The second you get out of the car, the lights from the paparazzi lights are blinding. People are yelling questions at you, fans behind them are screaming and frantically holding out items for you to sign, one girl even at the point of tears. The crowd is pushing against each other, trying anything to get even remotely close to you.

Which is where I come in.

I wrap one arm around your shoulders for guidance, my other arm pushing back the hoard of people as I lead you through. I’ve been your bodyguard for around 6 or 7 months now, so I have the routine down pretty well. You have other security detail as well, obviously, but I’m the only one stuck to your side practically 24/7.

Your manager hired me for you back in July after a few close-calls with a stalker. From what I’ve heard, you were adamant on not making a big deal out of it, but your team’s last straw was when you even received letters at your home address.

I do my best to make you as comfortable as possible, not wanting you to feel overwhelmed, although I do still take my job very seriously.