Britney replied. Sharp as a tack and as weak as cardboard.
"Are those real?" asked the middle aged reporter with a sarcastic smirk on his face.
She looked down at her chest then to her assistant Fe. Fe blinked and ask the reporter to ask another question.
He sighed at not having that tough question answered. "Where did you get the title of your album from?"
She smiled pin-up style and gave him the rehearsed answer. The press conference would be over soon. She kept telling herself but the clock on the wall betrayed her. She bit her lip as she contemplated making a bold move. She took a drink of water, smirked, and politely excused herself from the conference.
She knew the media would write her up as a rude stuck up bitch but she didn't give a fucking shit, hell they had said a lot worst about her. Fe gave her a questioning yet warning look. The interviewers looked at each other with confusion on the minds and written on their face. How dare she leave during her Spanish Inquistion!
Britney walked past Fe defiantly. She bust down the double doors and ran screaming down the lone street and bright lights. She tore off her overpriced earrings, stripped her body of the expensive clothes, and flung her Versace shoes across the street.
The glass of a nearby apartment window shattered and fell on the street. She ran over naked and free. She picked up a piece of glass with her finely manicured hands. She brought the piece of the glass to her wrist. She laughed at the blood running over her tanned skin.
Britney woke with a smile on her face and cackled like a mad woman. Christina slowly turned over to look at her. Looking at her with tired eyes, she said
"You had that dream again didn't you? I swear I don't know what the hell's wrong with you. I've never fucked anybody so morbid in my life. You really should get that checked out. I don't even know why I stay with you-." Britney pressed her lips against hers. She moaned slightly. She pulled the sheet back over their naked bodies.