you couldn’t come pick me up? I’m not a snobby celebrity; you can call in sick or something, just let me know.”

“Thank you, miss,” the man says. “I’ll just drop you right off then?”

“Yes, please,” I say as the driver pulls away from the curb, heading into the city.

My driver, Dave, is sweet, about fifty years old with gray hair and a beard, even with a younger kid; he is a good man, always on time and always polite. Sometimes I wish he would just yell at me for being rude sometimes, but he just smiles and is always so nice. I’m glad he’s my driver. If I ever have to get a new one I think I’ll cry.

“Here we are, miss,” he says, stopping in front of the building where my business is located.

“Thank you, Dave,” I say. “And haven’t I told you to call me Andy?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he says, tilting his hat in a salute towards me. “But s’not proper for me to call you by anything but ma’am or miss.”

“Well, I think that’s ridiculous,” I say bluntly. “I think you can call me whatever you like.”

“I like calling you miss,” Dave protests. “You’re nice to talk to, some people are just rude and it’s hard to remain polite towards them.”

“I’m sure,” I say, thinking of my vice-president of my company. “But thank you Dave. And take the rest of the day off.”

I smile as I see Dave’s face light up. “Thank you miss Andy!” he calls, which in turn makes me smile even larger.

“I’ll see you later, Dave!” I call as I walk into the building.

“Good morning, Ms. Kirsche,” the receptionist, Melissa, says politely.

“Good morning,” I reply cheerfully. Talking with Dave always puts me in a good mood.

I walk up towards the elevator, sending good mornings to everyone I meet, as I make a point to know all of the people working for me, or at least, I try to. I just think it’s rude for most big CEO’s to come in and just snap their fingers at someone and say ‘hey you, do this for me’ without even a please or a thank you or a name. It’s rude and mean.

When I reach my office, I close the door and settle in my chair, sighing at my solitude, enjoying it before my day really began.

As if on cue, Amber knocks on my door and pokes her head in. “Ms. Kirsche?”

“Ja, Amber?” I ask, mindlessly speaking German. “Was ist die Problem?”

“Nichts,” Amber replies, reacting smoothly to my German. “Just a meeting about advertisement.”

“Okay,” I say absently. “Wenn?”

“Sieben Uhr,” Amber says.

I glance at the clock. It’s quarter to. “Schiess!” I curse and quickly start gathering my things to get to the meeting.

“Tut mir leid,” Amber says meekly, helping me gather my things.

“Nein, nein,” I shake her off. “It’s not your fault.”

“Okay,” Amber says, clearly humoring me.

“Seriously,” I say, blowing my hair out of my face. “It’s not,” I’m halfway out the door when I call out, “And can you go through my emails and answer the ones you can?”

“Sure!”

I can barely hear Amber’s response as I’m hurrying down the hallway. I almost trip over my heels and manage to catch myself just as I’m crossing the threshold of the meeting room. I look up to see four younger looking guys and an older looking man, the man talking sternly to the boys.

“Hello,” I say neutrally. “Welcome to Cherry Publishing, can I help you?”

“Yes,” the man says importantly, coming forward to hold his hand out for me to shake. “My name is Paul Higgins, and I’m the manager for One Direction.”

I shake his hand firmly then drop it when the name One Direction registers. That’s Louis’ band. He is a member of the biggest boy band in the world, and they’re standing in my conference room. I blink several times and I can recognize a few of them from the tabloids I’ve read about Louis. Harry Styles, for one, is suspected to be in love with Louis, at least, that’s what the fans think and most of them love it, and the other one- Zayn Malik- who was busted for getting high with Louis a while back but was still a huge scandal. I don’t understand why, but they’re standing in my conference room.

“Hello, boys,” I address them directly. “Nice to meet you, but I’m afraid I don’t know all of your names.”

Harry smiles. “No problem, I’m Harry Styles, pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kirsche, and I must say I really like your accent.”

I smile as well and shake his outstretched hand. “Thank you, I find yours captivating as well.”

I turn to the blonde one, and he grins, revealing bright white teeth. “Niall Horan, nice t’meet you,” he says with a thick Irish accent.

I nod back at him, shaking his hand, and then the other one I don’t know butts in. “Hi, I’m Liam Payne, nice to meet you, Ms. Kirsche, really.”

I chuckle despite myself. “Nice to meet you too, Liam Payne.”

Liam smiles wide and I find myself smiling back as the last boy introduces himself.

“I’m Zayn Malik, nice to meet you, Ms. Kirsche,” he says, shaking my hand, revealing a sleeve of tattoos.

“Nice to meet you Zayn,” I say, and then the introductions are over.

“There’s usually one more, but he tried to pretend he was sick today, his name is Louis Tomlinson, he’s always pulling some crap of why he can’t come to boring meetings, “ Paul says, sounding quite bored of Louis’ antics. “So yeah, he has to agree with whatever we come to, since he’s not here to protest.”

“Alright,” I say, not sure how to answer to that. “So what are we here to agree upon?”

“Ah, you didn’t know?” Mr. Kiggle, my vice-president comes in behind me smoothly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I ease his hand off me, feeling repulsed by his touch, as he’s old enough to be my father. “I thought that having One Direction in a commercial would be great advertisement.”

“Yeah, great,” I say through gritted teeth. “But why didn’t you talk to me about it first?”

“I thought you were busy with other things,” Mr. Kiggle says cheerfully.

My eyes narrow and I point towards the door. “Out, now.”

Mr. Kiggle’s smug look fades. “But-”

“Jetzt,” I say firmly, pointing towards the door again. Like a kicked puppy, Mr. Kiggle slowly turns around and walks towards the door, leaving in a huff. With a sigh, I turn to Paul and the boys again. “Sorry about him, so being in a commercial, yeah?” when no one answered me, I become self-conscious of their shocked stares.  “What?” I ask.

“You… so… stern?” Harry says, sounding confused.

“What, Mr. Kiggle? He’s a bit of an idiot, but a hard worker, so I can’t let him go, unfortunately,” I say casually.

“Didn’t expect you to have this much power over your company at a young age,” Paul says appraisingly.

I shrug. “I think it’s the German, actually, people listen when I yell in German.”

Niall whistles slightly. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

I chuckle, but continue with the meeting. After a half an hour, we have worked out that One Direction will be talking about how much they hate reading, then find my works and really enjoy them, and then sing Midnight Memories, except instead of partying , they’re reading. Personally, I think it’s kind of dumb, but it’s the best we could come up with and let’s be honest here, it’s One Direction, they could breathe and girls would try to buy the air.

“So how much will it cost to “rent” One Direction?” I question, asking the million dollar question.

Paul smiles slightly. “About 21,000 dollars.”

I almost choke on my spit. “You’re worth that much?!” I ask incredulously.

They all smile and shrug, as if they don’t really care about how much they cost people.

“That’s the price, unless you’re willing to pay more,” Paul says.

“You’re joking, right?” I ask weakly. “Who would willingly pay more?”

“So are you up for this deal, or not?” Paul asks, glancing at his watch.

I meet each boy’s eyes, and they all nod eagerly, as if they really want to do this commercial, and I turn to smile at Paul. “It’s a deal.”

_______________________________________________________________

so, i think i'm getting back into this fanfic, yay or nay? i think it's great :) so here it is, i hope you like it, Louis coming next chappy, be prepared y'all, you ain't prepared for this shizz. so the german is understandable, yeah? if you dont' get it, just leave a comment asking me, i'll translate it to english for ya, and pretty pretty please head over to my question book and ask me questions, bc i like answering them, they're fun :) so yeah, that's it, enjoy! Bye!

Love ya!

-T A Y L O R