Camera Flashes (1) - Taylor Swift

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Taylor breezed around her kitchen in a way that Grace had to admire. She ran the coffee maker as if she had it down to a science, she knew where every pot and pan was even in a rental that came furnished and she seemed to know just how much butter you should put on a slice of toast.

Grace stared at her longingly from where she stood in the doorway, Taylor still was yet to notice she had even come down. There was a mug on the countertop that had a coffee with two scoops of sugar in it calling her name, and Parker was sitting on the barstool making small talk with the singer because for the first time, he was alone with her.

"She really doesn't drive you nuts?" He asked, just making sure because he knew how terrible Grace's company could be, "Like, seriously?"

"No, she's great," Taylor laughed, she flipped an egg in the pan and considered if she should crack another in or wait for the first to be done, "She's like, how do I say it? She's homey in a weird way, and she shouldn't be because I'm sure in a past life she came with claws and talons, but she is."

Grace didn't want to interrupt, she wanted to see just how long she could get away with standing there before someone noticed. She was very good at sneaking around, but she hadn't even meant to go unseen, she just did.

Taylor continued on, she decided to crack that second egg after all, "I guess I just don't see the side of her that you see. She's performative in a lot of ways."

"She is," Parker could agree on that.

At that moment, not wanting them to get into the nitty gritty of her personality because she wasn't even sure what it was anymore, Grace pretended to walk in as if she hadn't been there all along, "Good morning."

"Hi," Taylor turned to look at her with an instant blush, "I'm making eggs, do you want some?"

"Yes, thank you," Grace looked at the coffee cups, "Is this for me?"

"Yeah, it should still be hot. I just made it a couple minutes ago, two sugars."

"Whiskey?" Parker actually reached into his suit jacket to pull out the flask. It was habit.

"No," Grace shook her head, "Don't be absurd, Parker, it's not even ten in the morning."

Parker eyed her suspiciously, almost not believing it, "Alrighty then."

"Grace, you have whiskey in your coffee every morning, don't you?" Taylor lost her smile, Grace knew she was caught.

"I'm not an alcoholic. It's a self diagnosed disease and I am not diagnosing myself with anything," the heiress inadvertently answered.

"She is," Parker sipped his coffee nonchalantly.

"I hate that I cannot fire you," Grace sighed, he was far too valuable. Another security guard would never let her away with half of the shit she did. She knew Parker worked the hardest out of all of them just to keep her in the clear.

"I knew it," Taylor said. She had her suspicions and it seemed sometimes that Grace forgot that the taste of alcohol would linger on her lips and breath.

Taylor didn't know what to do about that, she wasn't sure she could do anything. Hold an intervention? Yeah, that would go over well with Grace's family. She didn't know her well enough to feel she could comment, even though that worried her greatly.

"It used to be tasteful to always have a drink in your hand, when did that stop?" Grace asked as if she had been around for the decades that was the sign of luxury.

"Long before you were born," Parker chimed in again.

"You're enjoying this," Grace looked at him with a dry, unamused tone in her voice.