Shooting Stars Read Online Free Page B

with his wife. I shoot nonstop, and while my camera’s faltered chug-a-chug-chug doesn’t sound like Aaron’s, I get shots—a few of which will end up in focus. Aaron and Brian get pictures from their angles, and we’ll put them together in one set. Maybe we’ll make nothing, or maybe we’ll make a few hundred. “Gas money,” Aaron says.
    Big money, I think. I haven’t made more than a hundred-a-day in years.
    Gwen departs, and the paps scurry off in every direction, like ants after their hill has been stepped on. Except for Brian and Aaron. They stay on the sidewalk and keep chatting.
    â€œThree sets in the bag ,” Aaron says referring to Halle’s, Patrick’s, and Gwen’s pictures. “Let’s just enjoy it.” Then he scoops two more lint-flecked sunflower seeds out of his pocket and pops them into his mouth.
    I stand at Aaron’s side awkwardly, listening to him talk to Brian about work and celebrities but not being included in the conversation or knowing exactly how to join. Brian won’t even look at me.
    Aaron tells me later that when Brian first saw me, he remarked, “ She’s a pap? How’s that gonna work?”
    Aaron explains: “Don’t get me wrong, Jen. We all think it’s nice to have birds around [girls, he means]. We just aren’t sure how to ‘integrate’ you.”
    I don’t see this as an immediate concern. I mean, I’ve never had problems making friends before. But as one of approximately six female shooters among hundreds of Los Angeles paparazzi, I will soon discover how hard “integration” really is.
    The respite outside the Ivy is short. Aaron’s Nextel beeps. It’s J.R. with a tip: Matthew Perry is at the ArcLight cinemas.
    â€œAwesome! I love Friends !” I gush.
    Aaron and Brian look at me like I have three heads. “He’s worthless,” Aaron says. “But there are worse ways to end the day.”
    I can tell that even if “Matthew is worthless,” Aaron is still running high on Halle, Patrick, and Gwen-drenaline.
    â€œYou coming?” he says to Brian.
    â€œHell, yeah.”
    * * *
    At the famous Hollywood theater off Sunset Boulevard, Brian takes an obscure hiding place on the second story of the parking deck, and Aaron and I position ourselves on the ground level. Even though I tell him, “I really want to see Matthew,” he faces me twenty feet away from the theater’s exit, toward him and his camera. Aaron plans to shoot—literally—through the crook of my elbow, and apparently if I face out,that will look strange to Matthew, and he will know subconsciously that something is off and may cover his face. “No celeb’s ever gonna notice you with your back toward them,” Aaron says.
    We don’t have to wait long. Matthew exits before the movie lets out, we take shots, and he never sees us. I get to see the back of his head once he passes.
    â€œAnd that’s how it’s done,” says Aaron.
    Our shooting day is over. It was fruitful, but I shouldn’t expect that every day, Aaron warns. We also still have a couple of hours of editing ahead of us, but that’s OK with me. I’m falling in love. We go to Starbucks, and I watch Aaron knock out a preliminary cut and edit on his laptop. We probably have a hundred shots of Halle, Gwen, and Matthew altogether, but only edit and send in the best ten or so of each. Brian will do the same with his shots. I have just five of Dempsey and we send in two—two that are actually medium-sharp! The editors at the agency will combine the sets and take another crack at editing. “They like to feel useful,” Aaron says, “so they usually make a few adjustments. Mostly they just resize though.” By midnight, or sooner, the pictures will be posted to CXN’s website and sent out via email to all major magazine and blog editors and to CXN’s