Management’s building was in the Financial District, so I probably should have left a lot early than I did. Not being from London, I forgot just how long it takes to get from one end to the other, especially when half of the Tube lines are closed for various reasons and I get lost more easily than anyone else I know.

Needless to say, I arrived twenty minutes late to my meeting and if I was nervous before, I was terrified now. Generally, I’m pretty confident around adults – for some reason I’ve never figured out, upon first meeting me, they tend to think I’m “mature”. Usually, this is because I’m meeting alongside Louis and compared with him, I probably seem like Margaret bloody Thatcher. But with this meeting, I knew that if it didn’t go well, I could very well be heading back to Doncaster the next day, rather than Chicago.

The building was incredibly tall and the long elevator ride only increased my anxiety. Everything about the building was cold and shiny and sterile, not inviting at all. The secretary on the 29th floor was the same exact way, with flashing white teeth, an impossibly tight bun and long red nails that clicked against the key board as she typed, ignoring me completely as I stood in front of her desk.

After a moment of awkwardness, I cleared my throat, and she looked up at me under thick eyelashes. She took in my appearance, and I suddenly wished I had put more of an effort into my appearance this morning. In my rush, I had seen no problem wearing ripped jeans, a flannel shirt and an old army jacket I had found a thrift store a few years back. This, plus the fact that I was still wearing my koala head beanie over my messy hair, made me feel slightly inadequate in front of the done-up, Prada wearing secretary.

Looking back to her computer screen, barely giving me a second glance, she said, “Can I help you?”

“Um, yes, I have a meeting. I’m a bit late you see and - ”

“Your name?”

“Oh, uh, JJ Tomlinson.”

There were a few more clicks on the keyboard. “Have a seat,” she said then. “He’ll be with you shortly.”

“Oh, right,” I replied, shuffling back to a couch against the far wall, pulling my beanie off and shoving it in my bag. It was oddly quite in the office, besides the tapping of the secretary’s nails.
In an effort to seem like I was doing something, I pulled out my iPhone and skimmed through it. That only entertained me for so long.

About ten minutes later, and after countless moves on Draw Something with the lads (who were clearly working hard at their concert rehearsal), the secretary finally spoke to me again.

“You can go in now.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” I replied, standing up and moving to the door behind her. She didn’t respond.

Pushing open the door, I was expecting to see some done up woman like the secretary, or some pot-bellied balding man with spectacles. I don’t know why that was what I pictured, it just was.
I was not expecting, however, to see Simon Cowell.

“You’re late,” he said, glancing up at me from some paperwork on his desk.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I replied eloquently. “Sorry about that.”

I had met Simon only once before, when he had come to my house years ago to talk with my parents in person about signing Louis and the rest of One Direction to his label. Needless to say, that was when I none-to-subtly hinted just what I thought of Simon at the time, and I doubted that he had forgotten.

“Well, have a seat,” he said, beckoning to the chair in front of his desk.

“Right,” I said, moving forward quickly, hyper aware of the fact that I had dragged in mud all over his white carpet. If he noticed, Simon didn’t say anything.

“So, Johanna,” Simon started, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands over his stomach.

“It’s JJ,” I replied automatically, but once I had said it, I blushed.

“Right,” he smiled. “Johanna Jane, Louis’s precocious little sister.” Yep, he definitely remembered. “And you want to go on tour with One Direction.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, my throat dry.

Simon laughed then and leaned forward across the desk. “Relax, JJ. I have no problem with you going on tour with the boys. To be honest, I’m surprised that you want to, but I’m okay with it.”

Sometimes, I was a little off-put by how much Simon knew about things, but I decided not to worry about it now. He had just given me the last permission that I needed.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling better.

“There are a few rules and things that we’ll need to go over of course. For instance, while the boys might think that they are running the show, you will need to listen to people other than them – Richard Mathis and Paul Higgins, for instance. What they say is final while out on the road.”

“Okay.”

“You're going to be expected to pull your weight. Louis has told me that you'll help out with a few of the assistants, running various errands and such?"

"That's right," I nodded.

"Good, this isn't going to be a free vacation for you. You are also going to be expected to behave yourself, especially when you are in the States. Seeing that you are Louis’s sister and from the small interaction I’ve had with you, I’m sure that you get into your fair share of trouble?”

“Well, I don’t know if – ”

“I’m not an idiot, JJ,” Simon said sharply, though not unkindly. “I’ve been dealing with kids your age for a long time, so don’t think I don’t know all the nonsense you can get into. How old are you?”

"Almost nineteen."

"Right, so there will be no drinking whatsoever while in the US. The last thing we need is for the boys or anyone involved with the boys to be busted for underage drinking. While in Australia and New Zealand, you are not to get out of control. And if you do get out of control, I better not see a word of it printed in a paper or up on YouTube, clear?"

I nodded.

"There is a curfew of 10:00pm when there are things scheduled for the next day, lights out by midnight. There will be no leaking any information whatsoever to the press, unless approved by Management first. You may get requests for interviews, but we get the final say on who you talk to.”

“Sorry,” I said, hesitantly interrupting. “But why would anyone want to interview me?” The mere thought of it was mind-boggling.

Simon sighed and looked at me. “Listen, JJ, how much do you know about One Direction?”
I blinked. “Um, I...Well, I...what do you mean, exactly?”

“I know you know the lads personally, maybe you aren’t best friends with them, no every minute detail, but you know them well enough to be considered mates, yeah?”

“I suppose so,” I replied, thinking back. Niall, Louis and Harry, definitely. I was still getting to know Zayn and Liam...

“But how much do you know about One Direction?” Simon asked again. I waited for him to clarify. “One Direction is a brand, not only a music group. There are hundreds of moving pieces. And each of those pieces plays a certain, very important role. Now, this is the same with any major artist, but with One Direction, they have something that makes life a bit more complicated. Do you know what that is?”

I wracked my brain, searching for an intelligent answer. Then, it hit me. “Stalkers.”

“I prefer to call them enthusiastic fans,” Simon chuckled.

“Right, yeah,” I blushed.

“But you’re right. One Direction have hordes of incredibly dedicated and enthusiastic fans, who know everything about them. And when I say everything, I mean it. The demand for knowledge regarding the boys, whether it be where they are staying, who they are dating, what kind of bloody cereal they eat for breakfast, is important to the fans.”

“But what does that have to do with me?”

“You are going to have unprecedented access to them,” Simon explained. “You aren’t their supervisor or employee, you’re their peer and you’ll be with them for weeks on end, doing everything with them. You also happen to be a teenage girl, living out the dream of millions of others.”

I gulped. I hadn’t really thought about it that way.

“And...and someone will want to interview me?”

“It’s possible,” he shrugged. “Granted, we aren’t about to go shouting off the rooftops that you’re going to be touring with them, but knowing these fans, they are bound to find out eventually. And when they do, get ready for a lot more attention.”

“Okay,” I sighed, trying to wrap my head around it all. I was never the center of attention, which always went to Louis. So the thought that thousands of girls out there would want to know about me was very strange, indeed.

"And lastly," Simon said, giving me a hard look. "You really cannot get involved with boys."

"Oh, I know," I said quickly, laughing slightly at the absurdity of it. "Believe me, I'm not planning on it."

"Right, well, I just need to make sure. And it's not only for their image, by the way. Yes, of course, it helps their popularity if they are single and it would certainly not look good if it seems you are one of their live in girlfriends. But it's more than that." I looked at him, confused about what other problems that might cause. "If you get involved and it doesn't work out, the dynamic of the group will be thrown off."

I blinked. "What?"

Simon sighed and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "JJ, when Louis called me last week practically begging for you to join them, if was very clear that he would literally do anything for you.”

I blushed then, embarrassed about the lengths Louis had gone to and simultaneously loving him with all my heart.

Simon continued. "Louis wanted you to come with them. And, as I’m sure you know, Louis always gets what he wanted. But say one of those lads breaks your heart...Harry is a good example. If you find yourself fancying Harry and he breaks your heart, do you really think Louis could forgive him? And even if Louis could, do you think their friendship would be the same?"

I thought about it, though the likelihood of that happening made it hard for me to take this last request seriously.

"Probably not..."

"Exactly. So, please, just watch yourself there."

“Got it.”

“Okay then,” Simon said, smiling again. “It sounds like we’re on the same page, JJ. I hope that you enjoy yourself.”

“Th-thank you,” I grinned back, pleased with how this whole event had gone. I sat there for another few seconds, waiting for Simon to say something.

“You can go now.”

“Oh, right, thanks.”

I jumped up and was back out the door in a hot second and back into the elevator a moment later. By the time I was back outside, it had started raining, but even that couldn’t dampen my mood. Not wanting to deal with the Tube again, I hailed a cab to take me home. The hurdle had been handled and I was officially off with One Direction.

**

Later that evening, I decided to take Simon’s advice, and I Googled the boys. What I found was incredibly disturbing.

“So,” I said to Louis, as he came into the living room, eating some Digestives. “Who is Larry Stylinson?”

He groaned and dropped onto the couch next to me. “Apparently, Harry and I are in a relationship,” he replied. “The fans gave it a name.”

“Apparently? Judging by these pictures, you most definitely are shagging each other every night.” I shuddered.

Louis laughed. “We enjoy winding them up a bit, to be honest. What are you doing, anyway?”

“Simon told me I needed to know more about you lot. Thanks for tell me my meeting was with him, by the way.”

“Anytime. And have you learned anything interesting?”

“Just reaffirmed my complete and all-encompassing fear of Directioners, as well as my concern for the future of civilization.”

“About us, I mean.”

“Oh.” I looked back at the list I had made. “Well, you apparently like girls who like carrots.”

“I swear, if I get another carrot hurled at my head I’m going to lose it.”

“Niall is obsessed with Nando’s Peri-Peri chicken, which is delicious, to be fair. Harry has four nipples. Weird. Zayn does nothing but look in a mirror all day and Liam is afraid of spoons.”

“Yeah, that about covers it,” my brother said, nodding. “You’re a bonafide Directioner now.”

“Yippee.”

“And you learned all of this from Wikipedia, I assume?”

“Tumblr, actually,” I replied, turning the computer screen toward him. “Which, is also terrifying. You never know what is going to be there as you scroll down. Some of it is just appalling.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “It’s just hard to comprehend how obsessive some of these girls are. I mean, I can understand loving a band and wanting to marry them and what not. If Adam Levine walked in here right now, my panties would be on the floor in a hot second. But I don’t know if I would publish that for the entire world to see.”

“They mean well,” Louis said, smiling fondly. “I don’t really understand it either, but for the most part they are really great.”

“Really?” I challenged. “There are sex fantasies, completely made up ‘facts’, and then some of them are just completely horrible – taking shots at Eleanor and Danielle, then at each other. Not to mention some of them are complete morons. Like this one,” I said, turning the computer to face Louis again. “This bitty has a picture of Niall next to a cardboard cut out of Charlie Chaplin and tags it as Hitler. What the fuck is wrong with the education system nowadays? Or this one: ‘I’m going to stop referring to them as the Four British and One Irish and start calling them the United Kingdomers’. Is she serious? Ireland isn’t in the United Kingdom, you twat!” I shouted at the screen while Louis laughed.

“I’m not defending the intelligence levels, just the love,” he said.

“It doesn’t even involve me and I’m annoyed by it,” I said, shutting the computer down. “I don’t know how you handle it.”

“It can definitely be too much at time. Especially the ones that go after the girls, I don’t consider them fans at all. But you get used to it, especially since you’re going to be going right through it with us.”

“Oh, joy.”

Louis grinned and gave me his last cookie. “We should probably head to bed,” he said, standing. “Early day tomorrow.”

“Right,” I agreed, getting up as well.

“You excited?” He asked, as we headed to our respective bedroom. I stopped at my door and smiled at him.

“Absolutely.”