Eff Ariana's career. As we walked down the Red Carpet at the Emmy's, I was cursing Cassandra in Portuguese, French, and Farsi. Ariana posed the smiled for then cameras, as if nothing had happened this summer was she was still the girl from the Grammys. Her silky bright pink dress sparkled in the lights, twinkling as she turned and posed and smiled and waved. I tried to copy her, but I was struggling. I felt uneasy about being in Los Angeles. We may be at a red carpet event, surrounded by people and security guards, but that doesn't mean we're one hundred percent safe. Look at what happened at the Grammys! Her career is supposed to be on a temporary hold!
"Ariana, are you sure this was the best idea. I mean, remember the Grammys?"
Ariana gave me a look over her shoulder.
"Of course it's okay, Ember. Come on. The Grammys were that one time. They won't try that again."
I opened my mouth to argue that indeed, they would try that again, but she started walking away as fast as she would dare in seven inch Michael Kors stilettos. Unfortunately for her, I've sprinted in heels before. Across cobblestones. In Italy. While being chased by an assassin. If anyone knows how to walk in heels, it's me.
"Ariana McGallen! Come here, darling."
Standing on a pedestal, surrounded by cameras and reporting for the E! network, was Ryan Seacrest. I grabbed her arm, but she tugged it away, flashing me an annoyed glare as she stepped onto the pedestal. Ryan Seacrest stood closer next to her, as to both be seen by the camera. Her honey blonde hair, tossed over her shoulder and straightened paper thin, reflected the lights. I stood by the pedestal, crossing my arms over my chest and scanning the crowds. Somewhere in the distance, someone was cussing in German, followed by another person screaming, "OMG! Does anyone here speak German?" Suddenly, Ariana turned around.
"Lissy does!" she said, using my alias.
My head snapped towards her. She raised here eyebrows, waving her hand in a fashion that said Go! I rolled my eyes, groaning, and walked over to the two. A German actress, looking annoyed and distressed, and the stage crew guy watched me.
"I speak German." I told the stage crew guy.
He visibly relaxed as he turned to face me.
"Oh, thank God. Please tell me what this psycho bitch is trying to tell me!"
I sighed, turning to face the actress, who glared at me. We spoke back and forth in German, and I almost laughed when I found out what she wanted. She wants to know where the bathroom is! Oh, English. I then turned to the stage guy.
"She wants to know where the bathroom is."
His jaw dropped. I laughed then.
"That's it? Well, tell her it's-"
"I know where it is." I told him.
Back to the German actress. I told her where the bathroom was. She thanked me, smiling an a thousand dollar smile and walking away. I rolled my eyes, walking back over to Ariana's pedestal. She finished up her interview and we made our way back to the cameras and press and paparazzi and fans of the Emmys.
(To my German readers out there: I wasn't trying to discriminate in any way to you guys! Personally, I have friends who are German. Well, they have German blood but they're still German. I've always wanted to go to Germany-along with England, Scotland, Portugal, and about 37 other countries-and wouldn't mind learning German either. So, please don't take offense! It was the first language that popped into my head at the time! Love you guys! Bye!)
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