Try To Bullshit The Guards

Taking a deep breath, your curse softly as you stride confidently up to the door, tucking your press pass into your back pocket. No need for them to know who you actually are. Making your way to the guards, you nod politely at them and attempt to move between them, hoping that that would simply be enough to sneak past. However, as you thought, a hand planted itself on your chest, immediately stopping you, "Can we help you?"

"Just trying to do my job," you reply, glancing up at the gruff, chiselled jaw of the black-clad security guard.

"And what would that be? Attendants were meant to arrive hours ago. You don't look like an attendant," The second guard growled, stepping between you and the door, completely blocking my way.

"I'm a personal assistant. Not an attendant. Have been running errands for..." You retort, unable to finish the sentence as they stare at you impatiently.

"For who?" the first guard asks, those words ringing in your ears as you try desperately to think of a celebrity's name. Any celebrity. Any at all. But your mind runs completely blank.