Driving You Insane: How To Become Famous

DENOVA'S POV

"Look at them," I said to my best friend, Cameron as she munched away on a bag of Cheetos while I glared spitefully at my ex boss and his band of uncultured misfits. "Just sitting there, laughing and getting ready for the shoot. I should be in there right now!"

Cameron chewed loudly which agitated me even more, and I turned to pass my hard glare to her. She squirmed, getting the memo, and stopped chewing immediately.

"You said you didn't care about the shoot but here we are playing 'spy kids' on Chad and his poorly selected models. Which is it?"

"You think they were poorly selected too, right?" I asked, ignoring her question and dwelling on the fact that she also thought those girls in there were not worthy as well.

She sighed and kept the almost empty bag of Cheetos on the floor beside her.

"What are we really doing here?"

By here, she meant the front of Claireline Studio inside CBC department store, the biggest, luxurious and most expensive department store there ever was.

There was supposed to be a photoshoot for a new face cream that was produced by Clenton, a small cosmetics company that relied on how beautiful their models were for pushing sales instead of the contents of their products. I was supposed to be one of the models, but, the person in charge refused to let me be a part of it for petty reasons and my stupid agent agreed to it!

"I don't know, okay? I'm mad and I'm angry and I feel violated. He molested me and kicked me off the team because I wouldn't comply and now he's in there, surrounded by pretty girls and having a good time while I'm out here, jobless and slowly losing my mind because of how hurt and angry I feel, knowing that I can't do anything about it!"

Tears began to well up in my eyes and I blinked them away. Oh, the audacity of Chadwick to support Mr. Dinero after what he did to me! If I had the money, I'd sue them both.

Cameron's lips began to quiver, and she pulled me in and hugged me tight.

"Sweetie, I am so sorry that you went through that..."

"I want revenge," I said, interrupting what I'm sure would have been a heartfelt speech, suddenly feeling the need to pay Mr. Dinero back. Cameron backed away from our hug and stared at me like I had finally lost it.

"By revenge, you mean justice, right? As in going to the police and reporting this case so that he can be dealt with according to the law?"

I shook my head. "No. I mean mess him up real bad. Take matters into our own hands. Do something that he'll regret for the rest of his life."

"Denova..." she started in a warning tone but I cut her off sharply when I witnessed something unholy happening in the studio through the wall length glass window.

"OMG! Look at that. Just take a look at that, Cammie. He's at it again."

Inside the studio sat Dinero and a beautiful blond girl of about twenty on a two-sitter couch. She was clad in black leather pants, boots to match and a white tank top. Deniro's slimy hands were all over her, and, even though she clearly didn't like the contact made obvious by her constantly shrugging him off, his stupid asshole brain didn't register that and kept doing what he wanted. Disgusting pig!

"This is what I mean. The law wouldn't make him pay; they'll just ask him to pay a fine."

"Payment is still being made regardless," she responded ignorantly. I gave her a deadpan look.

"Don't be ridiculous Cameron. Just...don't."

Sighing, she bent to pick up her snack and continued her annoying munching noises.

"What do you want to do to him? Smash his head in? I was only joking Denova, jeez," she added when she saw the smile of approval on my face after she made that suggestion.

"I have a better idea. Follow me." And without warning I grabbed her by the wrist and hurled her over to the elevator that took us down to the basement parking lot.

"Mr. Dinero just got himself a brand new Rolls Royce. On installment."

Adrenaline coursed through my whole body as I eagerly searched for his Rolls Royce. I didn't know the plate number, but I knew it was bright red and that he parked it in the VIP spot even though he wasn't one.

"Denova, I don't think this is a good idea." There was panic and apprehension in her voice as she followed me reluctantly.

"You don't even know what I want to do," I replied while checking the logo on each of the vehicles parked in the VIP section. No Rolls Royce yet.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you want to do. Expensive car + penchant for revenge = serious trouble that you will get into if you don't stop this madness now."

"Too late. Already found it." I drummed my fingers triumphantly on the hood of the car while Cameron muttered profanities.

"Great. You found it, now let's go!" She was still holding the bag of Cheetos and I snatched it from her. Too bad it was empty.

"You can't do that," she complained as I tossed the empty bag on the floor. "That's littering."

While she was bending to pick up my trash, I was taking off my earrings and getting it ready to be used as a writing tool.

"The thing is, dear best friend, I am so out of it right now that I don't even care about the rules. Heck, I don't even care about the rules of grammar!"

An ear piercing shriek escaped from Cameron's throat, and while she was screaming her head off with her blue eyes getting bigger each time her pitch rose, I was busy laughing at the master piece in front of me.

I had clumsily carved out the words 'Deniro is a ashule' on the side of his car. I even added a smiley face emoji that somehow ended up looking like a smiley devil emoji.

"We are so dead. We are so dead, Denova. We are going to jail. I am going to get fired and we are going to jail!" She kept repeating "we are so dead" pacing up and down the empty lot like a mad woman. Then she suddenly stopped her mad walk and pointed at the writing on the car door.

"You even spelt his name wrong!" Cameron scratched at the misspelled name as if that was going to magically erase it, and when it didn't work, groaned loudly and tapped it vigorously. "It's 'Dinero' not 'Deniro'! How do you not know how to spell your boss' name?"

I shrugged my shoulders and ignored her, because it really didn't matter to me.

Let's see how you'll get rid of this one now, you piece of sh-

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

My thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice from behind. I spun around swiftly and was met with a hard face and a cold glare of a suited man.

Shit!

His eyes shifted to the inscription on the car and then back at me, colder and harsher.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked again. Cameron and I exchanged worried glances, but I could tell she was more worried than I was.

Without waiting for a response from either of us, he took out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"I'm sorry sir, but there seems to be a problem with your car..."

Cameron tugged at my sleeve while the other man relayed the issue to who seemed to be the owner of the car on the other end of the line.

"What is it?" I hissed at her when her tugging became too much. Slowly and with a shaky finger, she pointed at a car parked next to the one I drew on. My face turned white.

Shit!

Parked right next to the red Rolls Royce that I inscribed on was another red Rolls Royce sitting prim and proper. With the luck I had, I had a strong feeling that car belonged to Dinero.

Why the hell didn't I notice that before? How did I miss it?

"What's going on?"

Deep, sexy and scary, that's how the owner's voice sounded. Cameron was the first to look at him. I prayed silently for the ground to open up and swallow me.

I saw his shoes when he walked passed me to take a good look at the mess I made. It was one of Bentorhys-Ciaga's new releases.

"You spelt 'asshole' wrong." That was when I looked up at him.

Dark hair that was combed back, beautiful brown eyes, thick sculpted brows, a finely chiseled jaw and lips that just drew you in; the man before me was no man at all; he was a demigod!

"And you wrote 'a' instead of 'an'. And your handwriting's terrible. I can't even find a reason to not be mad right now."

"Mr. Sir, I...I..."

In all my 19 years on earth, I have never been at a loss for words. This was most definitely going down in history as one of the most embarrassing things that ever happened to me.

"Miguel?" he called to the man we met earlier. "Call my lawyer. They can be sued for property damages right?"

Cameron choked and probably died and came back while I looked like a fish out of water.

"Wait a minute sir!" I screeched and grabbed on to his arm. He stared at my hand on his arm like he intended to laser it off. I quickly pulled away.

"There seems to be a big misunderstanding." He raised a perfectly sculpted brow at me questioningly, probing me to rectify the mistake.

"I thought this," I pointed at his car, "belonged to someone who deserved to have their car scratched, but clearly I was wrong. I meant you or your car no harm."

"And yet here we are." I almost melted at the sound of his voice. Damn it was sexy.

"I just got this car yesterday Miss. Not even up to 24hrs and it looks like something that belongs in a junkyard." Then he turned to Miguel and added, "Call my lawyer."

I was shaking like a leaf in autumn. Cameron was trying hard to not cry and pass out in that moment. Mr. Rolls Royce was standing like a perfect statue, glaring hard at the inscription on his car. I bet he wanted to inscribe something on me just like I did to his car!

With the three of us occupied by our own thoughts, no one noticed the car that was heading towards Miguel from the opposite direction until it was too late.

The sound of him being crashed into, flying over the hood of the black truck that hit him, and then rolling down the parking lot floors sent us all into overdrive.

Mr. Rolls Royce yelled out profanities as he rushed to his driver's side and I quickly pulled out my phone to call 911. Cammie was busy muttering nonsense to herself which had me convinced that she had completely lost it.

After I hung up, I joined Mr. Rolls Royce by Miguel's side, assisting him in stopping the blood that was gushing out of Miguel's skull. While he looked pale and lifeless, his boss looked quite the opposite. I had never seen eyes that angry and thirsty for blood.

Mr. Rolls Royce looked like he knew who did this to his driver and he had every intention of paying them back a hundred folds.