Abby Brewer

Justin Timberlake

Megan Reynolds

Eric Rhodes

Molly Taylor

Trace Ayala

All Images Takes From A Google Image Search

"Brewer, whadda ya got?" Eric Rhodes demands as he glares at me from his spot at the head of the table.    

Like he doesn't already know the answer to that question.    

"Umm..." I sit up and flip through the folder in front of me and let out a small groan. I knew it. "Nothing."    

"Not surprising." He mutters and rolls his eyes. "Take Sunset. And take Reynolds with you... if she ever decides to show up."    

"You got it." I nod before gathering my paperwork and stuffing it into my messenger bag. "Anything else?"    

"Yeah... try not to spill anything on anybody this time." He smirks as the room erupts in laughter. I quickly flip him off, grab my bag and head out of the conference room.    

One day... I'm going to find a job that pays well, doesn't make me feel like shit, and most importantly... doesn't come with a douche bag for a boss.    

Fat chance of that, I know.    

I'm still kind of the new kid around here, so I guess it's only natural that I catch shit for every little mistake I make. But in my defense, they should have known my first week was too early to throw me to the wolves.    

When I graduated from UCLA with a degree in commercial photography, I was delusional enough to believe that the big name magazines would jump at the chance to hire a rookie.    

Believe me, it was quite the wake up call when Rolling Stone wouldn't even give me an interview based on my lack of experience. I tried several other magazines, and even a few small time newspapers, but nobody would bite.    

Apparently, it's become impossible to land a job without experience. Which is a pretty shitty rule, really. How the hell do you gain experience, with no job?    

Whoever thought that line up, really ought to do some self evaluating because clearly, their priorities are a bit fucked.    

So... I was forced into the lowest form of photography known to man.    

I managed to land myself a job with a celebrity gossip magazine.    

I had to let go of every last ounce of my integrity and spend time hanging around outside clubs, bars, restaurants, hotels.. you name it.    

If there's even an off chance that a celebrity could show up, we're required to be there. It's time consuming, slightly shameful, and sometimes boring as shit, but the money... the money is so damn good it's ridiculous.    

The magazine is willing to pay it's photographers outrageous amounts for something as simple as catching Brad Pitt in the grocery store.     

But... the stuff that really brings in the big money, are those compromising shots.     

A drunken heiress, the a-list actor falling on his ass, a pop princess snorting coke.    

That's the kind of shit people pay the big bucks for. If it'll tarnish an image, I stand to make a load of money off of it.    

And that's why I do this. I'm not out to hurt anyone or destroy reputations, I just really need the money.     

I've got student loans to pay off, an apartment, a car payment, credit card bills. It doesn't really justify it or make me feel better about invading someone's privacy, but that's the fact. I just need the money.    

Plus, this gets me the experience I'll need for a respectable job, so for now... this is just what I have to do.    

I round the corner to my cubicle and roll my eyes when I spot Megan at my desk, playing solitaire on my computer.    

I love this girl to death, I really do. But sometimes I wonder how she still has a job. She started with the magazine as a columnist, a few months before I did and from what I can tell, real work has never been her top priority. She'll screw around until the absolute last second, whip up this incredible story and blow people away.    

I guess that's why Eric keeps her around. She's landed more covers in six months, than most of the reporters here have gotten in five years. She knows her shit, and somehow... she gets the most reliable sources anyone can find.     

I'm not quite sure why they usually team the two of us up, but I'm definitely not complaining. There's a few folks around here that are sleazy enough to make your skin crawl. So, I'll take Megan and her procrastination over the creepers, any day.    

"You missed the staff meeting to screw around on my computer? Eric's gonna fry your ass."    

"He'll get over it." She gives me a dismissing wave and shakes her head. "What shithole is he shoving us in today?"    

"Sunset." I sigh and toss the folder on my desk.    

"Seriously? After the coffee incident, he's actually giving you Sunset?"    

"Apparently." I shrug.    

Why is it, people can't ever remember when you do something right, but they never forget what you fuck up?    

Like I said, I'm still the new kid.. so screw ups are inevitable. But, there isn't much room for error in this line of work and that's a lesson I've had to learn the hard way.    

My first week with the magazine, Megan and I were sitting outside of a starbucks, minding our own business and waiting to spot somebody. A mob of paparazzi showed up out of fucking nowhere and a few minutes later, a black escalade pulled up.    

Scarlett Johansson climbs out and goes inside, and of course, everyone is piling up against the building, frantically trying to get their shots in, and I was no exception. She comes back out a few minutes later and the crowd closes in on her.    

Being a good bit smaller than the other male photographers, I got pushed right up front and was practically standing on top of the girl. I can tell you with full confidence, that balancing a camera in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, is no small feat.    

When the crowd moved again, I lost my grip on the cup and dumped it down the front of Ms. Johansson's shirt. She screamed, I took off and I have yet to live any of it down.    

It sucks, but that's life, I suppose.    

And of course, Eric was beyond pissed and has since given me every shit assignment that's come up.    

Until today.    

Today, I've been given the opportunity to get some amazing shots, which means, I also get the chance to increase my paycheck, and that's always a plus.    

"Come on." I nod as I throw my camera bag over my shoulder and grab my folder.     

This is my first decent assignment since the coffee debacle. Dear God, please don't let me screw it up.

**************    

"Megan.. come on.. you've gotta get us out of this." I mutter and I glance out the window.     

"Oh sure.. I'll just put on the bat wings and fly us the fuck out of here." She rolls her eyes angrily and sighs. "It's Sunset.. what the hell did you expect?"    

Alright yeah... like any L.A resident, I know the traffic on Sunset Boulevard is bumper to bumper damn near all day. But we can't afford to sit here for another two hours.     

If I don't go back to the office with something, I don't even want to think about what kind of crap ass assignments Eric will send me on.     

Hell, there could even be a demotion in my very near future.     

Or, maybe not.    

I spot a blue BMW pulling into a nearby restaurant and roll down the window. I can just barely make out a figure, decked out in dark shades and a baseball cap pulled low over his face.     

There's somebody in that car. I haven't got the slightest clue who, but it's... somebody.     

"Think you'll be here for awhile?"    

"Seriously? You're seriously asking me that?"    

"Whatever. Doesn't matter." I sigh and shake my head, quickly digging my camera out of the bag. "If this ever clears up... circle back and pick me up."

"What? Abby.. what the hell are you doing?"    

"I think I saw somebody... and if I don't go back with some decent shots, Eric's gonna fucking kill me."    

"If by kill, you mean, put you on developing duty.. then yes." She chuckles and shakes her head. "Go. Be careful.. call me if you need anything. And take notes!"        

I roll my eyes and quickly climb out of the car, jogging across the street. I spot the valet right away and before I can so much as make it to the door, he stops me dead in my tracks.    

"Did you need something, miss?"    

"Uhh.. no.. I think I'm covered. Thanks."    

"We don't allow the media in our establishment."    

"Right." I nod and roll my eyes.    

He's atleast confirmed my suspicion that somebody was in that damn car, and that's good enough for me.     

And as luck would have it, there seems to be an outside terrace, but the large privacy fence is doing nothing to better my situation.     

I look around, hoping for a bench, small wall.. anything that I can stand on to get a better look. But, I doubt even that would help my short ass see over the seven foot fence.    

There's only one thing I can do.    

I slide the strap of my camera over my shoulder and casually stroll up to the nearest tree. I take a quick look around to make sure no one's watching, and I hoist myself up. Let it be known that being short and scrawny definitely comes in handy when you have to do shit like this.     

I throw one leg over the largest branch and pull myself into a sitting position, smiling at my accomplishment. If Eric could see me now, I'm sure even he'd be proud of my little stealth operation.     

I peer over the fence and that's when I spot my target. Just as I suspected, he's... somebody. The hat and glasses are off and it's impossible not to recognize him, or the woman he's with, immediately.     

I snap a few pictures of them laughing, talking during their meal, and it doesn't take long before I'm completely bored with this entire thing.     

Just as I'm about to move from my spot and climb out of the tree, the couple rises from their seats and heads for the door.    

Shit.    

I don't know why, but unlike most photographers.. I try to make it a habit of not being seen. There's just something about that 'in your face' approach that doesn't sit well with me and I try my best to keep my distance.    

The two of them are in front of the building now, just several feet away from where I'm sitting and I freeze.     

They hug quickly, before the woman heads off in the other direction and the man slides on his hat and sunglasses again, then makes his way to the parking lot.    

Now's my chance to get my ass out of this tree, get back to the office and show Eric that I'm not a complete fuck up.    

I move to climb down the same way I got up, but my shoelace catches on another branch. I roll my eyes and groan and I try to move my foot, but no such luck.     

I grab onto yet another branch and try to untie my shoe with my free hand, and that's when my other starts to slip. I just barely reach my shoelace when I lose my grip completely and land on my back with a loud thud, my camera smashing into pieces on the ground, while my shoe still hangs from that damn branch.    

God damnit.     

So much for showing Eric that I'm competent, eh?    

"Oh shit... are you alright?" I hear laughter behind me and shut my eyes tightly.    

Only me. I swear.. this shit only happens to me.    

"Umm.. yeah, I think so." I nod and sit up, rubbing the back of my head slowly. And that's when I notice the egg sized bump that's quickly forming there.    

"That was a pretty shitty fall." He chuckles and extends his hand to help me up.    

"Yeah well.. me and grace don't go so well together." I mutter and wipe the dirt off my pants. "Thanks."    

"What the hell were you doing in a tree anyway?"    

"Oh.. umm... bird watching." I offer lamely and roll my eyes.     

Could I be a bigger tool?     

Probably not.    

"You need a doctor or anything?"    

"Nah.. I'm fine. Really... thanks though."    

"You're sure? I mean.. that's a big ass bump there." He chuckles and rubs the back of my head softly. "Look.. I can give you a ride to the hospital or something."    

"Really... I'm fine. No permanent damage." I nod and cringe at the pieces of my camera scattered around on the sidewalk.     

"Seriously?"    

"Yeah.. I'm good. Thanks for the offer though."    

"You might have a concussion."    

Jesus Christ... this guy doesn't give up, does he?    

"I'll get it checked out." I nod, hoping this will satisfy him and he'll walk away.    

"Alright, good." He smiles. "I'm Justin, by the way."    

"Abby."    

"Abby..." He repeats and nods slowly. "You get that looked at, alright?"

"Will do."    

"Good." He nods again. "See ya around." He gives me a small wave and heads for his own car.     

I roll my eyes and scramble to gather the pieces of my camera, muttering to myself the entire way.     

As if I didn't feel bad enough about invading his privacy in the first place, he just had to be all gorgeous and sweet and just... ugh.    

I so need a new fucking job.

"You actually bought the bird watching shit?" Trace laughs and shakes his head. "Damn.. I knew you were an idiot, I just never realized you were that stupid."

"You're an asshole." I mutter and roll my eyes. "And of course I didn't buy it.. I figured she was a fan or something. I was a little more concerned with the fact that she just fell out of the damn tree. You can die from a head injury, ya know."    

Believe it or not, I know my best friend is right.    

Offering to help that girl yesterday wasn't exactly the smartest thing I've ever done, especially since she was so obviously watching me but shit... she fell out of the God damn tree!    

She could have broken her neck, or busted her head open or something. I wasn't about to just leave her laying on the sidewalk. Sorry, but I don't want anybody dying on my account.    

Besides... I'm sure my checking up on her totally made her life or something.    

And, there was something about her self deprecating attitude that I kind of liked. She didn't scream in my face or cry, so she automatically gets points for that. And, she was actually kind of pretty in this completely subtle way.    

I sincerely doubt I'll ever see her again, but I'd almost like to, just to see if she's always that awkward.      

"So, you're not gonna get all weird about this, are you?" Trace asks and eyes me carefully.    

I'm not about to admit it, but I know exactly what he's talking about.     

I seem to have this habit of falling for a woman, way too quickly. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty face.     

It always happens the same way. We meet, I lose my shit over her, we date for awhile, one of us gets bored, it ends, and then I'm on to the next one.     

It's almost a vicious cycle, and I haven't quite figured out how to break it.     

It's just become impossible for me to meet interesting women. I go out, and it's always the same shit.     

Pretty girls with low IQ's.     

I'm not claiming to be a genius or anything, but I'd like to date someone who has a little more to offer to a conversation than the details on her newest pair of shoes, or what shade of eye crap brings out the green in her eyes.     

I don't care about that kind of shit. No sensible man does.     

I want somebody who can talk to me about movies or music, or politics or something completely off the wall and random.     

I just... I want something different. And I'll admit, there's been a few girls who were able to fool me into thinking they were that something different, but that front can only be put on for so long.     

If they aren't being completely real, I'll figure it out eventually. Might take some time, but I'll see through the act.     

"Nah, man." I laugh and shake my head.    

No point in worrying about someone I'll never see again, is there? 

*********************    

"Look... all I'm saying is, it could work. You've got the performing shit on the back burner, which means, I'm not doing a damn thing and it's just not working. I'm almost fucking broke dude."    

"Yeah, but.. I don't know... there's gotta be something..."     

"If there is, I haven't found it yet." He snorts and rolls his eyes. "Just.. think about it, alright?"    

"Yeah... yeah, I'll think about it." I nod slowly, mulling over what my best friend has just asked of me.     

I know where he's coming from, and I sympathize with him, but there's better ways to make money than what he's suggesting.     

And, it's partially my fault that he isn't working. His role as my assistant is solely for when I'm on the road and I've been off the road a pretty long damn time now. Naturally, that's impacting his bank account. I guess I could always just loan him the money or something.    

But then again... what he's asked me to do would be quick, and bring in a shit ton of money.    

So... we'll see.    

"This is where you want to eat? Seriously?" Trace rolls his eyes and groans. "Weren't you just here like two fucking days ago?"    

"They've got good spaghetti." I shrug stupidly.     

"Whatever man." He sighs as we head inside.    

Just before I enter the building, I take a quick look around and frown.     

Alright... I didn't come here for the spaghetti. Which, I'm sure you already figured out.   

I came here in the hope that maybe, with any hint of luck, Abby would be hanging around somewhere.     

I'm not gonna go into stalker mode and hunt her down or anything. I just... I'd like to see her again. I don't really know why, I just do.     

It's been two days since she fell out of that tree, and for some reason... she won't leave my mind.     

And that's when I remember.        

When she fell... she only had on one shoe.     

I head straight for the tree and take a casual look around, just to make sure no one's watching, and peer up into the tree.     

Yep.. it's still there.     

I hoist myself up and snatch the beat up Chuck Taylor low-top off of the branch and quickly hop down.     

"Dude...what the fuck are you doing? I've got our table." Trace calls from the doorway of the restaurant as I head in his direction. "What the hell is that?" He turns his nose up at the sight of me carrying a shoe that clearly isn't mine, and rolls his eyes. "Are you garbage picking? What are you doing?"    

"It's Abby's shoe." I shrug.    

I'm sure I look completely fucking insane... but I'm sure the girl wants her shoe back, right?    

"Oh my god..." He laughs loudly and shakes his head. "What the fuck is this? Cinderella? What happened to not getting weird about this one?"    

"I'm not getting weird... I figured she'd probably want her shoe back."    

"And exactly how are you gonna find her? Send a PI after her or something? Dude.. you're losing your damn mind."    

"Nah... I'll figure something out. Chill out man... it's not a big deal."    

"Right... I'll quote that back to you when you're ready to buy her a fucking ring on the second date." He mutters and rolls his eyes. "Can we eat now, or do you need to pull some socks out of the fucking sewer?"    

"Cute."    

He may be my best friend, but he's a total fucking prick when he doesn't understand something.     

I'm not saying it's normal to pull some random chick's shoe out of a tree, but shit... what if everything that happened the other day, was supposed to happen?    

I'm a firm believer in fate, and when things literally fall into your life, you don't just let that go.     

Besides... I seem to have stepped into my own twisted version of Cinderella, and that's pretty fucking cool, if you ask me.     

Aren't little mysteries what keep life interesting?    

The only problem now is, I haven't got the slightest clue where to find this girl.

Hell... I don't even know where to start looking.  

"You've got an in, Brewer. And we'll be using it to our advantage." Eric smiles wickedly and I swallow hard.    

I really, really don't want to do this.    

When I took this job, I had what I thought was a fool-proof plan. I'd stick it out here for a couple years, fly under the radar, get some experience under my belt and move on to a real job.    

I didn't want any special assignments. I didn't need my name tacked onto some earth shattering story. All I needed to do was build up a good portfolio, and get the hell out of here.    

But, it seems the powers that be have other plans for me.    

All because of a couple fucking pictures.    

It's almost comical when you think about it. The thing I've done to various celebrities is now being done to me and I gotta admit... it's no fucking picnic. Granted, I've never blackmailed anybody but that's neither here nor there.    

The bottom line is, somebody caught my little encounter with Mr. Timberlake on film and now, they're using it against me. They don't have much to back up the story they're creating, but they've got enough to make it believable.    

See... if Timberlake had just asked if I was alright and gone on his way, there wouldn't be a problem. But oh no... he had to get all good samaritan and stick his nose in where it didn't belong. And to top it all off, he just had to rub the back of my head and check out the bump.    

I know it was simply an innocent, concerned gesture, but that picture along with the headline of, "Justin's new girl?", puts a whole different spin on the entire situation.    

So, Eric has given me an ultimatum.    

I can weasel my way into this strangers life and dig up some dirt on him, or I can sit back and watch my co-workers offer me up to the media on a silver platter.    

I'm not exactly sure what kind of story they're cooking up, but I know it'll play up the one semi-interesting photo they have, and twist it into something sick.    

From day one, my morals have had a big fucking problem with this job, but now I'm seeing it all in a whole new light and honestly, the shit I do for a living shouldn't even be legal.    

They always say a pictures worth a thousand words, and while that may be true... I think it's what you choose to do with those words that has the impact.     

Everyone knows these gossip magazines exaggerate the facts, but I've never seen one willing to completely fabricate something like this.    

So, I took the only real option I had and I've agreed to make an attempt at breaking into Mr. Timberlake's inner circle.    

I know it's wrong and I sure as hell don't want to do it, but it's better than the alternative.    

And of course, Eric refused to tell me who got those shots outside the restaurant, but I've got a pretty good feeling I know exactly who it was.    

Molly Taylor is hands down, the best photographer the magazine has. She somehow manages to cover every single club opening, movie premiere, award show, you name it and she's there. And she always, always gets her money shot.    

She's made an insane amount of connections and half the time, she knows where the rich and famous will be, hours before they even arrive.     

She's great at what she does, there's no denying that. But, she hasn't got the least bit of remorse for any of the things she's done. Some of her pictures have literally ruined lives and careers, and she just doesn't give a shit.    

I can't say she's totally awful, but she's no saint either.    

Molly's the type of person who can be your best friend, or your worst enemy. If you so much as look at her the wrong way, she'll fuck your world up, and won't even think twice about it.    

And unfortunately, I'm almost certain she's the one who caught those shots of me with Timberlake.     

I haven't done a damn thing to the girl so I don't know what the deal is. I've had maybe one conversation with her, in the six months I've been with the magazine. So that narrows it down to one of two things, either she just has it out for me for reasons unknown or, Eric's desperate for a big story.    

Either way, I'm right in the middle of it and it fucking blows.

***************    

"I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to find. The whole world knows he's dating that Biel chick. He isn't recording. What am I supposed to do, get pictures of him in the fucking shower?"    

Megan giggles and nods. "Hey... that could lead to a job at playgirl."    

"Gross." I mutter and roll my eyes.    

Megan opens her mouth to respond, but before she can utter a single word, a tall, insanely pretty blonde enters my cubicle, folds her arms over her chest and leans against the doorway casually, a sadistic smirk planted on her face.    

"So Brewer... I hear you landed yourself an exclusive."    

"Oh... yeah... guess so." I shrug dumbly.    

As much as I hate to admit it, the girl is intimidating.    

She's got these really intense dark blue eyes that tear right into you. She's a good 5'6 or so but with the ridiculous heels she wears, she has to be atleast six feet tall. She always looks so put together too. There's never a single wrinkle in her pristine skirts and blouses. Then throw in the fact that she's drop dead gorgeous. It's sickening.    

Next to her, Megan and I look like a couple of bums off the street.    

"Well, congratulations." She smiles, but it's so obviously forced. "It's not everyday Eric doles out special assignments to the rookies. You must be pretty damn good at something." She smirks again and gives me a short nod.    

Sure... that sounds perfectly innocent, but I know exactly what she's implying. If she really was the one who got those pictures of me with the pop-star, I'm beginning to see what could possibly be behind the whole thing.    

But... she hasn't got a single reason to view me as her competition.    

"Anyway... good luck. You'll be needing it." She barely even glances at Megan before turning and strutting off down the hallway.    

"Ok... could she be a bigger bitch?" Megan snorts. "She's so damn jealous."    

"Of what?" I laugh and roll my eyes. "She's the fucking Leibovitz of this magazine and she's jealous of me because I have to stalk some pretty boy? Please."    

"It's not the assignment Ab. It's the shit that comes with it." She says simply. "Let's say you get some really good stuff and I get an amazing story out of it. We both get the money, and the notoriety and what's she got? Zilch. She won't be queen of the world anymore and it's driving her fucking crazy already. She's totally jealous."    

"Right." I nod and roll my eyes as Megan keeps rambling.        

I will admit... there's one semi-decent aspect of this project.    

By some grace of God, they've teamed me up with Megan yet again, so anything I turn up, gets sent straight to her. She'll dig around for the story and all I gotta do is keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and take some pictures.    

Shouldn't be too hard, right?

***************    

"I don't want to ruin the guys life or anything." I mumble and push my carrots around with my fork. "I just... I don't know what they want."    

"Eric doesn't even know what he wants." Megan says simply and shrugs. "That's the point... you're job is to look Abby."

"I know but... I mean, ok yes... I met the guy, in this really weird, totally me way... but that doesn't mean anything. Meeting someone once, doesn't mean we're gonna be best buddies and braid each other's hair... if I go hunt him down, I'll look like I'm fucking nuts."    

"Now Abby... you know that's not true." Eric grins as he appears virtually out of nowhere and slides into our booth, next to Megan. "Ever think maybe he's been looking for you?"    

"Number one... where the hell did you come from, number two... is this table fucking bugged or something?"    

Eric rolls his eyes and completely ignores her. "I've had somebody on him for awhile now... and they've got it on good authority that he's been looking for 'tree girl', now... one can only assume, that's you."    

"Oh, I've gained a nickname... lovely." I groan loudly as Eric chuckles. "Why are you going after him? He isn't doing anything, he's not all that interesting, and from what I saw... he's actually a nice guy."    

"Ya see Brewer... that's your problem. You're way too worried about feelings and reputations and bullshit. This isn't about only sticking it to the assholes. It's about money, plain and simple. And, he sells covers. It doesn't matter if it's a story about him washing his damn car... it'll sell. You're looking into it too much. Shut off the sensitivity chip and just do your fucking job."    

"Right... you're right." I nod as a satisfied smile appears on his face.    

He may be a prick, but the guy knows what he's talking about.     

While I may still have reservations about this job and the things it requires me to do, it's still my job. I still have to listen to my superiors. I still have to earn my paycheck.    

My opinions, emotional or not, don't matter. The work force doesn't give a shit how you feel.     

So, like Eric said... I need to turn off the sensitivity chip, and just do my fucking job.    

Eric and Megan are in the middle of a fairly heated discussion about media intrusion, when I look around, bored to tears with the whole thing.     

I love Megan, but I swear... she eggs him on. Eric is famous for his tirades, defending people like ourselves and once he gets started, you're in for a long ass night. She knows this, yet she always insists on getting into these debates with him.    

As the door to the diner opens, my eyes focus on the two figures entering slowly. I keep my gaze settled on the two of them and reach across the table to get Megan's attention. I completely miss her hand and bump the full glass of chocolate milkshake, splattering it all over the table, straight into Eric's lap.    

"God damnit Abby!" I wince as he leaps out of his seat, yelling and cursing at me the whole time.    

Just as the taller of the two men turns his head in our direction, I look down quickly and say a silent prayer that he either doesn't see me, or doesn't recognize me.  

But, as usual... no such luck.     

His eyes lock with mine and a small smile creeps onto his face. He says something to his friend before strolling over to our table. I bite my lip as Megan laughs loudly at Eric, covered in milkshake from the waist down.    

"Hey... Abby, right?" He smiles as he stops in front of our table and I nod, unable to form one coherent damn thought. "So, how's the head?"        

Megan nearly chokes on her drink and stares at him, wide eyed. Now is so not the time for her dirty mind to go to work.    

Luckily, Justin catches himself and rephrases his previous statement.    

"I mean uhh... you ever get to the doctor or anything?"    

"Yeah... yeah I did."    

Not really, but... I guess now's as good a time as any to start lying to him.   

"They didn't find anything."        

Megan snorts again and I can't help but roll my eyes. Her ability to find a joke in everything is actually kind of a pain in the ass at the moment.    

"Good." He nods. "So uhh... looks like y'all got some issues, so I'll just... I'm gonna go. Glad you're alright though."

"Yeah, thanks." I smile awkwardly.    

"Hey man... you don't have to leave. We're gonna hang out for awhile... as soon as we get this cleaned up, you guys are more than welcome to join us."    

"Oh... thanks, but umm..."    

"I'm Abby's brother... Eric." He smiles. "Seriously man... I heard the story about the tree, might be kind of interesting to hear the other side. You guys sit and order... I'll be back." Eric nods before heading for the bathroom and I sink down into my seat as Justin beckons his friend over before sliding in next to me.    

"This is Trace." He says as the shorter man gives me an odd look. "Trace this is Abby, and..." He trails off, quickly glancing at Megan.    

"Megan." She smiles politely and shakes both their hands.     

Eric returns a few minutes later and before I can stop it, Justin is answering every question Eric has about the other day, and of course... everyone but me seems to find the entire thing hilarious.     

I know this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, but I was hoping I'd be a little more prepared. He wasn't supposed to just show up out of nowhere. I was supposed to hunt him down. I had this whole thing worked out in my head, and now it's spinning completely out of control.     

But, there's one thing I can't quite figure out.    

Why in the hell is Justin Timberlake at some crummy, little hole in the wall diner? And... isn't it a bit odd that I happened to be at said diner when he showed up?    

Maybe Eric isn't as full of shit as I originally thought.     

"Look man... it's nothing against the chick. She seems alright... her brother's a fuckin weirdo, but she's ok I guess. But, you're not some single dude who can run around picking up girls whenever you feel like it."    

"I'm not trying to pick her up, you idiot."    

"Then what are you doing? Cause from where I'm standing, it looks like you're using her to make Jess your next ex-girlfriend." He gives me a pointed look and all I can do is roll my eyes.    

He's right about one thing. I'm not single. But, he's pretty far off base about the rest of it.    

After the other night at the diner, I realized my interest in seeing Abby again was merely curiosity. She came into my life under some pretty fucking weird circumstances and I guess I just wanted to know a little bit about her.    

Once I found out that she's unemployed and barely old enough to drink legally, any romantic ideas I may or may not have had, disappeared.    

So, I'm taking all of this for exactly what it is. The chance to meet some new people.    

I shouldn't have to defend that to Trace or anybody else. He's acting like I'm not allowed to have friends or some shit and it's starting to get really fucking irritating.      

"It's not like that man." I sigh loudly. "She's just somebody new to hang out with. It's nothing major."        

"Right, that's why you asked damn near everybody we know, if they knew who she was. Then, you hunted her down and stalked her to that diner." I frown and roll my eyes as he continues to berate me.    

I guess he does have a point there.    

I spent an entire week asking around about her and when I finally found somebody who knew who she was, I got as much information as I could.   I went to her apartment to give her shoe back, but she just happened to be leaving, so I followed her. I'm well aware that's considered stalking in pretty much all 50 states, but I was just curious.    

Besides... I totally made the whole thing pretty low key.    

She went in the diner and we drove around for an hour before we decided to go in. It all worked out perfectly fine. I don't know what the hell Trace is all up in arms about.    

"All I'm saying is... watch your ass, alright?" He sighs loudly and shakes his head. "Anyway... you think about what I asked you?"    

"Yeah... sort of." I shrug as he rolls his eyes. "It just... something about it ain't right man."    

He rolls his eyes again and looks at me like I'm five years old. "Either you want to, or you don't. Plain and simple. As long as we keep it small, there's no way to get caught."    

I nod slowly, letting his words sink in.     

I'm not comfortable with any of this, but I do understand where he's coming from. By not working, I've basically put him out of a job and yeah... I do feel bad about it. But, it's not like he's on the verge of going bankrupt. He's probably got more than enough in his savings to live off of.     

"Look... I can just write you a check man... if you need any more than that, I've got you, alright?"    

Now that I'm thinking about it... maybe he is headed into a financial hole. I mean... yeah, I've got plenty of money to throw around, and even though I used to pay him fairly well, several years of trying to keep up with my spending probably put a pretty good dent in his wallet.     

If that's the case, I'd be more than happy to just give him the money.    

"C'mon... I'm not a fucking mooch." He groans and rubs his face in frustration. "Just forget it, alright? I'll get a job at a fucking grocery store or something."    

"It's not mooching when I offer it." I state simply and he rolls his eyes. "Alright... fine... I'll do it."    

I've got a really shitty feeling about this. But, Trace is my best friend.     

I gotta believe that he'd never steer me wrong.

***************    

"I just... don't think that's a good idea." She sighs and I can hear movement on her end.    

"And why is that? It's just coffee." I chuckle softly and roll my eyes.     

When Abby gave me her number at the diner the other night (oddly enough, under the insistence of her older brother) I took it as a good sign.         

I like the girl. She's different, she's funny and she's just interesting to be around, despite the fact that she may be a fan or whatever. I figured once we did the whole exchanging numbers thing, she'd be up for hanging out.    

Apparently, I was wrong.    

I mean... I can understand that she's got errands to run or whatever, but how is it possible for someone with no job to be so damn busy?    

I've called her four times now and every single time, there's some excuse.     

She's busy.    

She doesn't feel good.    

She's doing laundry.    

Blah, blah, fuckin blah.    

I'm really starting to feel like I'm wasting my time and if that's the case... I don't plan on hanging around much longer.     

Best I can figure is that she either just flat out doesn't like me, or she's convinced I'm trying to get in her pants.    

But, if she didn't like me, why give me her number? Sure, her brother encouraged it, but he's not her fuckin keeper.  If she doesn't like me or doesn't wanna hang out, all she's gotta do is say the word and I'll be out of her hair.    

And she can rest assured that I don't plan on trying to seduce her now, or anytime in the near future. I'm spoken for and at 21, she's a little on the young side for me.     

I just want some new people to hang around with. Is that really so odd? Don't get me wrong, I love the friends I've already got but sometimes you just want to be around different people.    

"Coffee's really bad for you, ya know. Stains your teeth... it smells horrible... tastes even worse... raises your heart rate. Yeah... coffee's... bad." She rambles and I can't help but laugh.    

This girl is so fucking weird but I love every second of it.    

"Alright... you don't like coffee. I get it. You pick the place then."    

"Just... meet me at the diner." She mutters and the dial tone is a sure sign that I've won.    

Within 20 minutes, I'm at the diner seated in a corner booth and before I have the chance to even order a drink, Abby walks in, looking mildly harassed. She plops down across from me and rolls her eyes.    

"Happy now?"    

"Hey... you didn't have to come." I shrug as she mutters something under her breath.    

"Right... anyway...why are we here?"    

"Just hanging out."    

"Umm... alrighty then." She nods and quickly grabs a menu.     

"This isn't a date Abby..."    

"I know." She mumbles, not taking her eyes off the menu. "If I thought it was, I wouldn't be here."    

Well... that's definitely good to know.    

As much as I'd like to get to know this girl, I was slightly worried that she had some type of crush or something.    

I know what kind of chicks hang out in trees and shit trying to see me. And maybe I should have drawn the line there, but Abby's just... I don't know. I just like her.      

As weird as tracking her down may have been, it just might end up being worth completely worth it.    

"Honestly Abby... I don't see what the big deal is. It's been three weeks and the best you've gotten so far is that he's funny? What the hell are you doing? You should have atleast a hint of something by now."    

"He doesn't do anything! He calls, we get something to eat and talk, then we go home. End of story. He's a nice, boring guy, Eric. There's nothing there... can we please move onto something else?"    

"You aren't getting close enough." He mutters and rolls his eyes. "I'm not paying you to be some acquaintance, Brewer. I need you in his face 24-7. That's the only way you're gonna get something."    

"Ok... and how the hell do I do that? He's got a girlfriend and some random chick hanging around isn't gonna sit well with her."    

"Who cares?" He shrugs and let's out a loud laugh. "You're charming... in a really fucking weird way. And, you aren't half bad to look at. He's got a reputation for screwing around. This is so fucking simple Abby. Use your feminine wiles. Bat your eyelashes, flip your hair... I don't give a shit what you do. Just get something!"    

I don't think it's possible to hate a person as much as I hate Eric.    

I mean, I know the guy's a prick, but even he has to have atleast some feelings, right? He has to know that what he's asking me to do is so completely wrong.    

I've been hanging out with Justin for a few weeks now and from what I can see, he's a really good guy who just wants to live his life as normally as possible. He's pretty happy in his relationship and his only complaint about it is that he doesn't see his girlfriend near as much as he'd like to.    

Eric may think he's just trying to make money, but by increasing the dollar amount in his bank account, he could very well ruin someone's life.    

And, as much as I don't want to be a part of that, I don't have a choice.    

Eric's a well known and respected guy (for reasons that are completely beyond me, by the way) and if I don't get him his story, he could make it damn near impossible for me to get a job outside of this crap ass magazine.    

Countless people have gone up against Eric Rhodes and it never ends well for them. I can't become another nobody because I pissed off the wrong guy.    

My hands are tied. I have to do this whether I like it or not.

****************    

"I mean... I get where he's coming from... he doesn't make anywhere near as much as I do, which is kind of my fault and I could totally lend him the money but he's too god damn stubborn for that." Justin sighs and rubs his temples.    

"So give him some work to do." I shrug before taking a large bite of my key lime pie.    

Justin shoots me a mildly disgusted look as I shovel pie in my mouth and I groan inwardly.    

So much for that feminine wiles bullshit Eric was spitting.    

But then again... I had a funny feeling that batting my eyelashes a few times wouldn't exactly force Justin Timberlake into falling madly in love with me and spilling all his dirty secrets.    

Sometimes, I think Eric just doesn't get it.    

Yeah, I've hung out with Justin several times in the last few weeks, but that doesn't mean shit. He doesn't know me from Adam and has no reason to trust me. Only a fucking psycho would spill their life story to someone they barely know.    

Eric's got this idea in his head that this will be some quick and painless project but he's dead wrong. This is gonna take time, and a lot of it.    

"You eat more than any chick I know." Justin chuckles and rolls his eyes.     

"I like food." I shrug taking another bite of pie. "And it'll prolly catch up with me when I'm like 40 and I'll end up in Guinness as the world's largest woman or something."    

"Doubt it." He laughs before grabbing a fork and stealing part of my pie.    

I reach across the table and slap his hand, laughing at the shocked look on his face. "Hey... you asked for it. You don't steal food from me and get away with it. Anyway... Trace..."    

A pained look flickers across his face before he forces a smile. "I'll figure something out... or I'll just start recording again."    

"Also an option." I nod slowly.    

Now... I'll be the first to admit, the fact that Justin is venting some of his frustrations to me is a good sign, atleast as far as work goes anyway.    

On the personal front... it's making me feel pretty shitty.    

I like the guy. I really do. He's incredibly laid back and fun to talk to. He isn't the egotistical jackass he's portrayed as, in the least. And for some strange reason, he finds my idiocy entertaining.    

As much as I hate what I have to do to him, I don't have a choice. But, if I'm really lucky... I'll pal around with him for a few months, Eric will see that there's no story here and drop the whole thing.    

I don't have my hopes up or anything, but I'll atleast keep my fingers crossed for awhile.    

"You wanna get out of here?"    

"Oh.. umm... yeah sure. I've got some stuff I should be doing at home anyway." I shrug and pull a 20 out of my pocket.    

"No..." He laughs and shakes his head. "I meant... do you wanna go back to my place and hang out there?"        

I bite down on my lip and eye him carefully. He can't be serious, can he?    

"I don't know..."    

"C'mon... let's go." He grins and rises from his seat then grabs me by the arm and drags me out of the diner.    

This has bad idea written all over it.

**********************       

"Umm... don't... don't you... uhh... have a girl... girlfriend?" I stutter stupidly as his mouth inches along my neck.    

I swear to Christ... I don't know how I let this happen.    

One minute, we were sitting around watching TV, laughing and talking like we've been doing for weeks now, then the next he just pounced on me.    

Maybe he's some twisted fuck who finds over-eating attractive.    

Wouldn't Eric just love for that to be the story I dig up? I can almost see that vein in his forehead popping out already.        

"Mmhmm." He mumbles against my skin.    

"So.. don't you... think this should stop? Like, now?"    

"Abby... shut the fuck up." He laughs as he reaches the collar of my shirt.    

I know this is the sort of thing Eric wanted me to do, but I can't ignore just how wrong it feels.     

Sure... there is a bit of an attraction to Justin, but that isn't what this is about. If I was here just because of a crush, I'd be able to throw caution to the wind and not worry about the rest of it.    

But... I'm here for a story, and yes... sleeping with Justin would get me that story and definitely make my boss happy, but I do have some morals.    

Sleeping with Justin would make me no better than Molly and the last damn thing I want is to stoop to her level.     

He quickly undoes the first button with his mouth, his tongue swiping across the now exposed skin. He repeats this process with the remaining six buttons and I bite down harder on my lip each time, until I finally draw blood.    

This is so not fucking good. As much as my head is screaming at me to stop, my body just doesn't seem to want to listen.    

I'm gonna get myself in so much fucking trouble.    

He pushes me onto my back before sliding my jeans down my legs and smirking up at me. Maybe Eric was right about him.    

Maybe he isn't the sweet, innocent guy I had him pegged as. After all, he seems to have no problem cheating on his girlfriend. With a girl he hardly knows, no less.    

His hand slides between my legs and he rubs me through the thin fabric of my silk panties before he pulls them off slowly.    

What the fuck am I doing?    

I was raised so much better than this, yet here I am and nothing seems to be stopping me.     

His mouth is on mine in an instant and before I know it, he's on top of me. I can feel him pressing into my leg and I can't help but groan.    

This teasing shit is way, way uncool.    

I nudge his side as he tears his mouth away from mine and smiles down at me. "What?" He whispers, a hint of mischief in his eyes    

"Oh c'mon... just do it already." I drawl out and roll my eyes as he laughs at me.    

"Fine... fine, but you asked for it." He smirks, situating himself so that his hips are resting against mine.    

In one swift movement, he's buried deep inside of me and I can't stop the moan that escapes. He holds himself still, breathing heavily for several minutes and staring down at me, his eyes set in an intense gaze.    

"Shit, Abby... you're... you're not a..."    

"No!" I giggle and roll my eyes, wiggling my hips against his. "You're not corrupting me or anything... it's all good. Trust me."    

He nods before biting his lip and pulling out slightly. He slides in again so slowly, it feels like torture and I bite down on his shoulder.    

I'm so gonna rot in hell, but right now... it's the furthest thing from my mind. I can't see, think or feel anything but him.    

Ten minutes later, I'm seated on the edge of the bathtub clad in one of Justin's T-shirts, phone in hand.    

I browse through my contacts and stop when I come to Megan's number.    

This phone call could change everything.     

If I call her now, it'll finally set everything in motion. I'll give Eric exactly what he wants and most likely be rewarded for it.     

Or, I can keep the whole thing to myself and pray like hell that no one finds out.    

I take a deep breath and hit send, shutting my eyes tightly as the phone rings for several minutes. Just as I'm about to snap the phone shut, Megan's voice filters into my ear.    

"Woman... you better be fucking dead or something, calling me at two in the morning like some god damn lunatic."    

"Meg... I...I..."    

"Shit, Abby... what's wrong? Are you ok? Do I need to go buy a gun? What's going on?"    

"I'm at Justin's." I breathe out.    

"Umm... alright, thanks for the update..." She chuckles and I can just picture her shaking her head. "I'll alert the media."    

"I...I...I slept with him." I mutter, hating the way the words sound leaving my own mouth.    

"Oh shit..." She shouts and I can hear movement on her end. "I'm getting dressed and going to the office... meet me there in 20?"    

"Umm...yeah...yeah, I'll be there." I wince and close my phone, setting it on the edge of the sink.    

A loud knock echoes through the bathroom and I scramble to the sink, splashing cold water on my face before opening the door and forcing the best smile I can manage.    

"You alright?" Justin smiles awkwardly and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his bare chest.        

"Oh.. umm... yeah. I'm... fine." I nod slowly and swallow hard. "I gotta...I gotta go though."    

"You don't have to..." He sighs. "Shit... I knew this was a bad idea...I fucking... shit."    

"It's ok, really." I shrug helplessly. "Shit happens, ya know? But umm... I really gotta go." I mutter and push past him, slipping into my jeans. "Just umm... call me later or something."    

"Yeah, I will." He nods, keeping his eyes focused on the floor.    

I'm so glad I'm not the only one who seems to have a bit of an issue with this.    

Unfortunately, Justin's concern is that he's just cheated on his fairly serious girlfriend with a girl he hasn't even known for a month.    

My problem is... well... there's too many of them to list, frankly.    

"Abby... you're... you're not gonna tell anybody about this, are you?"    

I study him carefully, immediately picking up on the tension in his shoulders and the look of shame on his face.     

I shouldn't have called Megan.    

"Course not."    

"Thanks." He mutters as I grab my jacket and haul ass out of the house.    

As soon as I climb into my car, another wave of guilt washes over me but I quickly push it aside and head straight for the office.    

I'm doing my job. That's all it is.

I'm just doing my fucking job.

"So, where were you last night?"    

"Here." I shrug as Trace glares at me questioningly.     

"Bullshit you were. I stopped by and nobody answered the door."    

"Maybe you didn't knock loud enough. I was here all night man."    

"Dude... I came by... I called... I texted... I even sent you a fucking e-mail, and you know how much I hate that shit. You were not here."    

"Yeah, I was."    

"Oh, ok." He nods seriously. "Hi, I'm Trace... nice to meet you." He stares at me, hand outstretched, his face set in stone.    

"What the hell are you doing?"    

"Introducing myself." He says simply and shrugs. "See... you look like my best friend, but can't possibly be him, because he's smart enough to know he can't fucking lie to me."    

"Whatever man. I was here all night."    

"Holy shit..." He says suddenly, eyes getting wider by the second. "You fucked her, didn't you?"    

"What? Who?"

"That Abby chick! That's why I couldn't get a hold of you! You were in here banging her!"    

Well shit.    

So much for not telling anybody, I guess.    

Last night was... well, it was a mistake. And no, I'm not saying that to be a dick or anything. It's a simple fact.         

I was lonely and Abby was there and obviously willing, so I guess you could say I took advantage.     

I'm perfectly happy with Jess. My only issue is that I never get to see her and for some reason, that's all I could think about. I wanted her here with me and since that wasn't an option, I acted like an idiot and went for the closest female at the moment and it happened to be Abby.    

I wish it wouldn't have happened, but there isn't much I can do about it now.     

But, I'm not a total asshole. Yes, it was a mistake and yes, I regret it, but it's made me wonder if maybe there's a little more to the way I feel about it.    

I had myself convinced that I just wanted somebody different to hang out with, but everything that happened last night proves that isn't the case.     

It sounds weird, but it's almost like I wasn't even in control of what was going on. One minute we were sitting there talking and the next, I couldn't keep my damn hands off of her.    

I guess I could chalk it all up to being lonely and forget all about it, but I just can't do that. I don't know what it was, but I felt... something, with her. I can't explain it and I haven't got the slightest fucking clue what it was, but it was something.    

I could probably tell Trace all about it, but I don't really expect him to understand it. Hell, how can I expect anyone to understand something I don't fully understand myself?

****************    

"Dude... do not fucking go. Seriously... how god damn dumb are you?" Trace rolls his eyes and glares at me. "You've already screwed around with this chick once, and now you wanna meet her for dinner? What the fuck are you thinking? I'm not a big relationship guy, but shit... Jess deserves a hell of a lot better than this."    

"You think I don't know that? Look... I fucked up, I know that ok? I'm just gonna tell her we can't hang out anymore. Problem solved."    

Atleast, I think that's best solution anyway.    

It's taken me three days to build up the nerve to call Abby, but I finally did it and asked her to meet me for dinner. And even that took some convincing, so I guess she's feeling as shitty about this as I am.     

"Oh yeah, it'll totally be that fucking easy." He snorts and shakes his head. "While you're at it, maybe you can cure cancer and create world peace too."    

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"    

"You're acting like it's so simple. Like you'll go in there and just be like 'hey, can't see you anymore' and she'll accept that and forget about it. Girls don't fucking work like that man. She could dick you over three ways from Sunday and you just... you don't know this girl man."    

"She's not like that."    

I know he thinks I'm fucking crazy and yeah, maybe I don't know Abby that well, but I just know she wouldn't sell me out or anything. She's not that kind of girl, I can feel it.   

And yeah, maybe I don't know how she'll take this, but it's not exactly easy on me either.    

I've felt nothing but guilty for three days and no, it's not just because I cheated on Jess. I never should have made a move on Abby. Hell, I never should have brought her back to the house, period.     

I'm doing everything I can to correct my mistakes and it'd be nice if my best friend could see that and give me just a little bit of fucking support.    

"I sure as shit hope not. But, you gotta look at it from every angle man. I'm just trying to be realistic, and honestly... you're a little bit on my shit list for cheating on Jess to begin with. Even if it'd been somebody you've known for ten years, I still wouldn't agree with it."    

"I'm not asking you to." I shrug. "I feel like shit about it, alright? I'm not gonna stop feeling like shit about it. All I can do is tell Abby I can't see her anymore."    

"Yeah... hope it works out." He mutters and follows me out of the house, and climbs into his own car without another word.     

It takes a good ten minutes before I pull up to the diner and let out a long sigh when I spot Abby, already seated at a corner booth.     

I really, really fucked this up.    

This girl had the potential to become one of my best friends and I completely obliterated any chance for that to happen.     

I honestly believed there was nothing more than friendship here and I'm not really sure when or how that changed. Or maybe, it was a lot of things adding up. I was lonely, I missed Jess, there's somewhat of an attraction to Abby, she was there, and she didn't push me away.    

That's the thing I really don't understand. She knew I had a girlfriend, why the hell didn't she stop me?    

"Umm... don't... don't you... uhh... have a girl... girlfriend?"     

On second thought, I guess she did try to stop me. So, the better question would be, why the fuck didn't I stop myself?     

And ya know what, I don't have answer.    

I finally force myself out of the car and head inside. As I plop down across from Abby, I do everything I can to avoid looking her in the eyes.        

"Umm... hey." She forces a strained smile and I nod. "So.. uhh... how's it going?"    

"Alright I guess." I shrug and move the salt and pepper shakers around on the table. "How about you?"    

"I'm... I'm good." I'm not sure why, but she looks exhausted. "So... you wanted to talk?"    

"Ye-yeah..." I nod and lick my lips nervously. "Look... the other night was..."    

"A big fucking mistake, I know." She sighs and rolls her eyes. "I knew you had a girlfriend and... I don't know what the hell I was thinking. It shouldn't have happened." She nods firmly and I can't help but frown.    

I wasn't really expecting that.     

I'd kind of figured she'd be upset when I said it, or tried to convince me to leave Jess for her. I guess I really don't know her at all.    

"Exactly. And umm... I'm... I'm glad we can agree on that."     

"Yeah, well... it's common sense."    

"Oh yeah, totally." I nod slowly.    

I came in here, fully intending to blow her off. I figured she'd get upset, maybe even yell at me a little, but it's like, she just gets it. She knows we were both wrong and she seems to want to put it behind her as badly as I do. Which is definitely a good sign.    

Maybe I can keep her around after all.

"So this is it?" Eric grins wickedly, holding up the folder Megan just handed him. "I'm impressed Brewer. I thought you'd drag ass on this since you've gotten so attached." He smirks before opening the folder.    

As his eyes scan the contents, his smile seems to fade a little more with each line. Finally, he looks up and glares at me.    

"Are you fucking serious? You call this a story? So he's cheating on his girlfriend. Big god damn deal. Show me a musician or actor who isn't. I can't run this Brewer. Nobody cares about this shit!"    

"I just... I thought..."    

"Brewer, we've been over this a hundred times. I want something big, alright? I want something shocking, something that people will need to read, you get me?"    

"Yeah, I got ya." I mutter and nod slowly.    

"What's your source on this anyway?" Eric looks up at me expectantly and I right away look over at Megan.     

"Well, I... uhh... I..."    

"They've been hanging out a lot." Megan offers quickly. "She's kind of gotten into his inner circle, so... yeah."

"Good. That's really good, actually. Now, use that and get me something big, alright? And while you're at it, shred this." He shoves the folder into my hands before marching down the hallway to his office.     

"Alright, so... this is a good thing." Megan smiles and plops down in her chair. "You didn't want this to go to print anyway."    

"Yeah, but it was all I had." I frown and pick at the chipped polish on my nails. "What am I supposed to do now?"    

"Your job would be a good start." Molly smirks as she enters Megan's cubicle. "Really Abby, you should have known a cheating scandal wouldn't get you anywhere with Eric. Especially without any photographic evidence."    

"What was she supposed to do? Make a sex tape?"   

"Stranger things have happened." Molly shrugs. "Look... I normally wouldn't do this, but I think Timberlake's a prick and wouldn't mind seeing him get knocked down a peg or two. So, my advice Abby... keep an eye on that restaurant, and Trace Ayala."     

"Really? Why?"    

"Call it a hunch." She shrugs. "Have a good day girls."    

"Wouldn't you just love to rip out all that overly blonde hair and scratch her eyes out?" Megan scowls after her.     

"Eh, whatever." I wave her off dimissively and toss the folder in the trash.     

Normally, I'd see any advice coming from Molly as some form of sabotage, but something about the look in her eyes when she mentioned Justin's restaurant  has me feeling a little nervous.     

I don't really know anything about the place. Justin's mentioned it a few times, but he's never given any details. Hell, I don't even know where the place is.     

Maybe I'm just reading too much into Molly's bullshit. Maybe I'm just getting desperate for a story that'll satisfy Eric.    

So, Molly can shove her advice up her ass.

*************    

"I still don't see why you had to drag me here with you." Megan mutters as we head up Justin's driveway.    

"Because I haven't really hung out with him since.... well, ya know." I groan loudly and shake my head quickly, attempting to rid myself of that particular memory. "Besides, you're way better at picking up on weird stuff. I'm the eyes, you're the ears, remember?" I smirk as she sticks her tongue out at me.    

After Eric's blow up this morning, I had no choice but to call Justin. I'd kind of hoped that Eric would think a cheating story was the best I could do and drop it, but no such luck.    

I've got an in with one of the biggest celebrities in the world, there's no way in hell Eric's gonna just let that go.    

So, when I called Justin and he told me to drop by tonight, I immediately decided that Megan had to come with me.    

Number one, I need her here to prevent of a repeat of the other night and like I said, she's way better at picking up on anything weird that may or may not be going on.    

If Justin's got something to hide, Megan will be the first to know.    

The front door is standing wide open and we step inside, immediately overcome by pounding music and a thick cloud of smoke.     

Well, this is different.     

Megan follows close behind me as we make our way down the long, tiled hallway. I hear voices in the kitchen and follow the sound until I spot Trace and Justin leaning against the counter tops, passing a thin, white, unmistakable object back and forth.     

"Bout fuckin time y'all showed up. I was ready to finish this off." Trace smirks as he passes me the joint.     

Megan does her best to mask her frown as she pulls out her blackberry. I feel a knot form in my stomach at the realization of what she's about to do.    

I take a fairly large hit, wincing at the burning sensation in my chest. I haven't smoked this shit since high school. This is probably a really bad idea, but the biggest part of my job is to blend in.    

I take another deep hit and pass it to Justin, who shakes his head and gestures toward Megan.    

"Oh no, I don't smoke." She smiles politely and shakes her head. "Thanks though."    

Justin shrugs and raises the joint to his lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Megan discreetly raise her phone and I swallow hard when she smiles at her handy work.     

I won't be surprised if Eric makes that the cover photo.     

The joint goes between the three of us four more times before Trace tosses the roach down the garbage disposal.     

"So, what now?" Trace grins stupidly as he looks around the kitchen, eyes bloodshot and glassy.     

"Now, we chill." Justin nods and throws an arm around my shoulders and leads me into the living room.     

I stumble slightly, silently thanking god when we finally reach the couch. We both collapse onto it and Justin flips the TV on.     

None of us says a word for what feels like an eternity before Trace starts to giggle, wiping the tears from his eyes.     

"Dude... did I tell you what happened at the restaurant the other day?"    

"Uhh...no." Justin mutters, eyes glued to the television.    

"Fuck man, it was bad." Trace shakes his head. "The end of the night, everybody's counting out and shit and Ted's doling out tips, and that bitch Emily starts whining about how she'd done the math earlier and should have cleared almost 400, but Ted only gave her 150. I fuckin died man." Trace finishes, a whole new set of giggles overtaking him.     

"Ha, yeah." Justin nods and even I notice how he's suddenly gone rigid.    "See man... told your ass it'd work, didn't I?" Trace laughs again and shakes his head.    

I look over at Megan who raises a questioning eyebrow and all I can do is shrug.    

"Shit... I need more smokes." Trace mutters. "Anybody wanna go with?"    

"You really shouldn't be driving." Megan rolls her eyes and stands up. "I'll take you."    

"Oh I like you already." Trace cackles as the two of them leave quickly.     

Shit.    

This wasn't supposed to happen.    

Megan's main assignment for the evening was to keep me from doing anything stupid. How is she supposed to prevent my stupidity when she's not even here?    

Shit.    

I can't lie, after what happened, I've... well... I think I like him. I can't be sure but the fear I suddenly have of being alone with him has left me wondering.     

Sure, I told him it wasn't a big deal. I know he has a girlfriend and I don't want to add home wrecker to the list of morally corrupt things I've been doing lately. But, I can't help it.     

"So..." He drawls out, shooting me a lopsided grin.     

I can almost guarantee that if he wasn't stoned out of his mind, he'd be begging me not to mention what Trace said, to anyone.     

I haven't got the slightest clue what he was talking about, but my gut's telling me it wasn't anything good.    

And that scares the shit out of me.     

"So." I mutter and turn to face him.     

"We're by ourselves." He laughs loudly and all I can do is roll my eyes.     

My buzz is slowly starting to kick in, and it's only a matter of time before I turn into a giggling idiot.     

That could lead to very, very bad things.    

"Umm... yeah. Looks like it." I nod.    

"You 'member what happened last time we were alone?"    

Heat immediately floods my cheeks and I look down at my lap. "Uhh... yeah. Why?"    

"Fuck... I don't know." He giggles and rubs his face tiredly. "I just thought about it. I had fun though."    

I smirk, keeping my eyes glued to my legs.     

He wasn't the only one.    

"Oh... ok."    

"We could always do it again."     

My eyes shoot up to meet his and I inhale sharply when I see the look he's giving me. His eyes are two dark blue slits, but there's no mistaking the lust in them.    

I'm going to fucking kill Megan, mostly because I'm not so sure I've got the strength to say no.     

"What about... umm... what about Jessica?"    

Yeah, that's good. Distract him with the girlfriend.    

But that didn't do me much good last time, now did it?    

"Haven't seen her in weeks." He shrugs, sliding closer to me on the couch and I swallow hard. "Abby... I like you... a-fucking-lot." He laughs and shakes his head. "She doesn't... fuck... she just isn't you."    

"Yeah well... that's probably a good thing." I mumble, trying to fight off the dizzy spell that's hitting me full force.     

"Nah, don't think so." He grins and leans into me before pressing his lips to mine.     

It's a matter of minutes before we're fighting our way up the stairs, clawing at each other the whole way. We finally reach his bedroom and just as he's about to pull my shirt over my head, the front door opens and slams loudly.     

"Where y'all at?" Trace's voice echoes through the house and I send a small thanks to my guardian angel, wherever he may be.    

"God damnit." Justin mutters, breathing heavily. "I'm gonna hang his short ass from the roof."        

I run my hands through my hair a few times before jogging down the stairs, not missing the disapproving look on Megan's face.    

"I've got what I need... can we go now?"    

"We haven't been here that long." I mumble.    

Even though I just narrowly escaped yet another bad decision, I'm not quite ready to leave.     

Despite the fact that he makes me do very bad things, I like being around him.     

"And that's probably a good thing." She mutters. "Nice sucker mark, by the way."    

"Shit... fine, let's go."    

Justin strolls down the stairs a few minutes later, a look of pure frustration stretched across his face.    

"We're gonna head out." Megan smiles sweetly before giving the boys a small wave and heading for her car.     

"You don't have to, ya know." Justin smiles, a slight glint in his eyes. "We can... umm... pick back up where we left off, and I can uhh... I can take you home later."    

"Umm... no, I better go." I nod, inching toward the door.    

"Alright, that's cool." He shrugs as he advances toward me.    

He pulls me in for a hug and it's impossible to ignore the way his hands travel down my arms and rest on my hips. He places a quick kiss to my temple, then his mouth hovers over my ear.    

"Next time... don't bring her, and I'll get rid of Trace."    

"Oh... um... ok." I nod and pull away from him, slightly dazed at the bright smile on his face.    

"Later Abby."    

"Yeah, bye."     

I practically sprint out to the car and climb in, trying to catch my breath as Megan glares at me.    

"I swore on my unborn children I'd never say this..." She sighs and shakes her head. "But Eric's right... you're in way too fucking deep."    

I don't say a word as she pulls out of the driveway, but inside my head, I'm screaming.    

I'm in way over my head and it's just a matter of time before this all blows up in my face.    

And I'll deserve every last bit of it.

"You've got about thirty seconds to calm the fuck down." Trace mutters, just loud enough for me to hear him.     

"What? I'm calm."    

"Yeah. You're cool as a fucking cucumber and I'm Madonna... excuse me while I go grab my cone bra." He snorts and shakes his head sadly.    

"Ya know... that could be a good look for you." The laughter dies in my throat as he turns to glare at me. "I've got every right to be nervous, so fuck off."    

"Actually... no, you really don't. You're the one who fucked up. You finally land yourself a decent chick and you screw around on her with some broad who, number one, is too young for you. Secondly, she ain't all that to look at. Thirdly, you barely fuckin know her."    

"Alright... you don't like Abby, I get it."    

"Don't fuckin put words in my mouth man. She's a cool girl, I just don't see the appeal. And she sure as shit ain't worth ruining a good thing for."    

Honestly, I don't expect him to understand. I don't even understand it myself.     

And yeah... I do have a good thing with Jess, but it's just... it's not the same. Abby and Jessica are on two different ends of the spectrum.     

I'm not trying to justify any of what I'm doing. I know it's wrong and you better believe there's a shit load of guilt over it, but when I'm around Abby... I just can't stop myself. It's like all of my logical thought and morals go out the fucking window.     

People begin filing out of the walkway and my stomach tightens. I don't think I've ever felt as nervous or guilty as I do now. She's going to take one look at me, somehow see everything and create some scene where I come off looking like the huge douche that I am.    

I can't really blame her, but for my sake, I can only pray that no one recognizes us.     

Jessica enters the airport and I can't help but cringe. I guess it's good that I've atleast braced myself for the worst.    

She strolls up to us and in an instant, her arms are wrapped around me. It takes me a minute to respond, but when I do my arms slide around her waist and I suddenly remember just how easy being with her is.     

Maybe it shows what an asshole I'm becoming, but I can't help thinking that being with Abby is nowhere near this easy. I completely lose control with her and I know that's not good.    

Trace shoots me a scathing look behind Jessica's back and shakes his head before pushing his way through the crowd. She finally releases her hold on me and moves to follow Trace, me trailing behind the two of them.     

In my defense, atleast I know I'm an asshole.

*****************    

I don't know why, but being in the comfort of my own home seems to have put me somewhat at ease. I don't feel as jumpy and anxious as I did at the airport and the more time I spend with Jess, the more I realize this is where I belong.     

Maybe that's why this shit with Abby happened. Maybe I was supposed to finally see that my life is perfectly fine the way it is and I'm just being a jackass.     

In the three hours since Jess has been here, I've decided that my best bet is to keep Abby at arms length. Sure, we can still be friends, but the constant phone calls and spending so much time with her has to stop.     

Out of sight, out of mind, right?    

"Pizza's here." Trace sighs happily as the doorbell echoes throughout the house. He jumps out of his seat and jogs to the door, fighting the dogs the whole way.     

This is good. Hanging with my best friend and my girl, no stress, no awkwardness, no drama.     

This is normal. This is exactly how my life's supposed to be.     

Trace re-enters the living room a minute later and I can't help noticing his short, auburn haired companion.     

Fuck.    

I glance at Jess out of the corner of my eye and groan inwardly at the way her eyes narrow slightly and she leans forward in her seat.     

Shit, shit, shit.     

"Trace... I didn't know you had a girlfriend." Jess laughs as she visibly relaxes.    

"Oh.. umm... no." Abby chuckles nervously and shrugs. "We're... I'm... just... no."    

Trace rolls his eyes before sliding back into his chair. "She's not my girlfriend."        

Even I'm smart enough to pick up on the emphasis on the word my. I shoot him a quick glare before forcing the best smile I can manage. "Abby's a friend of mine."    

Abby shifts her weight awkwardly, her eyes darting around the room. "I can... I was just in the neighborhood... so... umm... yeah. I'm gonna go. Sorry if I interrupted you guys." She shrugs and begins to back out of the room.    

"You weren't interrupting anything." Jess grins. "Stay and hang out."    

Oh you have got to be fucking joking.    

Abby freezes and her wide eyes turn on me and all I can do is shrug. I don't even want to think about how it'd look if I tried to put up a fight.         

"Oh... ok." She nods and plops down beside Trace, her eyes still glued to my face.         

"So how do you guys know each other?"    

Jess and Abby start chatting easily and I can't ignore the tightness in my chest. This must be what a panic attack feels like.     

Abby may have Jess fooled, but I can see right fucking through her. She can't sit still, she's constantly screwing with her hair, biting her nails, refusing to look Jess in the eyes. She damn near has 'guilty as all hell' tattooed on her fucking forehead.     

Trace kicks me in the leg suddenly and shoots a meaningful look toward the kitchen before excusing himself and heading out there. I take his hint and follow him as quickly as I can.    

"You are so fucked." He laughs and reaches into the fridge for another drink. "Seriously dude... do you have any clue just how incredibly fucked you are right now?"    

"What'd you let her in for?"    

"It's fun to watch you squirm." He smirks.     

"Thanks a fucking lot." I mutter and shake my head. "What do I do?"    

"Cut one of em loose. My vote goes to the youngin."        

"Really don't need to be reminded of that at the moment, thanks."    

"Look man... you know I've normally got your back, just... not this time. Jess is awesome. You're in the wrong here. I've got zero sympathy for this. Sorry bro." He shrugs before strolling back into the living room.    

I'm not asking for sympathy. I don't know what's so hard to understand about that. I know I'm wrong. I just... I need advice and telling me to cut one of them loose isn't the advice I was looking for.    

Before she showed up, I was so certain it'd be a piece of cake to blow Abby off, but I was dead wrong. I should have known that going in, since it wasn't exactly easy to do the first time around.     

There just... there's gotta be a way to fix this.     

I trudge back into the living room and sigh helplessly at the sight of the three of them, all in different chairs, looking everywhere but at each other.     

This has to be some sort of karma coming back to bite me in the ass, that's the only explanation.    

"So... how about them Titans?"    

Three sets of eyes turn to stare at me in horror and I roll my eyes.     

This just went from bad to worse.