“Well this is a great start,” Ray said sarcastically “Are you not capable of being on time?” It took me a moment to realise she was talking to me.

 “Excuse me?” I said.

 “Well, we usually start at ten, Miss Summers,” my boss said in my defence “We weren’t expecting you so early. Freya is actually two hours early…Freya, this is Ray Summers.”

 No. No it’s not I thought Ray has dark hair and she smiles all the time. Ray calls people beautiful and writes her name in sparkles. This Ray looked like she wanted to shoot me, her dark eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. Her hair was hacked short, dyed white blonde, but she still wore her red hairband and purple lipstick.

 The word imposter crossed my mind. This can’t be the same Ray Summers I thought. And yet the girl sat before me did resemble her a little. And the red headscarf and lipstick weren’t a coincidence, I reasoned. And perhaps I’d heard Ray’s name and the words “rising star” mentioned on the radio…

 I’ll never know why I thought then that I knew her, just from one encounter on the streets. But right then, it physically hurt me that Ray had changed. Changed into someone rude. Arrogant. Different.

 “Hi, Ray,” I said after a short pause “I’m Freya. I’ll be with you all this week.”

 “Swell,” Ray said simply, drawing the word out mordantly. I should have seen the response coming, but it still annoyed me enough to make me scowl. I quickly regained my composure. If I have to spend all week with her, I’d better get used to it I thought.

 Two of the editors, Emma and Ed were just coming into work, and they stopped when they saw Ray sat at the desk. Emma looked a little bit star struck, her brown eyes wide in amazement.

 “Ray Summers?” she said questioningly, as though she couldn’t believe her eyes. Ray curled her lip and I decided right then that I disliked her.

 “Yeah,” she replied.

 “I’m such a huge fan!” Emma said breathlessly “I have your new album already!”

 “Do you want a trophy or something?” Ray said rudely. The sparkle left Emma’s eyes as quickly as it had come, and she took a step back as though Ray had physically pushed her. I was about to say something, but Ed made a desperate attempt to save the situation, knowing full well we needed to all stay calm. He was good like that.

 “Me and Emma here are the editors, so we’ll probably be seeing more of you this week,” he said “I’m Ed, by the way.”

 “Ed the Editor? Really?” Ray said, smirking. Ed smiled along good naturedly.

 “I didn’t choose my name,” he pointed out.

 “But you did choose your job,” Ray retorted. She stood up, not even wavering on her six inch heels. “Well? Are you coming?” she said to me. I tried not to feel intimidated and nodded confidently. But she wasn’t waiting for me anyway. She was already a few metres ahead by the time I’d finished nodding. I shared a glance with Gordon, who merely shrugged.

 “Have fun!” Ed said, grinning as I followed Ray back down the hall. I sighed, walking fast, but refusing to run to Ray’s side. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of trailing at her heels like some excitable puppy. Besides, when she got to the lift, she had to wait for it to come. She tapped her foot impatiently, her hand on her hip. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, having turned it on after Gordon failed to contact me. It was a text from Ed.

 What a diva it said.

 I smiled, making sure Ray wasn’t looking as I slipped the phone back into my pocket. The lift arrived and though people were trying to get out, Ray immediately pushed her way into the elevator. I rolled my eyes and got in too. We rode the elevator in a silence that made me want to run a mile the moment we got out.

 She’s a piece of work I thought as I watched her sashay her way out of the building without looking back to see if I was following. I took my time, unwilling to succumb to her stupid antics. Somewhere in the back of my mind, an image of the other Ray sat. The Ray that smiled.

 I’d never forgotten her. The original Ray. She was one of those people you brush shoulders with in life that you can’t seem to forget. One time when I was little, around five years old, I was trailing around the supermarket with my mum, and I saw a woman. She was in the same aisle as us, piling baked beans into a basket. And the moment I saw her, I thought she was beautiful. Just beautiful. She was tall and elegant, with curvaceous hips and perfectly painted nails. Her skin was dark and smooth looking, and her afro hair was pulled back in a fuzzy bun. I can remember every detail about her, though I don’t remember Christmas from that year, or anything specific that happened in school. It was just the way it worked, and she stuck in my mind.

 And I remember walking over to her. Because when you see something beautiful, you just want to touch it, experience it. My mum didn’t see me until the woman laughed. I was stood by her, trying to reach her hair to see if it felt like clouds. (I was always certain clouds felt like cotton wool) Of course, my mum pulled me away straight off, apologising profusely to the woman. She sat me down in the kids trolley seat and wheeled me away. And that’s what it felt like with Ray. No matter how time passed, I remembered the girl who sang on the streets.

 I didn’t want to remember new Ray. In fact, I wanted to forget her. I wanted to carry on believing Ray Summers was the girl I’d seen two years before. But she wasn’t. And I had a job to do.

 Ray had an expensive car, of course. Some sort of Mercedes. It was black with red leather seats. I made to get in the back seat, but Ray raised her eyebrows.

 “What are you, five? Ride in the front seat with me.”

 I hated her patronising tone. I slammed the door hard to make a point and got in the seat next to Ray’s. She didn’t even wait for me to have my seatbelt on before she began to drive. She didn’t drive particularly fast, but she made really jerky stops and starts along the way. I gritted my teeth and said nothing.

 At some point, a paparazzi car began following us and Ray’s driving got more erratic. I clung to my seat hard, trying to keep my face straight.

 “Damn it,” Ray said as she swerved another car. She fumbled in the side door pocket for a cigarette and dangled it from her lips “You have a light?”

 It was a request I was used to, and though I’ve never smoked, I always keep a lighter handy. I lit her cigarette, trying to ignore the feeling that I was some sort of slave to her. She puffed out smoke, filling the car with its choking fumes.

 “I really hate you people,” Ray muttered, glancing in her rear view mirror. I might have had some sympathy, if she wasn’t acting like such a bitch.

 “I’m not part of the paparazzi,” I told her “I’m just a reporter. I don’t take photos of people without their permission.”

 “Well, you’re snooping on my life either way,” Ray sniffed.

 “You signed up for this…Ray, slow down!”

  “Did I hell,” Ray said, running a red light. The paparazzi car got left behind “I wish I could shake them off,” she muttered.

 Maybe you should try getting a car that isn’t so damn expensive. Only a celebrity could afford this, so yes, Ray, it is pretty noticeable I thought irritably.

 It wasn’t a good start.