Superstar

Chapter 1 - Fearless

We're drivin' down the road
I wonder if you know
I'm tryin' so hard not to get caught up now
But you're just so cool
Run your hands through your hair
Absent mindedly makin' me want you

Taylor Daughtry stepped out of her 2005 powder blue Volkswagen Beetle a few days later. The car was her prized possession. She was able to buy it straight out with cash after a lucky break a year before.

She was hired to take photos of an up-and-coming country artist for their album. The artist went on to loose her record deal, but Taylor made a good $9,000 and purchased her first real car. It was something she had longed to do after driving her uncle's beat up pick-up truck around Nashville and the outlying cities to photo shoots.

The truck was a 1983 Ford something-or-another. She didn't know what kind of truck it was, but knew that it had seen its best day and she needed something new.

She needed something that said she was somewhat of a professional, even if her office was based out of the apartment she shared with her roommate, who worked as an assistant to a huge music manager and was barely ever at home.

She reached in her backseat and grabbed her camera gear. She had been saving up to buy expensive equipment since she graduated high school. She finally had enough regular clientele that she could expand her collection to several cameras and lenses, something that she had always wanted to do.

Everyday when she walked through her apartment building's lobby, she would be stopped by Ms. Mary, an older woman who lived alone with her five cats: Cindy, Marsha, Jan, Alice and Carol – all named after the females on the Brady Bunch.

Ms. Mary would constantly ask if she had brought any boys around lately. Taylor would always reply no, that she was too busy and hadn't met anybody. She would then ignore the old woman while she sifted through her mail.

"See you tomorrow, Ms. Mary," Taylor said as she began walking up the stairs to the second floor, where her apartment was.

As she unlocked the lock to her apartment, she opened the door to see roommate, Tori, in the kitchen. She could smell that she was cooking something.

"Hey, you're home?" Taylor asked as she tossed Tori's mail on the coffee table.

"For two days," Tori, a short, skinny brunette, said. "Then I have to go back out with Keith Urban for two weeks."

Taylor fantasized with Tori's life a little – the traveling, the concerts, the hot musicians. She just wished her life was like that.

"Oh, you might want to check your business machine. Some guy named Nick called a few minutes ago," Tori said as she continued to work in the kitchen.

Taylor froze and stared at her roommate.

"Nick?" she asked.

"Yeah, he said you two met at a bar," she said.

Taylor didn't hesitate. She rushed over to her small corner office and hit the button on her message machine.

"Hey Taylor, its Nick. I met you the other night at the bar watching the race. Anyway, I wanted to call and see about the locations for the house and also, I went to your web site. You didn't tell me you were a photographer. I might have some work for you. So just call me – oh, wait. Your address is on here. It's 5:32 in the afternoon... I'll just stop by later. See ya!"

"What?!?" Taylor exclaimed, grabbing her cell phone to look at the time.

6:15 p.m.

"Oh my God," she muttered, running into her bedroom.