I can hardly contain my excitement as I pull the car onto the freeway. Trace is bouncing in his seat behind me and Lauren is sitting next to me, gazing out the window and looking like she’s about to be taken to the electric chair.

We just landed in Memphis half an hour ago and I couldn’t be happier to be home. Hell just driving on the freeway towards Millington is making me want to pee my pants in anxious anticipation, but I don’t think it would look very becoming of me to show up at my mother’s house with soiled pants…and I’m sure Lauren wouldn’t want to be seen with me.

And I can’t have that.

She lets out a pent up breath and I reach over with my hand to grasp hers. Lauren looks over at me and tries her best to cover up her apprehensive expression but she isn’t quick enough. She’s usually pretty good at hiding her emotions when she wants to… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this green. It isn’t that big of a deal!

“Relax, Lauren,” I soothe, “You just need to take a few deep breaths and realize that this is my family, they know who you are and they aren’t going to bite.”

“Well the last time she saw the majority of your family you guys were going at it in the dressing room in Anaheim!” Trace pipes up and I watch with a smirk as Lauren closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths to control what I’m sure is frustration from listening to Trace. “Man that was a fun night…and you said he was choking on something!”

“I swear to God, Trace…” Lauren whispers as calmly as possible, “I do not need to hear your comments so if you could shut the hell up, that would help me a lot.”

“Whatever,” Trace retorts, “I’m sure they don’t even remember that. I’m sure everyone is going to love you, after all you are dating Justin and it takes a certain kind of woman to put up with all his bull shit.”

“Trace…really you can walk your ass home,” I warn. Lauren grins and turns around to look at him, her nervous air seemingly gone.

“God it would take you forever to get back home, what with your short legs and all,” she quips and I can’t help but laugh. Trace rolls his eyes and proceeds to lay down in the backseat and shut his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes.

I continue to drive and the two of us fall into silence. I’m reminded of our drive to Lauren’s hometown almost a year ago. It was awkward, it was long, and it was boring as hell. She was so against going back to Worden but in the end she changed her mind. I could tell by the end of her first night in Worden she was glad to be back. I mean she took me cow tipping for Christ’s sake. I’m sure if she wasn’t the least bit excited to be back home, she would have sat in her little farmhouse for two days and not done anything.

We’re the exact opposite when it comes to going back to our hometowns. I can’t wait to go back to my house and see my mom and the rest of my already huge family. I’m way too excited to see granny and get some of that peach cobbler, it’s been too long since I had a slice and hopefully she’ll make me my own pie like she did last year. Then again Lauren doesn’t have a huge family and they’re always running around the world taking pictures of animals or some other random Discovery Channel shit like that.

We still have an hour until I get to see my family again. I can’t wait that long so I speed up. I hear Lauren’s sharp intake of breath and I look over to see that she’s grabbed the handle on the car door and she’s looking like her life might end at any minute. I totally forgot that she hates it when I drive while she’s in the car. Eh, she’ll have to deal with it. I could get back to Shelby Forest with my eyes closed and she’s perfectly safe 

Some random truck pulls in front of me to get off at the next ramp. I slam on my breaks and honk the horn. Naturally, Trace doesn’t wake from his slumber but Lauren and I pitch forward, her hands splaying out in front of her to brace herself.

“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath. I’m ready to put that near accident behind me, but I guess Lauren is just getting started.

“Jesus Christ! That stupid ass fucker…who the hell does he think he is? That no good piece of shit! You should go tail gate his ass and teach him a lesson!” I stifle a laugh and she looks at me as if to say that it isn’t a laughing matter. Lauren takes her cases of road rage very seriously.

“Calm down, Lo. It wasn’t a big deal,” I explain.

“Not a big deal?” she asks, “Are you kidding me? If you weren’t paying attention he would have totally slammed into you! We could have died!”

“Lauren, you need to calm down, alright? We’re fine now and no one got hurt, just take it easy.”

“How can I take it easy? I hate it when you drive and I hate it when stupid schmucks like that don’t know how to handle a fucking car!” she exclaims. I’m just going to go ahead and blame the nerves on this little outburst. I don’t want to listen to her bitch and moan about the driver who ‘nearly killed us’ so I turn on the radio and try to let the music ease her anxiety.

A few minutes later, I look back over at her again and she’s sitting all prim and proper in the passenger seat. She looks like she’s ready to go out for an interview instead of meeting my parents. Lauren insisted in dressing in one of her pencil skirts, a blouse, and some heels. I don’t think she understands that the majority of my family will be in jeans and sweaters or T-shirts. She fails to comprehend that the Timberlake family is pretty casual when it comes to holiday dress.

Lauren lets out another pent up breath and I give her a sympathetic look.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” I tell her for what I can only guess is the hundredth time. “They’re going to love you.”

“I can’t help but be nervous,” she replies, “I mean, I’ve only been your official girlfriend for less than two weeks and I’m already meeting your whole family!”

“Well, you know me, I move fast,” I retort and she tries to suppress a little giggle. I smile a bit, but keep my focus on the road. I know she can’t be that nervous because she’s able to take a joke and run with it. I can only hope when we get to the house she isn’t going to clam up and start acting like she works for me. I can only hope my family doesn’t bombard her with questions and I pray to the holiest of holies that Trace doesn’t make an ass out of himself and Lauren in the process. I don’t know if I’ll be able to be friends with him after that. But then again, if Trace even thinks about doing that, Lauren will stuff him and serve him up for Thanksgiving dinner.

“You’ll be fine Lauren. Just know at the end of the day that I love you and even my family hating your guts isn’t going to change that.”

“Wow, thanks Justin, that makes me feel so much better!” she exclaims sarcastically before I reach out and grab her hand, holding onto it tightly. We stay like that for the rest of the drive. It isn’t until we pull onto my street that she lets go and starts to wring her hands together.

Trace sits straight up and looks around in bewilderment. He has a sixth sense when it pertains to homecomings. He can fall asleep and know exactly when we’ve hit our old street or when a plane lands or whatever. I don’t know how he does it.

“Sweet, I can just taste Grandma Sadie’s cobbler!” Trace exalts and I turn around to look at him.

“Hands off. I’ve waited months for that cobbler and I’ll be damned if you take it,” I snap. Trace holds up his hands in mock defeat and I give him a wide smile as I look back towards the road. My house is just there in the distance and I can see the cars parked along the side of the road. Seems like we’ll be entertaining a full house.

Lauren swallows and tries to smooth down her skirt. I still don’t know why she is so fucking nervous and seriously it’s making me nervous and they’re my own family! I pull up into the driveway and turn off the car. Trace has already opened the door and by the time Lauren and I are out of the car, he’s halfway up the path to the front door. I don’t think he’s excited at all.

I walk around to meet Lauren and I take her hand. She gives me a gracious smile and we start to walk towards the front of the house. And that’s when the slew of family members come flying out of the house towards me and Lauren. Before I can get introductions out, we’re being smothered in an onslaught of hugs and kisses.

She looks over at me in bewilderment and I shrug it off. The last person to approach me is Mama and she looks ecstatic. “Hey, Mama,” I greet before I’m hugging her tightly

“Oh it is so good to see you home!” she exclaims before she lets me go. Lauren has almost completed saying hello to my dad, step parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Once they’ve finished, they continue onto the rental car to pull out our luggage. She approaches us sheepishly and before she can make heads or tails of what’s going on, Mama is giving her an enormous hug and patting the back of her head. Lauren looks up at me and I give her the thumbs up. Believe me, my Mama would let everyone know if she didn’t like Lauren. 

Embraces over, Mama and the rest of the clan usher us inside the family home. Lauren has been here before but she’s looking around as if she’s discovering the house through new eyes. Or maybe she never had time to actually take in her surroundings since the times she’s been here with me I usually barked orders and made her do this and that around the house and also around town.

We make our way into the kitchen and I immediately see Grandma Sadie in the corner pulling a freshly baked peach cobbler out of the oven. Trace is hovering over her shoulder and before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaving Lauren alone with the rest of my family so I can defend the pie that is so obviously meant for me.

While Trace and I fight over who gets the first bite, I catch little splices of conversation Lisa, Paul, Dad, and the rest of the family are having with Lauren. There isn’t anything she can’t handle, I’m sure of it.

“Now you worked for Justin, correct?”

“Yes, I was his personal assistant for about four years, give or take,” she explains almost meekly.

“Wow, sorry,” Dad says apologetically. I’m too involved with the cobbler to shoot him a reprimanding look or throw a dish rag in his direction. Trace reaches out to dip his finger into the pie and I evade him. Before I even know what’s happening, the back of my hand starts to sting and I look up at Grandma. She’s got a wicked smile on her face and I realize she has just smacked not only my hand, but Trace’s as well.

“The only person who’s going to get the first piece of pie is this little lady over here,” Grandma explains before she walks over to Lauren who is still standing amongst a throng of people, the oven warm pie still in her firm grasp.

“You know I want a piece of that pie, but first lemme, lemme, lemme talk to her,” Trace mutters under his breath and I quickly smack him upside the head. I am so sick of that song. I watch with acute jealously as Grandma cuts the first slice of my peach cobbler and puts it on a plate in front of Lauren. She gives me a skeptical look before she grins in my direction and takes a huge bite.

“Wow, dis ees gewd,” Lauren exalts with her mouth still full. She swallows the rest and looks over at Grandma Sadie, “He wasn’t lying when he said your peach cobbler was amazing.”

“I’ve seen you here before though, right?” Grandma asks, “I know this isn’t your first time here.”

“No,” she states, “The last time I was here I was running around getting things for Justin. I was his personal assistant…” she begins but Grandma Sadie cuts her off.

“You mean to tell me you’ve been in this house and my grandson didn’t offer you any of my peach cobbler?” She shakes her head, eyebrows raised and looking back and forth between Grandma and I with a look of disbelief. I know the glare in Granny’s eyes…and I know I should go run and hide when she picks up a wooden spoon and walks towards me. Ugh looks like I’m on a one way train back to age four.

I stand there and close my eyes as Grandma lifts the spoon slowly and pats my cheek lightly. “I taught you better,” she scolds. God if I wanted to be scolded I would just go piss Lauren and Trace off at the same time. But then again it isn’t as bad as having your Grandma do it when you’ve only been home for five minutes. “And for that…<i>no</i> peach cobbler for you this time.”

What? I live for peach cobbler! She can’t take that away from me! I’ve waited months for one of those pieces to hit my mouth and just melt on my tongue. I’ve waited days! I’m going to kill Lauren, she took away the love of my life! Oh man I am so going to make her life hell…really, I am. I feel like a starved child as the rest of my family dive into the cobbler. Trace grins as he takes a piece and shoves a bit into his mouth. Yeah, I’ll kill him too.

The pie is demolished within minutes and soon the family is retiring into the family room. I hang around in the kitchen for a minute, realizing Lauren is in the back of the group. I reach out and grab her arm and yank her into my arms. She looks up into my eyes with questions and before she can verbalize them, my lips are crashing down on hers. I can tell she’s surprised because she’s exceedingly tense, but I don’t care. One, it’s been way too long since we’ve kissed and two…well I mean I can taste the peach cobbler on her and…oh man I miss it.

She pushes me away softly, shaking her head with mock disappointment, “What?” I ask.

“If you think I’m going to be kissing you all the time so you can get your peach cobbler fix you are dead wrong. Don’t make me stop kissing you this week because I like kissing you…”

“I wouldn’t want that, and you wouldn’t be that mean, would you?” Wait…this is Lauren, of course she’d be that mean. And I’m sure if she weren’t my girlfriend she’d be even worse. I throw out the Pout for good measure and she shakes her head more vigorously and laughs under her breath. I stop her laughter with another quick kiss and then take her hand into the other room where I’m sure more questions are waiting.

*

The house is eerily quiet as I walk out of the bedroom I’m sharing with Justin. I find it weird to be sleeping in his mother’s house in the same room with her son. I mean if we were back home I’m sure my parents would put Justin out in the barn let alone the same room. So maybe I should be thanking my lucky stars that we can continue to be together for twenty-four hours a day…because who knows how long that’s going to last.

And besides, it’s not like we’re going to do anything. After all, this is his mother’s house.

The rest of the family members have come and gone with the exception of Lynn, Paul, and Justin’s half brothers. The two had been in school when we pulled into Millington and they were so excited to see Justin they couldn’t tear themselves away from their half-brother. So Justin spent the majority of his night hanging out with Jonathan and Stephen before the three of them all but passed out a little while ago. Hopefully they aren’t light sleepers because I would hate to wake them up on my trek to the kitchen.

Traveling always makes me dehydrated and a glass of water is looking really appealing right now. I remember my way into the kitchen without a problem, but then there’s the obstacle of finding the glasses. I spot a clean one by the sink and grab it before opening the fridge. It’s so weird to be running around this house like it’s mine. I’ve only been here a few times but it feels so alien to move about like I own the place. I’m probably still in that stupid mindset that Justin is my boss and me sneaking around his house is a big employee no-no.

I yank out the water jug in the fridge and close the door not realizing that another inhabitant of the house has joined me.

“Night owl?” the voice comes out of nowhere and the results are disastrous.

“Shit!” I hiss and at the exact time I drop the water jug and watch it as it falls to the stone floor in slow motion, finally exploding on contact with the ground. “Dammit!” I mutter, all promises to not swear like a sailor in front of Justin’s family thrown out the window.

I immediately search for a rag or anything that will help me clean up this mess. I feel so bad and really, it’s only water for crying out loud! “Sorry,” I all but stammer as my fumbling hands make contact with a rag. I drop to my knees and start to mop up the floor as best I can. Way to go, Lauren…way to go.

“Don’t worry about it darlin’,” Lynn says quickly as she rounds the kitchen island and grabs another rag to help with the damage. “It’s stone, the water isn’t going to hurt anything. Honestly it needed washing.

Now she’s trying to make me feel better. Great, I hate the sympathy conversation…Christ this is so awkward.

“I’m sorry, you just startled me,” I explain quickly without thinking. I stop myself and look down at the ground in horror. I just blamed Justin’s mom for scaring the shit out of me. Wonderful job, Walters, you’re just wracking up the points here.

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes, “I forget that I’m one of the few who knows all the creaks and squeaky places in this house. Not many people can walk through this place without making some noise; although you did a pretty good job,” she adds with a wide grin. We finish sopping up all the water and soon we’re on our feet and standing around the kitchen. Yup, getting more and more awkward by the second.

“I grew up in a real old house so I guess I’m used to it,” I explain and Lynn nods thoughtfully.

“Where did you grow up?” I reiterate the short story of my youth and she nods. “Justin never mentioned any of this.”

“Yes well up until two weeks ago I was just the estranged help and he doesn’t really connect with his employees on a personal level,” I blurt with a slight trace of bitterness. Oh God, that wasn’t good, I pretty much just bad mouthed her only son to her face. She’s going to hate me and probably poison my turkey tomorrow. I can imagine the Timberlake clan laughing at my limp body, my face completely submerged in my plate of mashed potatoes, stuffing, and said poisoned turkey.

“Uh…what I meant was,” I try to back track and Lynn just smirks and chuckles under her breath. I shut my mouth immediately and watch in foreboding silence as she moves around the kitchen, filling two empty glasses with water from the tap.

“Don’t try to cover up honesty,” she explains thoughtfully before she passes me my glass of water, “It’s true, Justin can be an ass most of the time when it comes to the help. A couple of times I had to give him his ego check…I never told him to ease up on you…”

Okay, so his mom hates me. Why else would she let Justin continue to torture me for almost four years? This might be the point in the conversation where she shoves my head down the tiny garbage disposal or when she pulls out the butcher knives and carves me up. Who knows, maybe I’ll be the main course tomorrow. I always knew there was something fucking twisted about Justin’s family. And I bet anything cannibalism is it.

“Why?” I finally ask, “Why not tell him to ease up on me?”

“Well,” she begins before she pauses and takes a sip of her water, “I’ve come to realize that Justin only likes to put the people he really loves through hell. I mean look at me, I raised him,” she adds with a chuckle, “It’s like his defense mechanism for finding those he can be closest to. He’s been in the spotlight for so long that he just turns into this huge wall when he meets or hires new people. He doesn’t want people who aren’t serious about him to be in his life for a long time. And you, well you didn’t take his shit. At the beginning you were a little put off by his over confidence and what have you, but you learned and soon you were dishing it right back at him.” I nodded as I took a sip of my water, in a way that was true. I would take Justin’s bullshit in stride when I was working for him.

“And I always knew there was something going on between the two of you. I mean I could feel it whenever I was around one of your frequent arguments,” she laughs and knocks back the rest of her water, “I didn’t want to say anything because I know how stubborn Justin can get when it comes to being attracted to someone – he doesn’t like it when people tell him, he wants to figure it out for himself…” I stand there in silence as Lynn continues to delve into her son’s inner psyche. Really, I never thought Justin could be this complex. Before we got together I used to think there was only one layer and that was Supreme Asshole. But then he revealed another layer in Worden and came to be this nice guy who I started to fall in love with…and then another layer and another and another…really he’s like fucking Shrek and the whole onion thing.

“I would have maybe pushed you in the right direction,” Lynn continues, “but I didn’t know you well enough and, truth be told, I was intimidated by you,” she reveals. I gulp down a sip of water way too fast and start to cough at her revelation.

“You were intimidated by me?”

“Oh yes. You had everything together, a strong head on your shoulders, and you had your set goals and objectives and you would succeed in anything. You were and still are a determined woman and that’s pretty damn intimidating. Plus you wouldn’t take any nonsense and you also wouldn’t let my son get away with a lot of shit that people turned a blind eye to,” she added.

“I hope you don’t feel that way now…I mean the whole intimidation thing,” I say rapidly.

“No, not any more. I realize now that you weren’t putting up with Justin’s antics for the paycheck or the thought of big promotions. Anyone who was after those kinds of rewards would have quit a long time before you did. I realize now that you were staying around and doing the things you were doing out of love for my son. You were trying to protect him, keep him safe, and keep him out of trouble. Honestly, Lauren, I couldn’t ask for anyone better. I hope you’re still keeping him out of trouble…

“Yeah,” I say quietly. I’m really at a loss for words. I just wanted a drink of water, instead I’m having a heart to heart with Justin’s mom and a drink is just an added perk. What do I say to all of that? Joke…is a joke a good thing to throw in here? “Well you know, I try to keep him out of as much trouble as I can, what with Trace and all…” Lynn laughs and nods slowly and I’m pretty sure she’s remembering all the times she’s probably busted both her son and Trace for getting into a steaming pile of trouble.

“Those two,” she says fondly, “They keep me young and I’m sure they keep you on your toes.

“Pretty much. It beats going to the gym,” I quip and Lynn laughs again. Okay, so maybe I’m earning points with my late night humor, unless it’s pity laughs. Note to self – don’t crack jokes at the dinner table tomorrow.

“As much as I loved this conversation, I do need to get some sleep. Lord only knows half of Millington is going to be running in and out of this house tomorrow trying to get Thanksgiving dinner on the table. And you have to be tired from flying across the country…” I nod and stifle a yawn. She grins and walks over to me, giving me a half hug before she walks towards the door she came in from, “Night Lauren. See you in the morning.”

“You, too,” I say before I give her a little wave. I’m sure she’s heading for her room on the ground floor at the opposite end of the house. Me, I have a trek upstairs and down a very long hallway to Justin’s old room. Yay…I’d rather just sleep on the couch. I’m way too tired to stumble up stairs and hallways. But I don’t want to be rude, and I don’t want to listen to Justin whine about me not being in his room when he wakes up in the morning.

I open the door leading into Justin’s room three minutes later to find all the lights off. The moonlight is cascading through the window and spilling onto the bed. To my surprise the bed is empty and the sheets are all tangled about, half of them on the floor. Where the hell is he? Justin is not one to miss a good sleep…

“Shit, Lauren…that was the longest fucking water break I have ever waited for,” he complains behind me and I jump as his arms snake around my waist, his hands clasping together around my stomach.

“Really what is it with you and your mom liking to scare the shit out of people at all hours of the night?” I shoot back but the rest of my protests are silenced as he slowly starts to kiss my neck. For a second I totally get caught in the moment but I slowly realize that this shouldn’t be happening right now. After all, I am in his house and yeah…just not a good idea.

“Justin?”

“Hmm?” he’s still kissing my neck and the vibrations from his lips tickle my skin. I have to hold the giggle in with all of my might. He can’t know I’m enjoying this because he’s only going to keep going until…oh man don’t want to think about it.

“You do realize that we’re in your house, correct?”

“Yeah…” he whispers lazily before he turns me around and starts to violently assault my collarbone with his mouth.

“And did it ever occur to you that your half-brothers are in the next room and we’re in the room you grew up in?”

“Your point?” he questions in a growl before his kisses start to travel upwards back to my neck and jaw line. Really he needs to stop this because I’m going to say fuck it in just a minute and throw everything to the wind. But I’m strong dammit, and I’m not going to let it happen. He can keep it in his pants for another day and a half.

“Well what if they wake up and hear us? I mean that is not something I want an eight and thirteen year old to hear. Especially when it’s their older brother who they idolize!”

“C’mon Lo, this’ll just give them another reason to worship me more,” he points out and I shake my head and sigh heavily. He may be thinking with his dick right now, but the ego isn’t too far behind. “Besides, they’re heavier sleepers than I am. Nothing to worry about…” he mumbles stupidly before he’s pressing tiny kisses around my mouth. He’s teasing me and I don’t like it at all. I want to show him that two can play this game but I don’t want to egg him on. I need to stay strong and not give in! I need…

And just like that the bastard has destroyed my wall of defense with a swift move. The ass hat found the one weakness that makes me lay down the weapons and wave the white flag. I can tell he’s smiling as he nibbles lightly on my ear lobe before he kisses the side of my face and digs his hands into my hair.

“I hate you,” I say sullenly and he knows that he has me right where he wants.

“No you don’t,” he growls into my ear and the shivers escalate up and down my spine.

“Justin!” I whine and I stamp the floor because this is pissing me off and half of me wants to run from the room while the other wants to throw him on the bed, “What if we get caught or something?”

“Seriously, Lauren? Lighten the hell up, where’s your sense of adventure?” I’m about to respond but he goes back to my other ear and I try to suppress the moan that’s threatening to escape. My toes curl as he pulls on my ear lobe and then lets go, his lips starting to outline my jaw again.

I can’t take it anymore.

“Oh fuck it,” I whisper quickly and I grab both sides of his face with my hands and pull him in for the real thing. He’s startled for a moment but that surpasses with a swiftness and he pulls me tighter against him. He feels wonderfully solid as we continue to kiss ourselves into a fervor. Despite it being the end of November and the chill is hanging outside in the Tennessee air, it is stifling hot inside. Articles of clothing definitely need to be shed in order for me to cool off, if that is even possible.

Our hands are roaming everywhere. His hands make their way up my shirt, and they’re so cool that they’re practically burning my scorching skin. My head rolls back as he kisses down my neck and before I can stop myself, a long slow moan escapes my throat and carries through the stale air in his room. He pauses his movements for a moment and looks up at me, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Why the hell did you stop?” I question in between my heavy breathing. He shrugs and purses his swollen lips. “Keep going!”

“I don’t know…” he pants, “I mean, maybe you’re right… my brothers <i>are</i> in the next room.” The little bastard is teasing me and I hate it when he does this. Hate it, hate it, hate it. He moves away from me and my body is screaming at me to not let him just walk away.

“I don’t think so,” I say slowly and I reach out and grab his arm. He looks at me with a huge smirk and before he can brace himself, I run forward and jump into his arms, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. We’re both giggling like crazy and we quickly discard our tops as he inches his way over towards his bed. He’s taking his sweet time and I know he’s still being a prick and taunting me. I’m getting wound up so tight I’m about to burst and he knows it.

After what seems like an hour or more of kissing and hands wandering everywhere, his legs finally smack into the frame of the bed. Instinctively I lean back and he can either let me go or fall down with me. He chooses the latter and soon we’re continuing our little romp horizontally rather than vertical. Thank God, I thought we’d never get here.

A few more minutes sees the rest of our clothes in one heap on the floor and he’s positioned himself over me, the kisses never stopping. My arms are wrapped around his torso, fingers digging into his tight muscles. One of his hands is bracing his body against the mattress and the other is wrapped in my hair. I know he’s inches away from where I want him and the thought that he’s still taking his damn time is killing me. I look up at him and we look at each other just before he slips inside.

I can’t stop the moans and whimpers that are escaping my mouth as we start to ride the wave together. “Oh God,” I sigh into the crook of his neck. Our breathing starts to fall into a rhythm with our bodies and I’m absolutely beside myself with ecstasy.

“Just like that,” he cries in such a soft voice it’s barely above a whisper. I can feel us speeding like a runaway train to the edge and we aren’t stopping. My body is screaming to keep contact for as long as possible and I try to keep my moans audible only to him. His whole body quivers and I’m not too far behind him. I close my eyes tightly and hang onto his shoulders, trying my best to stay under control.

He rolls off of me and automatically raises the covers over our damp bodies. Our chests rise and fall, our heavy breathing weaving in and out with the melody of the wind sighing right outside the window. Justin steals a look at me and I turn to look at him. He reaches over and brushes a strand of sweat soaked hair off of my forehead.

“And you wanted to pass that up,” he chides. I reach over and smack him on the shoulder lightly. He laughs a little too loudly before he reaches over and pulls me close to him. He rests his head on top of mine and sighs contentedly. “Lauren?” he asks a few moments later, his voice is groggy and heavy with sleep. I’m in between consciousness and dead sleep but I open my eyes and look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“Just wanted to tell you that I love you before you fall asleep.” He kisses my forehead softly and I unabashedly return the favor.

“I love you, too.” 

I guess you could say I have a lot to be thankful for this year. After all, a lot has happened. I’m thankful that I didn’t get killed by drug dealers in Boston, thankful for living in London for a short while, and I’m thankful that Justin is back in my life even though sometimes I wish that weren’t the case. Oh and a big one – I’m thankful to the pilgrims, Indians, and the little baby Jesus that I’m no longer his personal assistant.

I am not thankful, however for Trace. Who at the moment is pelting me with turkey innards and trying to get me to swear at him. My mouth has been purged clean of any profanity since being in Justin’s house save for the late night surprise Justin’s mom gave me. I refuse to drop F-bombs around his grandmother and brothers.

“Just let something slip,” he whines and I shake my head as I continue to knead the stuffing in the mixing bowl. I’ve been up since the very early morning helping the Timberlake clan prepare a Thanksgiving dinner that could feed the whole country of Lebanon. In a minute I’m about to take a break to watch the Macy’s Day Parade with the rest of the family – apparently a tradition. Something wet and slimy hits me on the cheek and I look down on the floor to see what looks to be a turkey liver limp on the ground.

“Don’t you have your own family to harass?” I question him. I already know the answer but it helps to pose a rhetorical question every now and then. Trace’s family has gone to visit his sister in Prague. She’s there on business and the majority of the Ayala family made the trek – except for Trace.

“Lo-ho you have to do it. I refuse to leave you alone until you say it,” Trace explains. He reaches into the garbage and I see he’s lugged the heart out and is ready to pelt it across the room.

“Say what?” I look up from my kneading and see Justin walk in. He makes a beeline for my direction and he kisses me soundly on the head. I give him a gratifying smile and he raises an eyebrow when he notices that there’s still slime on my cheek. “What is that?”

“Trace has been practicing his aim with turkey parts,” I explain with a dramatic sigh before I finish with the stuffing. I reach over and grab the hollow bird by the legs. It’s time to lock and load.

“Why is he doing that?”

“Because she won’t swear! She hasn’t sworn at all since we’ve been here and my world has gone into a tailspin,” Trace exalts and I hold my laughter as Justin and I roll our eyes at the exact same time.

“That’s a lie,” Justin points out, “She’s sworn since we’ve been here.”

“What? No she hasn’t!” Trace cries indignantly. I throw Justin a cautionary glance. If Trace got even the slightest word of what we did last night I’d never hear the end of it. He’d have new material to goad me with from now until the end of time. I pick up a handful of stuffing and start to shove it into the bird. Last year I was at Neal’s parents’ house for Thanksgiving…how things change.

“You’re right, she hasn’t,” Justin backtracks, “Care to fix that, dear?” He leans forward and I casually whisper a few choice words in his ear. With a shrug he looks back towards Trace, “There you go. She did it in my house.”

“That isn’t fair, I didn’t hear it!”

I respond to his offended cries by chucking a well-aimed handful of stuffing in his direction. The food hits him directly in the face and I can’t hear what he has to say because Justin and I are holding onto each other, laughing hysterically as Trace wipes the concoction from his face. He throws us a dirty look before he rushes off to no doubt clean up.

“Help me stuff the rest of this thing so we can go watch the parade,” I request and Justin doesn’t have a problem with shoving his hands into the bowl and getting them dirty. The work is done in half the time and once we’ve cleaned off our hands and placed the turkey in the oven, we find a prime spot in the family room to watch the start of the parade.

About halfway through the spectacle, Grandma Sadie, Lisa, Lynn, and a few aunts excuse themselves and rush into the kitchen to start getting the rest of our dinner started. I try to go with them, but I’m met with a huge wave of protests that guests don’t do work and I’ve been enough help for the time being.

So I snuggle into Justin’s arms and we continue to watch the parade with the majority of the men in Justin’s family and a few female cousins. It’s a strange feeling being integrated into a huge family. Mine isn’t that big to begin with and the thought of being accepted into Justin’s family without question is a heartwarming and sweet experience. For all I know my parents are somewhere in Barbados or Antarctica eating a dinner that’s indigenous to the area. My parents aren’t really normal to say the least.

All too soon the parade ends and the hours of football begins. Thankfully my sanity is saved from over levels of testosterone because dinner is announced at the start of halftime. The family takes their seats at the huge table in the dining room and the whole place is laid out in abundance.

I take a seat in between Justin and Trace. Directly across from me is Justin’s eight-year-old half-brother Stephen and Jonathan is to his right. Both their parents are flanking their sons’ sides and Lynn and Paul are situated at each end of the table. Grace is said and soon everyone is digging into their respective plates. Everything is going great, everything is fine, and everyone is talking and carrying on good conversation. That is until Stephen tilts his head back and starts to moan softly.

The conversation wavers and everyone starts to look at Stephen with a quizzical glance. I look over at Justin for a split second but I turn to stare at his brother who is moaning again. It isn’t in pain…but, it can’t be pleasure can it?

“Stephen, honey, are you alright?” Lisa questions and he nods before he squirms in his seat and offers the guttural moan again. “Stephen?”

The kid seems to come out of his reverie but not before he utters a tiny whimper that is borderline erotic. Justin never told me his youngest half brother was a freak. “Why are you making all that noise?

The little boy shrugs, “Those were the sounds coming from Justin’s room last night, I thought they were fun.”

My heart has stopped beating and I can feel the color drain from my face. Justin was putting a forkful of turkey, stuffing, and potatoes to his mouth but they have ceremoniously fallen onto his plate, and his fork clatters onto the table.

His words have an immediate effect on the rest of the family. Jonathan turns as red as the cranberry, Grandma Sadie and Grandpa William look highly scandalized, and Justin’s parents look absolutely speechless.

The only person who seems to have anything to say is Trace because he turns towards Justin with eyebrows raised, “Dude are you serious? Score!” Justin shoots him a scathing look and I begin to sink lower and lower into my seat.

‘Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,’ I think to myself over and over again. This cannot be happening. Haven’t his parents given him the talk about the birds and the bees yet?

“And Justin kept asking if she liked it like that…” Stephen adds and I can feel the turkey in my stomach churn tumultuously around and around. I have a feeling I’m going to vomit. This has got to be the worst moment of my entire life. I can’t look at anything except for what’s on my plate. It isn’t looking too appealing and I don’t dare look at Justin or Trace. I have to say something but I have no idea what to say. I’m sure his parents wouldn’t enjoy it if I explained the whole process to him and I don’t want to give Justin’s grandparents a heart attack.

“Uh…” heads whip in my direction to see what I have to say. I pick up my head and look at Stephen who looks confused as to why everyone is so put off by his questions, “I had a really bad stomach ache last night,” I explain. “Your brother was pressing on my stomach to see if it would make it feel better.” It is the worst lie I have ever told, but I’m hoping that the kid buys it. Everyone waits with bated breath and all I want to do is run away.

“Do you feel better now?” Stephen asks casually. I nod vigorously and take a long sip of my water. The kid smiles and starts back into his dinner, “That’s good, I’m glad,” he states. I can almost hear everyone at the table heave a sigh of relief before the majority of the table starts to dig back into their Thanksgiving dinner.

I poke my turkey with a fork and I shake my head as I try my best to down the rest of my food. I turn to look towards Justin when his hand finds mine underneath the table and gives it a reassuring squeeze. At least I know he’s standing by me right now and not ready to proclaim that I am a dirty ho who talked him into it. Last time I checked it wasn’t my idea.

Trace kicks my leg underneath the table and I look away from Justin to stare at him. He tries his best to give me an inconspicuous thumb up and I roll my eyes before I go back to my dinner. I’ll have to kill him later.

*~*~*

Thankfully dinner ends about forty minutes later and the kitchen is busy with people trying to clean up the table and head towards the family room again to watch more football and a recap of the parade on the evening news.

I’m drying the dishes that Lynn is passing off to me and Justin is putting them away. It’s a little assembly line of cleanliness and I’m glad that everyone has ignored Stephen’s outing of Justin and I this far. Everyone seems really cool about it and I hope that the kid can hold off learning about the birds and the bees for another year or two.

The general conversation is turned towards Justin and his upcoming tour. Knowing that I won’t be going with him this time around is a blessing and a curse all at the same time. Our visits will be limited since I’ll practically be living at the Beverly Hilton and he’ll be off gallivanting around the country. Work is going to get in the way and I know I could just throw away the job and stay with him, but we’d end up killing each other; I know it.

For some odd reason he can pick up on my distress and when the topics change to how wonderful the dinner was (sans Stephen’s outbursts), he grabs onto my upper arm and leans in towards my ear, “Meet me out by the car when everyone goes into the other room.”

I turn around to tell him that I will not partake in any after Thanksgiving Dinner nookie because the last time that happened his eight-year-old brother heard us, but he’s already halfway out the door.

“Football game is starting soon,” Paul announces and everyone finishes what they’ve started before they saunter towards the family room. I hang back a moment before I walk out the door Justin just ran out of. I find my way out to the front yard and Justin’s standing by the rental car with Trace standing by the passenger door and Rachel leaning against the back door. They have idiotic grins on their faces and if I were smart I would turn right around and deal with the stares from his family. But before I can put my exit strategy into effect, Justin grabs my arm and all but throws me into the back with his cousin. Laughing, he speeds off into the night.

“What the hell?” I yell loudly as I sit up and immediately put my seatbelt on. The bastard is driving like a mad man and everyone else is laughing hysterically. He’s going to get us all killed…I hate it when he drives.

“Relax Lo-ho,” Trace exclaims from the front seat. He pulls down the window and immediately lights up a cigarette. I make a face and look over towards Rachel – she’s followed Trace’s example and the entire right side of the car is engulfed with smoke. I swear to God if Justin…

“What are you doing?” I ask him as he pulls a cigarette from Trace’s pack and immediately lights up.

“I’m just having one, calm down,” he states before he takes a long drag and exhales the smoke out the window. “Here, have one,” he states before Trace shoves the pack under my nose. I push his arm away and give him a nasty look.

“I’d rather keep my lungs as black free as possible,” I state icily. I see Justin roll his eyes in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

“C’mon Lauren, join the club,” Trace whines. You’re apart of the Millington Mob now.”

“The what?” Did I miss something – an episode of The Sopranos, a new Godfather movie? 

“The Millington Mob,” Trace repeats.

“If you’re in this car you are a part of the M. Mob. We all have nicknames too. I’m Thrustin’ Justin, as you well know…” I lean forward and smack him upside the head before he laughs hysterically, “He’s Mace Trace, Rugged Rachel, since nothing rhymes with her fucking name, and you…” his voice fades away and the car is enveloped in thoughtful silence broken only by the sound of the three exhaling their cigarette smoke. Ugh, my clothes are going to reek.

“Moanin’ Lauren,” Trace quips and the entire car erupts into uproarious laughter. I can feel my cheeks burning red and I know my temper is wearing thin.

“Perfect,” Rugged Rachel exclaims and I want to lean over and poke her eyes out with that stupid cigarette.

“And the first thing Moanin’ Lauren has to do as a member of the M. Mob is to take a nice long drag of a cigarette,” Mace Trace explicates and I shake my head as the cigarette is offered to me once more. “Have it your way,” Trace says with a shrug before he grabs the wheel from Justin’s hand and eases it over on the wrong side of the road.

“What are you doing?” I shriek. We’re still on a residential street and everyone is still in their houses enjoying Thanksgiving like normal people and not joyriding at six o’clock like a couple of idiots. But it’s only a matter of time until some car turns the corner and runs into us head on.

“I’m not moving the car back over until you take a cigarette,” Trace explains calmly. I make eye contact with Justin through the mirror and his eyes are laughing. Is this the punishment I’m getting for making noise during sex because having Grandma Sadie throwing me disheartened looks during kitchen cleanup wasn’t enough?

As if to prove his point, Trace swerves the car back and forth and my heart quickens as Justin steps on the gas. I’m going to kill both of them. I close my eyes and grip the door as tightly as possible. If I don’t say anything maybe they’ll leave me alone and stop acting like complete morons.

“Damn Justin, nearly pushing fifty?” I hear Trace’s voice, “Do I see headlights in the distance?” My eyes fly open and I see at the end of the street a pair of headlights driving straight towards us. Trace isn’t moving the car over and my heart is pounding in my chest. The three of them are watching me and Rachel offers me the pack of cigarettes. I am going to keep my head high. I will not give in and Trace is going to move the car over because he will not let us all get killed – especially not Justin.

“Tick tock, tick tock!” Justin steps on the gas and I lean forward to look at the speedometer. He’s pushing seventy-five and the car is getting closer.

“Would you stop fucking around you guys? Your little white trash jokes aren’t funny!” The car is probably a hundred yards away and we’re getting closer with each passing second. They’re not listening to me and I can feel the tears starting to well up in my eyes.

“Trace let go,” Justin says upon immediately spotting that I’m exceedingly upset. Trace shrugs with indifference and keeps his hold on the wheel. Rachel stays silent, her hand still offering the packet of cigarettes. “We’re done man, let go.”

His voice is firm but I can hear the grave calm that shows he means business. Fifty feet away. Shit, we’re going to die.

“Fine! Fine,” I shout as I snatch the box away from Rachel, “I’ll have one of your god damn fucking cigarettes you stupid ass munching troll, you happy?” Trace pulls his hands off the wheel and Justin swerves the car out of the way without a moment to spare. Justin turns down another street and slows the car to a stop. I open the car door, not waiting for the vehicle to stop. 

In a few clumsy movements I pull out a cigarette, get out of the car, and light up. I don’t have time to put up with this bullshit and I definitely don’t have time for my boyfriend to be one of the conspirators behind said bullshit being done. I take a deep drag from the cigarette and walk away from the car.

“Lauren, wait up!” he calls me back and I turn around and wait for Justin to catch up to me. “I’m sorry I scared you like that. Would you get back in the car?” I shake my head.

“There are reasons why,” I pause as I take another hit, “I don’t let you get behind the wheel of a car while I’m in it. What just happened is one of those reasons. Do you enjoy peer pressuring people into doing your white trash shit? Do you enjoy scaring the shit out of me? This is what I’d expect from an asshole boss who likes to harass his employees, not my boyfriend.” I’m being rude and I hate the look on his face while I’m giving him a piece of my mind but I need to get this off my chest or I’ll be mad at him for the rest of the trip

 I’m sucking on the damn cigarette so much that it’s almost a tiny little stub. I let it drop from my mouth and I step on it, sending ash all over the ground. Before I can stop myself, I’m digging into the pack again and shoving another cigarette in my mouth.

“I thought you said you didn’t smoke,” Justin says after I’m halfway done with my second one. I shrug as if its no big deal and I hold out the pack. He takes one out and I light it for him. “Wait a second,” he asks. I watch as he turns around and heads back to the car. He says something to Trace and I watch as his friend gets out of the passenger seat and moves towards the driver’s side. Justin walks towards me and I watch with confusion as Trace peels off into the night.

“Where’s he going?”

“He’s meeting some of our old friends at a bar. I don’t really want to go so we can walk home. It’s nice out, not too cold.” He starts off down the road and I follow suit. Soon it’s just the two of us walking and smoking in complete silence. After a few more minutes of quiet he looks back over towards me, “So you do smoke?”

“No. But when you pull antics like that and nearly scare me to death I feel like I should help myself get that one step closer to dying,” I explain before I hold up my nearly spent cigarette. “And there wasn’t a lot to do in Worden when I was younger.” I’m wondering if I should tell Justin that the first time I smoked was when Gretchen and I stole a pack of my dad’s cigarettes when we were nine years old. I was coughing for a week after that.

“Well, there’s never a dull moment around here,” Justin adds, “I’m sorry,” he mentions as an after thought.

“I hope you know that I’m driving the four of us back to the airport tomorrow. You and Lace Trace or whatever the fuck his nickname is, aren’t going to be driving for a while.”

“Whatever you say, Moanin’ Lauren,” he quips as we turn onto his street. He reaches out and grabs onto my hand as we head down the home stretch.

“And I am not Moanin’ Lauren. I swear if you start calling me that you aren’t going to be hearing much of that for a very long time, Mister.” He shuts up immediately and wraps his arm around my shoulders in an attempt to cozy up to me.

Yup, in the event of making boyfriend grovel – threaten to take away the sexy time. Works like a charm.

The pounding of the music is hurting my ears and I’m wondering why Marty has to make the stereo system in the rehearsal hall so fucking loud. Because seriously, I want to keep my hearing well into my old age thank you very much.

We continue to go through the motions of the choreography and I am so ready to call it quits it isn’t even funny. I’m pretty much drenched with sweat and I feel so dirty…but it does feel so freaking good.

I just got back from an exciting weekend at home with the family. I think Lauren is glad to be home and away from the eyes of my parents and relatives who all think she can’t keep her pants up. I’m the golden boy and the thought of me initiating sex would be unthinkable in the eyes of my family – with the exception of my mother. She knows how I can get.

But being back in LA means getting back to work and getting back to work means I’m a few days closer to heading off on tour and being without Lauren or Trace. The two of them are staying behind in California while Rachel and I embark on a world tour that’s going to see me busy from January to October. Now that I think about it, I just want to go back home and lay in bed with Lauren and forget that I even have a job and a duty to entertain millions of people with my good looks, charm, and superior talent.

My group of dancers and I finish the combination with ease just as the door opens and Lauren walks in. She looks all business and no fun dressed up in a business suit and looking like she’s about to walk into a corporate building and not a laid back dance studio. We’ve only been home for two days and she looks absolutely exhausted. After complaining nonstop on the trip home about interviewing new assistants, Lauren threw up her hands and said she’d interview people while she prepared for her new job. I would have complained that she’s putting too much on her plate but she wouldn’t hear it and told me to shut the fuck up.

So shut the fuck up I did and now I feel guilty because my girlfriend looks like she was just working at a death camp for three days straight. Okay, maybe it isn’t that extreme, but I can see the circles starting to form under her eyes and I haven’t seen those since she was working for me.

Marty is starting the count for the next combination but I’m already halfway towards Lauren who’s leaning against the far wall and watching intently. I can hear Marty grumble under his breath, which is surprising since the music is way too loud. Whatever, I’m just happy to see Lauren

“Hey Moanin,” I say with a huge grin on my face. She reaches out and punches me on the shoulder. I wince and rub it; I keep forgetting that the girl has an arm on her that would make Tyson weep with pain.

“This is the last time I bail out your ass,” she mutters before I kiss her lightly on the lips. “You do not know how many head cases Jive is sending me to be your new assistant. Every single one of them I’ve seen this morning are either aspiring singers or want to get down your pants…”

“So what’s wrong with that?” she punches me again and I wonder if I’ll start to develop a bruise.

“I have five more interviews after lunch and I am not looking forward to them at all. If I see one more blonde haired, big busted skank walk through my door I’m going to scream.” My heart goes out to the poor girl. She’s probably interviewing each girl like they’re about to guard the President and going through their resumes with a fine toothed comb. I almost feel sorry for the bitches but then I realize that one of them has to get through the Lauren Seal of Approval before they can get to me and the hell I’ll more than likely put them through.

“Well the sooner you find someone, the sooner you can stop and not have to deal with it. Really you can pick some random girl who isn’t that good and I’ll whip her into shape in no time. Just don’t stress yourself out about this, alright?” She sighs heavily and I turn her towards me, both hands on her shoulders, “I’m sure I’ll love whoever you pick out because it’s you who did the picking.” She smiles brightly and I rub her shoulders a bit to help her relax.

“J, would you stop trying to secure a bone for later tonight and come and dance?” Marty yelps from the front of the room. Lauren shoots him a scathing look and my choreographer rolls his eyes. Yes, Marty may have helped Lauren on the plane but that’s as far as their friendship goes. They still hate each other with a passion.

“Shut up Marty! Don’t be jealous that he’s getting some and you aren’t,” Lauren chides and I can’t help but let my guffaw laugh escape. “And how do you know he hasn’t already secured a bone and he’s about to go and get it?”

“Really?” I ask eagerly but she responds by rolling her eyes at me and smacking me on the other shoulder. I’m not going to have any arms in a few months if she keeps this up.

“No,” she whispers, “But you have secured a lunch date. Ready?”

This is a new side of Lauren. She’s asking me to skip out on a rehearsal early to have lunch with her – something she never would have done when she was working for me. But then again the times we had lunch dates were absolute zero.

“Justin, where are you going?” Marty yells as I turn to leave with Lauren. I slide my hand into hers and I can tell that Marty is going to absolutely torture me when I get back into the studio. But I really don’t care, I’m with my girl and that’s all that matters

After five minutes of bickering about where to eat, we settle into our seats at a little Italian eatery on Sunset. The conversation is good enough but we’re steering clear of any talk of her interviewing people and the thought that in less than two months we’ll be separated.

I’m going to fly her out every single chance I can and I’ll hopefully fly back to California whenever I have a day or two off. And I hope she knows that I’ll be calling her whenever I’m not in an interview, on stage, or sleeping. Everything else goes – even when I’m in the shower or on the toilet I will be calling her. I don’t care if that’s gross.

We’re halfway through our entrees when Lauren’s phone starts to ring. I notice that she’s changed her ring tone from ‘Under Pressure,’ to ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love.’ I beam at her as she picks up the phone and returns the smile before she’s all business.

“Lauren Walters speaking…” I watch as her face goes from radiant to ashen. “I am so sorry, I’ll be right there.” She hangs up the phone and throws it in the purse before she looks at me. “Shit!” she exclaims, “Fuck!”

“What’s wrong? Lauren, are you okay?”

“I had a total fucking brain fart and forgot that I had an interview scheduled for twelve thirty. Oh Jesus, I’m half an hour late!” She gathers her things and shoves another bite of her sandwich into her mouth. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Of course. Dinner and a movie night, remember?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it. Love you,” she states hurriedly before she gives me a kiss on the cheek. I love her, but I’m not about to kiss her on the mouth after she’s stuffed a turkey sandwich in her mouth; thankfully she already knows I won’t appreciate it.

“I love you, too,” I explain before she takes off at a jog through the restaurant. Sighing sadly, I pick up my fork and stick it into my salad. I’ll finish the rest of it and get back to Marty, who’s going to be pissed that I left. I don’t give a damn. Even though it was short lived, I’m still glad I got to spend time with Lauren.

*~*~*

I careen into the Jive parking lot behind the wheel of Bentley Lexus like a mad woman. I’m ready to scream with frustration since I hate being late and the fact that this person has probably been sitting outside my closed office door looking like a complete moron for almost forty-five minutes makes me freak out even more.

Jumping out of the car, I sprint for the building while attempting to calm down my hair, which has decided to go ape shit on me for no apparent reason. I’m worried one of my heels is going to break, but thankfully I’m inside the office and rushing for my little room that the manager set aside for me while I conduct the interviews.

I notice the woman sitting on the chair but I don’t really look at her. I stumble past her and mutter apologies as I unlock my door and shove my way in, “I’m sorry, please come in,” I manage to get across in English before I switch on the lights and take my seat behind the desk. Once I have a good hold of my sanity I look up.

A blonde haired, blue eyed woman is standing in front of me, looking every bit the professional. She’s carrying a portfolio under one arm and the other is gently smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt. She smiles brightly, revealing a row of straight, white teeth and I can’t help but smile back.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I had a total brain fart. Please, come in and sit down,” I explain before I offer her a seat. “I’m Lauren Walters…”

“Maura Delaney,” she states matter of fact before she reaches forward and shakes my hand. Her grip is firm and she’s looking me in the eye. So far so good, shows she has balls and isn’t afraid of me – something she’ll need working for Justin. As Maura sits down, I can’t help but feel that she looks strikingly familiar. But then again I’ve met my share of beautiful blonde women working for Justin and she does look like this one girl who threw herself at him during one of his many parties…

“Here’s my resume and list of references,” Maura breaks into my thoughts and hands me a small tablet of papers that none of the other girls had. Well this is comforting, it shows that she’s done some work before and she isn’t afraid of me contacting any people.

“Before we get this underway I have to ask the Big Two,” I explain as I lean back into my chair, “Please answer these truthfully because the answers to these questions will more than likely be revealed should you get the job.”

“Alright.”

“Do you want to be famous or have any desire to be famous?”

“No.”

“Do you want to sleep with Justin Timberlake?”

“No.”

“Alrighty then, we can continue,” I say with a grin before I gather a few slips of paper that have questions scribbled all over them. 

“Do you actually get people who say yes to those questions?” Maura asks incredulously.

“Oh yeah and then I show them the door and cross them off my list,” I explain

“Wow that’s pretty messed up,” she comments and I agree with a nod of the head.

We begin the interview and I see that this girl isn’t going to be a complete push over. I know that Justin wanted someone who was going to kiss his ass and let him do whatever the hell he wants, but if that ends up happening he won’t get anything done and it’ll more than likely get blamed on me when his management ascends from on high to get him in line.

I glance at her resume in between various questions and answers and I can see that she’s highly qualified. She worked at a high end club in LA as a booker and she had a stint as an assistant to a prestigious wedding planner in the area who has diva fits that rival Naomi Campbell’s. 

I can see that Maura will take shit to an extent but if it gets too extreme she has no problem putting her foot down – I definitely wasn’t like that in the beginning; I had to learn to be a hard ass the difficult way. I can safely thank Justin for making me a cold hearted bitch when I need something to get done. What a guy.

“He can be a bit demanding at times,” I say with a furtive smile, “It is a twenty-four seven job and sometimes it can be a little ruthless…” especially if you have to deal with Trace, “but the rewards are great. Travel the world, free concerts, and then of course you get to be thrown into the wonderful paparazzi pictures and you can have the entire fan community explode trying to figure out if you’re just the help or flavor of the week.” Maura laughs and I’m starting to like her more and more. There’s only one more test to pass and none of the other girls have gotten this far.

“I think I can handle that,” she states with a wide grin. Good.

“Well as far as I’m concerned, Maura, you’ve got the job,” her blue eyes light up and I half expect her to get up and do a victory dance around the room, “I just have to call a few of your references and then you can officially sign the paperwork. Granted you do have to meet him, but that can wait for tomorrow,” I explain. I quickly write the rehearsal hall address on the back of my business card and hand it to her. “Just meet me in front at eleven thirty and we can sign the paperwork and you can meet your new slave driver.”

Maura giggles and takes the card with a well-manicured hand. I like that she laughs at all my lame jokes, definitely a keeper.

We exchange cell phone numbers and other random tidbits of information about the other as we walk out to the parking lot. I tell the secretary to cancel all my other appointments for the day and I end my meeting with Maura Delaney in a hug before I jump into Bentley Lexus and let the familiar sounds of Queen wash over the interior.

My peaceful drive home is short lived because my phone starts to ring. Sighing, I pick it up and press it against my ear.

“Lauren Walters speaking.”

“Laurie, honey how are you?” my mother’s unmistakable western twang hits my ear and I try my best to suppress a groan.

“Hey mama, I’m fine. How’re you?”

“Good. I just wanted to call my little girl and see how she’s doing and to ask her a question.” Oh great, a question…when my mom has a question to ask me it usually results in me going up to Worden or flying out to some exotic location where my parents are following the mating patterns of bears and then taping them like its some Discovery Channel Porn.

“Yes?

“What are you and your ex-boss doing for Christmas?” The funny thing with my mother is she knows that I’m dating Justin, but she refuses to call him my boyfriend. She loved Neal like a son and the fact that I’m with the guy who made my life hell for almost five years instead of with the man who would call my mom at the end of a long day just to see where in the world she was kind of pisses her off. So she decides to piss me off as well and call Justin my ex-boss.

“My boyfriend and I don’t have any plans, why?” But my mom isn’t listening. Instead she’s asking somebody named Theodore to bring her the new wide angle lens so she can get a picture of a caribou or something. “Where the hell are you?”

“Northern Alaska. Your father and I are going to be in Wyoming for Christmas, I figured we could have a family affair and you could bring your…” she pauses for a moment and I wait on bated breath for her to actually say… “ex-boss as well.” Guess I can’t have everything.

“Well I need to talk it over with him, but for the time being I’m going to say yes.” But Mom is yelling at Theodore that he brought the wrong one and to go back and get a different model. “Where’s dad?”

“He found a doe in labor a few miles back and he stayed to photograph the birth and imminent death of the calf.” I’m about to ask why the baby’s death is imminent but I’m sure she’s going to tell me anyway, “It’s almost below zero here and a calf isn’t going to survive…that and there’s wolves on the outskirts of the birthing area.”

“Oh that’s lovely mom, I’m glad you guys are getting that on film.”

“It might get us our fifth National Geographic cover,” mom explains and I roll my eyes. Sometimes I just want to reach through the phone and smack my mom in the face.

“I have to go mom, say hello to dad for me,” I manage to get out. My mom is currently gabbing about how she and dad have been following the herd for the past two weeks with some guy named Theodore who is no doubt their assistant. I’m not listening anymore and finally mom announces that she has to go since the herd is on the move.

Silently thanking God, I hang up the phone and throw it back into my purse. I pull up into Justin’s driveway and park Lexus in front of one of the garage bays. I don’t want to go to Wyoming, but I haven’t seen my parents in about three years or so. I kind of owe it to them to see them around Christmas and I know that Justin won’t go anywhere without me and I don’t want to go anywhere without him.

I sigh heavily and lean my forehead onto the steering wheel.

Wyoming here we come.

Today is a day of many firsts and it makes me exceedingly nervous. Today’s the day Justin meets the new P.A. and I’m kind of worried about what he thinks. All I told him last night was I found him a new assistant and that he’d be meeting her tomorrow. He asked me all sorts of questions about her but I wouldn’t relent. Not even after he threw me down on the floor and tried to tickle me senseless. I want him to be surprised when he meets Maura and that’s all there is to it.

“Before I forget,” I state as we drive through late morning traffic towards the studio, “My mom called yesterday and invited us up to Wyoming for Christmas…”

“If you’re going, I’m going,” Justin says immediately. Okay that’s settled then, Justin is going to meet my bat shit crazy parents and there’s nothing I can do about it. If his meeting with them doesn’t send him for the hills then I should probably propose and marry the bastard immediately.

 Not only is Maura being introduced into Justin’s life, but I’m also moving just a little bit out of it. I start my new job at the Beverly Hills Hilton at two o’clock this afternoon and once I get there, I will not have a single moment to myself. My life will be devoted to planning parties, weddings, and bat mitzvahs. I’m moving away from my ultimate goal of heading up a record company, but hopefully my hard work will pay off and I can look around for a job at another label while earning an income with the Hilton job.

“Do you really have to go to work? Can’t you just be my official mood and ego booster?” Justin whines and I reach over to punch him on the shoulder but he’s one step ahead. He grabs my fist with his hand and holds onto it tightly. Dammit, I need to start aiming for the back now.

“You have plenty of people to boost your ego and your mood and you can have me do that over the phone…”

“Um the kind of mood boost I had in mind isn’t the kind of thing you can do over the phone,” Justin mutters and I groan loudly and try my best not to hit him again. Trace starts to laugh like a maniac from the driver’s seat and I want to wipe that mocking smile off his face.

“Can you not think with your dick for two minutes?” I ask. Both he and Trace take a short pause before they look at each other and then back at me,

“No,” they say at the exact same time before they’re reduced to boyish giggles. I wonder why I haven’t lost my damn mind yet.

We pull up to the studio and I notice that Marty is just getting out of his truck. I notice another car has just pulled up into the lot and I notice it immediately as Maura’s. So the initial meeting is going to take place in a parking lot – that isn’t ghetto at all.

“Holy mother fucking hell who is that?” Trace whistles as Maura gets out of her car. She’s dressed semi casual in a long skirt and blouse but I have to admit that she does look really good. Well at least I know she’ll be dressing professionally for this job and not like a complete whore.

Trace parks the car at record speed and we all pile out of the automobile and walk over in Maura’s direction. Justin has a tight hold of my hand and I’m glad that he isn’t joining Trace’s mumblings of how he’d like to tap that from now until the end of the year.

“Who the hell is that?” Marty has joined our little parade of fools and both he and Trace are making a beeline for Maura. She’s standing placidly by the front door even though she’s seen us coming from a mile away. I keep waiting for Trace and Marty to break into a run to see who can get to her first.

“Justin’s new assistant,” Trace mutters under his breath.

“No shit?” Marty responds, “Well damn this tour is going to kick ass.”

“Hi, Maura!” I call out and wave with my free hand. She waves back and before I know it we’re standing in front of each other. Trace and Marty are standing to my left practically drooling over the poor girl. I can see the flash of apprehension in her eyes but she stays calm and I can tell that she’s going to be just fine.

I start the introductions and end with Justin. He reaches forward and shakes her hand before he walks back towards me and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close. I am so proud that he’s not all up in Maura’s business like Trace and Marty and he’s actually being nice…

“Maura, I have a meeting to get to tonight and the clothes I’m wearing for it are at the dry cleaners. Pick that up and take it to my stylist’s office. Then you can go to the house and bring Buckley and Brennan over to the studio. Got that?”

“Dry cleaners, stylist house, house, Buckley and Brennan, studio…” she repeats under her breath, “But wait who…” and before she can get the words out, Justin has shoved me and Marty into the studio. I hear Trace yelling that he’ll catch up with us later…

“I’m gonna show Maura the ropes!” he calls as the doors swing shut.

“You are terrible,” I tell Justin once we’re out of ear shot, “She doesn’t even know who Buckley and Brennan are.”

“Sure she does. Everyone knows who my dogs are,” Justin states casually.

“Justin not everyone knows every little thing about your life. We aren’t all super fans,” I grumble. The fact that he’s treating her like crap right at the get go is rubbing me the wrong way. I should just let it go since the first day I met Justin he sent me to pick up Trace at the airport and pick up his lunch. Should have been easy…except I went to LAX when Trace flew into Burbank and the lunch I got Justin was from some fast food place. Apparently Justin takes his lunch at high-end eateries and not the BK Lounge. Last time I made that mistake.

“Well she has Trace to show her around, don’t worry about it Lauren. I’ve got to break the puppy in somehow,” he jokes.

A few hours later sees Justin taking a break from his dancing to answer a phone call from Trace. I’m sitting on a couch in the back of the room and his sweaty ass saunters over and practically sits on top of me.

“You do realize that I have to look somewhat presentable at work today and having your sweaty back all on me is not going to be a good look for me.”

“Oh be quiet, you know you love my sweaty back,” Justin quips before he starts to laugh like a crazy person.

“What?”

“Listen to this message from Trace,” he states and he slams the phone against my ear.

“Dude, Justin…funniest shit ever! So Maura and I go to your house to get the dogs and she freaks. Apparently she isn’t a fan. I’m afraid B and B aren’t going to make an appearance at the studio…” I stop listening and stare at Justin. He takes the phone out of my hands and dials a number.

“Maura, Justin - sorry about the dog thing. Can you run to Tim Miller’s and get the price sheet for the tour? I need that and a few other things that he has. He might not be there but his secretary will let you in. Oh and I need you to call Timbaland and tell him that I can’t make it to his party tonight but I will definitely see him at the studio tomorrow. I also need you to confirm my travel arrangements to New York for the Saturday Night Live stint and I also need you to figure out hotel reservations and transportation to and from the hotel…you need to type all that up and give the itinerary to everyone on the team. Got that?” And he’s off the phone before poor Maura has a chance to respond.

“If she didn’t hate you for scaring the shit out of her with the dogs, she definitely hates you now,” I explain, “I would be calling you a mother fucking whore bitch for all that shit you’re making me do. God were you this horrible with me?”

“Oh I was worse with you,” Justin explains before he kisses me, “I was worse with you because you were such a fucking pushover. Plus I liked seeing your little pissed off face when I made you do impossible things.”

“You better watch your step Timberlake or I might just end up hating you more than Maura,” I snap good-naturedly.

“Yeah right. You love me too damn much.”

“Lucky for you,” I mumble. He kisses me again before he gets off the couch and heads back to dance. Once I’m sure he’s busy with learning choreography I pull out my phone.

“Hello, Tim? It’s Lauren. Look, Justin can’t make it to the party tonight; the rehearsals for the tour are killing him. He’ll make it up to you in spades later…thanks you take care as well.”

Hanging up the phone, I immediately dial Justin’s travel agent and start to work out his travel arrangements to New York. Once that’s finished, I pull out my Blackberry and send a long, detailed message to Maura. Twenty minutes pass before I get a new message from Maura.

'Thank you!'

 Another hour passes and I realize that I can’t stay any longer unless I want to be late for work. I stand up and Justin looks up from his dancing and stops mid combination. Marty yells in frustration but he throws it to the wind and jogs up to me.

“Don’t go!” he mutters into my shoulder as he hugs me tightly, “I can teach you all the dance moves and you can be a dancer on the tour…”

“You and I both know I can’t dance my way out of a paper bag,” I mutter into his chest.

“We can work on that, just don’t go.” Part of me wants to stay but I know if I do I won’t get anything done and I’ll waste away on a couch watching Justin dance for hours on end. Which isn’t a bad thing, but it doesn’t create revenue.

“Justin I have to. This isn’t the end of the world, I’ll see you when you get home tonight,” I explain. He shakes his head and holds onto my tighter. I think he can see what I’m seeing, too - that as soon as I start this job I’m going to be married to it and with Justin going on tour it means that these past few weeks of us being together all the time is going to fade away. 

The opening of the door interrupts our silent pity fest and we both turn to look at who it is. Maura is standing there with a small smile on her face as she leans against the door.

“Is there anything else you need me to do today?” she asks quietly.

“You mean you finished all of that shit I gave you to do?”

“Yeah, here’s your price list and the other things you requested from Mr. Miller. Your itinerary has been sent out to all of your team members and I sent a copy to your Blackberry and there’s also a hard copy sitting on the desk in your study at home. Your dry cleaning is with your stylist and she’ll be dropping it off at your house by five thirty tonight. Timbaland got the message and he’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. I also took the liberty of planning your travel arrangements to Wyoming for your Christmas vacation and Trace pointed me out as to where your Christmas list for this year is. Around twenty-five percent of it is done and I can get the rest done later this afternoon and tomorrow if that’s alright with you?”

Justin looks at her completely speechless before he nods wordlessly and she starts to leave.

“Damn Lauren, she’s almost better than you!”

Aw, if the poor bastard only knew.

*~*~*

After another five minutes of Justin refusing to let me leave the studio, I was finally able to make it to my car and start the short journey to Beverly Hills. The Hilton stands there in all its glory and I already know that as soon as I step foot inside of it, my free life will probably be over.

The manager of the hotel sent me a file after I got back from Memphis explaining that once I got to work I’d be planning a wedding for some senator’s daughter. Big to do, and it requires a lot of work. Especially when it’s in two days. Of course it isn’t anything I can’t handle – if working for Justin taught me one thing it’s that anything impossible can be accomplished in a short amount of time.

I walk into the main lobby and forgo gawking over the glitz and glamour of the hotel. If I stand around and get all into this place I’ll never make it to the grand ballroom where this whole shindig is going down. I’m going to have to be very familiar with this place if it means I have to help plan high-end parties.

The rows of ballrooms and convention centers are all lined up down one corridor that is wider than Star Jones’s ass post gastric bypass and the interior decorators of the hotel wasted no expense in embellishing the hell out of the place. Chandeliers are everywhere and the walls are hung with enormous mirrors that could probably show off an entire Ugandan village. The grand ballroom is in the center of it all.

Opening one of the huge oak doors, I let myself in and see that the place is already bustling with activity. People are filing past with floral arrangements and others are setting up the tables. The ceremony is taking place at some random Scientology Church and we’re the set up for the reception. Tables are all over the place and I guess the senator is expecting a wedding of gigantic proportions because all I can see are tables

Most of them are already set with the Hilton’s finest china and I can only hope that I can get a major discount should I ever decide to hold a reception or any sort of function here. I’ve seen the slated price tag for this reception and if I put all the paychecks I earned from being Justin’s assistant together from the whole four years I was there it wouldn’t even be able to pay for half.

My attention is drawn to someone standing on a ladder off to the left. He’s currently preoccupied with trying to hang some kind of floral garland on the ceiling. I guess the theme is Alice in Wonderland or some shit like that because there are going to be flowers everywhere All the garlands start at the end of the room and meet in the center under the dance floor to create this enormous cluster fuck of flowers in the center of the floor. A little too over the top if you ask me, but then again I’m not the one getting married.

The guy leans forward to press the garland into the ceiling. I can tell disaster is going to strike since the ladder is wobbling all over the place. This can’t be good at all. The idiot thinks he can lean ahead even more and that’s when all goes to hell.

With a yelp of surprise, the guy loses his balance and pitches forward, landing directly on a table that has already been set. Plates and cutlery go flying everywhere with a sickening crash as the table snaps in half due to the man’s weight. His hand is still firmly clutching the garland and it goes down too, the whole strand of it. Thirty feet of strung out flowers goes crashing to the ground along with the ladder, which just misses taking out another table.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. This is so not good.

All the other employees merely cast disappointed glances his way before they continue with what they’re doing. Do these people honestly not care that this guy could be bleeding all over the table and getting the linens dirty?

I rush over towards the poor kid who is trying in vain to get himself out of the little conundrum he’s found himself in. I can already see that the thick glasses that should be perched on his nose are broken and set off his face. There’s a cut from what I can only guess is glass on not only his cheek, but his forehead as well. I’m sure there’s more on his body but I’m not about to do a full check up. Last time I checked I’m not a doctor and doing a full body search isn’t part of my job description.

“Are you okay?” I ask the guy. He turns to look up at me. He groans when he finally realizes what a mess he’s made. I can almost see the gears working in his head at how much his little tumble is going to set back the team setting this place up. For a second I can almost see tears but I don’t say anything as I reach out and help him up.

“Thank you,” he mumbles before he plucks his glasses off his face and squints at them. I’m starting to feel really bad for this guy.

“I’m Lauren Walters,” I explain before I extend my hand. He squints at me again and almost misses my hand as he goes to shake it. Apparently the poor kid is blind as a bat. Well I have my work cut out for me.

“Elliot Rodgers…soon to be fired…” he gives an exasperated sigh and moves a foot around; the sound of glass breaking even further makes him wince. I’m starting to feel bad for this kid… “how the heck am I going to fix this?”

And before he can get another word in I’ve already surveyed the room. There are two interns standing in the corner comparing the bling jobs on their Blackberries not doing a single thing.

“You two!” I shout and they give me a scathing look before slowly making their way over towards Elliot and I. “What are you doing right now?”

“We’re on break,” they say almost at the exact same time. One of them is popping gum and the other looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. Oh I hate bitches like this.

“You are officially off break. I want you,” I point to Gum Chewer, “to find a replacement table, new linens, and more china. I don’t care if you have to go to another Hilton, just get it done today. And you…” Ice Queen stares at me with her mouth slightly agape, “I need you to make sure that the flowers on the garland aren’t damaged and then you need to re-hang it and make sure that it’s secure.” Both women look at me as if I sprouted a second head, “Well go!” I shout and with many mutterings under their breath, the interns take off furiously typing on their Blackberries.

“Wow,” Elliot breathes. I turn to look at him and he’s looking at me with a mixture of what seems to be infatuation and admiration. “How did you execute that plan so flawlessly?” Looks like I have a nerd on my hands.

“Well it’s a long story,” I say with a smile. It isn’t until then I notice that he still has a few cuts on his face, “What do you say we get those cuts cleaned up and I’ll tell you all about it?” He nods silently and brings his broken glasses up to his eyes so he can find his way towards the staff room.

Once inside the staff room I find a few people sitting around still on ‘break.’ Apparently Gum Chewer and Ice Queen came this way because they all throw me nasty looks and start to file out towards the grand ballroom. Great, I love making good first impressions.

“Is everyone this terrible?” I ask Elliot as he sits down at the table. I grab the first aid kit and sit down next to him.

“Those are just the people brought in by the wedding planner and the senator,” Elliot explains, “Everyone else that works here are really good about getting things done.” I nod silently as I pull out some gauze and band aides. The cut doesn’t look too nasty which is a good thing. Elliot seems like a hard worker and I would hate for him to leave so he can get his face stitched up.

“So you’re here all the time then?”

“Yeah I’m always here – this place is pretty much my life. In fact, you could say that we’re both in charge of all that goes on here but no one really listens to me.” I’m guessing it’s the fact that he’s a huge dork as well as a push over.

“Well that’s about to change. If you already couldn’t tell I don’t take a lot of shit from people,” I explain. He looks a bit affronted that I just swore in front of him but the guy is going to have to get used to it.

“Did you take shit from Justin Timberlake?” The question kind of takes me by surprise because I wasn’t even thinking that he would know anything about my previous job. I don’t really want any of my co-workers to find out that I did work for him and especially that I’m dating him.

“Not really,” I relent. “But I guess he gave me too much because I’m not working for him anymore.”

“But aren’t you dating him?” Elliot questions and I almost choke on my own spit. I try my best to avoid the question but he smiles brightly to show that he’s totally caught me trying to cover up my crap.

“Sorry, that wasn’t nice of me at all. I-I-I’m sorry,” he stammers and looks away before he gets up and grabs some medical tape from the first aid kit. He leans against the counter and starts to wrap the bridge of his glasses, “I’m not a stalker or anything…”

Then what the fuck is he, a fan?

“Then how did you know?”

“Well you two are all over the news,” he explains before he picks up a magazine that I totally didn’t see the first time around. He tosses it to me and I stare at the cover. On the front is a picture of me walking through LAX with Justin. Both of us are staring at one another laughing at something he had said. You can totally tell by the look on our faces that there’s something more going on than just friends. And of course the title of the magazine is screaming that Justin has a new woman. 

Well just fucking great.

During my entire time with Justin we were never allowed to pick up the shit rags that littered supermarkets or bookstores. If any sort of gossip were exceedingly important, Ken would bring it up at meetings or whatever. In truth, this is the first time I’ve held a gossip magazine in at least four years.

“Management wants us to keep up with the celebrity gossip just in case we have to throw a party that’s teeming with stars. You know, just in case people are having a feud or something and in the same room” I nod absentmindedly as I continue to stare at the magazine.

Up until now I was only considered to be the help, pushed into the background and no one would give a damn about me except the super fans who would probably know the name and social security number of Justin’s Personal Ass Wiper; you know, if he had one.

Granted I don’t think the paparazzi would want to mess with me because they’ve seen me in action when I was just his personal assistant, they so don’t want to give me shit for being his girlfriend.

But still, it’s a bit weird that after all these years I’m getting recognized and I have yet to see if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Come on Elliot, let’s get back out there and get this wedding out of the way,” I say before I give him a friendly pat on the shoulder and lead him out of the break room. Hopefully this will be easy, but when I walk out into the main ballroom and see that Ice Queen and Gum Chewer aren’t doing the things I told them to do, I know I’m going to have my work cut out for me.

More than ever I wish I hadn’t taken this job and I was back watching Justin. As much as I hate to admit it – I miss him something terrible and that makes me nervous because in less than a month we’re going to be miles apart and I won’t be able to drop everything to go see him.

And that freaks me out more than anything. 

After the month I’ve been having I am beyond ready to have a break. The fact that I’ve been working nonstop on appearances, rehearsals, and every day shit is taking its toll on me and I have no idea if I’m going to be ready for this stupid tour. Half of me just wants to quit and spend the rest of my days just waiting for Lauren to come home from making the donuts.

Truth be told I am pretty excited to spend a semi-romantic two days in Worden with her and her parents. I’ve never met them before but I’ve heard that they’re almost as crazy as Lauren is which is pretty bad since Lauren is fucking nuts. 

I’m just glad I get to be with her. This is the first time we’ll be able to spend time with each other alone in a long time. Granted her parents are going to be hanging around, but I’m sure that they aren’t going to be around all the time.

There won’t be Trace; there won’t be Marty, no dancers, no personal trainers, no Johnny, and no Maura on this trip. Granted I find myself sometimes missing my new personal assistant because she is bomb ass titties good. She was an absolute godsend in New York. Things were going wrong left and right but she kept her head and managed to get things done without seeing me turn purple. I have to say she is probably the best personal assistant I’ve ever had (behind Lauren) and I silently thank my girlfriend every single day for sending Miss Delaney my way because without her I’d be fucked three ways to Sunday.

It’s funny because since I’ve been with Lauren I seem to have a conscience when it comes to the crazy shit I should be making Maura do. I’ve gotten to know her as a person and not just a personal slave I can order around and she’s a pretty cool person, I’m not going to lie. Maybe having Lauren around to check me and make me treat her like a human being is helping me get to know her better.

“I keep forgetting how long this stupid drive is,” I moan as I lean back into my seat. We’re en route to Worden and I’m pretty excited I guess. I mean everyone in this town loves me and I’m sure since the last time I’ve graced their town with my presence, they’ve actually crawled out of their tractors and listened to some of my music. Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t.

“You know we can turn around and you can go back home. I mean if I were you I wouldn’t want to be going back to a place where everyone knows you can’t turn off a stove,” she quips and it’s my turn to give her a little punch on the shoulder. She grins and lets her head lean against her window.

“Are people still talking about that?”

“Are you kidding? People will be talking about that until you set something else on fire, the Christmas tree maybe?”

“Haha you are so funny. Really you kill me,” I grumble as she turns off of the highway. I can see the ghost town of Worden in the distance and it is completely covered with snow. I let my hand rest against the window before I immediately take it back. It is freaking freezing out there. How does she expect me to survive two days in this frozen hell?

Half an hour later, we’re pulling up into her driveway and unfamiliar knots are starting to form in my stomach. I haven’t experienced this emotion since…good God have I ever felt nervous in my life?

“I don’t think they’re home,” Lauren comments and I let out a pent up breath. She looks over at me and raises an eyebrow, silently questioning if I’m actually nervous. I’m not going to tell her I’m anxious; I won’t give her that satisfaction.

Ten minutes later sees the two of us standing in the front hall of her house with luggage in tow. She’s already started looking around the house for any sign of her parents but thankfully they aren’t around. I need time to get myself together before I’m subjected to the insanity that is supposed to be her parents.

“They went out with Clyde,” Lauren explains as she comes out from the kitchen. I give her a quizzical look and she quickly explains that Clyde is the farm hand that watches after her place while she’s off in California and her parents are running around the world. “They always take him out Christmas Eve day for an early dinner.”

“Oh.” Why did this visit suddenly get so awkward? I grab onto Lauren and hug her tightly before I grab onto our luggage and start up the stairs towards her room. I can hear her following me and I completely walk past the guest room I stayed in the last time I was here and go for Lauren’s. She clears her throat and I turn around to look at her. “What?”

“My parents will freak out if we stay in the same room together,” she explains, “They’re old fashioned that way.” I want to point out that we’re practically married anyway seeing as, aside from work, we’ve been inseparable for the past month but I swallow the comment and go to put my stuff in the guest room.

Once my suitcase is safely stored in the closet I turn around to see Lauren leaning against the doorframe. There’s a certain calm hanging around her and it seems like she’s almost happy to be back home. I almost expect her to wear her hair in braided pigtails and run around the house in a plaid shirt and jeans, but she’s still wearing her giant parka, hair stick thin. “You going to wear that thing inside all day?" I ask indicating to her jacket.

“No. I figured I’d show you around the outside…” she walks forward and smiles at me when she catches my grimace. She knows how much I hate the cold. “You don’t want to?”

“If your parents lived in Tahiti, then yes. But since they decided to base themselves on the frozen tundra…”

“Need I remind you that I’m from this so called tundra that you hate,” Lauren says her voice swimming with mock anger as she walks up to me and grabs hold onto either side of my jacket lapels.

“Well yeah, but you’re the only good thing that came out of this place,” I mutter in response. She giggles at the compliment and I respond by kissing her lightly on the lips. I can tell the girl is about to delve further into our mini make out session but the sound of a car door slamming outside makes her jump away like a scared little rabbit.

“They’re home,” is all she’ll say. I can tell she’s probably nervous as all hell. Maybe she thinks I’m going to embarrass her or they’re going to be complete morons towards me. The last time I checked, her mom didn’t really like me. But that was when I was an ass towards her only kid and made her do impossible errands day in and day out. It’s different now. Her mom has to understand that I’m absolutely and without a doubt in love with her daughter. “Come on, we should go meet them downstairs,” she states before she takes my hand and leads me towards the first floor.

Before we even hit the top of the stairs I can hear the door fly open and the sound of heavy boots hits the hardwood floors. “Hello? Laurie are you home!” a female voice cries, the sound carrying up to the wood beam rafters of the house. “Laurie where are you?”

“I’m up here, ma!” Lauren hollers back before she starts to walk down the steps with me in tow. The result is deafening. We aren’t even on the bottom stair and a blur of tan, blonde, and denim is wrapping her arms around my girlfriend, knocking her hand out of mine. I press myself against the banister to keep my balance as mother and daughter continue to hug the shit out of each other. I don’t know what the big deal is but then I realize that it’s probably been years since they’ve seen each other.

Her mom pulls away and that’s when I get a good look at her. She has short blonde hair and small features that Lauren no doubt inherited. Where Lauren is tall and lithe, her mother is short and stocky. The woman could probably wrestle a bear and give it a good ass kicking.

“I am so happy you’re home,” her mother whispers, “I think this is the last time I go so long without seeing you, I forget how much I miss you.”

“Thanks mom,” Lauren says calmly. I’m glad someone is still keeping their head through this whole thing. She slowly turns her mother towards me and before I know what I’m doing I’m throwing my hand out and shaking hers profusely. Way to go, Justin.

“This is Justin, mom,” Lauren explains with a huge smile on her face. I notice the perplexed look on the older woman’s face and I can only hope that she’s trying her best to look past all the bitching Lauren must have done when she first started working for me and see the prince charming I truly am.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she states in a lukewarm voice.

“All good things, I hope,” I crack and she raises an eyebrow in response and lets my hand drop unceremoniously.

“Maybe,” she adds with a shrug, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Did Lauren show you where you’ll be sleeping?”

“Oh yes, she showed me her bedroom and then I proceeded to fuck her brains out on her childhood bed,” at least that’s what I want to say but I merely grit my teeth in the best smile I can muster and nod enthusiastically.

“It’s a lovely room, I’ve stayed there before,” I actually say as the three of us continue to walk down the stairs.

“That’s right, you came with Laurie right after she and Neal broke up. How is he doing by the way?”

“Jesus, mom I don’t have a clue. Last time I checked he was getting married to some stupid Amazon Woman and that’s where the talk of Neal stops. So get over that stupid bridge and realize that I’m not with Neal anymore but with Justin. Okay?” Her mom stops for a moment and sighs begrudgingly before she nods.

Damn my girlfriend has got some hefty balls.

We make it downstairs and I notice a man in a heavy fringe jacket pulling off a cowboy hat. He’s got a head full of dark hair and has the exact same build as Lauren. She rushes forward and leaps into his arms. It’s really a heart felt moment to witness and I wish I had a camera or something so I could take a picture. But then I realize I would probably look like a complete freak so I abstain.

“So are y’all ready to go?” her father, Dean Walters, questions as he jams his hat back on his head. I give Lauren a skeptical look before she smiles warmly and grabs onto my hand, yanking me back outside into the frigid cold.

“Where are we going?” I question as her parents jump into the backseat of our rental.

“Tradition. Every night on Christmas Eve, whenever we’re together, we go into town and ice skate in the town green.” Really this place has a fucking town green? Since when did I go back in time and decide to visit George Washington and the rest of the colonial United States? I nod hoping I look excited. The last thing I want to do on Christmas Eve is skate around in circles and freeze my ass off. I would much rather sit inside their house, wrapped up in a blanket with Lauren and sipping hot chocolate while her parents talk about their adventures around the world. But no, I guess that isn’t going to happen.

The ride into town is littered with conversation. Two days after Christmas her parents are heading towards Mexico to follow the migration of humpback whales. Her parents try their best to convince us to stay an extra day but with both of our schedules, it’s impossible to have any wiggle room. I can feel Mrs. Walters’ eyes digging into the back of my head. I’m sure she’s blaming me for her daughter’s early departure from Worden but the woman doesn’t realize that Lauren has a job and a life that actually doesn’t revolve around me.

The somewhat awkward car ride ends as we park in the middle of a field that’s located next to the center of town. Apparently all five hundred inhabitants of Worden are out because the place is packed. It takes us nearly twenty minutes to get to the ice skating rink since everyone is rushing to see the Walters who the rest of the town hasn’t seen in years, or in Lauren’s case, months.

The family quickly rents their skates and it isn’t until we step onto the ice, Lauren’s had cemented in mine that I finally realize…

I have never fucking ice skated before.

My feet hit the ice and I immediately pitch forward almost bringing Lauren down with me. She starts laughing hysterically as she tries her best to pull me back up onto my feet. I can feel the blush starting to form in my cheeks and I can only hope she’ll allow me to keep my dignity.

“You’ve never done this before have you?”

“Well seeing as I’ve been working since I’ve been twelve, no,” I say my voice laced with frustration. I hate it when I’m not good at something right off the bat and right now ice skating is my mortal enemy.

“Let me show you,” she adds with a restrained giggle. And soon Lauren is skating backwards, holding onto my hands and trying her best to show me how to not fall on my ass and make a complete idiot out of myself.

My lesson is cut short when Lauren’s old friend Gretchen almost knocks her off her blades. The woman is followed by her four crazy children who look like they’ve grown miles since the last time they were crawling all over me. We stand in the middle of the rink and I keep trying to ignore the ‘I so told you that you and Lauren were going to end up,’ glances Gretchen keeps throwing at me.

After some more conversation, the two of us continue with trying to keep me from falling on my ass. She spins me around as a joke and that’s when I see a flash coming from the side of the rink. I stop mid spin and try to keep my balance as Lauren continues to flail around. She yelps in protest as she lands smack on her butt and I help her up as I continue to stare to my left.

How the hell did they find us here?

“What’s wrong?” Lauren asks as she holds onto my shoulders to keep her balance. I calmly jerk my head in the photographer’s direction and I watch as he starts to take pictures of a few families pausing only slightly to check the pictures he’s taken.

“Do you think he followed us up here?” she asks fearfully. I shrug and turn my back towards him. The douchebag might have gotten a few good pictures, but he isn’t about to get any more. This is my vacation and this is my time with Lauren and I’ll be damned if anybody tries to screw that up.

“Just do evasive maneuvers,” I mutter into her ear. She looks at me with a bewildered expression before I start to skate away from her…and fall directly on my ass. “Dammit,” I whisper to myself as I hear Lauren’s peels of laughter escalate over the ice. She glides over to me and I respond by reaching up and grabbing her by the waist, pulling her down next to me.

“You ass!” she proclaims with a squeal as she slaps my shoulder. She stops when I lean over and kiss her cheek and hug her tightly to me. Reaching out, she yanks the beanie on my head over my eyes and squirms out of my grasp. Once I pull it off my eyes I can see that she’s on the opposite side of the rink. Grinning, I manage to get to my feet and I try my best to stumble after her.

Yeah…I’m the luckiest mother fucker on the planet. Merry Christmas to me.

Last Christmas saw me spending some nice, Justin-free days with current boyfriend-slash-almost-fiancé, Neal. This year I can’t get enough of the stupid bastard. Which should probably explain why I’m currently up at six in the morning, creeping towards his bedroom.  

The rest of the house is eerily silent as I creep down the hallway careful to avoid any floorboards that will indicate my location. The parents are downstairs in their bedroom and Justin and I are the only two people on the entire second floor. I’m sure we could partake in some early Christmas cheer if we wanted to, but I don’t feel like the Baby Jesus would want anyone consummating their love on his day of birth.

Reaching my final destination, I open the door and slip inside grinning at the limp figure currently snuggled underneath what seems to be twelve blankets. I can hear him snoring lightly through the heavy sheets and without a moment to spare I take a running leap and land right on top of him.

“What the fuck?” his voice, heavy with sleep, questions as I wrap my arms around his warm body, “Seriously? What the hell?”

“Merry Christmas, Justin! Let’s go see what Santa brought!” I exclaim before I pull the covers away from his face and begin to kiss him. He groans heavily and turns so he’s on his back and staring up at me.

“What time is it?” he asks groggily.

“Just past six,” I explain with a chuckle. His eyes widen and he brings an arm up to his face to stop my assaulting kisses.

“Are you fucking crazy, Lo-ho? Let me sleep,” he mumbles as he tries to throw a pillow over his face. I respond by yanking it from his weak grasp and start to punch him with said pillow. He groans loudly at this sudden change of events and before I can gain my balance, he’s leaping out from under the covers and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Ouch, you freaking turd!” I yelp as he pins me down on the mattress. “Don’t you know it’s considered blasphemy to pin your girlfriend to a bed on Christmas morning?”

“And it isn’t blasphemous to wake up a sleep deprived, hard working not to mention good looking pop superstar from one of the best sleeps in his life?” I purse my lips at his sudden dive into his enormous ego and he smiles before leaning forward and planting a kiss on my nose. “Merry Christmas, lovely.”

I manage to squirm out of his grasp as he pulls himself reluctantly out of bed and starts to rummage around in his luggage. I give him a confused look seeing as for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t pack for him so I have no idea what the hell could possibly be in that bag. He comes back with a standard sized wrapped package and lets it drop ceremoniously on the bed.

“What is that?” I ask him.

“Why it’s your present of course,” he explains as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, “Why don’t you save yourself the nail biting anticipation I know you’re feeling and open it?” I roll my eyes at him as I begin to unravel the paper. I hate surprises and the fact that there’s one staring me in the face is not too appealing right now.

I can feel Justin’s anxiousness practically filling the room as I lift the top off of a medium sized box. Sitting on a plush cushion seems to be a thin certificate. Pulling it out, I scan the words and I can’t stop the feeling of complete adoration and love swell up in my stomach. I think my heart grew five sizes because of his generosity.

“Wow,” I breathe, “you didn’t have to do this,” I explain with a smile as I look over at him.

“Hey, Bentley Lexus is looking like a piece of shit lately. I figured he could use a face lift since you’ll be driving back and forth to the Hilton a lot,” he explains. I take that as a compliment. At least he didn’t buy me a new car because he knows I wouldn’t appreciate that at all.

Justin is still looking at me as if he’s expecting me to do something else. It isn’t until then that I realize the piece of paper is a little bit too heavy. Looking at the bottom I notice a long piece of yarn and dangling at the end is some random sparkly shit.

“What the hell?” he grins like an idiot as he pulls the bracelet off of the yarn and gently places it on my wrist. “Justin!” I exclaim, “I think this is a bit too much.” I feel bad, what I’m about to give him isn’t as great as any of this and it definitely probably wasn’t this expensive.

“No it isn’t. I wish I could give you more, but I knew this was the most you’d let me get away with,” he explains with that stupid boyish grin. It usually has no affect on me, but right now in this moment, I can feel the pit of my stomach melt.

“Thank you,” I whisper sincerely before I lean forward and plant a kiss on his lips.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs against my mouth before he pulls away slowly, “So what did you get me?” he asks like an excited kid. I roll my eyes and lean back against the headboard of the bed.

“Well it isn’t really tangible,” I explain slowly. Truth be told I had no idea what to get Justin for Christmas. What does one give the man who has everything and if he doesn’t have it, he can ask for it and it will be given? When I worked for him I’d give him random gift certificates to various eateries around L.A. but now, I mean we’re dating and that doesn’t seem personable at all.

“Well what is it? You know I don’t like to wait!”

“Okay,” I begin, “I know you hate it as much as I do that you’re going on tour and I have to stay in California,” his face darkens and I hate to remind him as well as me that our days are running out, “So my gift to you is…no matter where you are on tour, be it New York, England, or fucking Thailand, if you need me and not for a booty call, but if it’s serious; all you have to do is call me and I’ll be there in a heartbeat. I don’t care where you are and I don’t care if I lose my job I will be there no matter what.”

“No matter what?” he questions.

“That’s what I said. I know it isn’t much…”

“Lauren,” he begins as he pulls me in quickly for a warm hug, “I think that’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. For serious.”

We stay in that position for a while until I suddenly remember the wrapped package in my room. I pull out of the embrace and quickly tell Justin to wait when I see the look of indignation pass over his face. Running back to my room, I pull out the present and race back to his room.

Jumping on the bed I hand him the parcel and he proceeds to rip the paper to shreds until he’s looking at an orange colored book.

“What…” he begins but stops short when he reads the cover. Opening the book he turns to the page I have flagged for him. I’m grinning like an idiot as he shakes his head sadly and looks up at me.

“Lauren, I do appreciate the fact that you’re concerned with my ability to operate machinery, but I can assure you,” he begin as he closes Cooking for Dummies and throws it on the floor before he tackles me on the bed and begins to tickle me, “I know how to turn off a fucking stove.”

*~*~*

The rest of our morning plays out slowly. We go downstairs to greet my parents who are sitting in the kitchen sharing coffee. It isn’t until I make a grand gesture with my right hand that my mom sees the bracelet dangling from my wrist and she immediately snatches my arm in mid motion and stares at the piece with an experienced eye.

My mom might like to follow wild animals for days at a time without a shower, but the woman can appreciate fine jewelry when she wants to. I notice my dad giving Justin an approving glance before he starts towards the living room. I look at him perplexed. We never go into the living room to open presents until after breakfast.

“What are you doing?” I ask my father before the rest of us follow him into the other room.

Everything looks normal; the tree is lit, presents are all over the place, but there’s one added feature that makes me do a double take. Sitting on the couch there’s the photographer from the night before, looking at us placidly with a huge bow on his head.

“Uh what the fuck is this?” I ask totally forgetting that I don’t drop f-bombs around my parents. They look at me with scandalized expressions before my mom rushes over to the guy and sits down next to him.

“Lauren, honey, this is Theodore. He’s your brother.”

Excuse me, my what?

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Justin mumbles into my ear. He’s standing next to me, holding onto my hand and I can’t help but think that I’ve landed right in the middle of a Sally Jesse Raphael episode.

“That’s because I don’t. I’m an only child,” I fire back. What kind of joke are my parents trying to pull?

“He isn’t your real brother. More like adopted,” Dad explains. The guy sitting next to my mom doesn’t say anything, merely smiles at me.

“Explain,” is all I can mumble. I really have no idea what else to say, I am a complete loss for words, which doesn’t happen often.

“Do you remember right after you graduated and started working for Justin, your mother and I went to Canada to do research on Canadian geese?” I can only stare at my weird ass parents before my dad continues, “We were passing through one of their universities and picked Theodore up. He’s been our assistant for the past four years.”

“Hi,” the guy, apparently Theodore, says in a reserved voice. “It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you from Dean and Shelly.”

“Okay, wait,” I say finally finding my voice, “You mean to tell me that this kid has been following you around for the past four years? Is he a photographer, I mean what the hell?”

“I was majoring in photography at my college. I figured I’d skip the degree and sign on with your parents. I mean, they’re the go to people for wildlife photography,” Theodore explains with a shy smile. I know what my parents are, I know that my last name is considered to be like ‘Christ’ in the photography world. For the sweet lord’s sake my parents dragged me to the Serengeti for an entire year when I was eleven so they could stalk lions and fucking African elephants during the tourist off season!

And this kid doesn’t even have a mother fucking degree! Then again neither does my boyfriend but Justin keeps telling me time and time again that he majored in Rocking Society with Sweet Ass Tunes at the University of Life.

I’m surrounded by nut jobs.

“If you’re a wildlife photographer, then why were you taking pictures of me last night?” Justin suddenly interjects. Leave it to him to change the subject to himself.

“You obviously didn’t see the large snow owl hovering over the rink trying to find a meal in the parking field,” Theodore explains as if this was the most interesting and obvious thing in the entire world. Mom and Dad smile at him with pride.

Not only is my ‘brother’ taking after my parents’ profession, he’s obviously a huge fucking geek. This is why I don’t go home when my parents are in the house.

“I was just wasting film at the end of the night, so I did some shots of the ice skaters.” Justin looks highly miffed. I’m sure he isn’t used to having people waste film on him and I almost want to poke at his ego just a bit. I refrain however because I’m still in shock that this kid is sitting on my couch with a fucking bow on his head.

“Why is there a bow on your head?” I question.

“We’re giving you the gift of family this year,” Mom explains and I swear I threw up a bit in my mouth, “So Theo is your present.”

Really, this is almost as bad as being called out for having sex in Justin’s house by his little brother in front of his whole family.

“That’s swell,” I mock, “Sadly I only gave you guys material things this year. So if you could take that ridiculous bow off your head we can open these presents and get on with our holiday.”

I drag Justin over to a large easy chair and make him sit down before I practically jump in his lap. I get a reproachful look from my parents but I really don’t give a fuck. If it weren’t considered socially wrong and highly unsanitary I’d probably have sex with my boyfriend right now just to get back at my parents. But knowing them they’d probably act as if nothing was happening and continue to converse about flamingos or some other random animal.

Present time is a rather subdued experience. I mean I freaking got a human being for my gift so receiving a few bracelets made by aboriginals in Australia seems a bit of a let down. I also feel really bad and awkward with just Theodore sitting there, not getting anything. But if I had known another guest would be joining us, I probably would have gotten him a California key chain or something. I’m such a bad adoptive sister.

“And here’s Justin’s present,” Mom says with a flourish. They were kind of taken aback when he presented them with a portable GPS system for their travels. I guess they expected him to present a framed picture of himself. The old Justin probably would have gone down that path, but this new Justin, the boyfriend Justin is a tad different.

Justin grabs the enormous package and starts to rip at the edges. I already know it’s a framed picture of some kind of photo my parents took of some animals. It isn’t until the paper is shed and Justin is staring at the finished result that my heart almost falls out of my ass.

My parents are fucking ridiculous.

“Oh this is…nice,” Justin begins in a voice laced with feigned excitement. I mean who could be excited about a large wolf prancing through the tundra, dragging a dead and bloody caribou calf behind it?

I cover my face with my hands, completely mortified.

“I took that picture!” Dad says as if he’s proud that he presented my boyfriend with a dead animal photo. “It represents the circle of life and how if one isn’t careful, innocence can be crushed in the jaws of deception and deceit.”

If this weren’t so humiliating I would laugh.

“Yeah…I can see that with the way the wolf’s teeth are crushing the baby’s neck into splinters…” Justin explains. He’s trying to sound intelligent and I’m almost convinced but I can tell by the way he’s tensing up he is so not happy about this. “This is really cool, thank you.”

The room is bathed in awkward silence until Theodore chokes back a fit of giggles. I look at my family bewildered as Mom and Dad erupt into laughter. Is everyone on some kind of drug and did they forget to tell me?

“That was just a gag gift,” Mom states before she pulls out a much smaller wrapped package and gives it to Justin. He almost chucks the wolf picture aside as he grabs onto his other present.

“I get two presents!” he exalts as he rips the wrapping paper aside. Theo explains that this is from not only him, but also my parents. Great they’re giving combined gifts now, next thing you know they’ll be planning his wedding and writing him in the will.

“What do you think?” Dad asks anxiously. I lean over to see what Justin has suddenly gone so quiet over. I can’t help but grin when I see what it is. It seems that Theo did grab a couple of pictures of us last night. The one in the frame is of Justin and I sitting on the ice right after he pulled me down. It really is a sweet gesture and I look from my mom to my dad to my random add on brother with what I’m sure is a surprised expression.

“I love it,” is all Justin can say before his brow furrows with confusion, “But don’t you have to go to like Walgreens or something to develop this? How did you get it done so soon?” I bite my lip as everyone starts to laugh like Justin just dropped the punch line of a hilarious joke.

“Part of the barn is a dark room,” Mom explains, “Theodore was out there last night developing some film.” Justin nods as if this explains everything. “If you want, we can take that other photograph back,” she adds indicating to the dead baby picture. Justin shakes his head and pats it almost lovingly.

“Naw, I’ll hang onto this. I know exactly where this is going to go in my house.” I turn to look at him with a knowing grin on my face.

“Trace’s room?”

“Right over his bed. I’m sure he’ll love it,” Justin adds as he sustains a chuckle.

*~*~*

“So you’re from Montreal?” Lauren asks Theodore as the three of us walk through the barn. Christmas day is coming to a close and we’re ending it by having a tour of the newly redone barn. Gone are the pigs and chickens and other kinds of barnyard animals that you couldn’t pay me to touch. In their place are high tech gadgets used to aid the development of top notch, professional pictures.

“Yeah. But my address is basically the world. Your parents are really great people. They didn’t have to take me on because they’ve been working with each other for so long…” his voice fades away as he gently holds onto an enormous lens.

“What are you planning to do now? Are you going with them to Mexico?” I find myself asking. That’d be a nice vacation for him. What if I cancelled my tour and decided to follow Mr. and Mrs. Walters with their daughter in tow? I can see it now: Lauren and I making out on the beach while her parents and Theo stumble along the shore practically wetting themselves at the sight of whales. Yup, there she blows…and I’m not just thinking about Lauren.

“Actually,” Theodore starts as he sets the lens down and sits on a workbench, “I was probably going to head down to Los Angeles and do a piece on abandoned dogs and cats. It’s a whole different world down there and I think if people are able to see the pain and suffering innocent beings of life are going through, they might want to make a difference.”

Well this kid has an agenda and fuck whoever gets in his way. He looks pretty darn serious about this and I can respect the fact that the kid’s got ambition. Good for him, I know at his age I was just getting over the worst break up of my life and trying to deal with it while the whole world was watching. I did my share of moping and ‘who gives a fuck,’ at his age. Glad he’s getting out in the world to do shit.

“Do you know where you’ll be staying while you’re there?” Lauren questions. Theo shrugs which indicates that the kid has no idea what the hell he’s getting himself into. Figures.

“I’ve been looking at hotels in the area and I’ve got rental cars all lined up. But for the most part I’m just going to show up and hope for the best,” he explains as if picking up his life and moving it without having the faintest idea what is going to happen is an every day occurrence. Lauren looks affronted that he doesn’t have any sort of plan and I can’t stop the words that are falling out of my mouth.

“You could stay with us,” I all but blurt out. Lauren moves her head to look at me so fast I’m afraid the poor thing has whiplash. Theo looks taken aback and he starts to toy with a beat up strap of a camera. “We’ve got more than enough room and it’s a short drive into LA.”

Why the hell am I offering my house to a complete stranger? I mean I hardly know the guy and he’s probably going to invade my home with a cavalcade of cameras. He could get the pap bug and start to sneak pictures of my way too private life and get a big buck for them. What the hell am I thinking?

But one look of adoration from Lauren is all it takes to know that I’m doing this for her. I mean she just found out a few hours ago that she has some weird, Jerry Springeresque Long-Lost-Not-So-Adopted Brother and the least I can do is allow her to spend more time with the guy.

It isn’t until Theo agrees and Lauren hugs me tightly that I realize whatever little free time she has now isn’t going to be spent with me, but probably this dorky, random shutterbug who she’ll want to know inside and out before he finishes his project.

Well fuck there goes the neighborhood.

“Can you make sure that the caterers are available at around eleven o’clock on the video shoot? He doesn’t like it when food doesn’t come on time,” I explain into the phone. The representative of the Sony Soundstages confirms that the catering trucks are set for arrival at ten-thirty and it isn’t until the lady repeats the schedule that I finally allow her to go. Hanging up the phone I look over at Elliot who gives me a reproachful look.

“What?” I question.

“You’re doing it again,” he mutters as he turns the car onto the freeway. I sit back in my seat crossing my arms over my chest.

“What am I doing?” I retort. I don’t want to get into this conversation but I know for a fact that we’re heading down this road again. The thing that sucks is that not only am I going to get reprimanded by one of my closest friends, but my sort of adoptive brother is in the back seat listening to everything.

“You’re doing Maura’s job again. I don’t understand why you can’t just let it go,” he states casually. The skyline of downtown Los Angeles is off in the distance and I’m very reluctant to head into the bowels of the city.

“I have let it go. Last time I checked Elliot, I’m not working for him anymore.”

“Well you might as well just go back and do it. The way you keep sneaking around and doing her job warrants trouble down the road.” Since when did he start speaking like a fucking fortune cookie?

“I’m just helping her out before the tour starts. Believe me, she’ll be thanking me later. Not having me on tour to do the little things is going to add up and soon she’s going to be pulling out every single blonde hair off her pretty head.”

“Whatever you say, Lauren. I just worry that you’re stepping on her toes and she isn’t going to be appreciative of that.” I frown and turn away from him and gaze out the window. He couldn’t be more wrong if he tried.

It’s the day after Christmas and I’m spending it by showing Theodore the sights of Los Angeles and following him on his first excursion into South Central. I have to admit I’m a little wary of heading into what many consider to be one of the most dangerous places in the country but I’m with two men so I should be okay. I’m going to look past the fact that the first thing they discussed upon their meeting was how Star Wars is infinitely better than Star Trek. This conversation continued until I got the bright idea to call the secretary over at the soundstage where Justin is slated to film his new video to see how things were falling together.

Can I help it if some strings were left untied? I should be looked upon with respect since I decided to tie up the loose ends and spare people the Wrath of Justin. But apparently I’m not allowed to do that anymore.

“I’m not stepping on anybody’s toes,” I say indignantly.

“I just think you have a hard time letting go being his primary caretaker and all,” Elliot explains with a shrug before he states that Klingon is not as elaborate or elegant as Elvish. Theo agrees full heartedly and I wonder when we’re going to start role playing.

I get dibs on Liv Tyler’s character.

“I’m not having a hard time. I have let go completely. Do you think I want to go back working for him? He’s a dick to his PAs and I hated…”

“You loved every single minute of it,” Theodore pipes up from the backseat. “Your mom and dad kept going on and on about how you would call to voice your annoyances with Justin and yet you would never quit…”

“Newsflash,” I fire back, “I did quit.”

“Yet you crawled right back,” Elliot interjects. Being my right hand man has it’s benefits, he knows the whole sordid affair with Justin and its times like these when I regret letting all of that slip, “You kept going back and you’ll continue to do so until one of you does something you’ll really regret or one of you drops dead, heaven forbid.

“So not true,” I mumble more to my denial and myself than to the two super nerds I’m traveling with.

“Right,” Theo says slowly before he picks up his camera and snaps a picture of the skyscrapers. “What is Sir Justin up to today?”

I sigh heavily and relay his entire schedule to the two without even realizing that I’m throwing in the exact times and locations of where he’ll be. Their knowing grins and wagging eyebrows pisses me off to no end. I throw my empty Starbucks cup at Elliot who raises an arm to deflect it.

“I hate you guys.”

Okay I admit it, there are times when I miss doing things for Justin and when those things aren’t carried out to an exact T, I can’t help but interject. Maura must know I’m picking up some aspects of her job because Justin tells her to do one thing and she attempts to complete it only to find that it’s already done by yours truly. I swear I’m going to stop when his tour bus zooms off into the horizon, leaving me in the California dust.

I swear.

“Are we almost there?” Theodore questions from the backseat. This is his first expedition and I think the word excited is an understatement. The kid is practically up in the front seat, leaning over my seat and trying his best to see where we’re going. I have to admit I was a bit surprised to see that Justin offered up his privacy and home to a complete stranger for however long it takes. That is definitely something he wouldn’t have done in the past and I pride myself for being the one to spark that kind of positive change in him. Granted I’m sure he did it for the fantabulous sex we’ll probably have tonight, but I won’t hold that against him.

“Give me another twenty minutes. I swear the traffic is worse than that on Coruscant,” Elliot mutters and it gets a laugh from Theodore. What the hell is Coruscant? Is that a new type of croissant that somehow has traffic?

The nerd lingo is starting to give me a headache so I try my best to ignore them until we park at some random lot in the middle of broken down apartments. It almost reminds me of the place where Justin had to pull over the car while Trace and I proceeded to scream at each other the night of his Anaheim concert. That was the second time he kissed me…

“Are we ready to rock and roll?” Theo questions and before Elliot and I can respond, he’s out of the car and bounding around the parking lot, trying his best to stalk down prey to be photographed.

Elliot and I follow suit as my erratic supposed brother snaps a shot of two skinny ass dogs fighting over a rotting piece of chicken. It really isn’t that appealing and I wonder why I brought myself along for this. I could be with Justin right now or I could be getting paperwork done for the upcoming New Year’s Party I’m supposed to be planning for some random B-list celebrity. But if I’m anywhere in the Hollywood area I’ll more than likely stick my nose in Maura’s business and try to help her even though I know she’s more than capable.

A group of crack whores start to leer at us and I find myself moving closer to Elliot and Theodore for support. Why I think these two are going to protect me is beyond me since the most they’ll try to do is reason with whatever drug pusher or mugger who threatens our safety.

The better part of the morning sees us following a pack of mutts and I can’t help but feel like I’ve gone back to when I used to travel around with my parents and chill with wild animals. Granted I was always left behind on dangerous excursions and this one has definitely been one of the more thrilling excursions I’ve been on.

By lunchtime Theodore has filled two memory cards and the kid looks exhausted. The three of us head back towards the car but not before I hear a small yelp sounding from behind a garbage can.

“What the hell?” I head towards the can, totally oblivious to Theo’s cries of caution. I move aside a bag and find myself staring into big brown doggie eyes. My breath catches in my throat because it is seriously the cutest dog I have ever seen. Sure he seems a bit dirty and I’m sure he’s got fleas, but the poor thing looks lost and confused and not at all bad tempered.

“Lauren, be careful!” Elliot warns but I wave off his advice and offer the dog a hand to sniff. He leans forward and gives a huge sniff before he sneezes violently. I smile and he wags his tail.

“He’s so cute! I’m bringing him home!” I explain before the dog walks forward and starts to rub up against my legs like a damn cat. I’m not a cat fan, but dogs…dogs are the best creatures in the entire world.

“You don’t know what kind of diseases he could have or if he’s going to be mean towards Justin’s dogs,” Theo explains, “He might not do well with other dogs.”

“If he threatens anyone or anything at all, I’ll send him away. But you’re always going on about how we have to open our eyes to what’s going on down here. I’m doing my part by taking this little guy in.”

“Lauren, you do realize that’s a pit bull, right?” Elliot points out.

“Duh, and your point?”

“They aren’t exactly the friendliest dogs and they don’t have the best reputation.” I give him a dismissive look before I start to walk away from the animal. I grin when I realize he’s following me. I rush up to Elliot and cling onto his shirt.

“Please, Pa, can I keep him?”

“You know who is not going to like this,” he mutters under his breath as we continue on to the car.

“Well he’s taking Buckley and Brennan on tour with him and leaving me with an empty house…and Trace,” I add as an after thought, “The least I can do is have little Bruno here to help me out.”

“Christ you’ve named him,” Elliot, a devout Jew proclaims, “Great.”

The four of us load into the car and Elliot starts the long drive back to Justin’s. At least the trip to South Central wasn’t a complete bust.

*~*~*

Our little band of merry travelers returns to Justin’s house an hour later due to intense traffic on the 101. Bruno is in the back, his tail wagging furiously because he’s on a new adventure and I’m sure he has a feeling the fleas and possible ticks are going to be washed out of his fur. This guy is going to have a Cinderella makeover.

Elliot spent the entire trip home mumbling about how Justin would probably have a huge tantrum when a new mouth to feed appeared on his doorstep. The one thing my friend fails to realize is that if I work a little extra in the bedroom I can pretty much get whatever I want. It also helps that I don’t ask for much to begin with. I smile brightly when I see that Justin’s truck is parked in its normal spot. Trace is also apparently home not to mention what appears to be Maura’s car. A full house.

My phone starts to ring as soon as I walk through the garage and into the hallway that leads to the kitchen. Bruno is walking behind me, getting in as many sniffs as he can. Elliot and Theo are taking up the rear, both a little reluctant to enter the house where apparently World War III is about to begin. Justin might be mad at first, but once he sees how cute this little guy is, he won’t be able to resist. I look at the caller ID and notice that it’s Justin. Did he not hear me come up the drive?

“I’m home!” I call out to alert those already in the house of my arrival. I hear a joyful cry echo throughout the building as our party disperses into the kitchen. Elliot and Theodore immediately sit around the island and I go to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps enter the kitchen and then an ear splitting scream echoes right behind the open door of the refrigerator causing me to drop my bottle because quite frankly it scared the shit out of me.

“What the hell?” I yelp as I slam the door shut to see a completely petrified Maura Delaney trying her best to keep an overexcited Bruno away from her without touching the animal. I can see the tears beginning to form in the woman’s eyes and she’s trying her best not to break down into complete sobs.

“How did this dog get in here?” Justin bellows as he walks into the room behind his assistant. She practically leaps behind him, her hands clutching onto his shoulders tightly as she presses her face into his back. “Whose dog is this?”

“Mine,” I announce, “Do you mind telling me why Maura is stopping short of a Linda Blair impression?” I didn’t mean for it to come out that rude, but I mean it’s just a dog and a sweet one at that.

I watch as Trace rushes past his best friend and grabs Bruno by the scruff of the neck. The dog omits a yelp of excitement as he’s led away from the kitchen and out into the garage. I glance over at Elliot who has a huge ‘I told you so’ look on his face. I ignore him and turn to look at Justin.

My brow furrow when I see that he’s turned around and has his hands firmly placed on Maura’s shoulders, trying to get her to calm down with soothing tones. She’s nodding at his words and wiping away her tears. I clear my throat because I don’t want my question to go on ignored.

“She was attacked by a pit bull when she was younger. She doesn’t like dogs, especially those. Where the fuck did you get him?”

“South Central,” I state casually. I can almost see the steam coming out of Justin’s ears but he manages to control himself.

“Why did you bring him back here? I already have two dogs, I don’t need another one.”

“Oh, I’m, sorry,” I bite, “he was being chased by the Bloods and I figured I’d throw him a fucking bone and save his scrawny ass.”

“So you think giving my assistant an anxiety attack is funny to you?”

“You would have thought so before!” I fire back. I can’t believe I’m getting into an argument over this…and his stupid ass assistant is in the middle of it all. I notice that Elliot and Theodore have found somewhere else to be. Figures, no one ever tries to back me up when I get into arguments with Justin.

“Not when safety is compromised,” he retorts.

“And sending me into the projects of Boston to buy drugs wasn’t dangerous?” I know I’m pulling out old skeletons, but I don’t give a fuck. I refuse to let him win this argument.

“I didn’t know about that until you had already gone so don’t try to bring that up again,” he fumes. “How could you not know she was afraid of dogs?”

“Last time I checked I wasn’t the one spending every day with her. So please excuse me if I don’t know her social security number or the exact time of her birth like you apparently do!”

“And there you go, being overly dramatic about everything. And I can’t believe you could be so inconsiderate to bring some mongrel home without asking first!” 

“Please forgive me! I figured since you’re leaving so soon it’d be nice to have someone or something around the house that would be able to greet me after working my ass off. You are pretty much picking up the whole house and taking it with you…” I state but Justin holds up a hand to silence me and I can tell he’s about to bring out the big guns. I can either resolve this right now or Elliot’s predictions of a third World War would be correct.

“Right, Lauren. You had and still do have the option of going with me. You don’t have to be left behind but apparently you have to prove that you can make it without me for a single day.”

I so do not want to get into this can of worms right now. I don’t want him to know that he’s probably right and I don’t want to alert him to the fact that he was the one who flew all the way to London to pretty much beg me back into his life.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought the dog into the house and I’m sorry I freaked the shit out of Maura…” I hear a sniffle and realize that Maura is still standing behind Justin’s stocky frame. I move past Justin and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Maura. I didn’t mean to scare you like that and I promise he won’t be around here anymore.”

She nods silently before she excuses herself to go finish up some paperwork for what I can only assume is for the video shoot. “I hope that apology is enough for you,” I state sardonically before I turn around and notice that the puddle of water from my dropped bottle is still there. I move away from Justin as quickly as I can and when I’m done cleaning, I look up and see that he’s left the room.

Fuming, I throw the rag into the sink and grab my purse. “Elliot, Theo, let’s go!” I yell loudly as I jam my sunglasses on top of my head. I’m about ready to punch a wall. My two science nerds scamper into the room and follow me out into the garage. I see Trace sitting in the middle of an empty stall, chilling with a very mellow pit bull.

“This guy’s pretty cool,” Trace explains.

“Yeah, well he isn’t staying here,” I mutter as I whistle for the animal. He jumps up from his restful position and starts to follow me out into the driveway. I load him up into the back of Beverly Lexus and get into the driver’s seat. Elliot and Theodore file in as I speed out onto the street.

“Where is he going?” Elliot asks me carefully. He doesn’t want to set me off and he’s a smart kid because any wrong thing is about to set me off.

“Your place,” I state simply. I can hear the beginnings of a groan form in his throat but one glare from me sends him nodding in approval of this sudden situation. “God dammit,” I grumble to no one.

“What did I tell you?” Elliot asks ten minutes later. The three of us are stuck in traffic and Bruno the pit bull is chilling in the back seat with Theodore.

“Yeah I know,” I sigh heavily. “I just can’t believe…”

“He’d jump to her defense like that?” Elliot states pretty much taking the words right out of my mouth.

“Yeah, and how he acts with her. I don’t know…”

“I think it’s weird,” Theodore announces from the back. I stare in the rearview mirror and see Bruno lick his chops as if he agrees. “Like there isn’t something right with the way he is with her. As far as I know, he was never like that with you. Dean and Shelly would always talk about the latest bit of impossible he made you try to accomplish. It seems to me he isn’t being quite as insane to Maura as he did to you…if that makes sense,” Theodore adds sheepishly.

I can’t help but feel suspicious and the fact that both Elliot and Theodore have noticed something is kind of putting me at ill ease. Justin all but throwing his life on the line for Maura today almost solidified the thought that maybe her being with him all the time isn’t such a good idea.

“Elliot, do you mind taking care of the Lieberman party solo for the next couple of days?” I ask suddenly. He looks taken aback and nods slowly.

“Why?”

“I’m just going to make sure things aren’t the way they seem right now,” I explain. And if that means going to watch him shoot his new video and keeping Maura as far away from him as possible, then so be it.

“Just be careful, Lauren,” Elliot forewarns.

“I know. And besides, I know Justin isn’t going to be doing something insane. He knows that when I get super pissed I start to throw shit. And I trust him enough to know that he isn’t going to do or try anything stupid.”

At least if he knows what’s good for him.

“I can’t believe you were able to get off work to spend time on the set,” Justin exalts as his make-up artist tries her best to complete his look. The stupid guy won’t sit still since he’s trying to turn around to look at me and not my reflection in the mirror. The girl trying to apply his foundation is at her wit’s end and I’m starting to feel bad for the poor thing.

I’ve been on set with Justin since five o’clock this morning and part of me is relishing in the busy work and the fact that I don’t have to run around like the rest of these crazy people. But the other bit is screaming to join the onslaught of assistants and ADs that are stressing like mad. I keep reminding myself that this isn’t my scene anymore. And I should be grateful because if I wasn’t dating Justin, I would more than likely be running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Either that or I’d still be somewhat miserable in London.

“Well I took time off and I’m here, and now you need to sit still so Julia can get you on set on time,” he nods dutifully and looks towards the make up artist who gratefully attacks him with her brush. I feel like a mother telling her son to sit still. God as if being a girlfriend wasn’t hard enough…

Our fight from a few days ago simmered when Theo and I returned from dropping Elliot and his new roommate Bruno off at his apartment. We both realized how ridiculous we were being and with time together so short, it wasn’t and still isn’t the smartest idea to fight.

That doesn’t mean I’m not suspicious of Maura or Elliot and Theodore’s premonitions from the other day. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I would much rather be one hundred percent sure before I make my feelings known. Thankfully, I haven’t seen Maura since we got here four hours ago. Justin sent her on errands the moment the cars parked. Good news for me, more time with my man.

Julia finishes her job and Justin leaps from the chair and makes a beeline for me. His arms instantly snake around my waist and I automatically assume the position of wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “Can we just lock ourselves up in my trailer and not film this video?” he whines. I find that he does this more when he wants to spend time with me, but can’t.

“You know you need to get this done,” I mutter, “And the sooner you do all this stuff right, the sooner we can go home and spend more time together.” He squeezes me tighter and I hold on before I hear the door open behind me. Letting go of Justin, I turn around and see Maura holding the door to the make up trailer open, looking a bit embarrassed that she interrupted our little moment.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her eyes looking at me and then landing on Justin, “Your call time is up,” she explains. “Gotta get a move on.” And before I can say anything, Justin kisses me quickly and starts ordering Maura around to do stuff. I listen in on a few tasks and I quickly whip out my phone.

I know I said I was going to stop, but Justin is giving a long winded list of things he wants accomplished before his first break and there is no way in hell Maura is capable of pulling any of that off without pissing Justin off. I yank out my phone and call a few people that Justin mentioned as I watch the pair walk towards the sound stage. I smile inwardly as Maura reaches for her phone and no doubt tries to call the assistant director I’m currently speaking to. Her brows furrow and she looks over her shoulder at me. I smile and wave before I disappear into the makeup trailer. I know for a fact if I watch Justin film his video he’ll only be distracted.

A few hours pass before I get exceedingly bored and decide to head onto the set. I can hear the song on playback as I walk into the enormous soundstage. There are extras waiting in their designated area and dressed to kill in black outfits that are looking pretty damn awesome if I do say so myself. The actress Justin is using in this video is being whisked away by her handlers and Justin is standing off to the left of the room with Marty, Maura, and the director, the three of them watching the recent take.

“That’s good. Can we keep that close up in there?” Justin questions as he points to the image on screen before he crosses his arms and looks at the take with a seasoned eye. I smile knowing that when it comes to things like this, he can get serious and stop the immaturity. I walk up next to him and he immediately picks up my hand and holds onto it tightly as we continue to watch the extended take

“Looks good,” I offer once the screen goes black and the director begins to pull Justin back on set for another take. He throws the guy a nasty look for pulling us apart at such an inopportune time, but I quickly let go of his hand. I don’t want to keep him from his work. I won’t be that girlfriend.

“Lauren, can I talk to you for a second?” Maura asks suddenly. I turn around and stare at her. The corners of her mouth are pulled down and it looks like she isn’t happy in the slightest. If I didn’t know any better I would say she’s almost pissed off, but that isn’t the case at all. If anything she’s between mad and disappointed.

“What’s up?” we begin to walk away from the set and I can hear Justin yelling at me. I turn around and I can see him up on the stage, waving like a complete lunatic. I wave back, blow a kiss, and turn around just as I see him catch it and press it against his groin with a twinkle in his eye.

Men.

We walk out into the crisp December morning and I immediately wrap the sweatshirt Justin let me borrow around me tighter. Whoever said California had mild winters was an idiot. This place can be just as cold, if not colder than Worden.

People are running around in between two massive sound stages and yelling out commands and requests at one another. It’s enough to make one’s head spin and yet I’m reveling in this moment. I feel like I belong here, like I almost…

“Lauren.” Maura calls me back to reality and I look over at the blonde who’s leaning against the sound stage and raising an eyebrow at me. “You all there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m still not used to the whole Hollywood back lot thing,” I apologize as I follow her lead and lean next to her, “What did you needed to talk about?”

“I don’t know how to put this lightly so I’m just going to come out and say it…” her voice fades away and I’m almost certain she’s going to tell me that she’s guilty of dirty thoughts that include her and my boyfriend. Or she’s already gotten in the pants of my boyfriend and feels the need to tell me now. If the latter is the case I don’t care if he’s shooting the most important video of his life, he’ll die.

“What?”

“You need to stop doing my job,” she blurts out and quickly looks away as if she’s spoken the nastiest word in the English language. “It really has gotten out of hand.”

What does she mean, ‘gotten out of hand?’

“At first I was enthralled you were giving me some inside help. The first couple of weeks were complete hell, trying to know Justin and figure out what made him tick. Getting the little things out of the way really helped me out and I’m extremely grateful for that. But running errands for me, not saying anything, and then having me show up and make an idiot out of myself when I realize someone else has already done it is quite enough. Stealing my calls, doing everything anonymously…it’s gone a bit too far.

“I mean, what are you going to do once he goes on tour? You can’t follow him and you can’t do what I do anchored in Los Angeles. If you miss it that much you can go back. I’ll gladly give up my position in lieu for another job on the tour. Honestly, Lauren I won’t be offended…”

The last thing I want to do is work for Justin again.

“I’m sorry Maura,” I say, “Working for Justin made up the better part of my life and being around him and not running around like my ass is on fire is really weird. I’m a creature of habit, and this is something I need to break. I’ll stay out of your hair, I promise.” She smiles brightly and I return it before she claps me on the shoulder and I hug her awkwardly around the shoulder.

Glad this crisis could be avoided.

Doesn’t mean I won’t pick up a phone call here or there….

*~*~*~*

I want to make this night perfect.

Granted that would be so much easier for me if I could find my old boom box to transport out onto the back terrace. I know, I know, ‘but Justin, you’re worth millions if not billions of dollars, why don’t you just use the bomb ass stereo system we know you have in your tricked out house?’

Because it doesn’t work dammit, and for my last night in town, it’s really pissing me off. But now that I think about it, using a boom box could be slightly more romantic and that’s the mood I’m going for at the moment.

It’s my last night in town before I have to sell my soul to the tour and I don’t want to go. I feel like Lauren and I have had days to be together and not almost two months. She’s been busy, I’ve been busy, hell the whole world has been busy and I haven’t been able to stop the world in order to spend time with the woman I love.

Doesn’t that just suck a left nut?

I dig deep into my closet; trying to find the boom box I know is tucked away under some old gym shorts I don’t wear anymore. The smell is disgusting but I muscle on through. You could say I’ve been driven by love, I say I’m driven by the fact that if things go according to plan I’ll more than likely get laid tonight.

Last night I was too tired and I refuse to leave Los Angeles without a proper send off.

Of course this isn’t the only reason why I’m doing this – my last night in town and I want to spend it with Lauren, the only person who matters at the moment. Yeah I’m pretty positive that we’ll end up fucking each other senseless by the time the night is over, but I also want to just spend time with her, and talk to her, and just be with her.

And it would be really fucking helpful if I could find this damn boom box.

“Trace!” I holler. I hope to God that Lauren doesn’t answer my best friend’s call. I want to surprise her and having her help me set up my little send off party for two just wouldn’t be romantic. “Trace get your ass up here!"

“You shrieked, crazy ass?” his voice sounds from the door to my closet. I’m currently on my hands and knees, fishing through dirty clothes that haven’t been washed in Christ knows how long. Trace takes a deep breath and he immediately makes a face of displeasure, “Fuck man, what the hell died in here?”

“Have you seen my boom box?”

“What the fuck is this, 1994? No I have not seen your boom box. Get with the twenty-first century man!”

“You know I’m a techno-phobe, and I’ve been telling you for weeks to get the in-house stereo system working, but have you done it yet? No,” I state curtly. I don’t care if I piss him off…I want things to go perfectly and his fucktard attitude is not helping at all.

“Well I don’t know where it is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go out and secure a bone…” his voice wanders away as I resume my search for the MIA boom box. This is really pissing me off.

After ten more minutes of searching in vain, I call off the rescue squad and walk out of my room, shrieking for Lauren

“What?” she bellows. It sounds like she’s in the living room. I head in that direction and walk in on her watching some random reality show on VH1. I don’t know why she gives a damn about that shit…but I must admit that the times I’ve watched it I’ve found myself strangely addicted.

“Would you come with me?” I ask, “I have something to show you.” She gives me a quizzical look and gets to her feet taking the hand I’ve offered her. I walk her out onto the back terrace and close the sliding door behind me.

“Wow,” she states simply. I turn to join her and my eyes are met with a stunning view of Hollywood and the Los Angeles skyline. The lights are blinking in the darkness and I walk over to the edge of the large terrace, sitting down on the blanket I’ve set up. “It’s a picnic,” she says simply with a huge smile plastered on her face. She sits down next to me, kissing my cheek. Soon we’re eating a simple dinner of cheese, meat, bread, and wine (so European, I know) and talking about random shit that only Lauren and I could get.  

“I still can’t believe you brought that dog home,” I explain with a huge laugh as I take a deep sip of wine. I can tell that Lauren isn’t too pleased that I’m bringing the dog up again, but like I care. “Where’s he staying?”

“Elliot’s,” she explains her eyes a glow with some kind of light I can’t place. “And just so you know the second you leave the house, I will be bringing Bruno back so I’m not left with an empty house.”

“Lo, please, you have Trace…” I add and she rolls her eyes before she looks out at the view. We fade into a comfortable yet somewhat tense silence as we drink in the wine and the company. Before I can stop myself, I clear my throat and turn to look at Lauren.

“What?” she asks me and I can tell she’s suddenly put off by my obvious change of attitude.

“Your Christmas present to me still stands right?” I ask quickly. I hate the fact that I’m about to say the things I’m going to say; it only makes me look more pussy whipped than I actually am. I silently thank the fact that Trace is keeping to himself tonight.

“Of course it does,” Lauren says as if me asking the previous question was a ridiculous notion, “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well I have a feeling I might be invoking your present tomorrow night and I was wondering if, maybe, I could get another one?” I question. After the thought is out of my head and out into the open I immediately regret it. I absolutely fucking hate how much I need her and how much my life blows without her. The thought of going a few months without her is actually making my hands clammy and I want nothing more than to throw her over my shoulder and take her up to my room and do…well, do unspeakable things to her that would probably make even Trace blush.

I wait for her answer with a quickening heart rate and I can feel it almost stop when she shakes her head and looks over at me with a sympathetic smile, “Can’t do that Justin, you really have to need me and you’ve been away from me longer than a day. Be a big boy, I know you can do it.”

“But I don’t want to do it!” I whine and I have to stop myself rather quickly from stamping my foot on the ground, “I don’t understand why you can’t just come with me!”

She sighs heavily and I know this is a topic that we’ve been over time and time again, but I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if I’m persistent enough and don’t ease up on her, she’ll throw up her hands and go upstairs to pack.

“Look, Justin…” but her explanation is thwarted by a strangled yell of frustration coming from the house. We both turn over our shoulders to see Trace come marching out onto the patio, looking like someone had managed to shave a couple of inches off of his already dwindling height. The shrimp comes barging towards us and he doesn’t look happy at all.

“Trace…” I begin, but he holds up a hand before he dives at the lounge chairs and begins to pull up the cushions, as if looking for something he can’t find, “…what the fuck are you doing?”

“Can’t…find…iPod…” his voice is muffled between his heavy breathing and once he’s finished leaving the patio in an advance state of upheaval he turns towards us and offers an exasperated sigh, “I can’t find my new iPod…”

“Trace, you have like fifty iPods,” Lauren points out, “Are you sure it isn’t in the box of all the ones you’ve broken?”

“No,” he says thoroughly frustrated, “I already checked there and I need it!”

“Why?” I ask him. I’m not really excited that he’s managed to practically ruin my last night with Lauren. If anything the skeeze can just run down to the Apple store and buy a new one, lord knows he has the money and it isn’t that late, he could just run in, buy it, and go off to do whatever it is he needs to do tonight.

“Because I’m trying to secure a bone tonight and I’ve got to supply the tunes!”

“Well that shows a lot of tact,” Lauren says sarcastically, “‘Securing a bone,’ what are you, a freaking retriever?”

“Don’t start Lauren,” Trace warns and I can tell that they’re about to get into one of their world famous arguments. Granted they don’t get as heated as the one’s Lauren and I get into, but still I never wanted this the last night in town…

“Why shouldn’t I start? I’m trying to enjoy my night and you’re coming out here bitching about a stupid iPod and how you can’t, as you so charmingly put it, ‘secure a bone.’ I swear…” her voice fades away and she throws up her hands in exasperation. She’s getting antsy and I can either step in and take a side, or just keep quiet.

“Well excuse me for asking and for ruining your precious evening. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it…”

“That’s it,” Lauren says suddenly in a quiet almost dangerous voice. I can tell she’s trying to control her short temper for once and it seems that I’m not the only one taken aback. Trace has a look on his face as if Lauren just smacked him across the face, “I’m tired.” Getting to her feet she turns towards me and gives me a small kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to bed.”

What the fuck? Just like that she’s going to rush off to the room and go to sleep, on my last night in fucking town? I watch with my mouth agape as Lauren walks briskly into the house. I give Trace the nastiest look I can muster.

“What?” he asks as if he didn’t do anything wrong. There are times when I want to throw Trace off the patio and watch him bounce like some oddly shaped bouncy ball down the fucking mountain.

“Really smooth Trace,” I say shaking my head as I get to my feet so I can clean up mine and Lauren’s now abandoned picnic, “Now neither of us is going to ‘secure a bone.’”

They say that the number of layers you make in a sandwich is parallel to the number of walls you set up in between yourself and other people. I find that to be a load of bullshit because if it were true, the five-layer sandwich I’m making for a Mr. Trace Ayala is indicative of the fact that I’m trying to keep a lot of bullshit behind a lot of walls.

I sigh heavily as I slap a healthy helping of mayonnaise onto Trace’s towering sandwich. The days since Justin’s departure on his world tour have come to a complete total of two weeks and, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been missing the stupid bastard for every single second. Don’t get me wrong, Trace can be a fun guy, when he’s asleep and out of my hair, but it’s times like this where I’m making lunch for the whole house and I don’t have Justin throwing tomato seeds at me or whining that I shouldn’t have to make food that his absence is deafening.

Two whole weeks. I remember when I was happy to get two whole minutes away from Justin. Now I’m counting down the minutes for his arrival back in town for the Grammys. There’s still almost three weeks to go and I don’t know if I can do it. I feel so stupid for even thinking that with him gone there’s this empty hole in my stomach that won’t be filled by my turkey sandwich waiting in the fridge. All he does is sit around and make my somewhat complicated life more complicated, but as cliché as it sounds, he is the water to my fish, the Mario to my Princess Toadstool. Sad enough, I’d be lost without him.

I put the last slice of bread on the sandwich and I yank my own out of the fridge. I almost trip over Bruno who has been my own personal shadow since I saved him from Elliot’s cramped apartment. He gives me a stupid look and gambols after me as I walk slowly into the family room.

“Oh snap!” Trace yells incredulously as I enter the living room. He’s sitting on the couch in front of Justin’s enormous sixty-inch television screen playing some random snow boarding game. He apparently just finished maneuvering a rather tricky move and the small man is currently giving himself a pat on the back.

“Well that was an interesting little move,” I explain as I sit down next to him. I hand Trace his sandwich and he takes it with a quick nod of thanks. Bruno sits down in front of me, giving one of his stupid looks. It sadly reminds me of the expressions Justin used to give me when I would yell at him. I sigh heavily as I take a bite of my sandwich before looking over at Trace. He’s already eaten half of his meal and it looks as if I’ll be running back to the kitchen to make him another one.

“So what do you want to do tonight?” he asks me. I shrug in what I hope is a noncommittal response before I lean back in the couch and look at the paused game on the television screen.

The weird thing is, since Justin’s absence, I’ve been spending a lot more time with Trace. Granted there have been more than enough times when I’ve chilled with my ‘brother’ and Elliot, but that’s when I need to get away from the memories of Justin. Being with Trace reminds me too much of Justin. When they’re together it’s like I have to deal with two Justins at the same time and that’s enough to drive any person fucking crazy. But now that one of them is away, it seems as if I can’t get enough of being around Trace. To me, it’s the shorter, less attractive, but by no means less asshole-ish of Justin.

“I don’t know. I have to stop at the Hilton later today to pick up my schedule for the upcoming Senator’s wedding, but I should be free until tomorrow morning. What did you have in mind?”

“Well I was going to smoke…” I roll my eyes in his direction. I hate it whenever he gets into his ridiculous pot smoking moods. All he does on some of his days off is kick back on the sofa and light up. He doesn’t even do me the courtesy of exhaling through an empty paper towel roll stuffed with dryer sheets. No, I have to walk into the house and be hit with a wall of smoke. The sad thing is, he doesn’t do it with anybody…that’s how I know he’s missing Justin; his ganja buddy is gone.

“Please Trace, you do realize you can do something much more productive than sitting on the damn couch like a vegetable,” I say my lips pursed. I take another bite of my sandwich and chew on it thoughtfully as Trace finishes the rest of his. I’m thinking the two of us could go out to dinner with Theo, but seeing as he’s been spending every single waking moment in Compton, well it seems as if it’ll just be me and Trace again.

“Okay, okay, so I won’t smoke…” this is the thing that’s so weird with being alone with Trace – if Justin were here, he’d make a big fucking deal about me not letting him smoke and complain to the point where I would throw up my hands and tell him to do whatever the fuck he wanted. But with Justin gone, it’s almost as if Trace is a completely different person. I don’t think he feels the need to be tough around me like he does when Justin is in the same room. But I’ll probably just blame this on the fact that this is the first tour for the both of us when the three of us aren’t together and I think it’s driving us all crazy.

Well, I don’t know how the affect it has on Justin seeing as we hardly ever talk. I mean we have phone conversations just about ever day, but he’s distant…almost as if he’s in another world. I can’t blame him though, Justin always gets into this zone when he starts up a new tour – but the thing is I was always there with him to be in that zone and now I’m hundreds of miles away and…

Well I haven’t been laid in almost a month and the thought that I won’t get what Trace and Justin call ‘a bone’ for at least another three weeks is enough to drive me crazy.

“Movie?” Trace offers. I shake my head and set my plate on the ground. Bruno surges forward and his enormous tongue goes to work on the ceramic. The last time Trace and I stepped out in public a tiny little blurb showed up in the tabloids proclaiming that while Justin was away his girlfriend and former PA were getting it on behind his back. I’m just glad rumors haven’t popped up about him and Maura because if those little gossip gems rear their ugly head I’ll be on the first flight out to wherever Justin is to pop the girl in the face.

“You okay?” Trace asks. I guess he can read the tension in my face as I think of Maura and I quickly smile at him and take his empty plate from his grasp, placing it in front of my newly acquired pit bull.

It’s not that I don’t like Maura, she’s great and gets the job done in a less than timely fashion. I’m just…dare I think it….jealous. Jealous that she gets to spend every waking moment with Justin and while I wish I was in her shoes, I know that it would just drive me crazy. I mean fucking your boss and being in a relationship with him while he’s barking out orders at you? No, I don’t think so. And I refuse to be the girlfriend that does nothing but sit backstage or on the bus while he’s doing shows. I can’t do that it would drive me up the wall.

“So what are we going to do? I don’t want to sit at home all night. We could go out to a club or something?”

“No,” I state quickly. I don’t want him to get into the club mindset. Because I know if I agree I’ll somehow be bullied into becoming some retarded form of wingman for Trace while he tries to pick up some girl. I keep telling him time and time again that he needs to move on from Elisha and find himself a nice girl who will make him happy. But the little gnome believes that he still has some wild oats to sow and I merely throw up my hands and let him continue on with his college trysts. “Let’s just do a movie tonight. I don’t want to sit at home either.”

Trace smiles happily and starts going on about the latest slasher flick that came out in theaters. I sigh under my breath so he can’t hear me as he gathers the plates away from Bruno and traipses into the kitchen to, shocker, clean up. I’d much rather go see some cut ‘em up, scare the crap out of you film with Justin, but seeing as he’s in Fresno at the moment (and didn’t want me to make the drive up), that’s kind of out of the picture.

Smiling wistfully to myself, I grab my phone and press the first button on my speed dial that will take me one step closer to the comfort of his voice. I called him earlier this morning but he didn’t pick up. I blame it on the countless radio station appearances he needs to make, not to mention the other interviews, sound checks, and strange appearances he needs to tend to before he takes the stage around eight o’clock almost every night. The phone continues to ring and my smile is ear to ear as someone picks up the other end.

“Hey Lauren!” a female voice sounds into my ear. I take the phone away from my ear and look at it as if it’s sprouted another head. Who the fuck is answering his phone?

“Unless you got an unhealthy boost of estrogen in your breakfast, I’m going to assume this isn’t Justin and whoever this is will go give him his phone immediately,” I all but seethe. Bruno gives me a questioning look before he turns tail and goes to find better company in the form of Trace who is singing something at the top of his lungs, horribly.

“Did you need something?” the all too familiar voice all but croons into the phone.

“Yes, Maura, where’s Justin?”

“Doing his sound check right now,” she states matter of fact, “How are you?”

Oh I’d be doing so much better if you weren’t answering his phone and he was here with me and I didn’t have to hang out with his best friend instead of his sorry ass.

“Great! How are you holding up? Tour life catching up to you?”

“Not at all, I’m having the time of my life!” she exclaims and I try to ease up on the fist I’m unconsciously making. “How are things at home?”

“Peachy and not stressful in the slightest,” I respond. We’re having a silent battle of the wills. I can tell by her voice that she’s exhausted but she’s trying her best to stay as perky and excited as possible and I’m almost positive she can hear the anger in my voice at the fact that she picked up my boyfriend’s phone…which should be on him at all times – except when he’s on stage.

“That’s great! Well look, I’ll tell Justin you called, he just started his sound check so he won’t be done for another twenty minutes or so. Don’t let me keep you, I’m sure you have a lot of important stuff you need to be doing.”

“Oh yes, very important things…” like thinking of ways to reach through the phone to strangle your pretty blonde neck, “But yes, just tell Justin I called and that I miss him and the like…” there are several other things I want to tell her, but I refrain.

“Will do, you take care Lauren. Tell Trace I said hello and hopefully we’ll see you soon!” she sounds like a newlywed who’s calling home to tell her spinster sister she’s having the time of her life. I flip my phone shut and jam it into my pocket, trying to keep the yell of fury in my throat.

“Whoa you look like someone just shot you in the foot or something,” Trace exclaims as he comes back into the room, “You look pissed. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say automatically, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I said I’m fine, Trace!” I snap. He flinches and I sigh heavily. Trace is the only person who kind of knows what I’m going through. Elliot and Theo try to be sympathetic, but I don’t think they fully grasp what I’m going through. Trace is my ally and I’m pushing him away. “Sorry,” I apologize, “Maura answered his phone and…”

“Are you going to turn green and become one of those girlfriends who freak out every time he has another chick sniffing around his heels?” Trace interjects. I give him an incredulous look – he sounds like Elliot.

“No!” I exclaim, “I just…”

“Justin’s been really absentminded lately and is leaving his shit all over the place. I would have been surprised if he had answered his phone, you have to know this; you call him all the time!” I look down at my feet feeling something opening up in the pit of my stomach.

Every time I call Justin, it goes straight to voice mail and I end up leaving a few messages so he can call me back. The only times I do get to talk to him are when he calls me because I’m a right desperate fool and have my phone on me at all times. This is the first time Maura has answered his phone with me on the other line. Granted we text each other to the point of obsession, but it isn’t the same as hearing his voice. You can’t really tell how much someone misses you when it’s displayed on a cell phone screen.

“I just…”

“Freaked out like most of his old girlfriends did, and let me tell you it didn’t work in their favor. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they aren’t around anymore.”

“Ha, ha, Trace,” I state sarcastically. I pull out my phone again and look at it with forlorn. Trace rolls his eyes and claps a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it, Lauren,” he says with a wry smile, “you know he only has eyes for you and you of all people know how he gets around tour. Don’t freak out about one phone call. I know for a fact that Justin has never looked at Maura the way he looks at you.”

I return his smile and bring my hand up to pat Trace’s hand that’s on my shoulder, “Thanks, Troll. Shall we go see some people get slashed to death?”

“Fuck yeah, nigga!” Trace exclaims before he turns around and heads towards the exit.

“Trace,” I state not moving, trying to stop from laughing. He stops at the door and turns around, the goofiest smile on his face.

“Don’t ever say that again.” 

*~*~*~*

“And make sure you have the caterer here no later than four thirty, do you understand?” I yelp into my headset, flipping it off before I hear an affirmative. Rubbing my temples, I plop down in a chair that’s adorned with red velvet and trimmed with gold tassels. I’ve been working on this damn wedding for almost two weeks and I can’t wait until the happy couple run out of the Hilton ready to start their new life together. This planning is driving me up the damn wall.

“Hey Lauren,” a familiar voice says above me. Looking up, I see Elliot take a seat next to me. He’s looking just as flustered as I am and I reach out and pat him reassuringly on the shoulder. Both of us are at our wit’s end with this ridiculous reception and all I want to do is scream at our almost non-existent supervisor until he fires me. But that won’t do me any good because then I would hear nothing but pleading from Justin to have me go out on tour with him.

So maybe me getting fired would be a good idea, because then maybe Justin would talk to me longer than the obligatory ‘how are you? I miss you! Love you! Things are great! I love you! Can’t wait to see you in a few weeks!’

“You doing alright there Elliot?”

“Not really. The sadistic and masochist interns are starting to get on my last nerve with their incessant bickering and woe is me bullshit,” he states. I raise an eyebrow at his apparent frustration with the underlings we have to babysit and I almost can’t believe he said ‘bullshit.’ I guess my better self is rubbing off on him.

“Tell me about it. I almost drop kicked one frigid bitch because she didn’t want to get packaging under her fingernails when the flowers arrived earlier today.”

“I can’t wait until next Christmas so I’ll get my huge bonus…”

“Elliot, you’re Jewish,” I point out.

“Yes, but Christmas bonuses are universal. That alone is one of the reasons why I almost believe that Jesus was the Son of God.” I laugh loudly before I turn towards the clipboard I threw down onto the table. It’s thick with various papers and I want nothing more than to dump it unceremoniously into the garbage can by the exit. But I have to stay strong. After all, this party is like a kiddy fiesta next to the extravaganza that Elliot and I are trying to put together by the eleventh of February.

Every year the Beverly Hills Hilton hosts the Grammy party, and both Elliot and I are at the helm this year. I’ve been planning this shit since the beginning of January and the fact that it’s approaching at the speed of a runaway train is enough to send me into a bucket of twittering nerves.

Let’s not even discuss the fact that Justin’s crowning moment will be at that party. He’ll be performing for all his peers in private and it’s considered one of the highest honors to be invited to perform at this soiree. I couldn’t be prouder for him, but the fact that I’ll be the one to blame if something goes amiss is something that makes me want to turn towards Vicodin or some other type of painkiller.

I’m about to respond but the words die with the ringing of my phone. I almost jump out of my seat as I scramble for it, hoping by some grace of God that it’s Justin. My heart plummets to my feet when I realize that it’s only my randomly adopted brother, Theo.

Theo and I haven’t really spent a lot of bonding time together and it’s both of our faults. He’s been so busy trying to do his project in Compton and I’ve been married to my job so that doesn’t leave us much time to chill out. When we are together, Elliot or Trace is usually with us – but the four of us are never altogether. I think Trace’s head would explode from the advance vocabulary and blatant science geek jargon that Elliot and Theo spit back and forth.

Nevertheless, I still feel guilty that I haven’t been able to devote more time to my brother, but he never presents himself as available so I guess it isn’t all my fault.

“Hey Lauren,” his voice is hiding traces of frustration and I hope that I didn’t do anything wrong.

“Theo! How you doing?”

“I’d be doing a lot better if I knew where my damn camera was!” he exclaims and suddenly his easygoing shell is shattered by what seems to be pent up frustration and anger. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him this upset and quite frankly it’s putting me ill at ease.

“Where was the last place you had it?” I ask calmly hoping that me not getting all bent out of shape will help him keep his nerve under control.

“I had it in my room and now it’s gone! And with how the weather is right now, Christ I could have gotten my shot today!” I roll my eyes against my will, he’s forever going on about his photo and I know that he’s got at least fifty on his computer at home that fill the requirement of his ‘perfect’ shot. I don’t know where he got the drama gene from…

“Well maybe you should just take the day off and just hang out. You’ve been working too hard.”

“Whatever,” he interjects loudly, “I’ll just go buy a stupid disposable camera, maybe this time I’ll get what I’m looking for,” and before I can say anything else, I’m left with a dead line.

“Well that was odd,” I say to Elliot as I put the phone back in my bag. He gives me a quizzical look and I merely shrug. I’m about to reiterate what Theo was grumbling into my ear when a nervous looking underling approaches.

“Question, Stewart?” Elliot asks. This kid looks like someone is holding him at gunpoint just to be standing in front of us. I know something is wrong and I almost want to cover my ears and run away to avoid hearing Stewart’s answer.

“Um…the bride-to-be cancelled the caterer,” he says meekly.

Elliot and I have two very different reactions.

He sits back in his chair flabbergasted although for the most part he looks calm. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he turns towards the mountain of paperwork next to him and begins to file through it, no doubt trying to find a replacement. Yours truly, on the other hand, has erupted out of her seat. I can feel the blood rushing to my head and if I didn’t have any self control I would probably smack the poor man in front of me out of frustration.

“What do you mean she cancelled the caterer?” I all but screech. The frustration of being without Justin, of having Theo biting my head off, trying not to go crazy with Trace and my employers breathing down my neck…it’s getting to be way too much. This little set back is the icing on the cake.

“She found out her fiancé was gambling behind her back and she flipped. So she cancelled the caterer to make him sweat…” Stewart responds quickly. I roll my eyes and look back towards Elliot to see if he’s come up with a solution.

The woman getting married is the daughter of some big Senator. The wedding is supposed to be the crème de la crème of all winter weddings and it was left up to Elliot and I to oversee that the reception would be executed smoothly.

But no, the bride-to-be had to get a case of the ass and fire the damn caterer! I swear if I ever do get married I’m just going to fucking elope. I would never want to subject another person to this kind of pressure! Still, this is the kind of pressure I live for and for some odd reason I feel shockingly happy as I begin to order people around. Stewart gladly runs away to join one of his coworkers who’s setting up some tables.

Turning my headset on, I begin to bark orders as Elliot gets on the line to contact an emergency catering company. If we play our cards right, the Senator and the groom won’t even have an idea that the Bitch Daughter cancelled one of the most important elements of a wedding reception.

Once our crisis is taken care of for the time being, I sit down and pull my phone out of my bag again. Twirling it around in my hands, I sigh heavily and flip it open. One call couldn’t hurt and maybe I’ll catch him at a moment where he’s in between interviews or taking in some rare downtime at whatever hotel he’s in.

The phone starts to ring and after a few minutes of waiting, I can pretty much guess that he won’t answer the phone. I’m about to stop the attempt when suddenly…

“Stop it! Hey Lauren!”

My heart stops. Maura. Again. What the fuck?

“Maura…” my voice fades away and I look over at Elliot. He doesn’t seem concerned that Justin’s assistant has answered his phone. He’s acting as if this is an every day occurrence – oh how wrong the little Jew Boy is…

“What can I help you with…ouch! Don’t!” She seems distracted by something, or rather someone. I can hear Justin laughing far off in the background and I’m about ready to snap.

“I was under the impression that you have your own cell phone, Maura,” I say trying to keep my icy tone from reaching her ears. She didn’t hear the acid in my voice, in fact she’s laughing. “You know, I thought calling Justin’s phone would allow me to speak with Justin, not his assistant.”

“Oh well you know how those things go…” she says absentmindedly. There’s a crash on her end followed by raucous laughter from not only her but a few other people who are no doubt in the same room as her.

“Yes well…”

“Would you give me the phone?” I hear Justin’s voice in the distance and my heart skips a beat. Is it just me or do I hear a hint of frustration in his voice?

“No. Not until you apologize!” her voice is taunting him and I almost wish I wasn’t on the line to hear her ridiculous attempts at flirting with him.

“Never!” he says valiantly. I want to reach through the phone and clean both their clocks.

“While this is sickeningly sweet to listen to,” I admonish, “I have a lot of things to do and I’d like a quick word with my boyfriend before…” but my voice is drowned out by peels of laughter and Justin’s next words:

“Maura Delaney is the apple of my eye and the goddess of my universe and I sincerely apologize for putting her in the wrong.”

Oh hell to the fuck no.

I know he’s joking, but honestly you don’t say that to a personal assistant. He never said that to me.

“Talk to you later, Lauren,” Maura says quickly and there’s a great deal of noise as the phone is passed over to the last person I want to talk to right now.

“Lo!” his voice is breathless but I can hear the unmistakable joy that’s practically radiating from him. “How are you? I miss you!”

My anger wins over the desperation I feel to talk to him and I quickly snap my phone shut before angrily shoving it into my purse. Elliot looks taken aback at this course of action and it isn’t until I’ve started carving my pen into my pad of paper that he opens his mouth to speak.

“What was that about?”

“He’s such an asshole,” I mutter under my breath, “Saying those things to her when I’m trying to talk to him.”

“Did Maura answer the phone again?”

“Yes!” I spit and all the frustration and aggravation I’ve felt from this workday is starting to catch up with me. I refuse to let my eyes water over with tears, and I don’t want the rest of my coworkers to see that something could upset the Great Lauren Walters.

“I don’t think it’s that bad, I mean how many times did you answer his personal phone while you were working for him?”

“Hmm let’s see, how about never?” I snarl as I continue my violent doodles on my paper. “He always had his phone with him unless he was onstage and then it was off and tucked away with his bag. I think I only answered it once or twice in the almost six years I’ve been working for him.”

Elliot’s string of reasoning has been cut short because he silences himself and looks up at me with caring eyes, “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation and you shouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure he misses you terribly.”

“Yeah, well if he misses me terribly he could pick up a damn phone call once in a while,” I mutter. My spastic drawing hand has slowed down some and I can see the angry scratches and ink blots that have traveled their way over some very important notes for the wedding at hand.

“You’ve said it before, Lauren,” Elliot begins, “He’s probably just really busy and it’s easier for him to have Maura manage his calls than having to catch up on hundreds of voicemails and talk for hours to various people. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be home in a few weeks and you guys can talk about it then, or argue…part of me thinks that your discussion of his phone etiquette will end in some form of disagreement.”

I smile and pat Elliot’s hand. That was his way of telling me everything will turn out for the best. “Thanks El,” I say with a forced smile. Grabbing my pen and paper I turn on my headset again and fall back into the tireless effort of ordering people around.

At least I can make others almost as miserable as me. 

11. So this is Love? 

I really miss her.

That statement is an understatement. I don’t think I could ever put into words how much I miss her. If you turned all of my talent into words I don’t think they would even begin to encompass how much I miss Lauren – and that’s some big shit; I have a lot of talent.

The buses are pulling out of the Xcel Energy Center where I just finished up a show in St. Paul, Minnesota. This place is fucking freezing, worse than Worden and that’s saying something. I’ve been bundled up in a parka, scarf, and hat and I’m still worried that my toes are turning blue. Who in their right mind decided to schedule this tour in the middle of winter, in freezing cold places? I’m going to hunt them down and shove their genitals in the snow that’s shoved to the side of the freeway.

God, I am colder than a witch’s tit in an iron bra and I want nothing more than to snuggle under the covers with my dogs and try to remember what it felt like to be warm. But most of all I want to be with her. I want to wake up knowing that Lauren is either downstairs making breakfast or seeing her still sleeping beside me. I hate the fact that we’re so far away and I don’t care if I sound like some lovesick teenager, I fucking miss her.

Granted the last time we spoke was right before my show tonight…well it wasn’t so much talking, as it was me saying hi before she hung up. I guess she doesn’t like it when Maura answers my phone which is fucking ridiculous because I’m pretty sure she answered my phone a couple of times when she was working for me.

Can I help it if Maura goes out of her way to answer my phone? No, she’s being helpful dammit and Lauren needs to open her eyes and realize my personal assistant isn’t trying to get into my pants. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did because most of the female population wants what the media has christened the Timbersnake and really, who could blame them? I’m hot shit right now

The line of females waiting for my dick aside (which does not include Maura), I’m still missing Lauren like a baby animal misses it’s mother’s teat…or some weird analogy like that. I’m not too good with those; I never had to take the SATs.

And I know I probably pissed her off earlier tonight, but she didn’t have to hang up on me. We could have talked it out or something, but that infamous temper got the better of her and now we’re in some silent fight that’s only tenser because of the distance between us.

I can’t stand it.

I excuse myself from the front of my bus, leaving Maura, Johnny, and Rachel behind. They’re all discussing scheduling conflicts for when the buses reach their destination of Toronto on the thirtieth and I don’t want to sit around and listen to them jabber on about it. Maura or Rachel will debrief me later. Right now, I need to make a phone call.

Walking into the back room which consists of my bed and a small couch, I throw myself down on the bed, my two dogs jumping up to join me. It’s nice to have silent companions who know when you’re in a funk. They’ll try anything to make you feel better. Brennan rushes forward and licks me right on the kisser. I pat his head as I fish out my phone with my free hand. I find myself dialing the familiar numbers that will take me to Lauren’s voice, and I can only hope it isn’t in a tone that will make me feel like a royal dick.

It rings three times before I get an answer.

“Hello?” her voice is bleary, but it’s probably the sweetest sound in the world right now.

“Hi, Lauren,” my voice sounds wistful and I feel like I’m swooning at the sound of her voice. I hope she can’t hear that almost two thousand miles away.

“Hey,” she sighs. She sounds tired. I look down at the dual time wristwatch and realize that it’s almost ten thirty at home. Why the hell is she in bed this early?

“Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, but that’s okay…” it seems I caught her in a rare mood. She isn’t snapping at me for interrupting her sleep and it seems as if our mini fight earlier today has been forgotten. Christ, I can only hope.

“So you aren’t mad at me?” I feel like a little kid who’s sent to his parents’ room after he’s done something terrible so he can apologize. When the parents say they aren’t mad, the kid is shocked…

“I guess not. Elliot and Trace put it into perspective for me, so I guess you get off easy this time.”

Elliot and Trace? Since when is Trace offering Lauren advice…scratch that. When does Trace ever offer anyone advice? And this Elliot? I know he’s her Revenge of the Nerds friend, but the fact that she’s seeking counsel from this dweeb is making me nervous.

“That’s good,” I say good naturedly, “What did you do today?” And she soon goes on about how she had to deal with the Bridezilla of the century and of the rest of the things she needs to accomplish this week and next. I gaze at the small calendar by my couch. My birthday is in four days…I guess I can stop the dreams of her coming out to visit

“How was your show?”

“Same old, same old. It’s fucking freezing here, Lauren,” I add, “I wish you were here to warm me up.”

“You can stop wagging your eyebrows, Justin,” she retorts immediately and I instantly cease said gesture. How the girl knows what I’m doing thousands of miles away I’ll never know. “And if you think you’re getting any phone sex tonight you’re dead wrong. I wouldn’t want Maura to intercept your cell phone in the middle of it.”

Ouch. Zinger. I knew she couldn’t keep that to herself for long. She had to make a comment about our little tiff, but I’m not going to take the bait. I’m going to brush that off my shoulder and keep going with the conversation.

“Aside from working, what else have you been doing?”

“Oh, this and that. Elliot and I are going to a new art gallery opening tomorrow and then since the weather is absolutely great here, Elliot, Theo, and I might go to the zoo. Oh, and I think Elliot and I are going out to dinner with his sister and mother on the thirty-first and then we’re seeing a show in Hollywood, something like that.”

Elliot, Elliot, Elliot. Is that all she can fucking talk about? Never mind the fact that she’s going out with half his family on my birthday. My girlfriend is entertaining this Elliot in perfect California weather and I’m stuck here in the frozen tundra of America. I know I’m supposed to bring in the bacon, but Jesus what did I do to deserve this?

“But I wish you were here,” she states, “Elliot, Theo, and Elliot’s family can’t do half the things I want to do with you.”

Timberlake, you are so getting phone sex tonight. She was just yanking your chain.

“Yeah,” I say throatily. Part of me wishes that my dogs weren’t in the room. Their over sensitive hearing might be de-virginized when I’m done with this phone call, “and what things do you want to do with me?”

I can hear her stifled yawn over the phone and I start to panic. Keep her awake; don’t let her get off the phone. Who cares about phone sex? I just want to hear her voice for a few more minutes. Everybody else just sounds disgusting after talking to Lauren. Don’t let her go.

“I need to get some rest and you do, too. You’re in the middle of a tour, Mr. Timberlake,” she points out as if I didn’t already know this.

“I can rest later, I just want to talk to you,” I whine profusely and I wonder if she can see my pouting face from where she is.

“Believe me, I’d want nothing more than just to talk to you, but I need my rest. Elliot and I have a huge party to set up early tomorrow morning and like I said, you need your rest.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I see that she’s right and I don’t want to upset her right before she goes to sleep.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I relent, “You get some sleep and I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Of course. I miss you way too much,” she mumbles sleepily into my ear.

“I miss you, too, but I love you more.”

“Mmm, but not as much as I love you,” she responds and I don’t think she’s right. Sometimes it hurts to know how much I love her. “Call me later?”

“Of course…” I don’t want to be the one to say goodbye. Saying goodbye means she’s not here with me anymore, “I love you,” I repeat, hoping my telling her once again will make her want to talk more.

“Love you too…” she’s falling fast and I don’t want to do this to her anymore. I sigh heavily and close my eyes, trying to picture her lying on my bed. Granted I’m sure she’s fully clothed right now, but still the image is nice to have of her.

“Talk to you soon,” I add. I refuse to say goodbye.

“Yeah…bye, Justin.” Thank God I didn’t have to say it.

“Love you, bye.” And just like that she’s gone and my mood is down the crapper.

The bus continues along and I gaze out the window at the passing lights, absentmindedly scratching Buckley on the top of his head. I wish I wasn’t in the middle of this tour, I really want to be back home with Lauren and Trace and my family out there. I haven’t felt homesickness like this since my first big American tour with *NSYNC and the fact that a single person is able to make me feel like this thrills and scares me all at the same time.

Needless to say, my mood has worsened by the time we reach the hotel and my heart plummets to my feet when I hear the hordes of screaming women outside the lobby of the hotel.

There’s a knock at the door and Maura is there with a grim smile on her face. She’s got her game face on and I know she’s preparing herself to handle the crowd gathering outside the bus. Tiny and Mike, two of my small army of personal security, shadow her small frame. I guess it’s now or never.

Leaving Buckley and Brennan behind for Rachel to take care of, I walk out of the bus with Maura beside me, my security flanking our sides. Flashes pop and explode in front of my line of sight and the screams crescendo so much I can feel the headache beginning to form behind my eyes.

Pictures of my face are being shoved in my line of sight and girls are reaching out to try to grab hold of my shirt. Maura looks at me with a puzzling glance. Usually I stop to sign a few autographs or take several pictures, but I’m just not in the mood tonight. I give a slight shake of my head and she nods telling me that she understands the gesture. The fans are getting jack shit tonight and for once I don’t care if they call me an asshole.

We reach the safety of the lobby and I turn around to look at Maura. We stop in the middle of the lobby and she waits for any instructions I have to tell her, “Go out there and tell them I’m not coming out. I don’t want to hear them screaming for me all night when I need sleep,” I snap. I don’t care if I’m coming across as a dick to her, I’m not in the mood for anything and for once I want someone to feel as miserable and wretched as I do.

She looks taken aback, but nods dutifully before she turns around to face the masses, “And I need you upstairs before I go to sleep. There are a few things I need you to do tonight.” I can tell by the way she’s practically swaying on her feet that she’s tired, but I don’t give a damn. She’s my employee and she’s going to do everything I say, dammit.

Once I’m up in my room, I wait for Maura to return. I didn’t think I’d have to kill time until she gets up here so naturally my mood is reaching an all time low. I almost feel sorry for Maura when she gets up here; she isn’t going to like me when I’m through with her.

I turn the television onto some random station that’s playing late night reality television. I hate the shit with a passion, but it passes the time and the loud noises and blurred out naked bodies help me keep my mind off of Lauren. Sitting in silence will only make me think of her and for the first time I know that if I do, I’ll probably say fuck it to the tour and fly home – millions of people and millions of dollars in income be damned.

The knock at the door can’t come soon enough and I wordlessly let Maura in. I go to sit on the couch and she sits in the armchair across from me. “You needed to see me?”

“Yeah,” I state coldly, “I need you to make sure that my continental breakfast is delivered to my room no later than seven thirty tomorrow morning. I need a wake up call at seven and if I wake up a minute later than that it’s your ass on the line. Also, Trace wants to know how the sales are doing for the clothing line in Middle America so you’ll need to have the statistics for me in a hard copy so it can be mailed to the offices in LA and I also need you to fax another copy to Trace by the time the buses are on the road by ten o’clock tomorrow morning…”

Her eyebrows are raised in a state of shock at the list of things I’m giving her. The poor bitch isn’t even writing it down and I know that if I have to repeat myself my temper will probably reach new heights.

“Buckley and Brennan need to be walked tomorrow morning, either you or Rachel need to get on that. I want you to send Lauren some flowers tomorrow, I’ll write out a personal card myself and you’ll need to send it for me. Make sure the details to book the club for my birthday are finalized. I don’t want to show up in Montreal to find that the club I want to party in won’t let me in. And see if you can cancel two days of interviews, photo calls, or photo shoots and try to get me a flight back out to LA for a few days before the Grammys. And I need a new parka because the weather here blows.” I stop and look at the television set, not sure if I need her to do anything else.

“Is that all?” she asks me slowly.

“I think so,” I respond my voice hollow.

“Can I say something?”

“Have a party,” I mutter.

“Get a grip, Justin,” Maura retorts and I look up at her so quickly I think I might just have whiplash.

“What did you say to me?” this girl is on a one-way train to getting her ass fired and then I’ll have to force Lauren to come back. That might not be such a bad idea actually

“I said you need to get a grip. Don’t you sit there and give me ridiculous things to do just because you’re miserable and wallowing in your own self-pity. I can’t help it if you and Lauren have conflicting schedules so you don’t need to take it out on me or the other people who are working for you. I mean come on, you know as well as I do that the William Rast offices have all the statistics on lock down and you haven’t had a business conversation with Trace since you started the tour.”

I’m still staring at Maura as if I’m looking at her for the first time. I have always seen her bend over and take it without a pip of complaint and yet here she is sitting in my hotel room, telling me off because I’m being a miserable little bastard. I don’t deserve to be treated like this, and I know for a fact that she’s only being this short with me because she’s been on her feet for over sixteen hours doing shit for me and other members of the crew. Words have simply failed me and when she realizes I have nothing to say she continues on -

“I know you miss Lauren, everybody can see that and I’m sorry that she can’t spend more time with you but don’t try to act the diva because I know you aren’t really like that…”

Really? The woman hardly knows the real me, how does she know what I’m really like?

She stops talking for a moment and I think she can feel the tension between us almost as well as I can. She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her blonde hair. She leans forward towards me and stares at me intently, like an art student studying a work of art. My brows furrow at this turn of events and it isn’t until she sighs dolefully that my face relaxes.

“Look, Justin,” she starts, “I’ll do everything I can to try to get Lauren out here for your birthday. I know you miss her something terrible and I don’t care if it takes me all day tomorrow or the next day, I’ll find some loophole to get her to Canada. The team doesn’t like it when you’re down in the dumps because quite frankly you start to act like an ass and then you take it out on us.”

I’m still too much in shock to actually say anything so I merely nod. I watch as Maura smiles thoughtfully before she gets to her feet and heads towards the door, “I’ll set a wake up call for you for seven o’clock tomorrow. Please make sure you’re up, I hate having to barge into your room to yank you out of bed.”

“Right,” I mutter before I get off the couch and walk towards my suitcase, “Night, Maura.”

“Goodnight,” she states firmly before she exits. I open up my suitcase and pull out some pajamas wondering when the hell my new personal assistant developed balls. I guess it doesn’t matter because if growing a pair is what it takes for Lauren to get here, well then I wouldn’t mind if Maura grew twenty.

*~*~*~*~*

“Do you think you can help me with this, Lauren?”

I look up from my position on the couch just in time to see Elliot and Theo stumble into the living room. They’re both carrying a huge folded table between them and it looks like they’re heading to the rec room. I raise an eyebrow at Elliot’s request. Honestly if two men can’t carry a heavy folded table, I don’t know how my help is going to get it into the other room any faster.

Nevertheless I put my magazine down on the coffee table and get to my feet, approaching my brother and friend. I stop halfway when they turn to face me, the change in their everyday wardrobe smacking me across the face like an affronted drag queen.

They’re both wearing jeans, but their shirts are those tacky tye-died T-shirts with prints of dragons, fairies, unicorns, or some other mythical shit on them. They’re the kind of shirts fantasy geeks wear in the fifth grade and are teased mercilessly for their choice of style. Theodore’s maroon shirt has a dragon emblazoned on it while Elliot’s blue shirt has some scantily clad Amazon warrior chieftess standing over the body of what looks like a giant rodent. They are reminding me of Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons and I never thought in all my years of living I would ever associate myself with people like this.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Theo explains as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. I half expect them to pull out Magic: The Gathering cards and begin to play right on the floor, “In today’s society, Lauren, people wear them to avoid being naked.”

“Yeah, but why are you dressed up like fifth grade fantasy nerds? Halloween isn’t for another nine months.”

“If you must know,” Elliot starts and I can see a bit of flush rising in his cheeks as if he’s embarrassed being caught in this style of dress, “it’s our turn to host the RPG this week and since my apartment is being fixed because of mold, we need to have it here.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” I ask completely confused. What the hell is he talking about? What is an RPG? I know the whole story about Elliot being kicked out of his apartment because there was a leak in the water main and the whole place needs to be cleaned of mold; he’s shacking up in another one of Justin’s many guest rooms.

“The RPG!” Theo says in an exasperated voice, “Honestly Lauren, don’t you ever go online?”

“Yeah, but only to balance my bank account and to catch up on the news,” I retort. I’m still confused and I don’t like being kept in the dark. Surprises, especially ones where I know nothing about them, really put me off.

“Just let us finish putting this in the other room and I’ll come back and explain it to you,” Elliot says lowly. I get the impression that Theo talked him into this as they hoist the table up again and saunter slowly into the next room.

The sudden slamming of the door in the background and Bruno’s barking tell me that Trace has come home from what I’m sure was a busy day at the office. They’re doing a few launches of the clothing line in Middle American and apparently that means Trace needs to be at headquarters for the most of the day. The poor bastard has been working nonstop since the twenty-seventh and I really hope the guy can take a break this weekend.

I’d like a break as well, but that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. The more I go on with my job the unhappier I become. I like being in charge of things, I like ordering people around a bit, but in all actuality I don’t like having to deal with several bitchy clients. I can deal with one (see why I stuck around Justin for as long as I did), but when you throw four or five pissy clients at me, I start to lose my head. You might as well tack on the cocky and ignorant interns and co-workers I have to deal with and I want to poke my eyes out with a blunt object. And I want a break more than ever tomorrow, but the Grammy After Party is looming in the not so distant future and it demands my full attention.

It sucks that I can’t even see my boyfriend on his birthday.

“Sup, Loho?” Trace says dully as he walks into the living room. He looks dead on his feet and I can totally sympathize with him. I want to curl up on my bed and pass out, but the curiosity of Theo, Elliot, and their weird RPG thing is getting the better of me.

Elliot swears loudly from the other room and both Trace and I look at each other before we both walk into the rec room. My mouth drops open at the scene.

Elliot and Theo are standing on either side of the table they were bringing in just moments ago. But now it’s been unfolded and the surface is painted green, with a river running through the middle. Theo is pulling mountains out of a metallic case and placing them at the head of the table. Elliot is yanking small trees and other foliage out of another case and throwing them in dense areas around what can only be described as a three dimensional map.

“What,” Trace begins his mouth agape, “the fuck is that?”

“It’s our RPG board,” Theo explains as if tables sprouting a 3D map is normal, “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one before!”

“No,” Trace snorts, “And can you tell me why you’re dressed like tools?”

Elliot lets out an exasperated sigh and he walks towards us while Theo yanks small figurines out of yet another case, placing them strategically around the table, “RPG stands for Role Playing Group. Basically we have these tables and each player has a case of people…it’s like the game Risk, but more complex and it incorporates fantasy.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Trace says incredulously, “Grown men actually play this?"

“I’ve been playing since I was sixteen!” Theo calls indignantly while he lovingly places a dragon onto the table. “I never realized Elliot and I were apart of the same guild!”

“Explain,” I say quickly before Theo can say anything else that will confuse Trace and I further.

“Well you see this is more than a two player game. The Groups can consist of anywhere from four to ten players, sometimes more if you combine more tables. And you can join different Guilds, or clubs if you will online. Each of those Guilds will have different chapters in various states, cities, or counties. I’ve been in the Tree Fellow Guild of LA County for about twelve years now – Theo is in the same Guild but from Canada. Make sense?”

“Sure,” I say weakly. This is probably some of the dumbest shit I have ever heard. “So are just the two of you playing tonight, to brush up on spellwork or something?”

“Uh, no,” Elliot says nervously, “You see it’s my turn this week to host the Guild Meeting and Practice but since my apartment is currently two feet under water, we can’t hold it there. The rest of the Guild should be here in about fifteen minutes…”

“And how many members are in this Guild?”

“Well,” Theo pipes up, “Gary, Susan, and Newman should be bringing their tables, so I think it’s a full Guild meeting tonight. I would say anywhere between twenty to thirty,” he pauses to giggle like some school boy seeing boobs for the first time, “it’s going to be an awesome game tonight!” he exclaims before he thumps Elliot on the back.

“Thirty!” I exclaim, “You do realize you’re inviting thirty complete strangers into a house that isn’t ours? Into Justin’s house. What if the media gets wind of this and thinks Justin Timberlake is hosting RPG parties in his house?” I can just imagine the phone calls I’ll be getting from Justin, his mother, his handlers, Ken, Johnny, the slew of people is just too much to handle right now. I don’t need this stress at home of all places.

“Oh come on Lauren,” Trace says good naturedly, “I’m sure these people have no idea who the hell Justin is. They probably listen to Enya or some shit like that.”

“Actually we prefer My Chemical Romance,” Theo interjects and I think Elliot is going to die of shame. I’m pretty sure he didn’t want to alert Trace or I of his hand in the world of Fantasy RPG and I really can’t blame him. I’m sure Theodore talked him into hosting the party here, poor guy.

“Right, well we’ll let you get back to your previously scheduled RPG…ing,” Trace muses as he tries to contain his laughter. I shoot him a reproachful look as we walk out of the rec room and I can tell he’s trying to compose himself. Thank God he isn’t going to be his usual annoying self.

We retire into the living room and I can feel the stress and pressure mounting right behind my eyes. I know for a fact that I’m going to get a migraine from all this and I have nobody but my brother, friend, and Trace to blame.

“This ought to be good, I haven’t really given anybody shit for a while,” Trace exclaims in a rather excited voice. I’m sure he’s getting an arsenal of insults and witty comments ready in that brain of his and it seems like now is a good time for me to go upstairs and wallow in some more self pity. “Elliot and Theo are giving me enough goods for at least another two months.”

“Great,” I say dismally. I think Trace has noticed that I’m not in the mood for joking around tonight and I think my sudden mood change has made him realize that he just put in a good thirteen hours at work today. “I hope Elliot doesn’t stay up late tonight because I don’t want him acting the zombie tomorrow because he couldn’t make his dragon vanquish the knight or whatever the hell they’re doing.”

“Christ, I need a vacation,” Trace states suddenly and I find myself silently agreeing with him. The way things are going, however, I won’t be getting a break until well after the Grammy Party. Even with Justin back in town I won’t be able to spend any time with him and that’s enough to make me run into the Hilton and announce my two-week’s notice.

“You can say that again,” I respond. He opens his mouth to no doubt repeat his last statement when suddenly the doorbell rings. We both look towards the front door just in time to see Theo come bounding out of the other room only to skid to a halt in front of the door.

“Newman!” he exclaims excitedly. I watch in horror as he helps an overweight, balding man in his forties carry yet another folding table into the house. I look at Trace who is also at a complete loss for words, “Did you bring your level two water nymph? I think I might need to borrow one of your water spells for when my sea serpent goes against the fire demons…” his voice fades away as he and Newman shuffle into the rec room.

“I knew it,” Trace says softly, “I knew I ran that red light and got hit by a car while I was on the way home. This just proves that I’ve entered hell.”

We sit in the room for a few more minutes, our expressions becoming more and more shocked as legions of men and women ranging in age from college to middle aged walk through the threshold of Justin’s house carrying huge metallic cases that no doubt contain little fantasy creatures and netherhumans or something ridiculous like that. I can only imagine what Justin’s face would look like if he saw a small army of fantasy geeks gathered in his rec room, getting ready to do battle on tables.

And thinking about Justin has made me realize that tomorrow will be the first time in a long while that I won’t be there to celebrate a birthday with him. The guilt is eating at my stomach, but there really isn’t anything I can do about it right now. Work is a main priority and I can’t just shove off and leave Elliot of the Tree Fellow Guild to fend for himself with the tyrannical California elite. But my need to see Justin is kind of trumping everything else at the moment…

And it’s when they start talking about leveling up their respective armies and deciding where they can hold their weekend long tournament that I snap

“I can’t take this anymore,” I say to Trace suddenly as I hoist myself out of the couch, “I hate sitting here every night trying to figure out what to do and I most definitely don’t want to sit here while the fucking members from Lord of the Rings are holding council in the rec room! So fuck California, fuck this stupid house, fuck the jobs, and just fuck everything!” It feels so liberating to get this off of my chest and I can tell by the surprised expression on Trace’s face that he wasn’t expecting this sudden outburst.

“So are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Trace asks a grin suddenly reaching the corners of his lips.

“I hope so or else I’m just going to jump off the deep end and ask if I can join the Merry Men of Robin Hood in the other room,” my sardonic tone sends Trace into peals of laughter and he jumps up to his feet, walking over to the stairs that will take him to the second level of the house.

“Well then dust off your passport Loho, we’re going to Canada!”

12. Let Me Be Good to You

Tonight isn’t the first time I’m thankful I have an ear monitor in. The amount of screaming that’s reaching my ears is enough to make me sit down on the edge of the stage, put my head between my legs and cry. But then again I think I’d be doing that said motion not out of annoyance from legions of screaming girls and women, but from the fact that one woman in particular has fallen off the face of the planet.

I’m twenty-six today and while I should be happy that I’ve lived to see another year, I still feel shitty and I’m almost beside myself with anger and contempt. But I can’t let that show onstage at all. No, I have to make everyone believe that I’m having the best birthday of my life and it’s all because I’m standing on stage in front of fifteen thousand Canadians and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here.

But there is one place I’d rather be, but it’s pretty impossible for me to get there right now.

So far today I’ve had to sit through six rousing choruses of ‘Happy Birthday’ and every single time I’ve had to smile through it and act as if it was the most amazing rendition of the song I’ve ever heard. I’ve been forced to eat three different birthday cakes and there’s a mountain of presents sitting in my dressing room with my name on it. The only thing is, I don’t want any of that. I don’t want presents, cake, or song. The one thing I want I can’t have right now and it’s enough to send me back two decades and make me throw a temper tantrum.

I sound like such a pussy right now, but honestly I don’t care. Today has been absolutely miserable and I want to skip out on my birthday party that Timbaland is throwing me and just lie under the covers and hope by some grace of God that Lauren hasn’t actually forgotten my birthday and is going to call me.

I think that’s what’s pissing me off most of all – the fact that she’s had all day to call me to wish me a happy birthday and yet I haven’t even received one text message. I’m not going to play the desperate card; I refuse to call her on my birthday. That idea is just ludicrous and I will abstain from doing anything of the sort.

Thankfully my talent and amazing stage presence has gotten me through another inspiring performance and I’m standing at the edge of the stage taking my bows while the crowd is trying to coordinate a last attempt at a unified ‘Happy Birthday.’

“You guys are pretty good,” I state with a laugh and I’m met with thousands of delighted screams. I fight the strong urge to roll my eyes. If only every woman was this easy to please.

A few more bows, screams, smiles, winks, and nods on my part, and suddenly I’m being escorted by security along the floor of the stadium. People are reaching out for me to touch them and normally I would oblige, but tonight I just don’t feel like it. I make a feeble attempt to touch one girl’s hand but right before our fingers touch, someone else knocks her hand out of the way. A flash of brown hair, a familiar smile and not only do my feet stop, but my heart does, too.

Lauren is standing in the GA crowd smiling at me with a huge grin on her face. I choke back on a wad of spit and Mike’s hands are on my shoulders, trying to keep me at a brisk pace to stop complete pandemonium from breaking out. Lauren waves a bit and it isn’t until someone jostles her in the crowd that I realize it’s just a girl who bears a striking resemblance to Lauren. Why the hell would she be here in the crowd? I need to get out of here before the entire stadium bears Lauren’s likeness.

Venue security allows us into the backstage area and I quickly grab a towel a stagehand is holding out for me and press it to my sweat soaked face. I want to go back to my hotel, take a shower, make an appearance at Tim’s party, and then go back to the hotel for some sleep.

In all actuality my main goal is to get back to my dressing room so I can check my phone. There’s a good chance Lauren called my phone to leave a message. No, I don’t sound obsessed at all.

Mike and the rest of my security leave me at the door to my dressing room and I walk inside quickly, hoping I can extract my phone from my bag with lightning quick speed. I don’t know what I’ll feel if I find that Lauren hasn’t called at all. I think I might just have to bit the bullet and call her.

I’m so entranced with the thought of getting my phone that I almost don’t recognize the completely foreign person perched on the armrest of the couch. It takes me a good minute before my eyes can focus on the figure of my best friend, his smile infectious.

“Trace?” I ask incredulously, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I wanted to wish you a happy birthday in person. Can’t a best friend do that?”

“Well yeah,” I say almost sheepishly as I surge forward and give Trace a big hug. It isn’t one of those macho I’ll-just-pat-you-on-the-back-so-I-don’t-look-like-sissy type of hugs. It’s the type of hug you give a brother or male family member after they’ve been away for months. I never realized how much I missed Trace until he’s standing right in front of me. I know if they didn’t need him so badly with the whole clothing line thing he’d be by my side throughout this entire tour. But criticisms of his whereabouts aside, I’m glad he’s here.

“So how has your day been going?”

“Shitty,” I say truthfully, “It isn’t the same without you or Lauren…” my voice fades away and I look at Trace furtively. I told Trace before I left to keep an eye on Lauren to make sure she was doing okay… maybe, just maybe, she managed to get off work and she’s here. Maybe she’s waiting to jump out from behind the bathroom door to scare the shit out of me or something. I’m pretty sure that would be the best birthday present anybody could ever get me. “Is she here?” I ask hurriedly. The sooner the question is out there, the sooner I can get an answer.

I look at Trace expectantly as he averts his gaze and looks down at the coffee table for a moment. His answer doesn’t look promising, but I’m not going to lose hope until he finally speaks. I watch as his smile disappears and the corners of his mouth pull down into an unmistakable frown. He looks really upset that he has to give me whatever news he’s going to present me, and its safe to say I probably don’t want to hear his response.

“No,” he says apologetically, “she tried, man, she really did. They’re just working her like a junkyard dog at the Hilton for this Grammy Party. You should have heard her though when she found out she couldn’t go; Lauren practically ripped Elliot a new one….”

The thought of her yelling at her supposed new best friend makes me feel slightly happy. While I’m glad she made the effort to try to come here for my birthday, I’m still kind of pissed that she’s finding her job to be more important than being with me. I wish she could swallow her damn pride and need for being independent and realize that I don’t care if she has a successful job or not. The frustrations are beginning to mount and I realize that not only has Lauren failed me in being a supportive girlfriend, but Maura has failed me also. She promised she was going to get Lauren up here; I guess not.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Trace asks and his mood quickly takes on the demeanor of an over excited puppy, “Tim’s throwing a huge ass party for you tonight, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not in the mood at all,” I state in a small voice. I don’t like the feeling of disappointment that’s settling into the pit of my stomach and I know my mood is worsening. I feel bad for Trace though, he traveled all the way out here to surprise me for my birthday and I don’t want to hang out at all. “But it’s good to see you, I miss you, man.”

“I miss you, too. It’s hard enough trying to stay happy in the house with you and your shit gone. It definitely doesn’t help that Lauren mopes around all the time missing you. I personally think she just needs a good fuck and then she’ll be happy. You’ll be sure to do that when you come home in February right?”

I give Trace an appalled look. Granted he hasn’t changed much, but it’s kind of weird seeing him standing in front of me and being the same old Trace that he’s always been. If the guy only knew how desperate I am for a lay…

The phone starts to ring immediately and I jump about a foot into the air as it begins to vibrate in my front pant pocket. I grab it and bring the screen to my face. It’s Lauren.

I look at Trace and then back at the phone. Knowing that Lauren is just a phone flip away is a comforting feeling but I don’t want to talk to her right now. In fact, I’m kind of pissed that she waits until my birth day is almost over to call. Honestly she could have found a break during her work schedule to give me a little ring and tell me how much she cares or how much she wishes she could be here. But no, she’s probably having dinner with stupid Elliot and half his god forsaken family and just remembered that it was my birthday!

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Trace asks me and I shrug as if the call isn’t a big deal before I press the button that will turn the ringer off. I don’t want to hear how many times she’ll call and I don’t think I’ll listen to any of her messages until tomorrow morning when I’ve had time to steam off.

“I’m glad you came out here, Trace,” I say with a smile, “I’m going to head back to the hotel so I can get ready for the party tonight. Why don’t we meet in the lobby at one?”

“Sounds good to me!” Trace explains with a hint of sullenness in his voice. I’m sure he wants to go straight from the venue to the club, but I need to get the layer of sweat off my body before I can go anywhere public.

I gather my things and walk with Trace to the cars that will take us back to the hotel. Maura is off with Johnny taking care of some administrational stuff and I don’t want to have to look at her tonight. Knowing me, I’d probably say something really shitty to her since she failed in her attempts to get Lauren out to see me today. Part of me wants to run into her so I can make her feel like a complete failure and to tell her that she sucks at life.

The car ride is short and within ten minutes we’ve arrived at the hotel and I’m gathering my duffle bag and rushing through the melee of screaming girls into the lobby. I say goodbye to Trace when the elevator reaches his floor before mine. I’m the only one left in the elevator as it makes its descent to the top floor. Maura, probably out of pity, booked the largest suite in the hotel for my birthday should I want to invite friends and tour members up for some late night revelry. The only partying I want to partake in is the one where I get under the covers, shut my eyes, and go to sleep

Pulling out my keycard, I swipe it into the door and allow myself to enter the Presidential Suite, hoping this place is nicer than the last one we stayed in.

My feet make contact with the marble floors as I walk down a few steps into the sunken living room. I throw my bag unceremoniously onto the couch and make my way into the bedroom. The lights are off and I quickly flick them on, passing the bed and making my way into the bathroom.

“Not bad,” I mutter to myself as my eyes survey the spotless bathroom. It looks roomy enough and I think I spot a plasma television by the bathtub. Maybe I can watch porn while I soak in the tub. Nothing like a little pity party for one with special appearances by Sack McGroin and Jenna Jamison.

I turn on the hot water in the bath before I peel the T-shirt off my body and walk back out into the bedroom so I can search for a change of clothes. Where the hell did the bellhop put my suitcase?

“Looking for something?” a silky voice says behind me.

“HOLY SHIT!” I scream like a little girl as I jump about twenty feet in the air. I turn around and look at where the voice originated. When my eyes land on the perpetrator I know for a fact I slipped on the tile in the bathroom and hit my head. I’m going to wake up in five, four, three, two…

But her figure remains gloriously solid as she saunters towards me in nothing but a short, form-fitting bathrobe and I know for a fact that her figure isn’t the only other solid thing in the room.

“Holy shit, Lauren?” I ask again, but quieter this time.

“Happy birthday,” she states, a huge smile on her lips. I’m almost afraid to touch her. If I reach out and make contact she could very well disappear and I’ll be left with nothing but a running bath and a suitcase of clothes. “Surprised to see me?”

“Very,” I respond quickly. She’s coming closer and I have the strongest urge to back away so she can’t touch me. But I can’t move, I’m frozen to the spot and now she’s a mere foot away from me. I can feel her breaths on my face and I know this is either a really good hallucination or it’s very, very real. “What are you doing here? Trace said you had work.

“Well,” she says with a small laugh before she pushes a strand of hair away from her face, “Trace lied. I figured this was a more effective surprise.” She reaches with the same hand that pushed away her hair and lets it rest softly against my cheek. Her touch is softer than I remember and I can’t believe I’ve gone a month without this. “And, guessing by your expression,” she pauses a moment as her hand snakes from my cheek to rest behind my neck, pulling me closer to her before she breathes, barely above a whisper, “I was right.”

Our lips meet and its then I realize that this is very, very real. My arms, which were stationary at my sides, suddenly leap into action and they wrap themselves tightly around her slim frame, my mind not really grasping at the concept that this is actually happening. Her other hand rests against my chest and it feels cool against my searing skin. I immediately deepen the kiss and almost gasp as her tongue weaves in and out of my mouth with such elegance you’d think it was performing a dance.

I press her up against me as tightly as I can, thinking that if I relinquish my hold in any way she’ll slip through my fingers and out of my life again. The swelling in my chest makes me realize how much I miss this and how much I need her and I can tell by the urgency in her kisses that she feels the same way.

Breaking the kiss, I look down into her incandescent eyes before my lips leave a trail of kisses along her jaw, traveling down to her collarbone. She doesn’t even try to suppress a small moan of happiness as one of my hands leaves the small of her back and goes to explore the area I know is desperate for my touch.

Why the hell did I leave this behind? How have I managed to survive without feeling her close to me? How could I almost forget what this felt like? Why am I standing here thinking and not doing?

Lauren is instinctively reaching for the buttons on my jeans and I quickly free my hands, ignoring her small groan of protest. Moments later my clothes have become a distant memory and all I want my past, present, and future to be is Lauren.

Her hands are everywhere at once on my body as we resume our kissing. I can feel my skin tingling at her touch and it’s taking all my will power to not say ‘screw foreplay; let’s hop on the good foot and do the bad thing!’ But I know we need to make this last because who knows how long we have to wait until we have something like this again?

“Lauren,” I whisper hoarsely and she responds with a low rumble in her throat. It’s amazing to say her name and not hear it granulated and distorted by phone reception. I still can’t believe she’s rubbing against me and driving me insane. This is the best fucking birthday ever!

I’m growing tired of her silky bathrobe and I know that the sooner it joins my clothes on the heavily carpeted ground, the happier the two of us will be. Gingerly, I pull my hands out of her hair and let them travel down her body. I can tell she knows what’s coming because of the shivers that are cascading up and down her statuesque figure. My hands pause briefly to pay attention to her breasts and I want to chuckle when I see her bite her lip in anticipation. If she had an ounce more impatience, her robe would already be off and we’d be one step closer to what we both really want.

I allow my hands to reach her waist where the ribbon is tied securely around her middle. I undo the tie slowly, knowing that the contents underneath the light blue packaging will probably be the best present I’ve ever received in all twenty-six years on this earth. I allow a hand to slip beneath the folds of the robe, the feeling of her warm stomach sending the blood pounding through my veins.

She laughs as the robe falls open, just the slightest bit of fabric covering the backside of her body. I yank her closer to me, the small amount of time where we were even an inch apart too much for me to bear. Lauren responds by lifting her right leg off the ground and wrapping it around my leg. I can feel her moisture against me and I know that I’m going to have to act soon or I’ll bust at the seams.

I bring her lips to mine and let one of my hands tangle their way into her long russet hair, the other wrapping expertly against the small of her back. Turning the pair of us in a circle, I push her towards what I can only assume is a soft and comfortable bed. I let her fall gently onto her back while I stand over her, taking in every single curve and contour of her body.

Lauren sits up and leans against her elbows, using her shoulders to help her shrug off the rest of her robe. Her eyes are radiating with adoration and love. I can only assume I’m showing the same expressions and more. She reaches out to me with her right hand and soon I’m leaning over her, our faces inches from touching.

“Go, and don’t stop,” she whispers against my lips before I let my face rest in the nook where her neck and shoulder connect. I push my way into her slowly, almost painstakingly sluggish and I can feel her breath hitch as I move further. I kiss her collar and allow my lips to travel up to her jaw before they fall slowly to the hollow of her neck. She calls my name and I’m repeating hers over and over again, a rhythmic chant as she tightens her walls against me. My hands clench the sheets resting behind Lauren as I begin to move slowly back and forth, her hips rising to meet me in a syncopated dance.

I kiss her deeply and I gasp as her nails drag down my back, the sensation heightening every other feeling in my body. I begin to slow my pace and I almost stop completely when she grabs onto me tightly, her hands wrapping around my torso, “Don’t stop,” she growls before she kisses me fiercely. “Please don’t stop.”

I’m trying my hardest, but I know that at any moment I’m going to fall. Our movements become more frantic, our breathing rising into a raucous crescendo that will conclude with the pending release. She tightens against me once more and the shivers that overtake my body stop abruptly when a cry of paramount bliss escapes my throat. It isn’t until I’ve stopped that I realize Lauren is crying out at the same time and her moans die away soon after mine

I move away from her and hoist myself off the bed. I can hear the running water from the bath still going and I hurry into the bathroom to turn off the water. When I return, Lauren is already under the covers, watching me intently as I walk towards her. It isn’t until I’m lying next to her that she finally speaks.

“I missed you,” she murmurs and I shuffle myself closer to her until we’re hardly a foot apart. I reach out with my right hand to play with a piece of her sweat soaked hair. Lauren smiles and uses her left hand to twirl a few of my curls at the nape of my neck. I need to shave it off again…

“How long are you allowed to stay?” I ask her softly not wanting to hear her answer. I don’t know why I have to ask the questions I don’t want to hear the reply. I guess I just want to get them out of the way so dwelling on them isn’t an option.

“I have to get back to California by tomorrow afternoon,” she says bitterly and I can see the tears formulating in the corners of her eyes.

“You don’t have to go back,” I whisper, “Just stay with me, Lauren. I’ll find something for you to do here, I don’t want you to leave me again.” My hand starts to brush up and down her bare arm and I can’t help but marvel at how just feeling her skin on mine brings me so much peace of mind.

“I made a commitment to my job, Justin. I can’t go back on my word. Besides, you’ll be back in a little over a week and then we’ll have until the sixteenth to spend every waking moment together.” I know that’s a lie, we’re both going to be busy as fuck when I get back to LA for the Grammys. I’ll be rehearsing and almost every single moment I’ve been scheduled free time is dedicated to pick up rehearsals for the tour and doing press junkets for the awards. And Lauren will be working on that stupid after party and won’t have time to eat, let alone spend time with me.

“I know, but I don’t want to go back out on the road after that without you. Just promise me you’ll think about it?” I implore and I can tell she’s thinking hard about what I’ve just asked her. She’ll quit her job after the Grammy party and she’ll take up the full time job of making sure I don’t die from missing her.

“I promise,” she says with a small smile. I lean forward and kiss her on the mouth softly before I hug her closer to me. We sigh happily at the same moment and that gives way to a bout of giggles.

“God, I love you so much it hurts sometimes, you know that?” I whisper into her hair. She mutters an affirmative response into my shoulder and I smile as her breath absorbs into my damp skin.

“I love you, too,” she whispers, “More than you’ll ever know.” We lay there in silence for a few more minutes, basking in the happiness of being reunited once more. I don’t want to think about tomorrow when she has to leave and I don’t want to think about the pure torture it’s going to be waiting for the eighth to roll around.

We may not have tomorrow or three days from now, but we have tonight.

And as I kiss her forehead I realize that right now I couldn’t ask for anything more.

*~*~*~*~*

I see Lauren’s unexpected arrival a good excuse for not going to Tim’s party. Seeing as I see Timbaland more days than Lauren, she gets priority and I don’t care if he bitches about it for the rest of tour. We spent the night basking in each other’s company, talking, and we ended our happy reunion with yet another heavy make out session that resulted in some more hot ass.

But as the sun begins to creep through the curtains, I realize that today isn’t going to be a fun one. I didn’t get a wink of sleep and I know that I’m going to be cranky, irksome, and just in a really shitty mood, especially when the time comes for Lauren and Trace to go to the airport.

My phone starts to ring and I groan in protest as I untangle my limbs from Lauren’s. She’s staring at me with her steady gaze and I answer Maura’s phone call while my heart sinks into my stomach.

“Morning!” she says brightly, “You need to get up, you’ve got an interview today at the radio station and you can’t be late!”

“Thanks, Maura,” I say quietly before I hang up the phone. I don’t want to hear her voice today; the thought of locking myself in my suite with Lauren all day is a lot more appealing than sitting in a cramped radio station talking to a group of overweight DJs who make you say and do retarded shit.

“I don’t want to get up,” Lauren complains and it’s the first time I’ve heard her done so in a long time. She stretches, letting her arms rise over her head and I take the opportunity to kiss her quickly while she’s unable to do anything about it. She responds by letting her hands wrap around my neck and I know that if I don’t pull away now I will most definitely be late for the interview.

“What time does your plane leave?”

“Eleven. Trace and I will have to leave right after breakfast.”

“You sure you can’t get a later flight?” I beg and I hate the longing look that’s washed over her expression. I can tell she wants to leave later, but her stupid job won’t permit it. I almost wish I had forced her to come with me, but I understand that her sense of identity and independence is important to her even though I think her not being with me is ludicrous and just fucking stupid.

I am seriously thinking about holding her hostage.

She notices my blatant disappointment and she responds by placing several butterfly kisses on my neck. I’m about to grab her, but she moves away quickly to disappear into the depths of the suite, taking the covers with her.

“Boo, you whore!” I call after her as I scramble around the room trying to find my discarded boxers and pants. The least she could have done was walk away from me naked; it’s been a while since I had the ability to gaze on her figure for my viewing pleasure.

“Get ready!” she yells back and I stick my tongue out at her even though she can’t see me. There is an enormous part of me that wants to throw all responsibility to the wind and cancel everything today just so I can spend time with Lauren. But then again if I decide to do that, she won’t talk to me at all let alone kiss me. Sometimes I hate that she knows how my schedule works and the fact that if I’m late for one meeting, my whole day will be thrown off.

Begrudgingly, I stalk into the bathroom with the full intention of taking the quickest shower known to mankind. I rush out of the bathroom in seven minutes, putting one of the robes the hotel provides around me as I search for Lauren within the cavernous suite.

My search ends when I hear the plucking of piano keys coming from the front of the, well I guess you could call it a penthouse. The one nice thing about these huge rooms is that they think of just about everything to put in here. Granted it’s not like Vegas where there are bowling lanes, light up dance floors, and stripper poles all over their giant suites, but I mean this place does have a baby grand in its own little piano room. I guess you can hire a pianist to come up and play if you want to have a small fete or a romantic evening. Thank God our privacy can be maintained since I can play a little bit and Lauren can, apparently, play as well.

Lauren is sitting on the piano bench, the sheets from the now naked bed wrapped around her body like a toga. Her fingers are lightly brushing the keys and every so often a finger will press down and a clear tone will echo throughout the penthouse. She isn’t aware of my presence and all I can see is the top of her head since her attention is focused on the ivory and ebony keys below her tense fingers.

Leaning against the doorframe, I watch as she leans back with her eyes closed and her hands press down onto the piano and soon she’s playing out a song that sounds vaguely familiar but at five thirty in the morning I’m having a hard time placing it.

The intro over, she tilts over the keys and opens her mouth. I lean forward in anticipation because I know this is one of those rare moments where I get to see Lauren with all the barriers down. I know I’d love to think that being her boyfriend I know her bare bones and with no pretentious bullshit to get in my way, but the truth is, I’ve never seen her this exposed before, no pun intended.

I try to think back to a time where she’s ever sung where it wasn’t belting out Queen or some other British rock band in her car or room. And I need to add that her belting out these songs don’t do wonders for my delicate ears. She is far from a Christina, hell, she’s far from a Sanjaya, and yet I can’t help but think that she’ll be better when she thinks she doesn’t have an audience.

The intro to the song is over, and it’s driving me crazy that I don’t know what it is yet. It sound so fucking familiar and I know once she starts to sing I’ll want to kick myself or throw my body out the window for not knowing what it is…

“When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom ‘let it be,’”

And I’m going to throw myself off the balcony in three…two…one. How could I not know what this song was? Am I deaf? For someone who prides himself in loving John Lennon and most things Beatles, I’m ashamed of myself. And I call myself an artist. I should be shot on the spot.

And she continues to sing. It isn’t the most pleasant sound in the world. Her voice is grainy, raspy, and hoarse from staying up all-night and talking. It’s far from perfect and I know she won’t be getting any record deals soon and I sure as hell would rather sign one of those ridiculous cast offs from American Idol before I gave Lauren a second glance, but this voice…it suits her.

She gets to the chorus and I can’t help myself, my mouth opens and I’m singing harmony with her. Lauren looks up clearly shocked and her hands immediately fly away from the piano and she slams the top over the keys. “You scared me,” she admonishes and I shrug as I make my way over to her and sit down on the bench. “I think that was the shortest shower in the history of the world,” she adds.

“Well that’s because you weren’t in there to make it interesting,” I retort before I lean over and kiss her temple, “You never told me you played.”

“You never asked,” she responds with a small grin, “Besides, I’m not that good. I gave up playing when I got to college. Not enough time.”

“I could give you pick me up lessons,” I say softly as I let a finger rub up and down her arm.

“Yeah, and I’m sure that would end up with you trying to convince me to have sex on top of the piano.”

“I’ve always wanted to try it,” I say wistfully as I stare at the shiny black surface of the instrument, “We could just skip the lesson and go straight to the sex,” I offer and she shakes her head before she stands up and walks towards the doorway I was just leaning against.

“No because then you’d get all sweaty again, and I’m sure you have to be downstairs in a few minutes so you can get to the radio station…”

“I’m not going,” I say quickly making up my mind. Spending time with her is more important and I’m thinking if I cancel the interview we can actually stop talking about the piano sex thing and actually make it a real thing.

“Oh yes you are. I did not fly five hours with Trace on my ass about retarded shit so you could have me all to yourself. Your best friend came out to see you and since you more than likely blew him off last night, you should at least spend the morning with him before we have to jet.”

“I’ve had twenty-six years with Trace, you and I have had five years. Guess who wins?”

“Justin, I won’t have this argument with you. Like I said, you’re coming back to LA in a few weeks and we’ll see each other then. But I don’t want you to blow off your commitments and the midget.”

“But you’re my commitment,” I respond loudly and she holds up a hand to show that she isn’t going to listen to this any further.

“I’m going to get ready. Go get Trace, we’ll have breakfast, and then I’ll give you your real birthday present.”

Oh I hate it when she hangs surprises over my head like that. Granted if her showing up unannounced in my hotel room in the middle of the night isn’t my real present I can’t even begin to imagine what else is in store for me.

Maybe I’ll be getting sex on the piano after all…or maybe she’ll be really adventurous and we can have a quickie in the elevator. I’m adding that onto my already long list of Places to Have Sex in. That’s going right behind the Pirates of the Caribbean Ride in Disneyland.

See what happens when Lauren comes around? My mind goes straight to my dick. Hey, the little guy has got needs too.

*~*~*~*~*

“You guys fucked last night, didn’t you?”

Lauren surges forward and smacks Trace hard on the arm. “Would you shut the fuck up?” she seethes. We’re downstairs on the ground floor of the hotel, in the restaurant where they serve breakfast almost twenty four hours a day. It’s like a really swank Dennys and without all the weird trucker stop folks around. The place is practically empty, but it seems as if Lauren doesn’t want our late night tryst broadcast to any ears that could be listening in.

“I knew it!” he crows before he cackles with laughter. All I can do is grin from ear to ear as Trace leads us to the table that we’re apparently sitting at for our early morning meal. I can’t believe I’m actually among the living at Six AM, but here I am sitting next to Lauren and across from Trace. This is like my dearest dream come true. I don’t want it to end and I know once we’ve finished eating, my two friends, one a brother the other the love of my life, will be back on a plane without me.

Really God, can you throw me a bone here?

“Thank God, man,” Trace quips as he browses the menu, “she was getting unbearable at home. I know you loosened that pu….” But his words are cut off when there’s a loud thud coming from underneath the table and the condiments, silverware, and mugs for coffee jump a few inches around the table. “OUCH, bitch that hurt!” Trace yelps as he leans forward and rubs what I’m sure is his leg.

I look over at Lauren who’s looking very pleased with herself and I laugh as I sling an arm around her shoulder. It’s just like old times and I’m practically floating on air from the happiness. “Well you deserved it. I don’t run around heralding your sex life to the world…or lack thereof.”

“And Walters is out for blood!” Trace grumbles under his breath as the over excited waitress comes up and asks us for our orders.

Fifteen minutes of general chatter, laughter, and blue streak cursing later we’ve received our food and I’m hoping Trace and Lauren can eat as slowly as I intend to. Maybe if I stall they’ll miss their flight and have to stay another night.

My cell phone rings and I groan when I realize its Maura. No doubt she’s wondering where I am and I almost don’t want to answer it. IF I do, she’ll find me and make me eat at lightning speed so I can get to the radio interview I’m already five minutes late to. I can afford to make her work for this though, she needs to understand that being with Trace and Lauren is important to me, and my entourage can kiss my ass if they can’t wrap their heads around that concept.

“You going to get that?”

“No,” I state firmly as I shove some eggs into my mouth. Trace is shoveling bites of pancakes into his mouth like they’re going out of style and Lauren is carefully calculating how she’s going to attack the enormous breakfast burrito that’s sitting innocently on her plate. Yup, everything is normal.

My phone starts to ring again and this time the ring tone is different. I groan in defeat when I realize my mother is calling me. I guess Maura found the one of the two people who I will drop everything in my world for, Lauren and my Mama.

“Hello?” I say sheepishly into my phone. Trace is braying at me like some retarded donkey and Lauren looks bemused.

“I know you know that I know you know that this radio interview is important,” Mama says groggily into the phone. I feel bad because Maura probably woke her up in order to find me and I spill at least twenty apologies into my phone before I persuade her to go back to bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lauren says once I’m off the phone with mom, “We have to go get our stuff ready for the airport. The car is going to be here in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes? Is that all I have left with them?

As we leave the restaurant with slightly bloated stomachs, Johnny comes storming at me, not looking pleased in the least. He begins to chew me out for not keeping my priorities straight and all I can do is stand in the middle of the empty lobby while my manager chews me out in front of Trace and Lauren. “I want you in the car for this interview in five minutes, Justin. No excuses.”

Nope, I was wrong. Instead of ten minuets, I have five.

Johnny storms away and I mentally take his Christmas bonus down a few grand.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly as Trace and Lauren shrug it off like me getting bitched at is an every day occurrence

“I’ll just give you your present now,” Lauren states simply and she looks over at Trace who seems to take the hint. He rushes forward and gives me a huge hug before he turns tail and rushes towards the elevators. I’m sure he’s running up to their respected rooms to grab whatever luggage they managed to bring with them. I turn to look at Lauren and see that she’s walking towards the small sitting area they have in the lobby of the hotel.

I follow her and sit down on the overstuffed and stiff couch. Her legs instantly drape over my lap and I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Do you really have to go?” I ask her for what I can only assume is the thousandth time. She shakes her head sadly and I hope I’m imagining the tears that are formulating in the corners of her eyes. I can’t stand to see her cry and knowing that I have to say goodbye to her yet again is slowly tearing at my insides. My omelet wants to reappear on the floor.

“I’ll be seeing you before you know it,” she says softly and I reach out to push a damp strand of hair behind her ear. She sighs softly and leans into my touch. I’ve come to an executive decision. I don’t care what size her luggage is, I will manage to contort my body to fit its size and I will go back to California with her. I’ll quit the music scene, become a juggler and support Lauren and myself with my amazing abilities to juggle, chainsaws, or cats, or some shit like that.

“That isn’t soon enough,” I whine and she laughs before reaching forward and tweaking me on the nose.

“Ever the drama queen,” she comments. I shake my head and when I look back into her eyes, I see the tiny wrapped package that’s sitting in her lap.

“And what is this?”

“Your birthday present,” Lauren responds simply before she pushes it into my hands.

“You know you didn’t have to get me anything. You being here is pretty much twenty years worth of presents,” I say tenderly as I finger the edges of the wrapping.

“Well, I’ll remember that. You won’t be getting your next present from me until you’re forty-six.”

Damn, I just had to open my mouth. Well I guess I can reserve the piano sex as a present for an anniversary gift or when my next album goes gold…or whenever Lauren loses a bet. I rip the paper off a medium shaped box and when I open it, my eyes widen with surprise.

This had to have cost her at least half her paycheck from working at the Hilton. It’s a large bracelet almost identical to the one I gave her for Christmas. I look from the piece of jewelry to her shining eyes in shock. She didn’t have to do this…I don’t deserve this.

“I-I can’t accept this,” I stutter as I try to push the box back into her hands. She balls them up into fists and crosses her arms, apparently unwilling to take the bracelet back.

“Sure you can,” she says simply before she reaches forward and pulls the bracelet from the box. Holding it one hand, she reaches out with the other one and grasps my right wrist. I give her a reproachful look as she latches it on, and finally with a disgruntled sigh, I accept her gift

“You didn’t have to do this, really it’s too much.”

“And what am I supposed to get my boyfriend who has almost everything? Really it’s hard coming up with that shit and I was running out of ideas. Don’t freak out about it, really it wasn’t as expensive as you’re making it out to be.”

Yeah right. If I know Lauren at all she probably stalked Jacob the Jeweler and spent at least fifteen thousand or some other astronomical price on the diamond bracelet that’s now attached to my wrist.

And to think I almost skipped the visit to Tiffany’s for her bracelet and went straight to Jared’s.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” I start thoughtfully, “What about piano sex?”

Lauren rolls her eyes and starts to say something but I silence her with a quick kiss. “But I really love this,” I mutter against her lips, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she responds before she kisses me again. I allow my hands to grasp onto the sides of her neck as I bring her closer to me. I know this is probably going to be one of the last times I kiss her until I get back in town for the Grammys and I want her to make her remember this one for a while. I want this kiss to leave her weak in the knees and make her realize that she has to wait a whole two weeks until she can have me again.

She tries to take the kiss further, but I pull away deliberately and begin to plant butterfly kisses on her nose, eyelids, forehead, and jaw. Lauren sighs happily as I allow my hands to tangle themselves in her now wavy hair. I pull down slightly and watch as her head falls back a few inches, her neck becoming exposed. I start to assail it and I can tell by the soft moan that’s omitting from her throat that she’s about ready to say screw the plane and take me somewhere more private.

I would be more than happy to oblige, but I know that my time is almost up and if I’m not in the car, Johnny will be out for blood and my firstborn. I plant my hands on Lauren’s cheeks and I stare at her for a good minute. She realizes that I’ve stopped the kissing and she opens one eye and then the other when she notices I’m looking at her intently.

“I’m going to miss you,” she whispers. She inclines her head so her forehead is resting against my own.

“Don’t go,” I try again. She closes her eyes and I try to ignore the tears that are threatening to fall onto both our faces.

“Justin!” I can hear Johnny bellowing from the front doors of the hotel. “Move your ass!”

“Come home to me in one piece,” she adds. I lean forward and peck her quickly on the lips

“I love you. Don’t let work or the midget stress you out too much.”

“I won’t. I love you, too. I don’t think I can say that enough, I love you.” I smile against her lips and she reaches forward to kiss me again.

“Justin!”

“He’s coming! Jesus, Johnny!” Lauren pulls her head away so she isn’t screaming her response at my manager in my face. I have to laugh at her unexpected outburst.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“So they tell me.”

“And that wasn’t cocky at all,” I add sarcastically with a raised eyebrow. She shrugs before she kisses me

“I learn from the best,” Lauren retorts before I kiss her fiercely.

I know Johnny has taken it a step too far when my phone starts to ring. “Shit, I better go,” I say as I pull myself away from her. I start to stand up only to find that I’ve grown a pile of lead in my feet.

“See you soon,” she calls over the couch as I start to walk towards the exit, “I love you!”

“Love you more!” I reply over my shoulder. I keep my eye on her retreating figure, hoping I don’t run into anybody. The doorman holds open the large oak door for me and with a firm ‘whoosh,’ Lauren has escaped my sight.

I sigh heavily as I get into the enormous black Escalade that’s waiting for me and I can feel my mood begin to worsen. I glare at all the tired, tense, yet happy faces around me and I want nothing more than to smack the expressions off their faces. Johnny doesn’t look pleased, but I don’t give a fuck.

The cars pull out of the hotel and I lean back into my seat, wondering if it’s too soon to call Lauren or not. I don’t want to seem desperate or look like a pussy in front of half my security or…wait where the hell is Maura?

My silent question is answered when all of a sudden a big, wet tongue is attacking the side of my face. I jump about twenty feet in the air as I move sideways to see what the fuck is assaulting my face. I was so preoccupied with leaving Lauren that I didn’t realize both Buckley and Brennan are inhabiting the seats next to me. I can feel my spirits lift slightly as I begin to scratch both my babies behind the ears. A slight whimper alerts me that there’s another unknown mammal in the car.

Turning around I see Maura cowering against Eric, looking at my dogs as if they’ll eat her face off at any second. “Hey, they aren’t going to hurt you, don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” she says in a small voice, “Old habits die hard, you know?” And before I can say anything she’s offering me a hot venti latte from Starbucks and my iPod already set to my favorite playlist.

“What’s with the special treatment today?” I ask her as I place the buds into my ears.

“I figured you wouldn’t be in the best mood when you had to leave, Lauren,” she states darkly and I can’t quite place the infliction in her voice. I suddenly remember that she promised to get Lauren out to me for my birthday and the girl definitely pulled through. I’m sure she isn’t pleased that I haven’t thanked her yet for more than likely busting her balls to get my girlfriend out here when she promised.

I grin as I reach out and pat Maura’s hand, “Maura Delaney, you are a God send.”

And as I turn to the first track on my playlist, take a sip of my coffee, and scratch Buckley on the nose, I mean it. 

13. World’s Greatest Criminal Mind

For most normal people, the seventh of February is just an ordinary day. It might be out of the ordinary if somebody has a birthday, anniversary, or wedding, or some shit like that, but for the most part – it’s pretty Plain Jane.

Last year February seventh was normal for me. I was working for an asshole boss and praying that one day the time would come where I didn’t need to be with him anymore. Pretty standard stuff, really. This year, however, it’s different. Tonight is the last night I’ll be sleeping in a bed alone for almost two weeks. February seventh marks the end of living in LA with three nerdy, ridiculous men all with Napoleon complexes. February seventh is the end of a dry spell and come dawn the rains will pour down from the heavens and baby deer will walk for the first time…

Okay so maybe that’s a little excessive, but I still can’t fight the happy knots that are twisting in my stomach when I think of the fact that Justin will be home tomorrow and we’ll be able to spend some quality time together.

When he isn’t rehearsing for his five thousand Grammy performances, and I’m not running around trying to make sure the After Party goes off without a hitch.

So maybe not so much quality time, but it’ll be nice to go home to an occupied bed that’s for sure

But at the moment I’m trying to not blow up at Maura who sounds like she’s hit new levels of stress.

“And you need to make sure that he has his rider squared away for the dressing room at the Hilton. I have no idea why it’s this big! Oh my god…” her voice has reached new levels of hysteria and I bit my tongue to keep from laughing at her. I remember being like this around Grammy week – its always one of the busiest times for Justin and his team.

Thank God I’m only a small part of it right now.

“You’re sure the layout is what you faxed us?”

“Yes, Maura, take a deep breath and stay calm,” I soothe into the phone. I’m lying on the couch in Justin’s house taking a well-deserved lunch break. I have to be back at the Hilton in another forty minutes, but right now I’m content to just lounging around with Bruno practically on my lap.

“I am relaxed,” Maura snaps into the phone and I cringe at the tone her voice has taken. Maybe she’s more stressed than I realized. I really hope this girl can handle this week because I know for a fact that if one thing goes wrong for Justin he will blow up and that is never a good thing.

I don’t even want to discuss The Great Grammy Blow Out of 2004 – that shit was just nasty.

“Do you need me to help with anything?” I offer and I can practically see Maura’s sharp intake of breath, her small frame welling up like a balloon.

“No,” she says breathing out, “but thank you for the offer. I also need you to make sure your pit bull is out of the house for when Justin returns. Buckley and Brennan are coming back as well and I don’t think he wants his dogs mingling with that mutt…”

“He’s not a mutt,” I mumble under my breath. She just has beef with Bruno because apparently she couldn’t keep her hands to herself as a kid and let some stray dog get in her face. Duh, Maura. “But I’ll get him out of the house if it’ll keep Justin from bitching.”

“I don’t think he’ll bitch that much, just a common courtesy,” Maura retorts.

“Yeah, but if there’s one thing you don’t want it’s Justin bitching during Grammy Week. You’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ll probably want to gouge your eyes out with a blunt object. And no offense, Maura, but I’ve known him a lot longer than you.

Lauren: One. Maura: Zero.

“Be that as it may,” Maura begins the sound of chaos echoing in her voice, “just make sure you have everything ready for when he gets home. He’s being antsy and it’s throwing everybody off.”

“Will do Maura. Have a safe flight tomorrow.”

“Oh, and before I forget,” Maura interjects before I have a chance to hang up, “Justin wants to unwind every night with one of his Disney movies. I have a list so you can fish them out of his closet where he keeps them.”

I gulp as I wait with bated breath to see what Maura is going to say. I hate to admit, but the day after they left for San Diego, I went to his closet to try to find those stupid DVDs, because part of me thought that watching them would bring me closer to Justin. But low and behold, a vast majority of them were gone.

“Robin Hood,” Maura starts.

Gone.

“Sleeping Beauty.”

His favorite, gone.

“Songs of the South.”

Thankfully still in his closet.

“The Little Mermaid.”

Gone, and that pisses me off because I love Ariel.

“And finally, Oliver and Company.”

Sweet tap dancing Jesus, gone.

“You got all that?”

“Yeah,” I say quietly into my end, “I’ll have them ready for him when he gets back.”

We both say a quick goodbye and I let the phone drop unceremoniously to the floor. When Justin’s coveted Disney DVDs went missing I thought that he could have possibly taken them with him on tour. But then, I realize that he never does that because if any of the crew found them, he’d be the laughing stock of the whole tour. And if there’s one thing Justin wants to uphold it’s his image of super cool, and I have never met one cool twenty-six year old who thinks Disney is cool.

Hence why Justin is an idiot.

I pick up my phone again and call Elliot. He’s at the Hilton and I quickly explain that I’ll be dropping Bruno off at his newly fixed place to make room for the second coming of their Royal Highnesses Buckley and Brennan. I’m about to put my phone back on the floor when it starts to ring in my hand. Noticing Theo’s name sprawled across the screen I pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Laurie great news!” he exclaims and I can’t even imagine what news he needs to tell me. For all I know he’s having the mother of all RPG tournaments in Justin’s house this week, which is just what everyone needs. “Your mom and dad are hot on the trail of some wild arctic foxes near Worden!”

Oh, wow. Amazing. My excitement is growing by leaps and bounds.

“They’ve never gone this far south, this is historic! I’ve got some loose ends to tie up here, but I’m going to be heading back to Worden on the twelfth. Do you want to come?”

It’s only natural that Theo has no idea what the hell is going on in my life right now. The only thing we end up discussing are my parents, or what animals he managed to picture down in South Central. So it would be only fitting that he has no idea that the next week is going to be absolutely bat shit crazy for me and every other member of this house.

“I’m going to be busy, but you have fun. Are you going to come back to LA after that?”

“Don’t think so,” Theo states and it isn’t the least bit sorry. I never saw him as one to settle in the city. He needs to get back out on that prairie and hunt wild animals with a big ass camera and tons of equipment.

“Well hopefully I can clear some time in my schedule so we can have one last dinner or something,” I offer and I smile softly when he agrees.

So not only do I have to figure out a time to meet with Theo before he rushes off into the wild blue yonder with my fucking crazy parents, but I also need to put on my Nancy Drew glasses and find out where the fuck Justin’s DVDs have gone off to.

Such is my life.

*~*~*~*~*

I’m in the middle of a rather wonderful dream in which I’m walking around a large hotel room that is completely foreign to me. I have no idea how I got here, but all I know is I’m sitting on top of a piano…

And Justin is assaulting my….

Well I’m just going to say that this is a very, very fabulous dream.

That is until something wakes me up by leaping onto the bed.

“Wake up!” a sing-song voice pierces the darkness and I crack one eye open to see an oddly misshapen head bouncing around in my line of sight.

“…The hell?” I mumble stupidly, but the rest of my bleary words are silenced when the misshapen head leans forward and I feel soft lips on mine.

My eyes fly open and I sit straight up in the bed, clutching the covers to my chest and looking at Justin as if he flew straight out of my dream. Except right now he’s got a lot more clothes on.

“Lo-ho!” he exclaims before he rushes forward again and tackles me back into the mattress. I’m assailed by an onslaught of kisses and I quickly try to put a hand between my face and my boyfriend’s rampaging mouth. I’d rather not kiss him right now since I have the worst morning breath imaginable. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” I manage to gasp out. His weight on top of me is kind of crushing my windpipe and if he doesn’t get up soon I will more than likely be suffocated. He can understand the urgency in my voice to breathe and he flops over to the side of the bed and looks at me with an excited grin. Reaching out, he pushes a strand of hair out of my face and I sit up once again, staring at him with a huge smile on my face.

“When did you get in?”

“Just now. I made Randy do ninety down the freeway so we could get here faster.” I silently thank God that I wasn’t in that car because I would more than likely pass out from sheer terror. “What do you have to do today?”

I glance over at the clock on the table and realize that it isn’t even six o’clock yet. I want to swear under my breath seeing as I didn’t get back from the Hilton until one the night before, but it isn’t Justin’s fault, he didn’t know.

“I’ve got to be at work by nine,” I explain, “You?”

“Have to rehearse with the stupid ‘My Grammy Moment’ finalists all morning,” he mutters a look of extreme distaste appearing on his features. “I’d much rather be with you though.”

“I know the feeling. The last thing I want to do is have the stupid Grammy people all over my ass about making sure I get everything perfect for the party. It’s only three days away, you’d think they’d cut me some slack.”

“They just don’t know you can plan more complex parties in hours,” Justin explains lovingly as he shifts his weight so he’s lying down beside me. He pulls me in close to him and I breathe in the familiar scent of musty cologne and peppermint. “Christ, I missed you so much. That is the last time I go almost two months without seeing you.”

“Justin,” I say into his chest, “you saw me a week ago,” I point out.

“Yeah but that wasn’t even a whole day. Thankfully the tour doesn’t pick up until the sixteenth so we’ll have five interrupted days of doing whatever the fuck we want before I have to leave again.”

“I can’t wait.”

He’s about to respond with a kiss, but someone at the doorway clears their throat. We both look up at the intruder lazily. Really, I could care less if some crazy axe-wielding lunatic came running into the room, being back with Justin is just right and I don’t think anybody can take this moment away from us.

Yeah, wrong.

My good mood kind of goes down the drain when I spot Maura standing in the doorway. The sun begins to poor through the window and I see the light reflect on something small and silvery in Maura’s hand. She notices me staring at her hand instead of her face and she quickly puts whatever it is in her pocket.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Maura begins, “but you have to be at a radio interview in about ten minutes Justin.”

“Cancel it,” Justin says immediately but Maura shakes her head and takes another step into the room, “I’m serious, Maura, just tell them I’m sick and I need to adjust to the time change.”

“I wish I could,” she says softly almost as if she’s consoling him about the loss of a loved one, “but there are contest winners there and they’ve been waiting all week…”

“In and out. I have shit to do today,” Justin snaps and I reach out to grab his hand but he quickly moves away to get out of bed. He stops mid movement before he turns around and moves back towards me. Kneeling over, he plants a huge kiss on my lips. Maura or not, I just want to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him back down on the bed. But he pulls away before I can think twice on the matter and he follows Maura out of the room.

If he’s going to be popping in and out like this then this week is going to blow chunks.

*~*~*~*~*

The days following Justin’s return to California are rushed and not at all enjoyable. For starters, I’ve only had one-on-one time with Justin a total of seven hours since his circus pulled into town two days ago. It’s the day before the Grammys and my world is going up in flames.

The preparation for the Hilton’s party has gone into overdrive and so far the majority of my day has been spent yelling into my headset trying to transform the largest ballroom the Hilton has to offer into an intimate yet spacious club. Yeah, easier said than done. Elliot and I are at our wit’s ends and last night I went to Justin almost in tears because of all the stress I’m under.

And while Justin threw some pretty last minute and extravagant parties, they never made me want to burst out into tears and pull all my hair out. All I have to do is get through tomorrow night and I’ll be free for a few days.

That still doesn’t explain why a bunch of shit within Justin’s house has gone missing. I haven’t had the heart to tell Justin that a quarter of his beloved Disney collection has gone AWOL, nor do I have the desire to tell him that most of his grandmother’s china (why it’s in a bachelor pad I have no idea), some random books, dog toys, and a few of his old guitars have walked away as well.

Not only have Justin’s things decided to move to a different place within the house, but some of my shit is missing too. Old resumes, a camera my parents gave me one year for Christmas, and the ring my mother gave me when I was sixteen has either fallen between the couch cushions (I’ve already checked there), or that flash of silver that went into Maura’s pocket wasn’t a key.

The fact that I can’t find any of these things is driving me crazy and soon I’m going to fucking crack.

“What do you mean you can’t get police escort in between the venues?”

That would be Justin yelling at Maura in the kitchen. I knew the look on her face the minute she and Justin walked through the door about ten minutes ago. The look that has the phrase ‘oh shit’ plastered all over. She’s probably screwed up something important and I’m taking grim satisfaction in hearing Justin’s angry tone. I can’t hear her muffled response, but it doesn’t sound like she’s too happy.

“Well fucking fix it, Maura! It’s what I’m paying you for!” and Justin comes storming in my direction looking exceedingly pissed.

“Problem?” I ask nonchalantly.

“I can’t wait until all this bullshit is over,” Justin seethes and he sits down on the couch looking perturbed. I sit down next to him and he responds by sprawling across the sofa, placing his head in my lap.

I absentmindedly start to play with the curls on the top of his head and we sit in silence. That is until the muffled sobs start to waft from the kitchen into the living room.

“Point for you, Justin,” I say with a grim smile, “You succeeded in making the only person who’s trying to help you cry.” I know I should be seeing this as a point in my direction, but I know the place where Maura is right now and I can’t help but feel bad for her. No one should have to deal with Justin being all pissy and belligerent.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath, “Should I go talk to her?”

“No, give her a minute to get it all out and then I’ll go in there. Ex-Personal Assistant to New Personal Assistant,” I explain.

“You’re going to go in there and bash the hell out of me aren’t you?” Justin asks good-naturedly and I merely shrug with indifference. We sit in a tense silence that is punctuated every so often with Maura’s sniffling sobs. After five minutes, I allow myself to stand up, placing Justin’s head on the cushions.

I walk into the kitchen and see Maura sitting at one of the stools at the island, her tears subsiding. She looks up at me and seems to be caught off guard. Standing up quickly, she rushes to her purse to pull out some Kleenex. My heart goes out to the girl regardless of the warnings my head is screaming at me. She’s a hot mess and she needs some help.

“You okay? That seemed brutal to go through,” I begin. She looks at me indignantly as she sits back down at the island.

“And what would you know about it? You probably didn’t have to go through all this shit!”

And to both of our surprise, I laugh. The thought that Maura is going through more than I ever did is ludicrous. For one, she doesn’t have to deal with Justin and Trace on her ass all the time. And another thing, she isn’t falling in love with her boss and she most definitely isn’t suffering the repercussions from that. “Maura, I probably went through worse in a week than you’ve been through all month.” I don’t mean to boast about it, but honestly this girl is a rookie when it comes to dealing with Justin’s moods and what sets him off and what keeps him happy.

Besides, if Justin had yelled at me like he just did when I was his personal assistant, I would have been out the door in a tirade, only to return an hour later when I let off steam inside Beverly Lexus.

“You know if you ever need help with tomorrow or any other time, I’m here…”

“I don’t need your help,” Maura snaps as she shoots out of her seat and heads towards her purse. She yanks it up over her arm and turns towards me. Her eyes are narrowed and it looks as if the girl has finally snapped. “I am perfectly able to handle this on my own and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your nose out of my business and my job!”

She turns quickly on her heels and heads towards the door that will take her to the garage and her car. She pauses at the door and turns to look at me, “If you want a shred of your old job back, you can tell Justin that I’ll be at the venue ready setting up for his rehearsal.”

And without another word she’s turned on her heels and exits the house with a very dramatic door slam.

I’ve tried being reasonable with her, I’ve tried to offer her help, I’ve tried to do all sorts of shit for her and this is how she repays me? By throwing insults and zingers at me like they’re yesterday’s news?

Well fine, if the bitch wants to throw the glove down, I’m more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Maura La Whora is going down.

*~*~*~*~*

The familiar butterflies I get in my stomach when the Grammys roll around is in full effect tonight. They won’t stop beating against my rib cage and part of me expects them to come fluttering out of my mouth if I open it to speak.

More than anything I wish Lauren was here to calm my nerves, but she rushed out of the house at four o’clock to finish setting up the Hilton party. She’ll have some free time during the ceremony but it’s pointless for her to show up at the show when all she’ll have to do is turn around and leave as soon as she gets there. Besides, I’ve never been a fan of having my girlfriends show up at red carpet events with me because then the stupid paps make it more about who’s going with who and less about the celebration of artistry in the music business.

That sounded way intelligent and I think I might use that in my next interview when the reporter bitches and moans about my private life.

Lauren looked like a Greek goddess when she left earlier today and it was hard for me to let her get into Elliot’s car and leave me alone with Trace and Theo who are opting to watch the ceremony on television.  The only other place where I can imagine Lauren’s light blue dress looking that good is on the floor next to my bed. Cliché, I know, but c’mon I am a guy.

But right now I’m currently ripping my bathroom apart trying to find the bracelet Lauren gave me for my birthday. Even though it makes us feel like one of those ridiculously in love and sappy couples, Lauren and I unanimously agreed to wear our bracelets tonight. Granted the only time I ever take it off is when I’m in the shower, but last night I got a bit carried away with my girlfriend and forgot to put it back on.

And now it has mysteriously disappeared and I might employ the Hardy Boys (ie Trace and Theo) to go looking for it

“Hey, you two!” I yell as I rush down the stairs in my rather expensive Italian suit. I have to admit I look fucking hot tonight, but I’ve added just the right layer of cool by donning sneakers instead of ostrich dress shoes or some other debonair shit like that.

I gots to keep it real, dog.

Trace and Theo have sunken further into the couches since I last saw them and they’re currently watching some random chick flick on HBO, Trace’s lewd commentary rising up into the rafters of the house.

“Oh please! You know that dude is only saying he thinks she’s the most perfect thing in the world because he wants to get in her skirt. Who the fuck writes this shit? I refuse to believe a guy would talk like that, even in the 1940s.”

“Can you shut the hell up for at least two minutes,” Theo snaps at my best friend, “I’m trying to pick up pointers.”

“Oh please,” Trace scoffs, “You do realize the only reason why she finds this Noah guy appealing is because she heard from the whore down the street that he’s got a big cock.”

“Wait, where was that in the movie?” Theo asks seriously worried that he missed an important tip.

“It wasn’t,” Trace, replies with a shrug, “It’s just a scientific fact. No rich girl is going to fall for the random carpenter or whatever the fuck he is unless he’s got a big cock. If this were real life she’d marry the lawyer or the doctor. Not the town bastard. Jesus, this Nicholas Sparks must be a deranged, delusional fool. You shouldn’t be picking up pointers from this punk.”

“Oh really, and who should I be turning to for advice?” Theo asks sullenly.

“Me, dipshit!” Trace exalts, “I’ve got the ladies eating out of the palm of my hand!”

I roll my eyes as I smack Trace upside the back of the head, “Shut up, Trace. Who you trying to seduce, Theo? There a lady you’re trying to get with before you leave tomorrow?”

“N-no,” Theo stammers under his breath. His face betrays his lie because suddenly he’s blushing fuchsia and Trace is howling with laughter.

“Hopefully you’ve got a big one, Theo,” Trace crows, “don’t have much else going for you.”

“Yeah well at least I’m taller… last time I checked not too many girls want to bed a member of the Lollipop Guild.”

“And a point for Theo!” I laugh as Trace sulks deeper into his couch. “I need you two to help me out with something.”

“What, oh captain my captain?” Trace says with fake admiration.

“I can’t find the bracelet Lauren gave me, have you seen it?”

They both look away from their movie to stare at me before they both respond that they haven’t seen it but once they’re able to pause the movie they’ll hunt around for it.

An hour later, my search for the bracelet ends in vain. Maura should be here with the town car at any minute and I really want to get the award show over with so I can get to the party, give the performance of my career, and then spend the rest of the night with Lauren.

My phone rings as I walk down the stairs to see what Trace and Theo are up to. Smiling when I see Lauren’s name, I immediately put the phone against my ear.

“Hey babe,” I croon into the phone. It’s nice to hear a familiar voice that doesn’t care if you win or lose at something. “How you holding up over there?”

“Things are finally starting to fall into place,” she says with a relieved sigh, “They just finished setting up the stage for your performance; I can’t wait to see it!”

I let out a pent up breath of anxiousness. This performance isn’t going to be like the other ones I’ve ever given. To be asked to perform at the Hilton after party is like being knighted. It’s a huge ordeal and once you’ve done a gig on that stage you automatically become one of the elite amongst those in the music industry. Aside from winning Album and Record of the Year at the Grammys, this is one of my dearest aspirations

And I swear to God I will kill whoever fucks it up for me.

“I can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed seeing you around today.”

“Ditto, but soon this will all be over and we don’t have to worry about anything for a few days,” Lauren responds and I quietly lean against the banister of the staircase thinking of all the uninterrupted moments I can have with Lauren in five days. Ah, bliss.

“So has Elliot had any accidents today?” I question. Apparently Elliot is rather accident prone around the work place and I’m hoping he doesn’t trip on some wiring or some shit that will kill the lighting. I’d hate for the person who fucks up my performance to be one of Lauren’s good friends.

“Not yet, but I’m hoping it’ll happen sometime before people start showing up here. I have to say that there have been at least a dozen attempts by fans to get in…” Lauren’s voice fades away as I notice someone coming up the walk towards my front door.

Damn, Maura got here fast. I can see the town car at the top of the driveway and soon I’m walking forward to open the door. Lauren is still talking in my ear when I get a full glimpse of my personal assistant.

Sweet Christ on a hot cross bun this cannot be the same girl I was yelling at the day before.

Replacing the business casual Maura Delaney is this smoldering siren that I totally would have given the time of day to when I was a single man. She’s wearing a mid calf length red dress that’s hugging curves I didn’t realize she had before. Her blonde hair isn’t pulled back or anything, but its voluminous and I have a feeling that if I reach out to touch it, it’ll feel like butter or cotton candy or something smooth like that.

“Hey,” she says with a smile and I have to close my eyes to keep a firm mental picture of Lauren with me. Lauren, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren.

“Justin are you there?” Lauren says into my ear. I open my eyes and realize that Maura is still standing in front of me. So she wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Great.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble into the phone, tearing my eyes away from Maura, “You were saying?”

“Nothing, not important,” Lauren responds, “I’ll just see you when you get to the Hilton. Good luck! I love you.”

“Love you, too and thanks Lauren.” And with that I flip my phone off and jam it into my pocket.

“You ready?” Maura asks. The look of stress that has been such a staple with my PA is washed away and she looks vibrant, full of life, and ready to paint the town red. Granted she still has a lot of shit to do, but for some reason I can’t help but think she’s got this all under control.

“Yup, let’s get this over with.”

And with a quick goodbye to Trace and Theo, I’m out of the house and walking towards the waiting town car with Maura, thoughts of Lauren’s bracelet left at the door.

*~*~*~*~*

There’s some weird shit going on and I have zero tolerance for it.

Granted I haven’t had any time to think about it at all seeing as I’ve been rushing around the Hilton like someone lit a fire under my ass.. But now that I’m in Bentley Lexus I have time to think about the shit that’s been going on in my life.

Justin, Trace, Theo, Elliot and I get along great. It’s that fifth wheel that’s making the vehicle off balance. I don’t really know what she’s doing, but I know that Maura is stirring some shit and it’s starting to smell.

Granted I have no idea where to start when it comes to finding any bad information on this girl. She had a thorough background check before coming to work for Justin and she’s cleaner than a sterile operating room. But I can’t help but feel that she’s the reason behind all the missing stuff. But how the girl found the time to get shit out of the house while she’s been working her butt off for Justin I haven’t a clue. It’s really starting to freak me out and I don’t want her going on tour again with Justin if she’s behind all this mayhem.

I glance at the clock on Bentley’s dash and realize that I’ve got about twenty minutes before the first guests are slated to arrive at the Hilton. I know Justin doesn’t hit the stage until midnight so I think I’ll be back at the hotel in forty minutes. That’ll give me ten minutes to rush backstage, make sure everything is in order, and things will go off without a hitch.

Unless Maura does something to screw it all up. I hope she doesn’t. She can fuck with me all she wants, but the minute she tries to destroy Justin or his career, my claws will come out and I will kill her with my bare hands. I can’t help but think that Maura is a time bomb and one wrong movement will set her off.

My thoughts are so wrapped around this whole Maura business that I don’t even hear the phone ringing. I reach over and dig it out of my clutch, frowning at the number. It’s one of Justin’s dancers which is strange because a) it isn’t Marty and b) they only call me if they really need something bad. Justin’s dancers are their own family and I know for a fact that they won’t be calling me for any advice.

“Michelle what’s up?” I say into the receiver. Michelle has been dancing with Justin for years and out of all the dancers she’s the one I talk to whenever I’m sitting in on a rehearsal or whenever the dancers have downtime during a tour. She knows the ins and outs of Justin almost as well as I do and hearing a hesitant sigh is not something I want to be listening from her right now.

“Hey Lauren, look I have a question that I hope isn’t too random.”

“I’ve dealt with more random questions today than I can handle in a lifetime, Michelle,” I state a tense smile on my lips, “Are the awards over?”

“Not yet, we’re going on in about five minutes for the Grammy Moment thing.” I mentally go through the schedule of the show…that performance is right before they announce the big award of the year and then everyone disperses to go to the party. Okay so the show’s over in about twenty…

“Should you be in places?”

“I don’t go on until halfway through the song, and I wanted to call you and ask if it was normal for Justin’s personal assistant to be rummaging through his duffle bag…”

The rush of blood to my head drowns the rest of Michelle’s words. I slam on the breaks in the middle of Santa Monica Boulevard and I try my best to keep my composure as horns start blaring at me from all directions. I did three years of Grammy prep with Justin and I know for a fact that the PA shouldn’t be anywhere near the performance area up to ten minutes before places.

What the hell is she stealing this time?

“Don’t worry about it Michelle,” I say automatically, “you just put on a great show and I’ll see you at the after party.” And I quickly hang up the phone as I start to accelerate Bentley Lexus and move with the general flow of traffic.

I’m trying to think about what I should do. There definitely isn’t enough time to rush to the venue where the awards are and catch Maura in the act. And I have no proof that she’s been taking the stuff in the house. All I know is that I’ve looked over the house with a fine-toothed comb and I haven’t found anything.

And the idea hits me like oncoming traffic. Maura lives in LA, Maura has been staying at her apartment in Studio City since she got back in town with Justin and she’s been in and out of his house all week. It seems only logical that the little klepto would transport the stuff from Justin’s place to hers.

With a rush of reckless abandon that would make Justin pee his pants, I make a sharp U-Turn in the middle of the road and rush off towards Maura’s apartment, hoping I can search the damn place and get back to the Hilton before Justin’s performance. I’m praying that I’m wrong and Maura just has some weird bipolar issues or something, but if I’m right…

Jesus, I don’t even want to think about what’s going to happen if my hunch is right.

I make it to Maura’s nice little apartment in record speed. The place is nice enough that they have a little guard gate in the front with a twenty-four hour guard. I roll up to the stucco shack and put down my window. I know I must look ridiculous showing up in an evening gown while driving a beat up Plymouth Station Wagon, but I don’t really give two hoots right now.

“Welcome to Avalon, how can I help you?”

“Yeah my name is Sophie,” I begin feeding the woman a false name, “I’m a friend of Maura Delaney’s and she was in town for a few days but she had to leave suddenly tonight. She left me something in her apartment and told me you’d have an extra key?”

I sit in my running car praying to god this old looking woman will throw me a bone and give me a key or something. She nods silently to herself before rocking to her feet. She digs around the guard shack for a minute before producing a key and a small map.

“It’s a big place, I’ve circled her unit for you,” she says in a strong voice that I wouldn’t associate with such a frail looking woman.

“Oh thank you so much, I really appreciate it!” I exclaim before I’m speeding off towards Maura’s place.

It’s easy enough to find and soon I’m unlocking her front door and stepping inside. It’s a modest two-bedroom apartment and I can’t help but wonder if she’s ever had a roommate at some point. The place is pretty well decorated and I can’t help but think that Maura probably had a hand in embellishing the place herself. I glance down at my watch and see that I have fifteen minutes. I need to start working.

The kitchen, living room, dining nook, and front closet are all clear of Disney DVDs and other personal belongings of my friends or mine. But that doesn’t mean her bedrooms are void of any criminating activity.

Her master bedroom, decorated in pale blues and purples is clean but I’m saving the smaller bedroom for last. I just have a feeling. Opening the door, I turn the light on and see that she’s turned this room into a makeshift office. There’s a desk in one corner and a reading chair with some bookshelves set up on the other wall. The closet however is closed.

I walk to the desk first and see right above it her diploma from her university. My mouth drops open when I realize she graduated a year earlier than I did from Stanford…same major and all. Maybe that’s why I thought she was so familiar, maybe we had the same classes?

Ripping apart her desk without making it seem like someone was snooping through her shit, I inspect the bookshelves and then turn to the closet. This is the moment of truth. If I’m wrong, I have to haul ass back to the Hilton and think of another person who is taking all this stuff away from Justin’s place. But if I’m right…

Again, I don’t want to think about what will happen if my assumptions are correct.

Taking a deep breath, I yank the doors open and I’m met with a rather clean, organized closet. There doesn’t seem to be a single thing out of place and I can’t spot one possession that belongs to Justin, Trace, Theo, or me.

I guess I was wrong.

I turn to go, but a small swatch of color catches my eye from behind a few stacked boxes. Dropping to my knees, I push the boxes aside and my eyes widen as I’m met with a huge stash of what seems to be…

The color drains from my face. I can’t believe this – everything is here, the DVDs, the china, Trace’s iPod and Justin’s boombox. Even a few rolls of film that Theo has been missing since the week he came to LA is here. And my blood begins to boil when I see my mother’s ring nestled between the pages of one of Justin’s unread books.

That no good, fucking idiotic, tramp slut whore bitch! I’m going to strangle her long neck with my bare hands when I see her. There has to be thousands of dollars of priceless belongings in here… Oh when I see that little kleptomaniac…

But I don’t have a moment to spare. I’ve got a little less than five minutes to haul ass back to Beverly Hills and get to Justin before he gets on stage. He needs to see this and I don’t care if he misses his performance because of it. I have to show him that his perfect personal assistant isn’t so flawless after all.

Running to my car, I hop in and don’t even stop to give the guard the key back. I’m going to be coming back here in less than fifteen minutes anyway so I really don’t need to be returning it at the moment.

I speed all the way to the Hilton, trying to reach Justin on his phone but to no avail. I know he has to be meditating or doing some weird psychological shit before he hits the stage and I am really cutting it close. By the time I park Bentley Lexus and rush into the hubbub of the main ballroom I’ve got five minutes before Justin takes the stage.

“Lauren where the hell have you been? Murray has been freaking out!” Elliot proclaims and he points behind him to our supervisor Murray Schwartz who looks overjoyed and yet pissed to see me all at the same time.

“I can’t explain right now, Elliot, big shit just came up!” I yell at him before I head towards the stage set up at the other end of the room. I’m cursing under my breath when I see that the band has already taken their places and I know that any second the lights are going to dim and Justin will be heading out to perform.

And I know for a fact that I cannot sit through a half hour set staring at Maura when I know the bitch is in the wrong.

Security lets me backstage and I look around haphazardly for my boyfriend hoping I can spot him before he’s given the green light to head onstage. My need to find him is so strong that I nearly run into someone wearing a bright red dress.

“Sorry…” I mumble under my breath but when I look up and see that it’s Maura I almost lose control. She looks panicked about something and she’s barking orders into her cell phone at such rapid speed I feel like I should be traveling through time. I’m taking great satisfaction in knowing that something with Justin’s performance is giving her trouble and knowing that soon she’ll be off the tour makes the satisfaction grow inside me.

Turning around quickly towards the stage, I see Justin standing just to the left of the stairs that will grant him access to a plethora of opportunities that most people can only dream of. I waste no time, rushing forward I grab onto his wrist and pull him away from the stage.

“Lauren you’re here!” he exclaims breathlessly and I can tell he’s nervous. God, I hate to pull him away from his job at a time like this but if there were ever a time it needed to be done, well it would be now.

“Justin you need to come with me!” I say out of breath, “You need to come with me right now!”

“Yeah you see that’s impossible because I’m supposed to go on in two minutes,” he says dryly and I can tell he’s not amused by what he’s assuming is a little joke.

“No you don’t understand!” I cry in an exasperated voice, “You have to come with me right now. This is important!”

“I don’t understand what could be more important than the biggest move in my career, Lauren!”

“I know!” I exclaim, “but this is more important, trust me!” I can feel the tears brimming over and I hate that I’m so upset over this that I’m about to cry. But he needs to see that this is important and this can’t be blown off.

The band is starting their opening number and Justin looks towards the stage with such longing that it makes my heart hurt. I know he’s torn and I hate doing this to him, but he has to understand that this is more urgent.

“Please, Justin,” I beg, “Please.”

I can tell my pleading is working because he finally lets the stubborn air drop from his shoulders and he turns towards me. “Alright,” he sighs, “Where are we going?”

“Just follow me, and she,” I spit before I jerk my head at Maura who has just decided to join us, “is coming, too.”

“What’s going on?” she asks, “Are you not going on, Justin?”

“Just shut your mouth and come on,” I seethe before I grasp Justin’s hand and lead him out the back door. People backstage are crying out in indignation that I’m dragging their headliner away, but I don’t give a damn right now. He can come on later; everyone knows the industry people stay up all night partying anyway.

Any questions Maura and Justin pose in the car are met with my tense silence. I don’t dare say anything because I know once I get going I won’t be able to stop. I know I’m scaring the shit out of Justin because I’m being so careless with Bentley Lexus.

I’m careening up and down the streets of Los Angeles at midnight, going well above the allotted speed limit, but I don’t care. All I want to do is bust Maura and get her away from Justin. I can just tell from the dress she’s wearing right now that her next plan in tour domination is to get into Justin’s pants. I can just feel it. No self respecting woman wears that type of dress and doesn’t expect to get sexual attention from men – single and taken.

“Why are we at my apartment?” Maura asks clearly confused. I give a friendly wave to the guard who waves right back before I’m rushing towards Maura’s apartment. She is going to rue the day she decided to pull the wool over my eyes!

“Lauren, are you okay? What the hell is going on?” Justin asks. He glances back down at his phone, which he had to turn on silent five minutes into the car ride. It was ringing off the hook from people who no doubt are wondering where the hell he is.

“You’ll see in a second,” is all I say as I park the car and hurry towards Maura’s door. I pull the key out of my purse and I see the look of shock register on her face. Hah, not so smug now are you, bitch?

We all walk into the foyer and I’m about to lead them into the second bedroom when Justin grabs my wrist and forces me to look at him, “Loho, what the fuck are we doing in Maura’s apartment?”

“I found out where all your missing stuff went,” I say simply as I toss a nasty look in Maura’s direction. “If you’ll come with me, it’s all in here.”

And I pull my wrist out of his grasp and stalk into the second bedroom. My hour of vindication is finally here and I can finally reveal Maura for what she really is – a psycho klepto. She doesn’t look so excited now, she looks scared and worried. Good.

“All of it is right in here!” I say as I point to the closet I so carefully put back together before I rushed out earlier that night. I pull open the doors and look down to see all of our belongings in the various boxes in Maura’s closet.

“What the fuck!”

It’s all gone.

“What…” I’m at a complete loss for words as the confidence and excitement in my stomach deflates faster than a party balloon. “How –” I turn towards Maura who still has a look of confusion on her face. “How the fuck did you get all this shit out of here?” I demand as I round on Justin’s shocked Personal Assistant. “What the hell, Maura?”

The only time I have ever been this angry was when I thought Justin used JC as a ruse to get me to sleep with him. And back then I was throwing shit and a little buzzed. But now I am sober and I am inches from Maura’s face, verbally ripping her a new one.

“Lauren!”

“You conniving, two timing little tramp! I swear to God I’m going to find out…”

“Lauren!”

“…how you fucking did this and then I’ll make you wish you never signed on for this position!”

“Lauren!”

“You better come clean now bitch or I’m going to…”

“GOD DAMMIT LAUREN, FUCKING LOOK AT ME!”

The sound of his voice echoes in the almost empty room. It isn’t until I’ve screamed myself temporarily hoarse that I realize Maura has sunk to the floor, crying uncontrollably. I was too busy screaming at her that I almost didn’t remember Justin was in the room.

But he’s here and when I turn to look at him my heart stops in my chest.

I’ve seen him mad before, but those times don’t even come close to right now. He looks positively terrifying and I’m half afraid he’s going to cross the room in two easy strides and smack me across the face.

His expression is twisted with unmistakable anger and his face is so pale it’s practically translucent. His enormous hands are balled up into fists at his sides and they’re so tense I can see that his knuckles are white. His lips are pressed together in a straight line and the inimitable rage that hits me with his glare almost makes my knees knock together.

He is far beyond pissed. He is fucking livid, outraged, and fuming. I can tell he’s trying very hard to keep his temper under control but I know he’s having a hard time. He closes his eyes and bites his lower lip and for one fleeting moment I can see his hands shaking.

“Justin…” I start my voice infinitely small.

“Don’t,” he says curtly, “Don’t even….” He’s having a hard time getting the right words out and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before he completely blows his lid, “Just go the fuck home. I can’t even look at you right now. Just get the fuck home and don’t you even think about coming back to the party.”

I watch crestfallen as he whips out his cell phone and makes a call. I can’t hear who he’s talking to - my mind has gone numb. I’m pretty sure he’s securing a ride back to the Hilton because I know for a fact the tension in Bentley Lexus on the way to the Hilton would rip my poor baby apart at the seams.

A great sniffle behind me alerts me that Maura is still, unfortunately, among the living. I can’t bear to turn around to look at her and my heart unwillingly starts up again when I see Justin out of the corner of my eye move towards her.

“Come on, Maura, get up,” he says roughly. “Lauren, I thought I told you to get the fuck out of here?”

I want to stay and argue, to fight, but I know if I do that we’ll be on a one way ticket to a domestic dispute. Not turning around to face him, I walk with as much poise I can muster towards the front of Maura’s apartment.

It isn’t until I’m safely in Bentley Lexus and driving towards the house that I start to break down. What the hell have I done? Have I gone crazy? Did I really see all of Justin’s shit in Maura’s apartment or was I so wrapped up in blaming her that I jumped to conclusions and had some random hallucination?

“No,” I say to myself firmly through my tears. I know what I saw and I’m sticking by it. Justin can yell himself hoarse and Maura can sing her pretty little song, but I know that she’s behind all this bullshit and I am not going to back down from this.

But I feel horrible. I pulled him away from the performance of his career for what seems to be nothing and I know I’m going to pay a terrible price. What it is, I don’t know but I realize that I fucked up. Bad.

I’m five miles from Justin’s house when my phone rings.

“’Lo?”

“Lauren would you care to tell me why you yanked the headlining performer away from the party we’ve been planning since we drew our first breath of life?  Where are you?”

“I’m sorry Elliot,” I say my throat constricting. Not only have I let Justin down, but I’ve let Elliot, one of my dearest friends, down. And the hits, they keep on coming.

“Whoa,” he can obviously tell there’s something wrong by the way I’m talking, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” I say again, “I won’t be able to make it back to the party tonight. Can you tell Murray that I’m sorry and this will never, ever happen again? You’re flying solo on this one kid, I know you’ll do alright.”

And before he can get a word in edgewise, I hang up on him and shut my phone off. Turning my eyes back towards the road, I speed towards home and get ready for the arrival of the second coming. 

14. Hero to Zero

14. Hero to Zero

I’ve heard it said that the eye of the storm is always the most peaceful time during a hurricane. You’ve just gotten over the initial shock of sitting through a horrendous storm that you don’t know the outcome of. Then, all of a sudden, the howling wind and the torrents of rain stop and you’re left with this freakish calm that signals the end of the storm.

But the catch is you don’t know how long you have to wait until the storm starts up again. And you don’t know if the storm is going to be more terrible and petrifying than the first round.

At the moment, I’m sitting in the calm before the storm and I don’t know what to do with myself.

I came home to an empty house. Apparently Trace managed to get himself to the Hilton to support his best friend and judging by a note Theo left on the fridge, his Fantasy RPG buddies are throwing him a Going Away Party tonight.

Everybody’s living it up tonight, being the life of the party. Me, I just destroy them.

I don’t have the energy to change out of my dress, but I feel completely wired. I’m waiting on pins and needles for Justin to come home because I know I have some explaining to do. I know I have to get on bended knee and kiss his ass from here to kingdom come because he won’t talk to me if I don’t.

But the thing that hurts most of all is my pride. I was proven wrong against my better judgment and I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that all the stuff I knew was in Maura’s apartment earlier tonight has vanished. For the past forty minutes all I’ve been able to think about is how in the hell she was able to get all that shit out of her place when she was with Justin the whole time.

Have I lost my mind? God I hope so; it’ll make explaining this to Justin that much easier.

I have no idea how long he’s going to be. For all I know he could be drowning his anger with a few shots of whiskey or worse, seeking out Maura for comfort. My blood boils at the thought and I can feel my insides turn violently. I swear to God if I find out he’s barking up Maura’s tree I will go absolutely mad.

You can call it jealously, you can call it whatever the fuck you want, but just thinking about him with her is enough to make me sick. Scratch that…if he’s with her, I’ll die.

As in stop breathing, six feet under, decompose and have worms eat my body until it’s nothing but dirt, die.

Dramatic, I know, but my vehement hate for Maura and Justin’s blatant favoritism towards her isn’t something to take lightly. Part of me wants to get on his case for jumping to her side so quickly, for jumping to conclusions that I’m crazy.

I know I got out of hand back at her place, but for a good half hour it felt as if Maura was out of my hair for good and her monopolizing my boyfriend’s time would be nonexistent. I just hope he doesn’t come home looking like he did at Maura’s apartment. I never want to see him looking like that again – it was like looking at a completely different person. The expression on his face sends shivers up and down my spine and I hope to the little baby Jesus that his temper has simmered.

His temper and mine definitely do not mesh well.

I sit in the kitchen for what seems to be a week before I finally see headlights pull up in the driveway. I sit up straight and watch the lights intently. I have no idea what to do with my hands, no idea where I should be right now. Should I run upstairs and pretend to be asleep? Do I go out to meet him? Do I act like nothing happened? I wish Trace or Theo was here so they could tell me what the fuck I should do…or at least have them know the story so they can back me up.

I opt to just stay where I am, wringing my hands together in anticipation for his arrival. I hear the garage door open followed by it being shut. The door into the house opens and I hear his heavy footsteps on the hardwood floor. My breathing is so shallow I’m afraid that I won’t draw for my next breath. There doesn’t seem to be any accompanying footfalls so that means that he’s, thankfully, alone.

Rounding the corner, he comes into my line of sight and I’m at a complete loss of words. His face is ashen, jaw set, and by the way he’s averting his eyes from mine, I can tell he’s still upset. Understandable, but I wish he would give me the common decency of looking at me, or least giving me a cordial greeting.

I open my mouth to say something but he walks right past me and into the other room. I stare at his retreating back in shock. He won’t even give me the common courtesy of giving him an explanation? What a douche bag!

A small part of me is telling me to let it go, let him sleep it off and discuss all this shit in the morning. But a bigger part of me, the rash and reckless Lauren Walters is telling me not to stand for this bullshit. I didn’t put up with this garbage when I was working for him, and back then I was an expellable person. I’m his fucking girlfriend and he’s going to hear what I have to say.

Pushing myself out of my chair, I follow him into the living room where he’s paying a greeting to his dogs. Oh so they get a hello and I don’t? The unfairness of it all wells in my stomach and I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms around my chest as I do so.

“Justin,” I start, my voice strong. “Look…”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Lauren,” he interjects. His body might show how tense he is, but the tone of his voice increases it tenfold. I can tell that he’s trying his best to keep himself on lock down, but I don’t want to let it go at the moment.

“But I do. Will you let me explain myself?”

“Drop it.”

“No,” I say my voice filled with indignation

“Jesus Christ, Lauren I am so mad I can’t even look at you right now,” his voice is short, curt, and even after knowing him for five years I have never heard him talk to me like this.

“So you don’t want to talk about this right now?” I’m trying to keep my voice calm, but it’s taking on the same tonality as his. I ignore the premonition in my stomach; I refuse to back down.

“Did you not hear me the first fucking time? I told you to drop it. Is that so hard for you to understand?”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” I say, pulling myself upright.

“I can talk to you however damn well I like, it’s my house.”

“Oh sure,” I scoff, “Because you’ve been in this house what, a grand total of four days this year?”

“It’s my house, I bought it,” he says stubbornly.

“Home just isn’t about where you put your head at night,” I retort, “It’s where the heart is.”

“Which was with you, before you turned into a psychobabble bitch,” he mutters under his breath. I recoil so hard it’s almost as if he rushed across the room and smacked me.

“Excuse me?” my voice has risen an octave and I can feel the blood rushing into my face, “Don’t start calling me names when you don’t understand shit!”

“Oh so you can dish out the name calling, but you can’t deal with it? What were the words you called Maura tonight? I think tramp, slut, whore, and bitch was amongst your vocabulary.”

“She’s been taking our stuff!” I bite back, “Your DVDs, my mother’s ring, Trace’s iPod…all of it was in her closet before she moved it.”

“Lauren,” Justin says quietly as he brings a hand up to the bridge of his nose. He squeezes it as if he’s trying to get rid of a bothersome headache before he turns to look at me, “Maura was with me the whole night, there was no way she could have taken my shit.”

“She had somebody move it!” I interrupt, “I swear to God, Justin all of it was there!”

“I have no idea what the fuck has gotten into you. I think it’s the stress from planning that party. You’re starting to hallucinate or…”

“I am not fucking hallucinating. Would you just shut the hell up and listen to me?” I shriek, “Your stuff started to go missing the minute Maura took up my job! Hell in the beginning I was doing all her shit for her! She’s getting revenge on me or something I know it!” I’m rambling now and I’m blaming the fact that I’ve been up since six this morning and have been on an emotional roller coaster for all of this babbling.

“Maura wouldn’t hurt a fly…”

“That’s what she wants you to believe! She’s a conniving, two-faced woman!”

“Jesus, Lauren would you listen to yourself? You sound like a lunatic!”

“She has you brainwashed! If you could only listen to yourself talk about her…” but he silences me with a held up hand. I open my mouth to say something but he sits down on the couch and looks at the blank television screen. “Are you just going to ignore this? Are you not going to talk to me?”

“Not when you’re being irrational,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Irrational? I’m not being irrational, fuck you sound like Theo…”

“Theo?” Justin asks stupidly as if he’s never heard the name before. And before I can respond Justin leaps to his feet and is racing past me towards the stairs. Biting my lower lip, I turn around and follow him as he rushes up the stairs.

I’m five steps behind him and when I see him open the door that will take him into Theo’s room, I surge forward, “What the hell are you doing? That’s Theo’s room, you can’t go in there!”

“I can go wherever the hell I want, it’s my fucking house!” and without another word he pushes his way inside and starts to ransack the whole place. And he says I’m the one who’s lost her mind. The bastard is ripping open the closet and yanking clothes around. His pillaging of the room ends when he opens the suitcase that’s resting on Theo’s made bed.

I watch with wide eyes as Justin begins to toss the contents out of the suitcase and I can’t help but be reminded of the time back in New York last year when I was trying to make a hasty exit away from the man who is currently unpacking my adopted brother’s suitcase in a rather violent manner. The case is almost empty save for one compartment on the lid. Justin unzips it and my mouth falls open in horror when he pulls out the bracelet I gave him for his birthday.

“I knew it!” Justin exalts and he looks at me with eyes that scream ‘I told you so.’

“What the hell is that doing in Theo’s suitcase?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The greedy little fuck has been stealing my shit!”

“No! Theo would never…” I begin but Justin rounds on me with such ferocity I have to back up a few inches out of concern for my own safety.

“Sure he would! He isn’t your real brother, and the shit didn’t start to disappear until after he showed up here! He’s a starving artist, and I’m sure he could make a couple extra bucks pawning off this shit somewhere.”

“Then explain to me where the rest of the stuff is?”

“Well duh, he obviously shipped them to wherever he’s heading off to, which, coincidentally is tomorrow. How convenient, he leaves with a piece of my jewelry that’s probably worth a cheap car.”

“That’s impossible! How can you even suggest Theo would do something like this?”

“Because it’s the only logical way….”

“Oh and I suppose I just imagined all the stuff in Maura’s closet?” I ask sarcastically. I can feel bitter tears begin to sting my eyes.

“Probably, besides you don’t have any proof that Maura took the stuff. All I have is your word, and when I’m holding concrete evidence in my hand, your word is looking pretty fucking ridiculous.

“You asshole! I’m your girlfriend, you’re supposed to believe me!”

“I find it pretty hard to believe someone who tells bullshit stories to pull me away from the performance of my career!”

“Oh Jesus Christ, Justin, it was one fucking show! Get over it!”

“It wasn’t just one show, Lauren, it was the show! Do you know how unprofessional I looked when Johnny had to get up on stage and start making fucking excuses for me? Thanks to you I’m probably going to get some of the worst reviews I’ve ever received as a solo artist! My credibility is shit now because you got some silly idea in your head and had to pull me away!”

“Oh please Justin, you could have gone on that stage and taken a huge dump and your credibility would sky rocket.”

“That’s beside the point, Lauren. The point is you ruined a career defining moment for me and that in itself is almost inexcusable!” he’s still clutching his bracelet and bellowing at me for all he’s worth. I’m struggling to contain the flow of tears that are currently cascading down my face.

“Are you saying that you care more about that stupid performance than me?”

“At this point in time, yes.” His voice dies away as I stare at him in disbelief. How can he even stand there and think that? After all we’ve been through? The feeling of betrayal is twisting my insides and I am so caught off guard by his response that my tears have suddenly stopped.

“You don’t mean that,” I say in a hushed whisper. “Please tell me I mean more to you than five songs and a few little dance routines.”

His eyes are hard steel as he looks at me with his infamous glare that has paparazzi and over excited fans running for cover. “When it comes to my career…well, hardy anything is more important than that.”

I stare at him in complete disbelief. I can feel the anger boiling up inside me and before I can help myself I’m striding across the room and standing in front of Justin with only a foot separating us. Standing on tiptoe, I try to raise myself to his level. He remains still as I jab my finger into his chest.

“Fuck you,” I seethe. I’m so angry I want to hit something, namely him, “I swear to God Justin at the end of the day it’s all about your career and what you want. I love you, but you can be such a selfish prick sometimes.” I can see the anger flash across his face and I hold his gaze for another second before I move towards the door. I can’t stand in this ransacked room with him standing in the middle. I’m hoping that if I leave we can drop this fight and I’ll get the last word in.

I’m halfway down the hall when I hear his footsteps thundering after me.

“Me, selfish? Oh come on!” He pulls up alongside me as I reach the top of the stairs. I begin to head towards the bottom floor, wondering if he believes the words coming out of his mouth, “The last time I checked my house wasn’t a refuge for mangy dogs and freak photographers who both end up biting the hand that feeds them!”

“If you’re talking about Bruno and Theo…” I say turning around just as I reach the middle of the staircase. I notice that we’re both gripping the railing hard and I instantly let go of the banister and put my hands on my hips. I am not going to let him get me. I am going to win this, I swear.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you had such a keen sense of the obvious,” he yells sardonically. I roll my eyes at him and I can tell that my blatant disregard for his sarcastic comment gets to him further, “This is my house and the fact that you’re running some kind of shelter for the socially retarded…”

“You invited Theo to stay when we met him!” I cry indignantly. Really, where the hell does he come off trying to pin the blame on me? In all my years of knowing him he hardly takes the blame for himself, unless it will help to propel him to something he really wants. I stare at him with a hardened gaze as he walks down the steps. I don’t want to be where I am when he reaches me so I turn around to head back down the stairs. Honestly if the bastard pisses me off enough, I might just throw him down the rest of the steps…

“I was just being nice for you, do you honestly think I’d actually invite that fucking geek into my house because I wanted to get to know him better? Guess I know him now, he’s a fucking thief!” I can’t believe this little fucktard. He’s just pulling ridiculous assumptions and accusations out of his ass and I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with this. My head is screaming at me to ignore all the shit he’s bellowing at me, but my heart is shrieking for all it’s worth to not take this lying down. I walk up the stairs so there are two steps separating us. Bitch is going down…

“Don’t you say that about him! The last thing Theo would do is steal!”

“Sure…you haven’t even known him for three months and yet you claim he’s innocent!” I throw up my hands in exasperation. So I’ve known him for three months? Right well what about his stupid whore, Maura? Turning around I thunder down the stairs trying to keep the swelling anger at a minimum, “What about Elliot? You sure he isn’t in on it with your precious Theodore?

I don’t think Justin Timberlake knows how close he is to getting a beat down. I whirl around so fast at his words that I nearly fall flat on my ass. I can’t believe he’s trying to blame Elliot, the one true friend that I have right now. Justin doesn’t even know him.

“Don’t you dare bring Elliot into this! He has nothing to do with this.

“You’re a bit overprotective of him aren’t you? You know, between him, Theo, and Trace I wouldn’t be surprised if you needed all three of them to take your mind off of missing me. Is being without me getting to you, Lauren? Do you need three men to satisfy yourself?” his voice is maliciously taunting me and I know he wouldn’t be acting like this if we could get past our pride and just discuss this like civilized adults. Too bad when it comes to matters of the heart we start acting like a bunch of retarded high schoolers who might as well have walked straight out of The O.C.

“You arrogant little asshole! Do you honestly think…and what about Maura, huh? She’s been waiting for months to fuck you!” It is so true. Like I said earlier, the little trick wouldn’t be wearing that ‘Arrest Me’ red dress if she weren’t looking for some attention on the male front. She was getting it too, hell I think the guard at her apartment was even checking her out as we zoomed past. Jesus, if I wasn’t so pissed off at the bitch I’d probably want to jump her bones, and I’m straighter than a pool cue.

“Please, if she had wanted to do that it would have already happened,” does this bastard not understand that I’m trying to get the fuck away from him? I’ve gone from Theo’s room to the living area trying desperately to get him to drop this whole issue so we can calm the fuck down, but he just won’t have it. He has to make sure his side of the story is being told and I can’t help it that every arrogant, chauvinistic retort is answered by one of mine. And his last comment is making me toe that dangerous line between angry and fucking pissed beyond belief.

“Then why don’t you go run off to her? You can go fuck her brains out and then she can steal all your clothes. Maybe public embarrassment will make you see that she isn’t as innocent as she claims to be!” That wasn’t the best thing for me to say. Knowing Justin he’d take that literally and leave the house in a fit of rage and to get back at me he’d probably go fuck Maura’s brains out…Good going, Lauren.

“You’re just jealous because she gets to spend more time with me and because you can’t get out of your independent woman, female assertion kick. If you really cared, you wouldn’t be dicking around at some dead end job planning parties and weddings for the elite. It’s an empty job when you compare it to what you did for me and you know it!” Yup I’ve crossed that line. I am fucking pissed beyond belief and I want the poor schmuck to know it. Reaching over towards the couch, I hurl the least menacing object I can find, which would be a throw pillow, and I give him a satisfied smile when it hits him in the head before he can swipe it away.

“I’d rather sell my firstborn child than work for your sorry ass again,” I growl. Granted that’s a lie, I wouldn’t do anything as drastic as sell my firstborn kid, but I would rather chop off all my hair or give up my friendship with Theo before I’d go back to work for Justin again. Just standing at the end of one of his blow ups for the first time since August reminds me of all the bull shit he made me go through and I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it again. We’d rip each other apart.

“That’s a lie and you know it. I can tell you miss working for me with the way you treat Maura. You’re just jealous and you would rather see me suffer without a personal assistant than see me with someone who’s competent at their job and better at it than you ever were!” Yeah part of that is true, but I won’t ever admit that to him. He’s so wrong though in the sense that Maura is better at the job than me. I don’t care if you get Jesus Christ himself to PA for Justin Timberlake, he wouldn’t do as well as I could.

“Hate to break it to you, honey, but the only reason why Maura is half as good as she claims to be is because for the first month I was making calls and doing half her fucking work load. You just can’t admit that you can’t survive without someone practically wiping your ass every other minute of the damn day.”

“I am perfectly capable of wiping my own ass and no thanks to you. You forget to realize that I was able to take care of myself when you didn’t work for me.”

“Yeah,” I start with a barking laugh, “but you were such a mess you had to beg me to come back. Face it; you’re nothing without me. Without me helping you get through the day you get nothing accomplished.” It’s so true and sure I might be jealous of Maura in the sense that she gets to spend every waking moment with Justin, but I know he’d be in a lot worse shape if I wasn’t there talking to him almost every day (when he was able to steal his cell phone back from Maura). The bitch would be a hot mess without me.

“That was when you worked for me. I don’t need you now, I have Maura,” he claims simply and his words sting. He doesn’t need me now? I get what he’s saying, but the thought that he doesn’t need me to do business shit for him and help him with his every day life that doesn’t concern relationships hurts, a lot.

“Oh Maura? You mean the personal assistant you treat more like a gal pal than an employee? I thought it was funny that you never treated her as shitty as you did me. Is it because my boobs aren’t big enough and I didn’t remind you enough of your big breasted Hollywood blondes?” I look down at my breasts and for good measure I grab them. He looks a bit taken aback at my sudden crudeness, but I don’t care. The multiple times we’ve had sex he didn’t have one bad thing to say about them – but Maura could honestly be her own flotation device if the plane goes down over the Atlantic.

“That might be part of it, the other half might be because she doesn’t act like a fucking psycho and jump to conclusions when things go wrong. You know, she doesn’t ask me to pick between my career and some wild fucking goose chase.” Oh really? Well maybe that’s because the stupid goose chase involved her being outed for the fucking thief she is! God he is so slow sometimes I wonder why he isn’t moving backwards!

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Everything is always about your god damn career. If you aren’t off singing to thousands of people, then you’re running around with a fire lit under your ass thinking of ways to further your profession. Why can’t you just accept it for what it is and just roll with it? Why can’t you just take some fucking time off for once and just be?”

He’s resting against the mantle of the fireplace, taking a break from being in a tense standing position directly across from me. I’m leaning my hands against the back of the couch, watching him with disdain. I wish he could just tour, make a few appearances and then take a long break in which we’d disappear to Bermuda or some god forsaken island that nobody has heard of. I wish our lives would take a page out of the television show LOST and we’d be stranded somewhere and no one would know where we were. Of course I wouldn’t want all the fucking mysteries or deaths that come with said television show, but the thought of being alone with him in a place where no one could bother us would be so much more appealing when we aren’t at each other’s throats.

“That’s not how I work, you know that,” he says softly before he looks up at me and his eyes are cold and disconnected once more, “But you refuse to accept that this is my life, my passion. You have to make it about you. You have to stand there and make me choose between something I’ve been working on since I was ten years old, and a relationship that seems to be going nowhere.”

“Oh so we’re going nowhere? Is that what you think?” I ask in disbelief. We are definitely going somewhere right now and where we’ll end up I haven’t a clue. I can only hope this just ends in more screaming and no more tears.

“Yeah that’s what I think. Is that such a surprise?”

“No,” I say surprising myself at my answer. “I’m more surprised that you can actually think about something other than yourself and your fucking ‘career.’”

“Well there you go, shocker of the year I guess. Justin Timberlake actually thinks about something other than his career.”

“And how can you say our relationship is going nowhere? Is that because I won’t give up on my own aspirations and goals and follow your arrogant ass around the world?” 

“Lauren, if you were serious about your ambitions you’d already have what you wanted.” Bastard. It almost repulses me to look at him. How can he sit there and think that when I try to put everything on hold for him? God if I wouldn’t go to jail for life, I’d strangle him.

“Really? How can I get what I want when you can’t fucking let me go?” I pause and take a huge breath. I’m screaming myself hoarse and I’m ready to start throwing more inanimate objects at his big, fat head. The way he’s staring at me, I feel like I’ve been sent back in time to when I was just his employee. We aren’t fighting like a couple anymore. This has dissolved into what we once were, except I’m not being paid to rip him a new one. I’m getting tired, it’s almost three in the morning, and I know I have to stop this right now. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but the way things are going, I don’t know how we’re going to resurface from this. We’re close to rock bottom and it’s going to take a lot more than a few ‘I’m sorry’s’ and ‘I love you’s’ to clear all this up. And I don’t know if I can carry a discussion or kiss him when I know that he’ll be hitting the road with Maura and he won’t hear a word against her.

I want him to hurt. I want him to bleed. I just want him to fucking feel the things I’m feeling right now. Because I know by the look of contempt and distance in his face that he just doesn’t get it. The storm has past the eye and it’s raging. The bitter tears are welling in my eyes and I wipe them away furiously before I grip the edge of the couch hard.

“You know what,” I begin in a whisper as I try to keep my trembling bottom lip under control, “I wish I had never got on that plane. I wish I left you sitting up in the air crying on Trace’s shoulder so you could experience a shred of the confusion and pain that I feel when I’m with you.”

The silence is infinite as my voice falls away. I watch as a few tears drip onto the leather of the couch and after a few minutes of silence I sneak a glance at my quiet boyfriend. He looks incensed.

“Is that how you feel?” he questions and I feel part of me celebrate when I hear the hurt edge into his voice. I stare up at him hoping for reconciliation, but just like that the look of pain is erased and the expression of rage is there in full force, “Fine, then get the fuck out.”

“What?” I shriek in complete shock. What the hell?

“You heard me, get the fuck out,” he rounds on me, leaving his position by the fireplace to get in my face. He’s a mere three feet away and he’s screaming at me as if we’re a football field apart. I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors could hear us, “Really do you think I’d let you stay here after you have the audacity to talk to me like that? Fuck, Lauren sometimes I give you too much credit when it comes to your intelligence. For someone who thinks them a regular Einstein, you’re pretty fucking clueless. And sometimes I just don’t understand why I even thought this could fucking work out. You just take a bunch of my shit and my feelings for granted and I’m sick and fucking tired of it. So you’re done. Get the fuck out and if I see you around here while I’m still in town, I’m calling the fucking cops.”

“You can’t kick me out!” I cry in indignation,  “I live here!”

“Not anymore you do. I swear to God, Lauren, if you aren’t out in five minutes…”

“Fine!” I shriek as I throw up my hands. I spot an empty vase used for decoration sitting on the side table. Reaching over, I pick it up and chuck it in his direction. The force of my throw sends it over his head and it shatters against the wall.

“You’re paying for that!”

“Like hell I am! You can kiss my ass, Justin! For all I care you can go run off after Maura and fuck her backwards and forwards…unless you’ve already done that!”

“Don’t worry, she’s better than you ever were.” The witty retort I was storing for Justin’s next comment dies in my throat as I stare at him in disbelief. My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water – gasping for air. All my internal organs have fallen out of my toes and I can feel the blood rush out of my face.

“What…” I begin and I can see that the change in his face is instant. Gone is the tyrant I spent four years with before I got the balls to say fuck it and quit. In his place is the man I fell in love with and it almost looks as if he can’t believe the words that came out of his mouth.

“No, Lauren…” he stumbles over his words as I stand there dumbstruck. “I didn’t…”

“Stop it, Justin. I don’t want to do this anymore.” My world is crashing down around me and right now I don’t care if this whole fight started over who was stealing who’s shit. The only thing I know is that Justin’s relationship with Maura is probably more than just boss-employee and the thought of them together kills me.

“Lauren, please…that came out wrong, I only said that to shut you up…”

“Well congratulations, you succeeded,” I mumble trying my best to keep my tears from resurfacing. “I hope the two of you are happy together.”

“Lauren I don’t love her. I never have and I never will. It’s always been you, I swear.”

“It might have always been me at the beginning, but things change – people change. But I realize now that you haven’t changed at all. You’re still the same arrogant, selfish, intolerable asshole I met five years ago. I can’t believe it’s taken me almost a year of heartache and distress to realize that. Enjoy your tour, enjoy your career, enjoy her. I realize now that those are the only things that really matter to you,” and before he can get another word in edgewise, I turn around and rush towards the kitchen. I grab my purse and keys and run like hell towards Bentley Lexus.

The tears won’t stop as I hear him screaming for me to come back inside. Yelling that he’s sorry, he didn’t mean the shit he said, and he wants to calm down and talk about this rationally. He had his chance. We both had a chance and we both fucked it up.

I look down at the ignition to start Bentley when something slams against my window. Justin is pressed up against the driver’s side, yelling incoherent things at me through the glass. The hurt on his face is so obvious and fresh that I want to turn off the car and hold onto him for all I’m worth. The tears on his face are almost as copious as mine and while I know we both said things we didn’t mean, it doesn’t change the fact that they were dragged out into the open.

Tearing my eyes away, I start the car and with a shuddering breath, I peel out of his driveway. Part of me is screaming to look into my rearview mirror to see what he’s doing but I know if I look back, I won’t be able to continue moving forward. My head is starting to pound and now that I’m finally away I have no idea what to do with myself.

I have nowhere to go.

My phone is still off and I turn it on thinking that somehow it’ll help me think of something to do. I’m sure Theo will be back to collect his suitcase in the morning and he might have to deal with a confrontation with Justin. Part of me wants to call him to warn him, but I know that if I reiterate what happened tonight to someone else, the reality of it all will set in and…

God, what just happened?

 I look back at my phone as it starts to blare loudly in the seat next to me. Reaching over, I pick it up and stare at the screen through my tears. Justin. There is no way on God’s green earth that I would even think about answering right now so I throw it back onto the seat.

Fifteen minutes into my drive and I swear he’s called me at least twenty times. It gets to be such a distraction that I end up putting it on silent. He’ll get the hint in an hour or two before he realizes what is just starting to grasp my thoughts.

It’s over.

Holy fucking shit it’s over.

Even though the words are repeating over and over again in my head, I still can’t fully accept that fact. I try to push it away from my thoughts as much as I can. I try to focus on my driving. I have no idea where I’m going to go, but I have a full tank of gas and I know that if I stop long enough to think about tonight I won’t be able to pick myself back up again.

So I drive. I drive until the darkness fades away into dawn and soon enough I’m stuck in traffic on the 101, wondering where the hell I’m going to go once I start to grow tired of zooming down almost every freeway in Southern California.

Sneaking a peek at my cell phone I pick it up cautiously and flip it open. I’m currently bumper to bumper so I don’t really have to pay attention with what’s going on in front of me. Flipping the phone open, I see fifty-six missed calls and at least thirty new voicemails – all from Justin. The last call was an hour ago so it’s safe to say he’s given up and gone to bed.

I’m about to put my phone down again so I can think about my current situation and where I’m going to go when all of a sudden I see that I have a call.

Elliot.

I can’t answer the call fast enough. I’ve gone about four hours without a human voice screaming at me and the need for contact is making me ache.

“Hello?” I’m taken aback by how hoarse my voice is. I wouldn’t be surprised if I lose it later on today.

“Lauren? Where the hell are you and would you mind telling me what is going on? I went over to Justin’s place today to see if you were alright after last night and all I got was Trace telling me you were gone and not coming back. Are you okay?”

“No,” my response comes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my voice sound this tiny and insignificant. I want to tell him I’m fine, I hate it when people see that I can be vulnerable. “He kicked me out.”

“He did what?” Elliot yells so loudly that I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “Where are you right now?”

“In my car. Elliot, I don’t know what to do.” I can feel the wave of hysteria mounting in my voice and I know that at any moment I’m going to completely fall apart and seeing as I’m the only person in my car in the middle of a jam packed freeway feeling totally alone, there will be nobody there to pick up the pieces.

“Just calm down, okay? Come over here and I’ll help you. Do you need me to stay on the phone with you until you get here?”

“No,” I mutter with a shaky sigh as I muster up some strength. I need to pull this shit together, “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

I somehow manage to make it to Elliot’s apartment in ten. I get out of Bentley and nearly fall flat on my ass. I haven’t stood up in hours and I’m still in the heels and dress from the Grammy party. I must look like death on two legs because I certainly feel like it.

Elliot’s apartment is more like a townhouse than anything and as I walk up the two steps that will take me to his door, it flies open and Elliot is standing there in what I swear has to be the same suit he wore the night before. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink and I smile at him weakly before I look down at his feet and see Bruno sitting there, looking at me with a dumb expression on his face.

“What happened?” is all he says and I meet his gaze once more. He reaches out and places a comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezes it lightly. And suddenly everything is catching up with me – the missing stuff, Justin taking Maura’s side, the things we said to each other, the look on his face as I drove away – it’s hitting me in the stomach like a wrecking ball.

I try to say something, to tell him the whole story but my bottom lip is trembling so much I can’t even get the words out. I feel my knees knocking together as I begin my fall to the floor. Elliot comes with me as the sobs begin to take over.

“It’s okay, Lauren, it’s okay,” he soothes as he wraps me in his arms around me, his hands stroking my tangled hair.

But as he cradles me on the threshold of his home while I allow myself to let it all out I can’t help but think one thing.

No matter what I do, say, or think – nothing is going to be okay. 

15. In a World of My Own

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Please eat something.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Justin…”

“Maura –”

She’s about to say something else but the bus goes over a rather large speed bump and her words die in her throat. I give my personal assistant another scathing look before I turn my attention towards the flat landscape of Florida. I sigh heavily and let my forehead rest against the window.

I feel like shit and I look it, too.

Things really haven’t been the same since Lauren and I broke it off and not a day goes by when I don’t accuse myself for being the biggest and most ridiculous asshole on the face of the planet. I fucked up bad and to make matters worse, everybody knows it.

It’s been two weeks and with each passing day I find myself getting more and more depressed and confused as to what the hell I’m supposed to do. I cant’ deny that I made a terrible mistake but I refuse to admit that I’m wrong. So I do the obvious and act like a right prick to those around me. I know it sounds terrible, but I want those around me to feel as shitty and depressed as I do.

I’ve been given threats of course. Johnny has told me time and time again that if I don’t buck up and put on a happy face for the fans and concerts that he’s going to get my mama involved. I don’t want to cause her the inconvenience of flying all the way out to wherever it is I’m performing so she can just tell me all the things I know I should be doing. So I’m just going to try and be as happy as I can for the public and I don’t care if the crew thinks I’m being a right ass. They can bite me for all I care. Because honestly, how many times can I get through “Another Song” without breaking down? It’s only a matter of time before I’ll have to run off stage during the middle of the song like a little bitch because I can’t cope with a breakup. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dancers, backup singers, and band have a pool based on when I’m going to crack.

Jesus, this blows worse than a child prostitute.

And I have no one to blame but myself…

No, that’s a lie. The blame isn’t all with me on this one. Sure I might have been a moron not to believe my girlfriend and the things I said to her weren’t exactly the greatest or smartest things to ever come out of my mouth, but come on! She said some pretty shitty things to me as well so I’m not entirely to blame.

It’s bad because at night when I try to sleep, the fight keeps replaying in my mind – every single hurtful thing that came out of her mouth still smacks me in the stomach like she’s standing over my bed, bellowing them in my ear. I have to keep telling myself that she loves me just as much as I love her, but now I’m not so sure.

Not even two minutes after she sped away in her car I was calling her. I was praying to whatever God could hear me that she’d answer, but all fifty-six times they went to voicemail. My frustrations were mounting but that doesn’t mean I left her messages. I felt like such a desperate loser begging into the phone, but I guess all sorts of dignity go out the window when you realize you’ve lost one of the most important things in your life.

Whether or not she listened to any of those messages remains to be seen. I know for a fact that if Lauren left me messages like that on my phone I would be driving back to her full speed ahead, all systems go. But did she come back to me? No.

And not only did that piss me off, but it broke my damn heart.

My five days at home were spent in bed with the curtains drawn. I had no visitors save for Trace, my dogs, and a phone call from Mama telling me how sorry she was that we didn’t work out. Believe me, you don’t have to tell me twice how sorry I am. I didn’t do anything, I felt like some kind of chick sitting in my bed with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey watching Disney movies. Well, watching the ones that aren’t sitting somewhere with Theo.

I didn’t see Maura at all during those five days and I was thankful for that. I’m sure she was spending time with her friends around LA and maybe getting over the drama of Grammy Night. Besides, she didn’t really need to be doing anything for me seeing as I was comatose in my bedroom.

I still don’t think she’s to blame at all for stealing my shit. I mean Lauren was working herself into the ground before the Hilton party and I’m sure she was just seeing things when she was looking around in Maura’s place. And besides, jealously can be a dangerous thing – I know that Lauren didn’t like Maura that much as my time away from her dragged on, but that doesn’t mean she can try to pin such enormous accusations on my personal assistant. But jealously does a lot of crazy things to people.

Take for example, my explicit need to fly cross-country and kick that scrawny little nerd, Elliot Rodger’s ass. Day Two of My Life Without Lauren Walters saw me sending Trace out on a personal crusade since I was too busy crying at Belle and the Beast’s relationship to brave the world outside my house. I made him track Lauren down and report back what she was doing. Is she just as miserable as I am? Where is she living? Is she still working? What the fuck is going on with her? Does it look like her life is over just like mine is? Does she have dark circles under her eyes like me since I can’t fall asleep at night knowing the next day won’t bring her voice or touch?

Of course Trace came back with words I didn’t want to hear.

“How is she?” I ask a bit too eagerly for my own good.

“I don’t know, she won’t see me,” Trace says bitterly. I guess Trace is taking a blow here as well. I know he’s gotten to be pretty good friends with Lauren since my absence from both their lives and I’m thinking she’s giving Trace the same treatment as me since he’s like the shorter version of me…or something like that. “Or rather Elliot won’t let me see her."

“Wait, the little pipsqueak who she works with? Why is he with her?”

“Well seeing as she’s shacking up with him…”

“WHAT?” my voice moves into a higher pitch than my falsetto and I immediately pause the scene in my newly acquired DVD of The Little Mermaid to turn my full attention on Trace, “What do you mean she’s shacking up with him? She’s not dating him?”

If she’s moved on this quickly I think my head might explode from grief and anger.

“Well seeing as you kicked her out of the house and she had nowhere else to go it seems perfectly plausible for her to move in with a coworker. Did you expect her to go live with Maura?” I try to imagine this kind of living arrangement. I think it would result in Lauren creeping towards Maura’s bedroom with a pillow, a hacksaw, and some plastic trash bags and buckets of lye. Yeah, I can see his point.

“But are they dating?” God that would be the biggest blow. My now (dare I think it) ex-girlfriend moving from one of the most wanted men in the country to some little shrimp who probably has her dusting his comic books on the weekend.

“No. Elliot told me she just needs some time to recover as she’s spent the past forty-eight hours locked in his spare bedroom crying a new ocean,” I can tell Trace feels bad about this and while I’m sure he’s being a good friend for me and helping me get through this trying time, I can tell he’s worried about Lauren, too.

But good. Lauren is feeling just as miserable as I am, if not more. Not that I blame her, I said some really terrible shit to her. Then again, we both said some shit I know we don’t mean. But I’m not going to apologize. No.

Which brings me back to the present. Thousands of miles from home and away from the people I really want to be with, but being forced to fulfill obligations against my will. If I had it my way I would be sitting outside of Elliot’s apartment holding a silent vigil and waiting for Lauren to come out so I could talk to her and set things right. Granted that will never happen so I have to settle with screaming women who want nothing more than to fuck me hard and watch me perform right after. I have to please the masses and the only thing I want to do is please one person.

Too bad she probably hates me right now and with good reason. But will I ever admit that I’m the one in the wrong?

Bitch, please. I may love the girl, but she hurt me bad and there is no way in hell I’m going to crawl back to her unless she shows even the smallest bit of remorse. Too bad she won’t see me, talk to me, or even think about me.

“Look, I’ll make you a sandwich Justin, you have to eat,” Maura interjects my thoughts again and I turn to stare at her. She’s sitting on the bench at the front of the bus while I’m sitting at the little dining table staring off into space. She has worry etched all over her face, but I refuse to acknowledge her help. “You have to eat, you have a show tonight. It won’t look very professional if you pass out during the opening number due to low blood sugar.”

I sigh heavily and give a noncommittal shrug of the head. Aside from Trace, my mom, and the few people I consider friends on this tour, Maura is one of the only people I can put any faith and trust into. She didn’t question what happened with Lauren like Trace, Mom, and Marty did. She kind of accepted it. She doesn’t want to talk about it, she wants me to move forward and try to think about what’s coming up – the end of the first leg of the American tour and the jump across the Atlantic for the European leg.

But how can I move forward when so much of me is invested in the past?

Maura must have had a sandwich prepared already because there’s a ham sandwich in front of me just waiting to be eaten. I look up at Maura who’s giving me a pleading look as if silently coaxing me into taking a bite. I stare back at the food and then back at her and the look she’s giving me reminds me so strongly of Lauren I almost think she’s dyed her hair blonde and standing right in front of me.

I give her a small smile as I pick up the sandwich and begin to eat. If there’s one thing Maura knows how to do right it’s how to make a kick ass ham sandwich. “Fanks,” I say with my mouth full before I gulp down the contents of my sandwich.

“Not a problem,” she responds before she takes a seat across from me and returns the smile. It’s warm, comforting, and…God how could Lauren even begin to think that Maura was behind all that theft? She’s just so nice and she doesn’t complain or give me a lot of shit like Lauren did when she worked for me. There are times when I think she’s the only one who gets me.

And that’s what I need more than anything right now – someone who understands.

*~*~*~*~*

I can’t believe I’ve managed to survive for two months.

Two months without him.

Two months without hearing his voice.

Two months without seeing his face in person.

There’s been two months of missing him, longing for him, and needing him. Two months realizing that I haven’t been the same person without him. I honestly can’t say how I’ve been able to act like a normal human being knowing that I won’t ever see him, or talk to him, or even kiss him again. Part of me should be happy about this – I shouldn’t lower myself to be with an asshole like Justin.

But you can’t help who you love and, remarkably, I’m still in love with Justin Timberlake.

Despite his faults, despite the fact that he pretty much admitted that he was sleeping with Maura just to get me to be quiet…despite the fact that he is a Grade 1 Asshole who should be shot in the liver just so he can bleed out and die.

Yeah, two months later and I’m still a hell of a lot bitter about the whole situation.

But can you blame me?

I may be bitter, but I’m still completely heartbroken and I can’t believe my life has had a semblance of consistency since Justin and I called it off two months ago. After my collapse on Elliot’s doorstep I spent the next two days pent up in his spare bedroom crying my eyes out and letting all the hateful words we exchanged consume me. I cried myself dry and nothing Elliot could say or do would make it better.

I let him have the daunting task of listening to all the messages Justin left on my cell phone with the explicit instructions to erase every single voicemail. Elliot made an evening of it and he’d walk into what was to become my new room with my phone pressed against his ear. I know he was trying to make me hear little pieces of Justin’s frantic voice.

“Lauren, please, I’m sorry. I love you –”

“Come back, don’t leave me. I need you…”

“If you come back we’ll talk about this…please,”

It wasn’t until I locked myself in the bathroom and threatened to drown myself that Elliot finally stopped trying to feed me subliminal messages of returning Justin’s phone calls.

Those two days turned into a week, and it was then I decided to leave the confines of Elliot’s apartment so I could stop living in his pajama bottoms and old indie band tour shirts. I made sure Trace wasn’t home so I could avoid his questions and sympathetic stares. He had stopped by the day after the February Smack Down of 2007 to see how I was doing, but Elliot being the overprotective dork that he is, wouldn’t let the troll get a glimpse of me. Thank God. I don’t know what I would do if I heard Trace’s ‘well you shouldn’t have done that to Justin,’ bull shit dogma. It’s bad enough I still have to deal with Elliot’s ‘I told you so,’ looks from time to time when he thinks I’m not looking.

But that day I grabbed all of my shit out of Justin’s house and brought it back to Elliot’s place. We pulled my furniture from my apartment out of storage and by the end of February; I signed a co-lease on Elliot’s apartment.

Hooray for dorky roommates. Granted I have to deal with certain Fantasy RPGs every so often, but for the most part I lock myself in my room with a big ass carton of Ben and Jerry’s and a few seasons of Law and Order.

Or when I’m feeling exceedingly sarcastic and crude, South Park.

For the most part, my life has been lacking any sort of color. Currently my daily schedule is as follows: wake up, shower if I feel like it, eat waffles with a shitload of whipped cream and strawberries, go to work, bark out orders and make the interns cry, skip lunch, go home, watch my latest reality television fodder, eat pasta or anything easy to make in the kitchen, fix a cocktail, knock back a few sleeping pills, and surprise lights out by eleven.

The only positive human contact I have is with Elliot or calls from my parents who skip the whole ‘we were right about your ex-employer all along’ and just coo at me from whatever distant location they’ve managed to find themselves in (right now it’s the Isle of Skye). I don’t take Trace’s phone calls although I really should, and I debunk any offer of Elliot’s to join him at the latest comic convention or Fantasy RPG meeting.

I swear to God I’ve probably gained twenty pounds since February and you know what? I could hardly give a flying fuck because who the hell cares anymore? I certainly don’t and I really don’t have any impressions to make. Granted I could try a bit harder at work and not go on autopilot every time the doorman holds open the giant glass doors at the main entrance. Murray probably isn’t happy with my performance and I have no idea how in the hell I managed to keep my job after my abysmal conduct at the Grammy Party. All I know is after Elliot went in to talk to him, my roommate looked rather put off for the rest of the day.

But for all I know Murray scheduled him for a party the night of one of his little role play meetings. The boy shouldn’t have to bitch about missing Battlestar Galactica again because I introduced the man to TiVo and he hasn’t turned back since.

Then again, no one does.

“I’m getting take out tonight, what do you feel like?” At the moment I’m lounging on the couch on a Saturday morning. Thanks to my terrible performance at the Grammy Party, I was asked to take a huge pay cut and was basically given a demotion to Assistant Event Planner. Congrats, Elliot, you’re my boss. Basically my new title means fewer hours, but more grunt work. Not like I care - that was basically my job description when I was working for Justin except exchange the less hours bit with every time I drew breath.

“I don’t care. I’ve got Half Baked in my fridge and half a bottle of wine I need to finish off,” I mumble into the phone. I’m trying to stay focused on the episode of Dance Life but I know that Elliot is going to want to argue so I pause the episode. At least I can fast forward through commercials now.

“Lauren, forgive me for saying but your diet over the last few months is atrocious. You aren’t taking care of yourself and excuse me for being blunt, but you’re kind of being a pain in the tush.”

I would feel offended if he didn’t use the word tush. Who the hell am I talking to, Great Aunt Muriel? Jesus, if he wasn’t my best friend I’d almost be afraid of the company I’m starting to keep.

But then I can always look to Trace and Justin and realize that Elliot is a huge upgrade in that department.

“How am I being a pain in the ass?”

“I’m not asking you to get over him, I’m just asking you to be more assertive and involved with things around the apartment and take more of an interest in where your life is going instead of what you’re leaving behind…” Well there’s Elliot for you – straight to the point. And how can I move forward when the only thing that’s propelling me in that direction is an overzealous nerd who has an extreme liking of all things fantasy, sci-fi and technological? Not much of an incentive to get on with my life now is it?

“Italian,” I mutter as I un-pause the television. I’m not in the mood to carry on this discussion any further because it’s reminding me of one I had with Neal last year…from what I can recall it centered on me just sitting on my ass as I got over a long working relationship with the man I just recently broke up with.

Hmm, go figure.

We say quick goodbyes and I go back to watching my mindless television. Justin would be so pissed if he knew I was watching this – he hates reality television with almost the same passionate hate I hold for some of the stupid medical dramas he adores so much. Don’t get me wrong; I love Grey’s as much as the next woman, but Justin’s love for the show borderlines obsession.

But nobody does trashy reality television like MTV and I’m about to settle into an hour of Parental Control when someone knocks loudly on the door. I know it’s too late for any sort of mail service to show up and I know Elliot isn’t due to host his little RPG until next weekend. I have no friends other than my roommate so I have no clue who it could be unless…

I want to smack myself when my mind immediately jumps to the thought of Justin being the one knocking on the door. The last time I checked with my emotions, I hated the bastard and I was still mending the broken heart he served me with a side of severe betrayal. But my heart can’t help but pound as I head towards the door and open it without a second thought.

“Loho! Oh my sweet gentle Jesus, you’re among the living!” I let out a pent up breath and lean against the door slightly.

“What do you want Trace?”

“Can’t I come see one of my good friends who’s been missing from my life for two months? Jesus, Lauren, talk about falling off the face of the planet.” Believe me, I wish I could have fallen off the face of the planet – at least dealing with the pain would be that much easier, “Aren’t you going to let me in so I can see your new pad?”

“What do you want, gnome?” I ask again without budging. I’m not about to let him in so easily and I’ll be damned if I let the guy off the hook without a decent explanation as to why he’s here.

“Look, Lauren when it comes to your current situation with…well with my brother from another mother…” he’s trying to struggle for the right words and I’m slightly touched by the fact that he isn’t trying to mention Justin by name. Believe me, it’s something Elliot and I skirt around all the time – we just refer to Justin as ‘him’ or ‘The Great Bastard’ – GB for short. “When it comes to the two of you I take a neutral stance – I’m Switzerland.”

I can’t help but crack a smile at his terminology and I can feel my protective walls start to crack. I can say that I have honestly never thought of being really good friends with the guy who used to team up with Justin to make my life a living hell. And yet here I am thinking that I’ll give him a chance to waltz back into my life.

“Look, Trace…” my voice fades away because I haven’t the faintest idea on what to say, “I appreciate your stopping by…”

“So you aren’t going to let me in?” I can hear the slight edge of hurt in his voice and I really wonder how many people this whole breaking up with Justin thing is going to affect. I hate hurting my friends, but when they’re basically related to the person who ripped my heart out of my chest and sacrificed it to the devil…

“I don’t know,” my voice falls away once again as I move away from the protection of the door. “I mean…”

“What the hell are you wearing?” he asks miffed and it causes me to look down at my recent attire. I guess old habits die hard because I’ve given up all my lounging clothes for the pajamas I stole from Elliot a few months ago. Maybe it’s a comfort thing, I don’t know, but at the moment I’m wearing Elliot’s most comfortable flannel pajama bottoms and his enormous Death Cab for Cutie tour shirt. I am in no way ready to receive any sort of company and I’m a little embarrassed that Trace has to see me with tangled hair, glasses, and a rather blotchy face (no thanks to Ben and Jerry…the asses).

“Well in Western civilization, Trace, people usually wear clothes…” I state dryly as I unwillingly move away from the door and head towards the comfort of my sofa. He can just shut the fuck up and let me watch my television – I’ll humor the munchkin for right now.

“Yeah, sure, but I mean damn. You’ve let yourself go, Loho.”

“Thank you, Trace. I’m so glad you think so.”

“As much as I adore your sarcastic wit, Lauren you have to admit that you’re reaching for it,” he points out and I sigh heavily as I throw myself down on the couch and pick up the remote. There’s a bowl of ice cream within my reach and as I lean forward to grab it, Trace gets his grubby paws wrapped around the bowl.

“That’s mine!”

“Says your ass…” Trace retorts and I can feel myself starting to get thoroughly annoyed. “Really Lauren, is this what you do with your time? Work and then come home to sit on your ass and eat more than Cartman?” I throw him a peeved glare and he merely shrugs it off before he starts to dig into my ice cream.

“Trace if you came over here to make fun of me and make me feel worse than I already do, then congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Now get the fuck out of my apartment and leave me alone.”

“No,” he states stubbornly before he shoves another spoonful of Half Baked into his mouth. I’m going to kill him if he finishes it all, “I came over here because I miss my friend and I want to spend time with her. Granted I wanted to chill with you over a month ago but your little knight in shining armor wouldn’t let me within your line of sight.” I smile softly at his words and it isn’t until he’s scooping out the remnants of my coveted ice cream that I realize how much I’ve actually missed Trace.

“I had to get away and put…put all that stuff behind me,” I state softly as Trace places the empty bowl back on the coffee table. I give him a look to tell him that he owes me a new pint of ice cream and he sighs heavily before he settles back into the couch.

“But have you really put it behind you?” I open my mouth to say something but I catch myself as I really let his words sink in. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put this behind me, but I’m not going to tell him that. I start to say something but Trace holds up his hand to stop me, “I don’t want you to answer that because we aren’t going to talk about that. We’re going to move forward so…” his voice fades away and he picks up the remote, “what are we watching?” His eyes brighten as he presses play and he turns to look at me with the biggest grin on his face.

“You know, he would never watch this stuff with me,” Trace explains, “Do we have any chips or shit like that?”

I purse my lips and shake my head as Trace gets to his feet and hurries into the kitchen. He’s only been in my place for less than fifteen minutes and he already knows there’ll be a vast array of junk food. Sure the circumstances who we hang out with has changed, and my attitudes towards a certain best friend of his has almost certainly been changed but as Trace returns with a huge bag of chips and salsa I realize one thing – our relationship has stayed the same.

Switzerland indeed.

*~*~*~*~*

I think I need Zoloft or Prozac, or something that will help me get rid of this enormous pit that’s growing in my stomach.

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve given a genuine smile since I saw Lauren’s face in a moment when we weren’t at each other’s throats. I think every smile I’ve given on stage and for interviews has been faked and perfected. And some people say I’m a terrible actor.

I should be getting an Academy Fucking Award.

The last time I was in London I was here to get Lauren back. And now I’m wandering the streets with my security, Marty, and Maura trying to get back to the hotel without causing a riot. Granted that’s impossible in London – the paparazzi here are more ruthless than the ones Stateside. I’ve been spending my time here before the European leg kicks off in Ireland by hitting up the studio to work with Madonna. I’d be a hell of a lot more excited if I weren’t so damn depressed.

The first couple songs I turned out for the titled Queen of Pop were all about mending broken hearts and getting on with life. Too bad she’s looking for the next greatest dance record since ‘SexyBack.’ Sorry, I just don’t have that shit in me right now.

But I somehow managed to make a miracle and I pulled a pretty awesome track out of my ass. Don’t ask me how I did it because I don’t even know myself.

Be that as it may, the paparazzi are terrible leeches that are shouting questions at me. They want to know where Lauren is; they want to know who I’m seeing since apparently it’s gotten out that I’m back on the market. If I had a nickel for all the advancements I’ve received from another actress or fellow singer I could probably retire early and not have to worry about singing in front of a crowd ever again. They’re like fucking cougars man, ready to pounce.

Too bad I don’t want to hear any of it

Please tell me when I abandoned reason for insanity…I mean come on; I’m fucking giving up a chance with Gisele for Lauren. If I didn’t think it would be totally callous and rude of me (not to mention a huge disservice to society), I’d chop my own dick off. Because really, Lauren is gorgeous and wonderful, but even she has to admit that her body is nowhere near the perfection of Gisele’s.

Did I mention the little detail that Lauren isn’t my girlfriend anymore and as far as the rest of the world is concerned we are no longer an item and therefore I am free to date, screw, or marry anybody I want?

And yet I just can’t seem to give the idea of her up. Like at any moment she’s going to be in my hotel room like she was in Montreal to finally give my sex-on-the-piano fantasy a try. I’m sure Gisele would be up for that shit

No. Lauren. Focus on Lauren.

Jesus Christ, I am completely mono-pussy whipped and I hate it. I mean come on! We’re done and over with and I could fuck any woman in the world and yet I’m holding fast for someone who hates my fucking guts.

Please tell me what is wrong with this picture…

Fuck it, I need a drink.

Luckily for me, in London there’s at least one pub on every street.

“Hold up,” I shout to my mini-entourage. I watch with a satisfied smile as the group of five stop in their tracks. “I want to stop in here,” I add before I point to a pub called The Hoop and Toy. Marty looks pleased as hell, Maura looks put off, and if I didn’t know any better my security looks like they just want to leave our asses here while they go in search of their beds.

But no. I need a drink and I’m going to get one dammit. Madonna may be a musical genius but she’s a dominatrix of a collaborator and my senses are shot. Plus this whole not having sex thing because you want to prove a point to your ex-girlfriend who you haven’t spoken to in almost three months thing is getting to my head.

We duck into the pub and emerge three hours later… and I am drunk out of my mother fucking mind.

I don’t even know how I got back to the Dorchester, but thankfully I get there without the loss of life or dignity. I’m sure this will be all over the papers tomorrow because I distinctly remember the familiar sight of flashbulbs going off and the muffled speech of the paps as I stumbled with my crew back to the hotel

The best thing about this feeling of intoxication is the thoughts of Lauren are kind of thrown into the background. All I care about now is having a good time, sleeping this shit off, and waking up to begin the whole process again.

The very small part of my mind that’s sober is screaming out that this is a recipe to alcoholism but I could give a damn. All I know is Lauren is on the back burner and the longer she’s there, the better.

“You were really great…” I mumble to Maura as I reach out and pet the side of her face. I know it’s probably really awkward, but I don’t care. I’m sober enough to walk myself so Randy, Mike, and Eric dropped my sorry ass at my floor with Maura and Marty before they went the next floor up to get some kind of sleep

Marty’s says goodnight to us in a slurred voice as he ducks back into the room he shares with Eddie. Now it’s just Maura and me as I stumble down the hall singing some drinking song the locals were trying to teach me back at the pub.

Maura is trying to suppress her laughter at my incoherent and inebriated singing. She keeps telling me to shush but I continue to sing anyway.

“Justin there are people trying to sleep!” she whispers fiercely but I can still hear the laughter in her voice.

“I don’t care!” I bellow belligerently, “They can bite my ass! I’m the most important person in this whole place!” I laugh loudly before I start to sing again.

“I’m serious, Justin! You know you and the rest of the team will blame me if we get complaints. Shut up!”

“And what’s a girl like you going to do to stop it…er me…oh fuck…” my words are so slurred and the world is starting to spin. What the hell…sometimes I hate getting this drunk.

“I don’t know…” Maura says her voice suddenly growing soft. It’s almost too soft for my stuffed up ears to comprehend so I lean closer to see what she’s trying to say.

I don’t know who moved first, or if I stumbled as I leaned in closer or if she tripped or what the fuck…because suddenly her lips are on mine and I’m kind of…wait what was going on?

God I am so drunk.

Her lips are soft against mine and it actually doesn’t feel that bad. I thought me kissing another girl would cause Lauren or someone else to come running out of a closet or something brandishing an axe to chop off one of my appendages or something. But everything is serenely quiet as she steps closer to me.

Hmm…weird. So weird. Why am I doing this again? Wait…where am I?

God I am so drunk…but I already know this…why am I repeating myself?

The kiss deepens and I find myself pushing her back against the hallway wall. Her lips part slightly as she omits a slight gasp but her arms are wrapped around my neck so tightly I’m afraid she’s going to cut off air supply. But I really don’t care. I can taste the gin and tonic that she was nursing at the pub on my tongue and I don’t know what to say other than the flavor suits her. Don’t ask me why, it just does.

I can already tell where this is going by the time Maura has her sweater unbuttoned and I’ve got my room key out and ready for action. I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling at this moment because all I know is that my thoughts are all jumbled together and the only thing that I’m managing to do right is kiss my personal assistant.

God this is so weird. I giggle against her lips and she responds by pressing me to her all the more tightly. Good lord I might finally break my dry spell tonight although I rest assured I’d rather be with Lauren or Gisele than Maura Delaney.

Of course that would be the sober part of me talking…if only that was the larger part of my current functioning brain. I’m drunk off my ass and the only thing I can think about is sealing some kind of deal.

“I’m so ‘runk right now…” I mumble and Maura nods as she tugs on the corner of my shirt. Well damn she just wants to get it right here in the hallway. I can’t help but remember that one time in New York – the night Lauren and I finally had sex after years of tension and hidden need.

Lauren. Your girlfriend who is an ex. Making out with her mortal enemy. Your employee. What the fuck are you doing?

Sober Me is screaming warnings as I try to put the key card into the door. Maura and I are jumping from foot to foot in anticipation because I know once I get the door open the fun is really going to begin. The light is about to turn from yellow to green when all of a sudden her phone begins to sound in her purse.

“Shit,” she mumbles before she immediately falls away and begins to scrounge through her purse. My door is open and I’m leaning against the door frame as I watch her face go from elation to explicit dread. “I’m sorry Johnny…yeah I’ll be there in a second.”

Well there goes the evening.

“Apparently you weren’t supposed to stop at that bar tonight,” Maura says through her teeth. “I’ve got to go help Johnny do damage control at one in the freaking morning…”

“You better go then,” I slur under my breath. She nods silently and before she turns and heads down the hallway, “Maura…” I call after her and she stops dead in her tracks before she looks over her shoulder, “This never happened…strict regulations on employee/employer relationships and all…” I have no idea how I’m even managing to speak coherently let alone explain to her that our little make out session never happened and shouldn’t happen again.

I can’t read the emotion on her face and I don’t watch her as she continues towards Johnny’s room. I stumble into my suite and head straight towards the couch. I feel like I’m going to be sick, but I refuse to vomit.

I manage to throw myself down on the sofa and it isn’t until I’m sprawled out on its surface that Lauren’s words start to swim in my head.

‘You arrogant little asshole! Do you honestly think….and what about Maura, huh? She’s been waiting months to fuck you! Then why don’t you go run off to her? You can go fuck her brains out…’

Her face is swimming in front of me and I rub my eyes to try to get her angry and bitter expression out of my line of sight. I don’t need this right now – I don’t want it right now. All I want to do is pass out and forget this night ever happened. But my mind won’t let me go and the crux of our argument is back full force, slamming me over the head like a sledgehammer.

‘Like hell I am! You can kiss my ass, Justin! For all I care you can go run off after Maura and fuck her backwards and forwards…unless you’ve already done that!’

‘Don’t worry, she’s better than you ever were.’

God I still can’t believe I said that. I groan in protest as my feet grow a mind of their own and take me towards the kitchenette. I bend over and pull the door of the fridge open. My blurry eyes scan the icebox and I immediately yank out a small bottle of Jack Daniels and Patron.

Shutting the refrigerator door, I slump back into the living room and sit on the couch, popping off the top of the whiskey. I feel like such a schmuck. Knocking back the whiskey I let my head fall back against the couch as I try my best to let it all go.

Lauren’s heartbreaking look is swimming in front of me and all I want to do is forget.  

16. Why Should I Worry?

“Do you want to know what I hate more than anything in the whole fucking world?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me…” Trace voice fades away and I steal a look at him as I swerve through rush hour traffic. Its mid Saturday morning and I somehow let Trace talk me into escorting him to the William Rast warehouse in the fashion district of downtown LA.  He’s hanging onto the handle above the car door for dear life and I can just make out the whiteness of his knucklesz.

“I hate it,” I swerve into the next lane and ignore the blaring horns, “when stupid mother fucking drivers,” I slam on the breaks as the light suddenly turns yellow, “don’t use their stupid fucking signals to indicate when they’re switching lanes…”

Someone’s yelling at me out of their car window and I have half the mind to roll mine down and shriek something right back. But I know that Trace will probably die of embarrassment and I really don’t want to get either of us shot. The fashion district isn’t that bad, but you can never be too careful whilst downtown.

“And I hate it when you drive like a fucking psycho,” he retorts and he begrudgingly lets go of the handle, wringing his hands in the process.

“You know you love it. It’s this kind of danger you don’t get when you’re driving by yourself,” I fire right back. The light turns green and I lovingly ease Bentley Lexus forward. The driver I apparently offended zooms past, his horn bleating as he goes by. I respond by throwing a finger in the air and I laugh as Trace reaches out quickly and grabs onto my hand, yanking it down towards the center console of the car. “Lighten up, old man,” I laugh as I pull onto the freeway. Surprise. More traffic.

“I’ll lighten up once my feet are firmly planted on unmoving ground…” his voice fades away as Bentley melds into the hundreds of cars jammed on the motorway. God sometimes I fucking hate this place. “You know,” Trace begins and I can hear his thoughtful tone edging on his voice, “you didn’t always used to drive so recklessly, especially in your car. What gives?”

I’d like to add at this moment that I’m currently entering my third month of Justin free living and while I’d like to say I’m over it and ready to get on with my life, I’m still as hapless and lost as I was a month ago. The only plus in my life is the fact that Trace and I have been hanging out like we did back before Justin and I called it quits. He needs me because Justin still isn’t around and I guess I’m just that kind of familiarity that Trace likes to surround himself with. And me, well I need Trace because he’s Trace. He’s the only sane person aside from Elliot that I can call a friend and he knows me better than anyone…even my roommate, and I dare to think, even The GB. 

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug, “I guess driving like a crazy asshole gives me some justification to come out of my whole hermit stage. Lord knows I’ve just been…”

“Comatose, dead as a doornail, lackluster, fucking pathetic,” Trace offers before I shoot him a scathing look, “Well you have!” he points out, “Ever since The Smack Down you’ve just been some kind of shell. Sorry to say but all the things you’ve promised to do you just flake out.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I have to admit that he’s got a point. For the past month I’ve promised to get off my ass and workout. I’ve joined a gym, I’ve been going at least twice a week, but I promised the personal trainer I hired that I would cut back on the tub of cookie dough in my fridge and start to focus on eating healthy…I call in sick and tell him I can’t make it to important workouts. I promised Elliot I would forget about The GB and move on with my life, but every time he comes home to tell me he’s found the perfect guy I’ve come up with an excuse.

I don’t go out, the only times I do are when Trace or Elliot practically force me to leave the house with them, or when I’ve got work. Bruno is enjoying all the extra attention and I’ve managed to shed off nearly all my weight by taking him on five-mile walks every afternoon when I get home from work.

“I know,” I start with a sigh, “I’ve been trying though, it’s just hard.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Lauren,” Trace says immediately, “You forget that I had a fiancée who I was going to marry and then I find out she’s been fucking someone I invited into my house behind my back.” His voice is laced with bitterness and I can tell that even three years after Elisha he’s still hurting a little bit.

So not much hope for me, then.

“Well you know what he did was just as bad…”

“How? He wasn’t porking Maura, he didn’t betray you, I’m sorry to tell you Lauren, but this whole pile of shit you’re in isn’t nearly as big as mine was.”

“So are we going to sit here in traffic and argue about whose story is more pathetic? Christ, Trace why can’t we just drop it?”

“Because you sit there and act like you’re the only person who’s ever had their heart broken, who’s ever felt betrayed. And I’m sick and fucking tired of you trying to milk the pity party for all its worth. You have to know he’s feeling the exact same way.”

I slam on my breaks even though the traffic is starting to thin out. We’re stopped dead in the middle of the road and I’m about ready to kick the little weasel out and make him walk his ass back home. I turn to look at him as I start to accelerate the car.

“I don’t care,” my voice is hard and I’m trying my best not to reach out and hit him. I’m reminded of the time almost a year ago when Justin was driving me home after Trace and a few other people practically caught us hooking up in a dressing room. We got into a screaming match then and I’m thinking we might just be heading in that direction now, “I don’t care how he feels. I don’t give a fucking damn…”

“Well you could have fooled me,” he states simply with a mere shrug of his shoulders. I bite my lip and decide not to respond to his reply. I refuse to fight with Trace even though the little bastard deserves it.

We travel back to his house in silence and we say stoic goodbyes before Trace turns around and knocks on the window. I pull down the window and lean across.

“Sorry,” we both say at the exact same time. He cracks a smile first and I return it before he promises that the spaghetti and horror movie night we’ve been planning with Elliot will happen sometime next week.

That’s the one thing I have with Trace that I don’t think I could ever have with Justin – the ability to put all the bad shit behind and start again. I thought I could do it, we even managed to pull it off for a bit, but then it all burst out in the open like an unwanted can of worms and both of us were powerless to stop it. And of course now there’s no way the damage can be repaired. He’s halfway around the world in Europe and I’m here in California, struggling every day to get over him and move on with my life.

But there’s that little part of me that wants to hold on for dear life and not let go, no matter how much other people insist I try to move on. It’s that stubborn part of me that won’t go out and seek forgiveness, but that’s the crux of the matter.

I don’t think I can forgive, or forget.

My thoughts are so plagued by this sudden onslaught of feelings that I hardly notice that my phone is ringing loudly in my purse. Reaching over, I fish it out and notice an unrecognizable number. Curiosity gets the better of me and I quickly answer it.

“Hello?” 

“Is this Lauren?” the voice is familiar but I haven’t heard it in so long that it sounds almost completely foreign.

“Marty?” I ask incredulously. I’m so shocked by this unexpected call that I almost completely forget that Marty is on tour with Justin and I’m currently trying to separate myself from the bastard and get on with my life.

“Oh thank God,” he sounds almost too relieved to get a hold of me, “How are you?”

I instantly know that something is up. For one, Marty and I have this unspoken agreement that we hate each other on principle. We don’t talk to each other unless we’re giving each other shit, and the last thing we do is call each other up and ask how the other is.

“What do you want?” I say and I surprise even myself with how icy my voice sounds.

“Look I wouldn’t be calling you unless I thought this was a big deal and it couldn’t be handled by anyone on our team but…”

I can almost hear his words before he speaks them and I’m praying to Jesus, Allah, Muhammad, or whatever deity that’s on duty in the heavens that I won’t hear the words in my ear.

“…He needs you.”

I don’t need to ask who the ‘he,’ is. There isn’t any other ‘he,’ in this world that concerns both Marty and I.

“Really? The last time we spoke I was under the impression that he didn’t need me anymore…that’s what his new and improved PA is for.” Marty sighs on the other end of the phone and I can practically see him rubbing his thin face with his hands out of frustration.

“Can you just get past that? He’s in bad shape.”

“Good,” I snort, “Maybe being in bad shape will make him realize what a stupid douche bag he is. Make him realize that he’s a complete asshole and should go sit in the corner of a room, shrivel up, and die.”

“If you don’t help him, that could very well be a possibility.”

I laugh coldly into the phone trying to ignore the seriousness that’s laced in Marty’s voice. His comment sounds like something reserved for the movies, but I can’t help but feel he isn’t fucking around.

Then again, I promised Trace, Elliot, and myself that I was going to give this up and turn over a new leaf.

“Look,” I bite, “you can tell that stupid little ass muncher that I don’t care if he’s sick, dying, or in danger of losing his dick. I. Don’t. Care. The last thing I’m going to do is fly halfway around the world to help out a man who has thought of nothing but himself since the time he learned what an ego was. You can tell him he can go fuck himself…” my voice fades and I’m suddenly filled with such empowerment that I’m actually laughing. The freest laughter I’ve experienced since all this shit happened.

“You know what?” I start, “Fuck you too, Marty! Fuck you for calling me, fuck you and your stupid ass boss who is such a complete fucktard he wouldn’t know honesty and selflessness if it bit him in the mother-fucking ass. Go have fun on your globe trotting adventures and don’t call me again. I won’t be picking up.”

And before Marty can get another word in, I’ve turned off the phone and have gone speeding off towards Elliot’s apartment. I have a date with self-improvement. I’m going to show everyone that I can be my own person and I can live my life without the shadow of my ridiculous ex-boyfriend and his buxom, slut-tastic personal assistant.

Watch out world, Lauren Mother Fucking Walters is back!

*~*~*~*~*

The pounding of the music is sending my headache to new heights and my leaning against a velvet clad column is the only thing keeping me from falling over. The world is spinning and the flashing lights of different colors are all blurring into one entity, causing the sensation that the world is turning upside down.

I groan and push myself off of my leaning post, almost falling completely on my ass. I would be on the ground if it weren’t for Eddie and Sky holding me up. They’re laughing at my misfortune and I can tell they aren’t too worried about my current state because they’re drunk, too.

Not as much as me, but then again it takes a lot to keep up with me these days.

I think we’re in Birmingham, which is some random city in England, but I could be totally wrong. All the dates and countries and cities have all melted into one big fucking place and it takes fervent whispering from Maura and the rest of my team to remind me of where I’m playing so I don’t accidentally call Dublin, Scotland by mistake.

Truth be told I’m a hot mess and I really couldn’t give a flying fuck who knows it.

After that one night in London where Maura and I almost jumped on the good foot and did the bad thing, I’ve come to realize that the best way to forget about anything and everything is to get together with a couple hundred of your closest friends and drink yourself into a god damned oblivion. I don’t do it every night because there are some times when management and my family put a firm foot down and keep me from practicing alcohol amnesia. And those nights are the worst ever.

Tonight, however, I’m not really feeling any pain and thankfully I’ve got my dancers to help me out with my current state of mind. Most of them, like the rest of the tour crew, are growing worried about what the fuck is going on with me, but I keep to myself these days. Not even Timbaland can get inside my head and that makes for some rather awkward performances on stage. We aren’t clicking, and I blame the extra shots I take whenever I go offstage during a performance.

I can’t help it if half the songs I sing remind me of her just like I can’t help that the only way I can forget about Lauren is if I become best friends with Jack, Jose, and Captain Morgan.

In the beginning everyone was excited that I was cutting loose, getting toasted, and having fun at parties. Now nearly everyone has jumped ship. Marty is so against me and my partying ways that he tags along with me and the rest of the dancers as a chaperone. He knows when to step in when I’ve finally crossed that line between coherent and too far gone. He’ll let me have my bit of fun, but he knows my limit and that’s when he steps in.

Much like he’s doing now.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel, buddy,” he says cautiously as he removes me from Eddie and Sky’s grip. I laugh loudly as I sling an arm around Marty’s shoulder as we begin to stumble towards the exit. The rest of the dancers are falling in line behind us and I laugh in Marty’s face as we finally get out of the club. I laugh even more when I see his face twist in disgust. I’m sure he can smell the mixture of alcohol on my breath and even I have no idea how much I’ve had to drink tonight.

All I know is that I’m feeling good, but I know I’ll be feeling like shit when I wake up.

But I have tomorrow night to look forward to.

I don’t remember how we got back to the hotel and I wave feebly at the other dancers as they begin to file off to their respective rooms. Marty is still keeping me upright as we stumble down the hall like some weird three-legged race entrants.

Words are coming out of my mouth but I have no idea what I’m saying or if I’m making any sense. I can feel the buzz starting to slip away and I want to turn around and high tail it back to the hotel bar where I know I can get a late pick me up before heading to bed.

The worst thing about everyone knowing that I’m starting to develop something of a problem is the fact that before I go into my room, Maura or someone else sweeps the room and removes everything containing alcohol from the mini bar. It pisses me off, but I know I haven’t gotten worse because I’ll drink during and after a show, but never before.

That’s just career suicide. 

But I’m scared shitless of my fading drunkenness because that means Lauren will make an appearance in my thoughts or dreams. I’ve been doing so well in trying to move on without her, but once that buzz is gone, I’m toast.

I have a feeling tonight is going to be fucking terrible.

“Here we go,” Marty mutters as he unlocks the door that will lead me to my room. He manages to throw me down on the bed unceremoniously and he steps back as I fumble around, trying to undo the sheets so I can get under the covers. I don’t even bother trying to take my shoes off. “Stop,” Marty says with a troubled sigh.

His words have an immediate affect on me because I cease my actions and look up at him stupidly. All I can do is lay there as Marty rips the covers off my body and looks down at my lax form. Rolling his eyes, he sits on the edge of the bed and begins to pull off my vans.

“You are just a sad sack of shit,” he chides mournfully, “Honestly if you weren’t one of my closest friends I would probably throw up my hands and leave this tour. I’ve never seen you act this unprofessional before in all my years of working for you.”

“C’mon Marty…you know you love me,” I slur and he responds by getting off the bed quickly and moving towards the door, “Aw, don’t go!” I cry out. There must have been something in my voice to make him stop because he pauses at the door.

“You know,” I start softly and I can feel my mind traveling towards a topic I try to stay away from at all cost, “You sounded like Lauren just then.”

“Great, just what I’ve always wanted,” Marty says sarcastically under his breath, but his intonation is completely missed by me.

“The world would do well with one more Lauren,” I mumble, “That way I could have one that isn’t pissed off at me.”

“Yeah well that’s not how the world works,” Marty explains sardonically and it reminds me so strongly of her that I want to cry. I guess my face betrays what I’m thinking because my choreographer’s face softens as he approaches my pitiful form on the bed. “You okay?”

“Can you go get her for me?”

“Who, Maura?”

“No,” I spit. Is this guy a fucking idiot? “Lauren. Go get her for me.”

“That’s a bit of a problem,” Marty explains, “Seeing as we’re in England and she’s in California.” I shake my head and lift my arm, pointing it towards what I think is the door to the hallway, but in all actuality it leads to the closet.

“No. You need to get her for me.” My eyes are growing heavy and I know in just a few minutes I’ll be completely dead to the world, “Go get her and tell her I want my Christmas present.”

“Justin, you’re drunk. You aren’t making any sense,” he sounds confused and if the bastard would just clean his ears out he’d realize that this is so fucking simple a third grader could figure it out.

“No. Go tell her I want my Christmas present. She promised me that she’d come see me if it was important. And it is important. I fucking miss her…”

“I don’t think I can do that Justin…

“Yes, you can,” I say back forcefully, “Tell her…no matter what, and Cooking for Dummies…” I know I’m probably not making any sense, but I need to get this out, as my eyelids grow more and more heavy. “Christmas. Please, Mary…” I’m not even calling him by his real name. All I know is I have to make sure she gets here.

Because I fucking miss her.

*~*~*~*~*

Five days since my memorable day with Trace and the phone call with Marty and I’m feeling freaking fabulous. I’ve hit my ‘I Don’t Need a Man’ phase hard and I’m not about to let up any time soon. I’ve thrown away all the junk food in the house and I’m ready to start fresh.

Elliot and Trace can’t believe the change and I think they’ve forgotten that I’m actually a girl and not one of the guys. Elliot’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when I showed up for our spaghetti and horror movie night in jeans, a nice shirt, and shoes that weren’t flip flops. Trace seems pleased although I can tell part of him doesn’t want me to give up on his best friend completely – you know, just in case there’s reconciliation.

But screw that. I’m over it. I’m done and ready to move on.

And moving on is exactly what I’m doing at six o’clock in the morning. I have a date with a wonderful machine called a treadmill and later I’ll be exclusively seeing stair master. But for right now I want to have a hearty breakfast before I go sweat off my nasty fat

Bruno greets me in the kitchen and his little tail is thumping like mad. I have no idea what’s got him so excited and it isn’t until I’ve put the eggs on the stove and turn to look at the kitchen table that I realize I have an unwelcome visitor.

“Hey, Lo…”

“Holy fucking shit,” I jump at least ten feet in the air, clutching my chest in the process. Marty is sitting at the kitchen table looking totally out of place in the sunny room. His five o’clock shadow is much more noticeable and he looks like he’s been awake for at least thirty or more hours. In short, the bitch looks like hell and I’d feel sorry for him if he wasn’t sitting unannounced in my kitchen looking like death.

“What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Italy or something? Jesus, Marty!”

“I needed to see you in person.”

“And why? How the hell did you get in here?

“Trace gave me his key.”

Note to self; do not give anybody outside of your roommate an extra key. Trace obviously can’t be trusted and I’m going to kick his small ass into old age when I see him again.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him again. He sighs and gets to his feet, walking over to me with a grim look on his pinched face.

“I came here on behalf of a friend,” he states simply, “A friend who needs your help.”

“Obviously my phone call wasn’t enough of a hint. I feel bad because you had to fly all the way out here for me to tell you to go the hell away and leave me the fuck alone. I’m done with him and all his bull shit.”

I’m trying really hard not to lose my temper, but I’m getting close to letting it skyrocket to hysterical proportions. I’m trying to move on, I’m trying to get over him and become the better person. Let him have Maura and his career. Let me try to heal and live my life without him in it all the damn time.

But its almost four months later and I can’t escape him. No matter what I do, he always finds a way to come back into my life.

“Lauren, please. Justin’s in a bad place right now.” Is Marty pleading with me? Is he getting to the point of begging? The only other person who has a bigger ego than Marty is his boss and for the little peon to start pleading is big news.

“Well he’s a smart guy, he can use his connections and obvious talent to get himself out of it,” I say heatedly. I don’t want to deal with this. I want to eat my eggs, go to the gym, and sweat the pain out of me.

“I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation, Lo…he’s digging himself into a whole.”

“And I’ll be more than happy to use the dirt to cover the bastard up,” I retort, “I don’t give a damn what happens to him.”

“Now you’re lying to me and yourself,” he interjects and I look away from him to focus on my eggs. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away. “He needs you just as much as you need him.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I fire back, “I don’t need him anymore. If you failed to realize, I’m doing a hell of a lot better than he apparently is right now. So Marty, get the fuck out of my apartment and leave me be. I don’t want to be apart of his life anymore. Don’t you get that?”

His words have a ringing effect and his shoulders slump forward in obvious defeat. He turns towards the door and I feel a surge of victory. Thank God I managed to talk the schmuck into submission.

I watch him head towards the front door and I bite my lip when he pauses his head hanging in obvious defeat.

“This probably doesn’t mean anything because he was drunk off his ass when he said it,” Marty begins and he says it all rather quickly as if he’s embarrassed to be passing off the words of a drunk to an obviously sane person, “But he wanted me to tell you to about a Christmas present that he wants now, Cooking for Dummies, and ‘no matter what.’”

I don’t think I’m breathing properly and I’m sure my heart has stopped beating in my chest. Did Marty just say what I think he did? The fact that he was able to repeat a private moment between Justin and I, no matter how jumbled or distorted is huge. Justin is never one to go off and talk about personal business and the fact that Marty flew halfway around the world to mention Cooking for Dummies and ‘no matter what’ isn’t something I should overlook.

And then there’s the swelling of emotion that I’ve tried to suppress since our breakup that’s raising in my body. The thought that he needs me more than anything right now is almost sending me to the rooftops to scream out in adoration and joy. He needs me! Not just for a booty call, not to yell at me to my face, he needs me because he misses me, because he needs me.

Not Maura.

I look up at Marty to see that he’s turned around and looking at me expectantly. I know he’s waiting for me to spring into action, but I don’t want to jump too quickly. For all I know Justin could have told this story to Marty for a laugh and he thought it would be a good joke to see if I would fly halfway across the world to make a fool out of myself.

Then again, Justin isn’t one to display his private affairs no matter how much they could hurt someone else. The fact that he’s told Marty about this is huge in itself.

Besides, he needs me and I promised...

“Is he really that bad?”

“He’s a total wreck,” Marty responds quickly.

“Where is he right now?”

“We’re going to Manchester for a few days. I’m going back as soon as possible,” he adds.

I sigh heavily and turn off the stove, looking with forlorn at my half finished eggs. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about doing this. I swear to God if I end up getting hurt again I will kill him. Period.

Then again, if I go into this thing without hopes of getting back together or anything of that sort I’ll be okay. I’m not going to lose my temper no matter how terrible he is. I’m going in for Damage Control. I’m going in as Lauren Walters, Personal Assistant and not broken hearted ex-girlfriend/employee. If I approach this situation as professionally and unemotionally attached as I can, I’ll be okay.

I’ll try to forget, and I’ll try even harder to forgive.

“Let me grab a few things, make a few calls, and we’ll go,” I say quietly and I try not to smile at the look of extreme gratitude on Marty’s face.

Besides, the sooner I forgive and forget, the sooner I can come back home and really put him behind me.

This trip will be the last page of a long and complicated chapter to my life. 

17. Sing Sweet Nightingale

Want to know what’s worse than being drunk

Being sick and drunk at the same time.

I almost cancelled my latest show tonight due to the fact that my head feels like a giant balloon that’s going to lift off the ground at any second. My throat is on fire and I’m just tired all the fucking time. I guess you could blame it on the fact that my drinking is still going on strong and I haven’t been sleeping that well at all. Blame it on the nightmares, blame it on the fact that I’ve been staying up at all hours of the night only to fall asleep at four in the morning and have Maura wake me up two hours later to get ready for interviews – all I know is I need a fucking break.

And there isn’t any time for that.

My schedule is packed tighter than an airlock container and I know that soon I’m going to snap or do something so ridiculous it’s going to make front page news and my career will spiral deathward.

Maybe if that happens she’ll finally realize that I’m still alive and missing her.

God I sound so emo. Maybe I should dye my hair black and go on tour with My Chemical Romance instead. They’ve got the right idea on some of the shit they write and perform.

It doesn’t help that most of my so called friends on this tour are abandoning me. Marty seemed to be all for my increase in partying at the beginning of this grand tour of the world, and the rest of my dancers were pretty excited, too. But now they’re distant, they don’t want to go out to get fucked up, and now I’m left to my own devices. I make quick work of the bars downstairs in the hotel lobbies, and sometimes I manage to sneak away to pubs off the beaten track so I can drown my woes with other sorry sacks of shit.

And now I’m all alone. Marty left the tour due to a family emergency almost three days ago with the intention of returning. I don’t know if he’s going to turn back up at all. I’ve been a terrible person to deal with, and yet I’m not going to make any apologies for it. I’m enjoying making people freak out whenever I walk into a room. I love watching tears well up in Maura’s eyes when she tries to take care of me, to get me to stop drinking. She just doesn’t get it, no one does. No one understands that I can’t get better and I won’t change because the one good thing in my life has eradicated herself.

Maybe I just don’t want to change.

Tonight I decided not to go out and opted for a night in my hotel room. I’m actually a social drinker and I enjoy going out with friends and getting totally trashed. I felt nothing but pity for those who don’t have the means to go out with others and get shit faced. So it seems only fitting that I’m feeling sorry for myself right now as I knock back another glass of whiskey.

Maura tried to get me to stop about half an hour after our return to the hotel. I threw a few things, yelled, and managed to get her to retreat back to her room. I know I won’t be bothered again seeing as I put the chain over my door and bolted the dead lock. So now it’s just me, a heap load of booze, and horrible British reality television. I thought American television was bad, but this…this takes the cake. I’m currently watching a handful of teenagers dealing with other people’s babies in hopes to stave off their own need to start a family. Good concept, but these kids are just…idiots.

I’m slumped in front of the couch, my right hand absentmindedly feeling the grooves in the nearly empty glass of whiskey as the light from the television pools over me. I think I may just sit here all day tomorrow and not leave to go to my interviews.

Sure it sounds very unprofessional and I could be killing my career but that’s what she wants. If Lauren wants me to give up my career then fine. I’ll fuck it up and do the whole fallen star routine. Maybe then she’ll want me if I don’t put my career first.

I celebrate these thoughts with another swig of whiskey. The stuff burns as it goes down my throat but soon I’m taking two, three, four, no…maybe six gulps of Jack. By the seventh sip it doesn’t burn anymore and I can feel myself slip deeper and deeper into a stupor that no doubt will have me crying and puking in the morning.

I stifle a cough and snort back all the snot that’s been gathering in my nostrils. Drinking this much has almost made me forgotten that I’ve got a fucking horrible head cold. I pray to Jesus it doesn’t go down into my chest because then singing will be impossible.

But the last time I checked I was going to give all this shit up so maybe a chest cold wouldn’t be that bad.

I pour another round of whiskey into my glass and take a sip. This can’t be good, I’m going to be a raging drunk if I’m not one already. The television screen has become a blur and I know that if I stand up I’ll probably fall right back down again.

The muffled voices from the television are really starting to piss me off. Mainly because I can’t understand them at all. It’s just one big jumbled mess and I really don’t want to have to deal with this bullshit. Leaning forward, I grab for the remote and curse loudly as the clicker falls to the floor. Great. No turning off the television then.

But what was that noise? I’m almost certain it didn’t come from the TV and there’s no one else in the room. Is the door opening?

“Herllow?” was that my own voice? It sounds so…different when I’m this far drunk. I think this is the farthest I’ve ever been and I’m kind of scared to see what sort of nightmares my own mind has in store for me.

I hear the door close and I shake my head. There’s no way anybody could get in here. I locked the door three times tonight and no one will be able to get in unless I open the door. I move my hand and feel it brush against my now half empty glass of whiskey. I hear the slight clatter of ice in the cup and my brow furrows quizzically. Did I leave the room at all? I can kind of recall walking down the hallway to the ice machine.

Did I do that?

Did I get ice?

Did I bolt the door once I got back in the room?

What the hell?

Moving sluggishly, I manage to pull myself to my feet, my hand still firmly clutched around my drink. Stumbling towards the door, I bring myself to look up and out and I nearly fall on my ass.

Lauren Walters is walking right for me.

Walking right, fucking towards me.

Looking down at my drink I stumble backwards a bit and chuckle under my breath.

“Well damn, this shit is a lot stronger than I thought.” I have to be hallucinating. This is the only reason why Lauren would be standing in front of me in the middle of my hotel room, in Manchester, the United Kingdom…halfway across the world. I try to remember how many drinks I’ve had because if I can recreate this moment tomorrow night, and the next and the next, then there won’t be any need for me to leave this hotel room at all.

Well only to get more booze.

Speaking of, maybe if I take another sip, she’ll talk

Raising the glass up, I tilt it in her direction for a silent toast. A few drops spill over the top and I grin like an idiot as I raise the glass to my lips. Her reflexes are a lot faster than mine because in a millisecond her hand is grasped around my wrist, hindering me from taking another sip.

“Put it down,” she says firmly and I try to stumble backwards and out of my hallucination’s tight grip but she holds. My eyes widen and I look down at the glass that I’m still gripping in my hand.

“Jesus, what the hell did I put into this?” I mutter as I try to shake her hand off me, all the while hoping I don’t spill a drop of my precious whiskey.

“Put it down,” she growls again and this time she squeezes my wrist so hard that I have no choice but to let the glass fall down to the ground, the contents spilling all over my bare feet and her shoes.

“Lauren?” I croak, “What…how?”

I know this can’t be a dream. In my dreams she always shows up telling me how sorry she is and how she was wrong about this whole ordeal. My dream Lauren always tells me that she loves me but she isn’t doing that now. So is this really a dream?

“Come on,” she mumbles quietly and before I can move she’s standing next to me, throwing my arm over her shoulders. I sneeze loudly as we make our way into the next room. With this sudden change of events I’ve found that I’m having a hard time walking and the only thing that’s keeping me upright is the fact that I’m leaning heavily on my ex-girlfriend who may or may not be a hallucination.

And I’ve never been so happy to see a bed in my life. I look over at Lauren and nudge her slightly before giggling under my breath, “Right direction!” I mutter.

“Oh shut up,” she grunts before I’m being tossed down on top of the bed. I smile and reach up for her but she quickly bats my hand out of the way. “Go to bed.”

“Will you stay with me?” I whisper as I clumsily put myself underneath the covers. I look up at her and my heart flutters when she inclines her head. Her face is swirling around me and I feel so dizzy. I know I’m going to be feeling this in the morning, but as of right now I don’t care. The only thing that will send me over the edge is if I wake up tomorrow morning to find out that this was all a dream and she wasn’t really here.

I watch as she sits down next to me on the bed, her hands playing with the corners of the covers to give her something to do. I want to do something to show her that I’m glad she’s here, but good ideas are escaping me at the moment.

I close my eyes for a second or two, hoping that when I open them she’ll still be there. But in that moment of my eyes being closed, I feel a hand resting on the top of my shorn head. I open my bleary eyes in an instant and look up to see Lauren staring at me. Our eyes meet and I almost have to look away.

They don’t show any sympathy or remorse. They seem shut off, almost distant. In a word, the way she’s looking at me is like steel. My eyes are getting heavier and I know I can drift off to sleep knowing that she’s right here.

Whether or not she’ll be there when I wake up remains to be seen.

*~*~*~*

I am never going to drink that much again.

My head feels like it’s been stuffed in a vice and squeezed just before the point of explosion. The headache is starting to set in right behind my eyes and I want nothing more than to shove the pillow over my face and keep right on sleeping.

But I have to know if last night was real.

I have a vague memory of how I got into bed but it seems so far fetched I can’t think of anything that would justify what I saw. How could Lauren be here? It just seems so ridiculous and part of me wishes I could go back to last night sober…

But then again I can’t remember the last time I was sober at night. God I’m a mess.

I push myself out of bed and nearly fall on my ass. I am so unstable even when I’m hung over that it’s borderline ridiculous. Even I know I need to get over this whole thing and yet a bigger part of me wants to hang on with this self-beating shtick to see if it will get her attention.

Wiping the sleep and sickness from my eyes, I walk out into the living area of the suite and look around. The curtains are all pulled back and sunlight is pouring in. I squint my eyes and walk towards the sitting area. Did I turn the TV off last night?

I stop dead in my tracks when I see Lauren lounging on the couch, reading a book and looking as if she’s been here for months rather than a few hours. She’s completely oblivious to my presence and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible. She seems completely absorbed in the book she’s reading and I would almost hate to bother her. It just seems so weird to finally be in the same room with her after we haven’t spoken in almost four months.

She just looks so peaceful…

I lean against the wall as I continue to watch her. She flips a page over and brings a finger up to her mouth, chewing on it slightly. I open my mouth to say something but all of a sudden my throat and stomach start to ache and I can feel the contents from last night stir violently in my stomach.

I close my mouth and swallow hard, a slight noise omitting from my throat. It was quiet enough to be ignored if the room was filled with people, but since it’s just me and her, and she’s just reading, the sound is deafening.

Her head shoots up as I turn around and run like a bat out of hell towards the bathroom, my hands covering my mouth. I can feel the liquid struggling to rise out of me and I only just make it to the bathroom before I’m spewing the old liquor and stomach acid into the toilet bowl.

My body retches back and forth and I reach up haphazardly to flush the toilet but a hand is already there. Leaning back away from the toilet, I reach up with my free hand and wipe away the contents there. Looking up, I see Lauren back away right as the toilet flushes and my puke fades away down the piping. She returns to a position of leaning against the threshold, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks down at me, judging me.

I’m about to open my mouth but the feeling to vomit strikes again and soon I’m leaning against the toilet again, my hands gripping the rim of the bowl as I struggle to not completely throw up my stomach and the rest of my internal organs. I hate looking like a pussy in front of her and I hate knowing that I can’t hold my liquor in front of her either.

I flush the toilet again and lean back against the wall opposite the toilet. I bring my knees up to my chest and hug them to me with my arms. Resting my head between the two knees, I sigh heavily and turn to look up at her – her position hasn’t changed.

“Why are you here?” I croak out. I can taste my breath on my tongue and it’s disgusting. I don’t want her to get too close, but then again she just saw me spewing my guts out so maybe disgusting breath should be the least of my worries.

She seems to take a long time to think about her answer and I see her shift her weight as she tosses her hair behind her head. I just want to touch it, run my fingers through it, and make sure that the person standing in front of me is still real.

“You needed me, I came,” is all she says. I can tell she’s trying to filter her words and keep herself in check.

“How did you know?” I figure if I keep asking questions about why she’s here it will keep me from thinking about all the other things I want to ask her so desperately.

“Marty.” I think she’s going to keep her responses short and to the point. I’m going to look over the fact that I pretty much admitted that I need her right now. I hope she didn’t pick that up and by the look of her unchanging expression, it seems like it went over her head.

“How are you?” I venture. I can see her shoulders begin to tense and she looks over her shoulder as if hoping someone will come bursting through the doors to save her from this rather awkward situation.

“Better than you are,” she retorts and I can hear the hint of acid on her voice. So she isn’t going to delve into what she’s doing with her life. I guess I can let that slide although the curiosity is killing me.

She looks good though, really good. Trace and I have been keeping up a good correspondence and the little that he’ll tell me about Lauren and her life right now is hardly enough to keep me satisfied. I know she’s still living with Elliot, she was demoted at work due to her horrible conduct at the Grammy party, and while she gained some weight, for the most part she’s been taking care of herself.

I can only hope Trace didn’t go on and on to Lauren about how much of a fucking mess I am. But judging by her expression and her sudden no-nonsense attitude, I don’t think she really cares.

“I’m hungry,” I say suddenly and she rolls her eyes, which causes me to almost laugh. I’ve missed that so much. “Can we go downstairs and get food?”

“No.”

“What?” I struggle to get to my feet and I walk towards her. She immediately moves away from me, heading towards the main living area of the suite. I can tell she doesn’t want to get too close and I couldn’t agree more. I don’t know what would happen if we were standing inches away from one another. I don’t know if I’d be able to contain myself.

“I was debriefed by Johnny before I came up here that you aren’t supposed to leave your room.”

“But I have shows! I have interviews! I have photo shoots and parties to go to!” I complain as she walks back over to the couch to pick up her discarded book.

“Not anymore. Johnny’s cancelled them all, Ken’s released a statement, and your shows have been rescheduled. Right now the only thing everyone is concerned about is your health and hoping you don’t submit yourself to alcohol poisoning.”

“I’m fine,” I grumble, feeling real put off that Lauren is spewing things at me that I would only hear from Maura.

“Oh sure,” she says sarcastically as she picks up the phone and presses a button, “and that’s why I flew half way around the world to make sure you didn’t kill your sorry ass.”

My temper immediately flares up and I want nothing more than to rush over and knock the phone out of her hand. What gives her the right to come in here, scare me out of my wits, and then tell me what I can and cannot do in my hotel room?

I’m about to tell her off but she suddenly becomes animated as she begins to order room service and the low rumbling of my stomach agrees. I shake my head as she hangs up the phone and I turn my back on her. I don’t know what else to do or say and I’m afraid that if I hang around her too long, I’ll say something both of us will regret.

“Where are you going?”

“Shower,” I respond automatically before I slam the door to my bedroom.

Leaning against the door, I slide down to the ground and hold onto my head with my hands. If I have to hang around with my ex-girlfriend for a few days I’m going to need some help. Crawling forward, I reach underneath my bed and pull out my suitcase. Opening the case I stare down for what has to be a good five minutes. The little bitch took all my liquor.

Shit.

*~*~*~*~*

Why did I come here?

No really, why did I pick up my life again and move halfway around the world just for him?

Granted I’m only supposed to be here for four days and I’m entering my last night in Manchester, but still…why the hell am I here?

For the most part the past few days have been long, stressful, and absolutely dreadful. The only thing Justin and I have done is watch television, movies, and order room service. The extent of our conversations don’t extend past the obligatory, ‘how are you,’ and ‘I’m going to bed.’ There are no ‘sweet dreams,’ or random talks about what’s going on in our lives. I’m trying not to care what Justin is going through other than this whole addiction to alcohol thing. I don’t want to know what he’s been doing the past few months and I don’t want to know what he has scheduled in the future.

I spent the whole plane ride over here with Marty trying to emotionally detach myself from the situation I was getting into. I don’t know what was harder, watching Justin standing in front of me looking like a zombie the first night, or watching him lean over the toilet the next morning, wishing I could reach out and rub his back. But there can be no contact, emotionally or physically. I don’t want or need it.

The tension has been somewhat bearable, but I definitely deserve a break. While Justin has a hard time convincing me and the rest of his crew to leave the confines of his suite, I can basically come and go as I please. Granted I’m worried that Justin will be the sneaky bastard that he is known to be and he’ll go running out to find some kind of alcohol while he’s left alone. And no one else wants to deal with him.

Gee, go figure.

I can’t help but think that maybe Maura would want to be in my position but most of the people I’ve talked to that belong to Justin’s entourage tell me that she’s keeping to herself and whenever she is in the company of others, she acts like a righteous bitch.

So I guess nothing much has changed with Maura, then.

My last night here and while I should be trying to get Justin to promise me and the rest of his tourmates that he won’t fall back to drink again, I’m currently sitting in Michele and Tammy’s room with the rest of the female dancers, talking about random shit.

“Ava went out last night with a really hot guy we ran into at a club the other night.” Apparently all the dancers have been taking advantage of a few shows being cancelled because they’re taking in the sights that Manchester has to offer and I think even a few of them have gone to see some football games.

Jealous. I’d much rather be with them than stuck with Justin. But I was called in to do a job and I’m going to perform to the best of my abilities and try not to screw it up. I swear if I get sick because of Justin, I’ll be super pissed, though.

“Is he from here?” I ask as I pick up the pack of cigarettes that Nancy threw down on the bed earlier. I don’t know how these girls don’t drop down dead from black lung or something while they’re dancing because when they aren’t onstage they’re either on the phone long distance with their boyfriends, or smoking.

Needless to say I’m stressed out enough to want a few cigarettes myself. Tammy throws me a lighter and I silently thank the lord that they booked a smoking room. Lighting up, I lean against the headboard and wait for the girl’s response.

“Born and raised, his accent is to die for,” Ava says in an almost dreamy fashion. “I’m supposed to go hang out with him tonight…” A chorus of ‘oohs’ are exchanged and Ava responds by chucking a pillow at the nearest person, which would be Dana.

“You excited to go home?” Michele asks as she turns towards me. The mood changes suddenly and I find myself growing almost uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” I start slowly, “It’s been great seeing you all again, but…”

“It’s fucking awkward?” Dana offers and I nod vigorously as I take a long drag before blowing out, the warmth hitting me directly in the lungs.

“He doesn’t seem like the same person and, I don’t know…” my voice fades away. Shit, this is hard to talk about. Luckily these girls are trustworthy and aren’t going to run off to their boss and rat me out or anything.

“Well he is different,” Nancy, offers, “I mean he’s changed a lot since you two…well, you know.”

“I guess so. But he isn’t sick any more and I’d like to think he’s kicked his immature antics of drinking himself silly almost every night. He’s got to stop acting like an unprofessional twat and pull himself together.”

“Did you tell him that?” Michele is lying on her stomach on the opposite bed, a pillow propped underneath her chin.

“Of course I did,” I say as I remember his little tirade the second night I was in town. I told myself time and time again that I wasn’t going to fight him on anything unless his words were directed at my family or close friends. He was pissed that I was there, mad that people thought of him as unprofessional and a lost cause. He called me names, threw a few things, but I just stood there. I fucking stood there when I know full well that if I wasn’t looking at this situation like a nurse looking at an asylum patient, I would be throwing things right back and yelling in his face like I always did.

He settled down when he realized I wasn’t gearing up with my own arsenal and he managed to yell himself hoarse which was good for me because that meant he couldn’t talk for the rest of the night. So I just poured his antibiotics down his throat, ordered his dinner, sent him to bed, and when I went into his room to make sure he wasn’t keeping a secret stash of booze I might have slipped that I thought he was being unprofessional and a twat. .

I feel like a mother fucking babysitter.

One of the other girls are about to pose a question but the phone on the bedside table begins to ring shrilly. Tammy stretches her long body across the bed and picks it up, giggling a greeting into the phone. I finish off the remains of my cigarette and watch as her face changes to displeasure.

“Right,” she holds the phone away from her ear and gives a grimace before she pushes the receiver in my direction, “It’s for you.”

Taking the phone, I hold it up to my ear, already knowing that no matter who it is on the other line, I’m not going to like what they’re going to tell me. “Yes?"

“Lauren. It’s Maura. Justin’s been calling me for the past hour because you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.”

My blood runs cold and I want nothing more than to scream obscenities into the phone and make sure that Maura is in tears by the end of this phone call. But I know that if I let my emotions get the better of me like that it’ll show that I still care about what the bitch did to me.

Granted I do care, but I don’t want the entire team knowing that I’m still hung up on Maura La Whora.

“And where is that?” I ask her sweetly.

“You were called back to assist with his recovery, not take part in girl talk,” she retorts shortly.

“I know that, but that still doesn’t tell me where I’m supposed to be right now,” I repeat in the same voice. I want to piss her off because lord knows if she wants to keep her cover she won’t blow up at me.

“You’re supposed to be with him,” she says quickly and I can tell that she’s trying not to lose her own temper.

“And that would be where?”

There’s silence before I hear Maura mutter under her breath, “…his room.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” I say loudly and I try not to join the rest of the girls who are trying to conceal their snorts of laughter.

“His room. Would you just go check up on him and do your job?”

“Last time I checked that was the PA’s job, but since he doesn’t seem to need you right now, I suppose I’ll have to do it. You have a good night, though. Cheers.” And before the bitch can say anything more, I slam the phone down and smile brightly as the rest of the girls begin to cheer.

“She can be such a bitch sometimes,” Tammy complains as she pulls out another cigarette and lights up. I respond by snatching the box out of her hands and start on my second cigarette.

“We could fuck with her a little bit more,” Dana offers with a wide grin as she holds up the thick room service menu.

“Oooh, gimme!” I state as I keep the cigarette between my lips, “What room is she in?”

Ten minutes later and we’ve ordered absolutely everything off the menu to be delivered to Maura Delaney in room 1211. I know it’ll go on Justin’s tab, but the fact is he’s going to have to pay for a very expensive order that Maura seemingly purchased. Hopefully she’ll get a huge fucking reprimand from not only Justin, but Johnny and the rest of the higher ups as well.

But still, her call was important and it seems like I’ll have to go rushing back to play the Superman to Justin’s shitty Lois Lane. I say my final goodbye to the girls as I make my way down the hall towards Justin’s enormous suite.

I don’t want to do this.

I really, really don’t want to do this

I’d rather sleep in the Manchester airport all night than spend it in here.

Nevertheless, I open the door and head inside. I can hear the television in the distance and it isn’t until I fully walk into the living area that I see Justin sitting on the couch with empty plates sitting on the coffee table.

“Where the hell did you run off to?” he demands in a quiet voice. I’m glad he isn’t going to yell because that’s something I can’t deal with right now.

“Seeing some old friends,” I respond with a mere shrug as I pick up the tray holding the plates. I take it to let it rest outside the door and when I return I see Justin holding up a DVD, a sort of twisted smirk on his face.

“It’s movie time,” he explains and it isn’t until he moves his hand in the lamp light that I see he’s holding onto one of those slash-em-up-gratuitous violence movies that I hate with a fiery passion. Most of the time I usually end up clutching onto the nearest person in complete fear.

“You know I don’t like those movies,” I say quietly as I move past him. I don’t want to get into a conversation with him and we’re starting to move in that direction. I just want him to get tired and go to sleep so I can do the same and then get the hell out of here.

“We watched one of those shitty romantic comedies last night,” he argues and I sigh heavily as I throw up my hands in defeat and sit down in front of the couch, my back leaning against it.

“Whatever, put it in.”

He puts the disc into the player before he sprawls out on the couch, and I can just feel his hands brushing against the back of my head. I close my eyes and think that maybe if I can fall asleep I don’t have to subject myself to this bullshit.

Of course someone dies a horrible death by lawnmower the first five minutes into the film and I’m ready to call it quits by the second death, which occurs another fifteen minutes later.

“Look,” I begin but he silences me by rapping me sharply on the top of the head with the palm of his hand. I count to ten and realize that by the time I have my temper under control his hand is still resting on top of my head.

I nearly bite my tongue in two when he starts to absentmindedly run his fingers through my hair. I can tell he’s not doing it on purpose because he laughs loudly when someone’s head gets separated from their body via heavy metal sheet.

Really, who the fuck writes this shit?

The thing that’s really starting to get me is the fact that we’re just sitting here watching a movie, acting like nothing’s changed. But a whole hell of a lot of shit has gone down and I just don’t know how to deal with this stuff right now. I don’t know if I should pull away and make him angry and open up the can of worms we’ve been dancing around since I came here. I’m not sure if I should just continue to let him play with my hair and hope that it stops when the credits roll…

God this sucks.

And then the music comes to a huge cacophonous bang and the guy that’s been killing all the sad sorority girls comes leaping out from behind a shower curtain. The people in the film are screaming along with me as I throw my hands up in the air and reach out behind me, grabbing onto Justin’s arm and holding on for dear life.

I hate him, I really do. The bastard knew what he was doing the minute he picked out this damn movie to watch. “God dammit,” I breathe. I immediately start to frown when I feel Justin raise his arm, pulling me out of my position and onto the couch next to him.

“I hate you,” I grumble at him as I try to put as much distance between the two of us as possible. Kind of hard when I’m still gripping onto his forearm. Really if he wasn’t such a huge staple to pop culture I would disfigure his face. What a fucking ass.

Did Justin pick the movie that would get me holding onto him the fastest? Because the amount of deaths in this movie is astounding. Ten minutes later and I’m now right up against him, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. My head is currently buried in the crook of his neck and I’m trying so hard to breathe with my mouth so I don’t have to inhale his foreign, but all too familiar scent.

I’m not going to look up until I know it’s over. I refuse to be scared even further onto his lap and I’m not going to let this little bastard win. He has to know that I don’t want to do this; he has to know that I want to change and move on.

Justin has to know.

“Hey,” he starts as he nudges me into alertness with his body. I don’t dare look up just in case he’s trying to scare me further, “It’s over.”

My trust in him is slim to none and so I don’t move from my position. I don’t trust him, and I don’t know what miracles he’d have to perform in order for me to trust him again. I feel his arm leave its position around my shoulders and soon two hands are framing my face and pushing me away from his body.

I go rigid as he brings my face up to look him in the eyes. All I can think to do is keep my gaze away from his. I can’t do this; I can’t do what I think he’s wanting me to do. I don’t want to do this. God, this isn’t good.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Just become void of emotion. Count to ten, sing chants in your head, do something that will keep me from showing him that I still need him, want him. His hands are still on my cheeks and it feels like an old friend has come home, but I don’t dare let that register on my face.

My panic deepens as his breath quickens and he draws my face closer to his. God he’s so close, this is the closest we’ve been in months and I’m screaming to be on the other side of the world as him. I want this and yet I don’t all at the same time. I don’t want to fall back into this again I could never forgive myself.

And yet, would it be that bad?

His face is getting closer and I can just feel the surface of his lips mere millimeters from my own. His breath is tickling my face. We’re so close and who the hell knows what would happen if one of us went that extra percent.

Yes…it would be terrible if I allowed myself to take this all back. Because he still has Maura and nothing I say or do will make him change his mind about her. He made that perfectly clear months ago and the fact that she’s still on tour with him is enough damning evidence.

Still…

I jerk my head back ever so slightly and watch as Justin looks down, biting his lower lip in the process. He slowly lets his hands slide off of my face and I watch as they fall into his lap.

Thank you, thank you, thank you God!

“Do you really have to leave tomorrow?” he asks quietly, his gaze still locked on his clasped hands.

“Yes. I have to get back to my life.”

A life that you think you aren’t apart of, but in all actuality you’re there every day. I want to tell him that so desperately but I can’t wait around anymore. I can’t allow him to disregard my needs, I can’t let him shove me into the background while he thinks about himself first.

I need to let him go.

I need to do this for myself…because it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything for me.

“Oh,” is all he says but he says it in such a small voice it seems as if his entire heart was crushed under its weight. I don’t know what he wants out of this…I don’t want to ask him. I just don’t want him around anymore because it’s dangerous. Dangerous for me, for my friends, for the life I’ve managed to salvage after we called it quits.

He’s been my life for so long that it’s time for me to make my own.

He doesn’t say that he’ll miss me, but a part of me wants to believe that I can see it in the way his shoulders are slumped forward and the fact that he still won’t look me in the eye. Of course I don’t want to look him in the eyes because lord only knows it’ll cause me to break.

“But you’ll be okay right? You won’t do any of this bullshit drinking and excessive partying anymore?” He’s quiet for a long time and I’m worried he’s going to tell me that he doesn’t give a damn and neither should I.

“No, I won’t.” His responses are short and his breathing is becoming terse and short. I reach out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, knowing that this is the first time I’ve voluntarily touched him.

“Good,” I say with a firm smile. He looks up and our eyes lock together. His blue eyes are swimming with what seem to be frustration, stubbornness, and a trace of apprehension. I don’t know what my eyes are conveying because my head is a clusterfuck of emotions that I haven’t felt in almost five months. Jesus Christ…

I do the only thing I can do and lean forward, pulling him into a hug. It was the only thing I could do that would break the connection and not seem like I was being completely obvious. His arms wrap slowly around my waist and I try again to not drink in his scent of distant cologne and peppermint.

“Lauren,” he whispers against my ear and his breath ruffles my hair. My breath hitches in my throat and I find myself again wracking my brain for advice on what to do next. This situation is completely alien to me and I have no idea how to act. The most important question is what will happen next.

And I know what’s about to happen the second I feel myself starting to lean back against the couch, Justin’s arms still wrapped around me. I’m so not in the mood to be doing this or to even think about it, but I don’t know…God I don’t know.

We’re completely lateral and Justin takes his arms from my waist and lets his hands sink into the couch on either side of my head. Balancing on one hand, he reaches with the other one to push a strand of hair out of my face. I avoid his eyes at all costs and I close my own when he draws his face close to mine. Will he kiss me or will I suck it up and kiss him? His breath is washing over my face and I can just feel the outline of his lips on corner of my mouth. He hovers there for a moment, his mouth barely touching my own. I stifle the giggle that’s threatening to escape my mouth due to the tickling sensation is breath is causing on my skin.

It continues on for another ten minutes, just laying on the couch with him, his face inches from my own as if he’s hovering over a landing strip, wondering if he has the credentials to actually ground the plane. Our legs are tangled together and I know it’s going to be a bitch of an effort to untangle them whenever I get the balls to end this.

But I don’t have the courage or the energy to stop. I refuse to bend my will and I won’t yield until he does…and I know he isn’t going to end this until it’s all over. Unless he really has changed like Nancy said a few hours ago.

How do I get myself into these positions? It’s like our bodies have this unspoken agreement to connect our minds are screaming out in protest. Well, at least mine is… but my body is a lot bigger than my mind and it seems like it wants to go for it.

Because my hands are lightly running up and down his back as he continues to slowly outline my jaw with just the shadow of his lips. Part of me wants to move forward so he has no choice but to kiss me, but I know that’s crossing the line and entering some really dangerous shit.

The hand that’s keeping him positioned over me moves away from the couch and he slowly falls down on top of me, sending my body to mold with the cushions. His breath has traveled down to the collar of my shirt and he just rests his head in the crook of my neck while I continue to trace lines and patterns onto the back of his shirt.

And then my hands move lower and toy with the hem of his shirt and before I can collect my thoughts, he’s helped me remove his shirt and is now assisting me to shimmy out of mine.

His breath continues its tour de force to my chest and I keep my eyes closed and body rigid trying to think of something else that will keep me out of the present. His breath is back at my collarbone and as he shifts his weight my eyes fly open when I feel his stiffness against my inner thigh.

God this is going to happen isn’t it?

I don’t dare look at him for any indication; all I know is this needs to be over, and quick. We’ve already gone halfway and honestly there could be the slight chance that maybe, just maybe if we do this we can connect on the level we were once tuned in on. Maybe the fire will rekindle, maybe some semblance of the good old days will resurface and we can put all the bad stuff behind us.

Maybe we’ll let ourselves forgive.

We wordlessly shed the rest of our clothes and I watch out of my peripheral vision as he bites his lip and searches my face for something that will tell him what to do next. I turn my face to look at him and he nods noiselessly before he crashes into me without a sound.

This is the most surreal thing I have ever experienced in my life. There are no moans of pleasure, no feelings of complete ecstasy surging through my body…it’s just nothing. It’s the old familiar motions and yet there isn’t any familiarity to them at all. It’s mechanical; it’s just there.

I can’t bring myself to look at him as we move unsynchronized through the motions. I know another minute in that there is no way in hell either of us are getting any satisfaction out of this at all and I know for a fact that there will be no after fuck cuddle. I can’t even bring myself to hold onto him…I’m looking to the couch for comfort and support

There is something incredibly wrong with this picture.

Another minute later and it’s over. The worst sex of my life with the person who usually steps up to the plate and delivers the most fantastic orgasms and feelings ever, is over. I watch as he sits up at the other end of the couch, looking…God I can’t even explain what he looks like right now.

He turns to look at me and our eyes meet once more. He looks disappointed, let down, and…it can’t be fear can it? The man who’s entire skeletal system is made of cocky seems so unsure of himself and freaked out that it feels like I’m looking at a completely different person.

Is this the person everyone on tour has been seeing, the one that Justin won’t let me see even when we’ve been in such close quarters for almost five days?

He tears his eyes away from me and wordlessly gathers his clothes and heads into his bedroom. I flinch as he slams the door shut without another word. And it isn’t until I’m left with the realization that I have to sleep on the couch that I just had awkward sex on.

Fuck no.

I quickly throw my clothes on and head towards the phone located in the front hallway. I’d rather sleep in the fucking airport than stay another night in this hotel room and be reminded of all the shit that just went down.

After I call for a cab, I throw all my things into my little suitcase and head for the door. I don’t even pause to look back as I let the door slam behind me and make my way out into the corridor.

All I can think about as I ride the elevator down to the lobby is that no matter what way I look at it, the fact remains:

There was never a chance of us getting back together on this trip no matter how much my heart secretly wished it would happen. All I have to do is go back to California, put this terrible mess behind me, and forget.

But forgive…I don’t know if that’s something I can ever do.  

18. Strange Things

Hearing that door slam was probably one of the worst sounds I’ve heard in my life. Knowing that once again she was gone, maybe this time for good, made me want to go back and do all the things I was doing before she showed up. Drinking like an alcoholic, maybe become a pothead again…I don’t care.  All I know is that there needs to be something out there that can take away this type of pain I’m feeling. Because to tell you the truth I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like this before.

I want to call her more than anything in the world, but I know that as soon as I pick up that phone I’m going to pussy out and it won’t happen. I can’t bring myself to call her; I can’t bring myself to ask her how she is, because how do you ask someone how they are after you’ve just experienced one of the most awkward encounters of your life with that person?

I can’t believe I fucking did that

I can’t believe we fucking did that.

What were we thinking?

Were we even thinking at all?

I don’t get it. What made us do that? And why the fuck didn’t I kiss her?

I’m a fucking idiot.

I’m so mad at myself I can’t even see straight. I sounded like an idiot at one of my interviews this week because all I could think about was how we did what we did and at the end of it all, I just grabbed my clothes and ran away like a fucking little girl!

That was a perfect window for me to open my mouth and tell her everything that’s on my mind. My moment to talk. But did I talk? No! All I did was get my shit and run for the hills leaving her out there all by herself.

God damn, I’m a moron.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I don’t know. Maybe I was just scared…I don’t’ know what I was feeling that night. I just miss her, okay? And no one really gets that. I don’t think anyone could get that other than her. And the way she looked that night…well it looked like she didn’t give a damn.

And I just…it’s just frustrating.

When the door slammed I knew she had left. I didn’t know where to, but I knew that she wasn’t going to be coming back and wait for me to grow some balls and talk to her about stuff that’s been plaguing us since…maybe since when we got back together.

I’ve still been distant. I’ve tried to be cheery and happy around everyone on tour but it’s just so hard when I know the one person who can make it all better is halfway around the world probably trying to put all of this behind her. She probably doesn’t give a shit about me.

Then again, she has to care because why else would she drop everything to come take care of my sorry ass? But she wasn’t like the Lauren I knew…she’s different. She just wants to forget and move on. And in a way I do too, but I want to move on with her. I don’t want to forget, I want to forgive but I don’t want to forget. I can’t forget, I won’t let myself forget.

I called Trace about an hour after she left knowing full well I needed to hear someone else’s voice. I couldn’t be alone and I couldn’t talk to anyone else aside from Trace because above all others, I’m sure he could find some way to understand.

But dammit I don’t know what she’s thinking. I don’t know if she does care or if she doesn’t and the most frustrating thing about all of this is I don’t fucking know what she’s thinking. Lauren! The person who always speaks her mind…for the first time in my life I can’t look at her and know if she’s happy, sad, or freaking pissed off.

I knew full well the shit I was saying to her over the past few days we were together would piss her off and make her fall back into the old Lauren again and throw things at me and scream at me, and just be her. But she was different. She just stood there and took everything I was throwing at her. She didn’t do anything and I don’t know what that is. I don’t get it.

I’m an idiot, I don’t get it.

I don’t think I ever will get it because I can’t talk to her about it. I want to, but I can’t bring myself to pick up that phone. Because bringing myself to talk about it shows her that I have some shred of doubt

And I can’t do that and I will be so mad at myself if I admit that I’m wrong. Because I’m not wrong and admitting that I am tells her that I’m sorry for the things I said that night back in February. But I’m not sorry for some of the things I said to her back. I regret some of it yes, but there are a few things that we screamed at one another that I don’t think I would ever want to take back.

I’m not sorry for putting my career first. It’s my life, it’s my passion, I can’t breathe without it.

But I can’t breathe without her.

I know there’s some kind of balance that needs to be settled, but I can’t find it.

So I talked to Trace. I didn’t really know what to say because he talks to Lauren. And I don’t want to bring it up with him that we had really awkward sex and have him tell me off.

He was understanding and he listened and I’m not worried that he’s going to turn around and tell Lauren because he’s assured me time and time again that he’s neutral in this whole steaming pile of shit and he won’t pick a side. He’s just going to be there for me like a friend should and if he has any advice to offer me I’ll take it.

“I don’t know what to do, Trace. I’m just really confused,” I found the strength to pull some clothes on and I’m leaning against the headboard of my bed, running a hand over my head as I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.

“Well no shit I’d be confused, too. I mean what the fuck did you do, man? God,” well I guess Trace isn’t going to be offering me any sympathy. Then again, I’m not asking for it…I just want someone to understand.

“I know it’s just…it just kind of happened, you know? It kind of just, we just…did it and nothing came out of it…it wasn’t like how it used to be,” I finally say after stammering like a crazy little bitch. God, I hate that I’m such a fucking mess right now. 

“Yeah I’m sure. I don’t know what to tell you man this is crazy. Maybe you should just let her go and move on. Maybe it’d be better for both of you.” I don’t want to do that. That’s the last thing I need to do. How could it be better for me when I know that the best thing for me is to be with her?

“I should,” I find myself saying, but I sigh heavily, “but you know me, I’m selfish I can’t do that. A part of me believes that she’s the only good thing that’s left.”

“Well you’ve been treating that good thing in your life pretty shitty.” He has a point.

“Yeah…Did she call you at all? After?” I venture. Maybe he just got off the phone with her and he can offer me some insight into what she’s thinking right now.

“Look, dude…I want to tell you but – she just wants to go. You can’t tie her down forever.” So he has talked to her. And I guess she just wants to cut all ties and leave it alone. I want to make her happy, but I have to make myself happy too…

“I know…I’m just confused.”

“Why? What’s to be confused about? You spent four days with the woman, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to her about anything that’s been bothering you and making you crazy for the past couple of months…you have sex with her. Big deal, but yet nothing came of it. I don’t understand…if you wanted this to be the reason you got together, well sorry to say but it didn’t work.”

“No shit, you idiot of course it didn’t work,” I say getting angry. I realize that this isn’t Trace’s fault; I have no one to blame but myself. I sigh heavily and sit straight up, I feel a slight ache in my back and know it’s probably from the rather awkward position I was in less than an hour ago, “I even busted out the scary movie.”

I have to hold the phone away from my ear because Trace is laughing his ass off, “Oh shit you did not. I’m so mad at you right now I can’t even see straight.” His tone is still light but I can tell he’s still a bit disappointed in me.

“Why are you mad at me?”

“Well, you pulled out the horror flick. Lord knows if you want to put her in a sappy, talkative mood you pop in the romantic comedy!” I groan loudly as I fall back against the headboard shaking my head. 

“Oh fuck me.”

“What?” he asks, his voice suddenly high pitched and he sounds excessively curious.

“She put that on the night before.”

“Like I said: the Idiot of the Year Award goes to…”

“Yeah, yeah I know…me,” I say softly. I don’t care if Trace thinks I’m an idiot. The fact of the matter is, there might have been a time and place during this week where Lauren was interested in talking about us; and I completely overlooked it. I am ridiculous.

“I thought so too. And that’s the breaks man because you had your chance. You really want to make it okay then get on a plane and go get her.’ I sigh again and get out of bed, walking towards the window. Looking outside, I see the blinking lights of the city waving back at me and I wonder if maybe she’s looking at the exact same thing I am. I could go get her, I could make everything better with a few simple words.

But those are words that I don’t believe in and I can’t do that to myself and I can’t do that to myself.

“I can’t leave right now. I’ve got the tour starting up again; I’ve got interviews and photo calls. I’m better now.

“Are you really that better?” he questions and I turn away from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place. I’m not better at all, I’m probably worse. Emotionally speaking, physically I’m fit, not sick any more, and I’m not turning to Jack, Patron, or Stoli.

“Well I’m not going to drink anymore.”

“Hah, sure,” his voice is dripping with sarcasm and I want to tell him to fuck off and leave me alone. I don’t need most of this shit right now.

“No…I promised her I wouldn’t act like that again and I won’t do it,” I respond and Trace isn’t far behind with a response. 

“Okay, well you promised her a lot of things, Justin and sorry to say but you went back on a lot of it.”

Sometimes I hate how right and perceptive the little fucker is, “I know,” I finally relent. It isn’t until I’ve dragged her through the mud once again that I can finally let my guard down enough to admit it, “God, this is hard.”

“Mmhmm, yeah pretty much. That’s the breaks, man.”

“I know,” I admit. Suddenly I have the distinct urge to be alone and not have to listen to Trace being right about this situation.  “Alright I’m gonna go.”

“You gonna be okay?” his voice is soft and I can hear the worry even though we’re thousands of miles away.

“I think so,” I lie. How could I ever be okay?

“Well call if you need anything okay?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Okay, bye man.”

“Bye.”

That was almost a week ago and I’m still an absolute mess about the whole issue. The fact that I’m still losing sleep over this isn’t helping me get better either. I can feel the fatigue setting in and I’m getting pretty fucking fed up with Maura trying to shove Airborne down my throat every time I finish a meal. I understand she’s trying to do her job, but the girl needs to back off.

She needs to do what Lauren did last week.

Because Lauren was doing things that she wouldn’t have done in a normal situation. The normal Lauren would have used my sickness and inability to string together a coherent sentence to talk down to me and make sure that I knew what I was doing was wrong and should be changed. She would have fought and given me at least a hint of spunk and life. But the one that I spent four days with came in, did a job, kept her mouth shut, and left. She didn’t come into this pile of shit as Lauren, but a complete objective party.

I know for a fact that if she still actually cared for me and wanted me back she would fight. She would try to make me see that the stuff I believed at the Grammys…and coincidentally still believe, is all a lie even though her side had no shred of evidence.

Maybe that’s what’s freaking me out more than anything. The fact that I’m starting to feel as if the things I thought were true are starting to chip away. I’m starting to doubt whether or not Theo was the only culprit and I’m starting to wonder what Maura’s true intentions are.

I wish I could sit down and talk to Lauren about this.

Because this time, I’ll listen.

But surprise…she’s in LA and I’m in fucking France. Sometimes I hate my fucking life.

*~*~*~*~*

There are some times in a woman’s life when she just needs to let go

This is one of those times.

I spent the whole day at one of the largest malls in northern Southern California and needless to say I’m going to have to put in extra hours at work to cover the credit card costs. But I don’t care. I need a major face-lift on my life and I’m starting with my wardrobe and beauty regime. I just need to turn over a new leaf and I’m starting now.

Manchester was weird, Manchester was the end of a chapter of my life and I’m happy to say that I’m finally starting to put it behind me. I’m moving on, I’m ready to get on with my life and I know that the rest of this summer is going to be awesome.

“I can’t believe you managed to get me to consume that much liquor!” Elliot exclaims as we come thundering into the apartment at quarter to three in the morning. Part of my Operation: New Me plan is to go out and have as much fun as possible.

Tonight we managed to finish an event early at the Hilton and I managed to convince Elliot to go out with me to have a good time and unwind after a stressful evening of yelling at underlings and trying to make sure the bride didn’t throw up all over her gown since she ate too much cake.

I dragged my best friend to the latest club, Illusion, which is (surprise) owned by ex-boyfriend and jumbo douche extraordinaire – Neal Feat. The most satisfying thing was strolling into that club looking like a million bucks and seeing Neal helping out behind the bar because they were understaffed. He looked like shit and I strolled right up to the front of the bar and ordered the largest and most expensive drink I could find on the menu.

Lo and behold the guy who I thought would be my one and only is married, has a young son, with another one on the way, and he has a bit on the side. He didn’t tell me this of course, but I could tell by the way he was eye fucking the hell out of one of his bar wenches.

But I knew as I sauntered away from that bar with a drink for me and one for Elliot that he was second guessing why he ever let me go. So what if I had a drunken make out encounter with Justin…the fact of the matter is I’m young, single, and hot and he’s the poor bastard stuck with a family and a couple of chains.

Karma’s a bitch, Feat.

“You needed a night out, you’re practically married to the Hilton,” I explain as I kick off my heels and allow them to fly off into random corners of the house. I’m not drunk at all, if anything I’m just a bit tipsy and Elliot is the same. The car ride back to the apartment definitely sobered me up seeing as the ingrates who drive in Los Angeles late at night can’t operate a car worth a shit.

“True, but my goodness,” he mutters while he tugs at the bottom of his favorite and most worn in graphic T-shirt. I wish he would throw it away; I’m waiting for holes to develop. “I’m going to sleep all day tomorrow."

“That’s the idea,” I explain, “You party all night and sleep all day. At least that’s how all the superstars do it.” My thoughts instantly think back to the time when I would have to stay up all night to make sure Justin wouldn’t kill himself and then I would have to be awake all the next day to make sure shit would be getting done.

Do I miss it? Hell no. I’m glad I got out while I still could.

Of course that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him. I do that every day.

Which is ridiculous, because I’m trying to move on and let things go.

“Thank God we just make sure everything’s set up and then we just let everyone else deal with it,” he adds before he walks over to the couch and unceremoniously drops into it. Bruno looks up from his position by the kitchen, his little tail thumping on the hardwood floor.

“You do that now, I work under you,” I point out. He responds with a roll of his eyes before he pats the seat next to him.

“Not really. If you haven’t noticed you still do all the things you used to do; you just get paid less,” he explains as I sink down next to him. “As a matter of fact, I do too.”

I turn to look at Elliot and see him wringing his hands and suddenly acting rather nervous. The mood has turned from mildly bitching about work and giggling about good times, to something tense and rather, I don’t know…awkward?

I was thinking that after Manchester last month I filled up the awkward quota in my life for all eternity. Apparently not.

“What do you mean you get paid less?” I press leaning towards him so I can try to read his face. He’s looking down at his hands and I guess trying to ignore the fact that I’m even here. “Elliot?” I reach out and put my hand on top of his own. He’s wringing his hands so much I’m afraid they’re going to pop off his wrists.

“Well,” he starts slow, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in the process. It looks like he’s regretting even letting this little fact slip, “When you didn’t show up for the rest of the party, Murray was pissed – like going to kill everybody’s first born – pissed. He kept going on about how he was going to fire you and I couldn’t let that happen. I mean you’re one of my best friends…” he pauses and opens one of his eyes, “Okay, you’re my only best friend to tell you the truth. I couldn’t let him do that. And when The GB showed up after he left with you looking like someone had bombed his house and slaughtered his family; I knew something was up. So I managed to convince Murray to keep your job…I just had to take a pay cut as part of the deal…”

His voice fades away as he looks at me sheepishly. My mouth is hanging open and I’m staring at him in shock as my stomach is quickly filling up with dread, shock, and just a little bit of appreciation.

“But why would you do that? I messed up! Elliot,” I’m at a complete loss for words and I feel like such an idiot because all I can do is stare at him. My hand is still on top of his and he looks down at them and then to me, a blush starting to rise in his cheeks.

“You have to know, Lauren, don’t tell me I haven’t been making it obvious enough because I thought I was doing a pretty good job.”

All I can do is stare at him as he looks back at me with hopeful eyes. Oh my God, I’m a fucking idiot.  Then again it seems like Elliot has hidden the fact that he likes me pretty well. He’s kept it hidden underneath heavy layers of complete geekdom and nerdiness. I mean, how could I figure out he liked me when all he can talk about is Star Wars, Fantasy Role Play Groups and the upcoming Harry Potter release?

Then again, Trace has been making slight comments about how Elliot has been looking good lately, and how he’s always available whenever I need someone to talk to or whenever I’m not hanging out with Trace.

And then this whole pay cut business…and here I thought he was just being a good friend. 

Apparently there was a hidden meaning thrown in there.

I open my mouth to say something but I find that there really is nothing to say. I mean, how the hell do I respond?

“Elliot,” I start softly hoping he can hear the apprehension in my voice. But apparently when it comes to matters of the heart, Elliot really isn’t that intelligent. My eyes widen as he leans towards me, eyes half closed, ready for action. My mind is working overtime and I haven’t the faintest idea how I can debunk him without hurting his feelings.

Knowing that it’s easier to not fall into this when I don’t want it, I quickly rest my hand on his chest and push against it slightly. He falters and sits back, opening his eyes and looking rejected, hurt, and all of the things in between. “Elliot, look...”

“No,” he begins, “I understand.” I have no idea what he’s thinking as he gets to his feet and walks towards the front hall of the apartment. He doesn’t sound angry or upset. His voice is just generic, normal, and I have a feeling he’s trying to make it void of any emotion.

“I’m sorry, but you’re my best friend, and I just don’t think I could go into something with you when I don’t reciprocate your feelings.”

“I told you I understand, and I agree with you. I appreciate the fact that you aren’t going to jump into being with me when your whole heart isn’t in it. It would save me from a lot of heartache in the future,” he adds and I watch as he pulls his car keys off the hook near the front door.

“Where are you going?” I question. He pauses as he opens the front door and turns to look at me. I can see the pained expression in his eyes and it hurts me that I’m the one who started it.

“Out. I just need to go out,” he responds before he walks out the door and lets it shut behind him.

I sit there in dumbfounded silence hoping by some grace of God that he’ll come running back into the apartment with a huge grin on his face and the words, ‘I got you so good!’ falling from his lips. But after ten minutes have passed I realize that he isn’t going to be returning any time soon.

Now that I look at it, Elliot would be good for me. He’s sweet, caring, always there for me when I need a talk, and while I’m sure he might be lacking in the bedroom department, he could always surprise me. That’s what Elliot does; the man surprises me every day. He’s the kind of relationship I should be apart of, the kind of boyfriend any girl would kill for – well maybe without the Star Wars fetish. I could be so happy if I could let Elliot in and let Justin go.

But I know that awkward sex, zero communication, and the fact that he doesn’t believe me aside, there’s just no getting over Justin and I think everyone who knows me is aware of it.

Jesus, I can’t stand that no matter how much I try to put him behind me, he’s always two steps ahead and ready to hold me at bay from ultimately giving up on him. I hate that I still need him. I hate that every time I’m looking for a compliment on what I’m wearing or doing I turn around to try and hear the witty and smart-ass comments that are usually on stand by for those moments. I hate that I replay what I could have and should have said to him in Manchester in my head. I hate that I regret not fighting harder to keep him with me. I hate that I didn’t give Maura the bitch slap she deserved for taking his trust away from me. I hate that even though he’s thousands of miles away from me he still has a hold on my life.

I hate that come rain or come shine, I won’t ever stop loving him.

And that’s the one thing I can’t stand above everything else.

*~*~*~*~*

There’s something about Germany that almost puts me at ease. Maybe it’s because they drink beer like it’s water, or the fact that the bratwurst and sauerkraut is the best, bar none. Or maybe it’s because most of the paps that dwell here can’t speak English that well and so it becomes easier to ignore them.

I don’t know why my mom had the bright idea to drag me to the Berlin Zoo on one of my days off. She told me on the way over that she was sick and tired of seeing me moping around and seeing cute furry animals would apparently put me out of my funk.

After seeing the Orangutans run around like a bunch of asses, I’ve come to the assumption that my mother is the smartest woman alive because I feel like I’ve been reborn. Mama, me, and some members of security have been ambling around the zoo all day and we have another hour or so before we have to make our way back to the venue so I can get ready for tonight’s show.

I’m glad Mom is with me because it’s been a while since we’ve had some quality time together. She’s always been so busy with the management team and I haven’t had time to sit still since Manchester. Then again, keeping busy like this keeps me from thinking about what actually happened and that is a really good thing. 

“Did you see that one of their polar bears is going to have cubs any day now?” my mom asks as she points to the map of the zoo, her index finger landing on the polar bear enclosure, “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

God I feel like a five year old, walking around the zoo with my mom, but I really don’t care. It feels good to just spend quality time with my mother and not have to worry about my schedule or what I’m going to be doing two hours from now. With the exception of hearing the occasional shutter flash in my direction, I feel almost normal and I love that.

That is until we get to the polar bear enclosure and I see one professional photographer who isn’t interested in getting my money shot. My eyes widen and I stop dead in my tracks, my mother too intrigued by the pregnant polar bear to notice what’s got a hold of my attention.

Of all the mother fucking zoos in all the mother fucking world he had to be at this one. My five-year old moments have been thrown out the window and my adult problems are staring me in the face. Theo is standing with his lens pressed up against the glass enclosure, hoping, I’m sure, for the bear to squat down and shoot a baby out.

But a gaggle of German schoolgirls go thundering past him to get a look at me and I’m sure my name and the fact that I’m here came out of their mouths because Theo stops what he’s doing and is looking around bewildered

I’d expect the thieving bastard to go running in the opposite direction, but on the contrary he turns towards me and starts to walk in my direction. Of course he’d want to chat with me. Him turning tail and pussying out would make my life far too easy.

“Justin, what are you doing here?” he asks, shocked. I can’t deck him in the middle of the zoo since there are witnesses so I guess I have to be civil, at least for my public persona’s sake.

“Taking some time off. You?”

“Well Shelly, Dean, and I are waiting here in Berlin to document the birth of the first domesticated Polar Bear cub in Europe. Isn’t that great?

God this guy is such a fucking nerd, “Fantastic. So did you come over here to ask me what I’m doing in a zoo or did you come to return all the stuff you stole from me?”

He looks taken aback by my bluntness, but I really don’t care if I step on any toes. This guy stole from me, used the fact that he’s my ex-girlfriend’s adopted sibling to get into my house and take from me priceless possessions. Not to mention the fact that he stole from me and confused his ‘sister’ caused our breakup.

“Look Justin, you need to know the whole story before you jump to conclusions. In a way I did steal your belongings…”

“Then why do I need to know the whole story?” I interject.

“Because I’m not the only guilty one in this!” he exclaims. I notice my mom trying to wave me over, but she notices that I’m in a conversation with someone and she quickly becomes involved with watching and photographing the bears.

“And I suppose you’re going to say Maura?”

“Well who else would it be?” he responds, “I came to LA a naïve little boy who hadn’t the faintest idea that the jungle wasn’t out in the rainforest, but in the city. I mean I’m not exactly the most well versed when it comes to finding a girl…” his voice fades away as I snort. Judging by his ridiculous outfit – overalls and a Superman shirt, he’s still having problems securing a lady friend. “And when I met your personal assistant I knew that I had to try anything and everything to make her see me as more than some random house guest. I tried everything, but she just wouldn’t warm up to me. I think she knew I liked her, but she kept those feelings to herself. I tried getting tips from the guys at the RPG forums, I tried looking to Elliot, hell I even asked Trace for advice…” his voice stops as he looks for the right words to say and my thoughts immediately travel to the night of the Grammy’s when Theo was thoroughly analyzing The Notebook.

“I thought that maybe my last night in LA would make her sympathetic. But she was so busy helping you for the awards that I knew she wouldn’t take the time to see me. Imagine my surprise when I get a phone call from her saying that she needs my help and she’ll do anything to make it up to me. I told her that I wanted her and she agreed to it immediately before telling me that I needed to go to her apartment and take a few boxes out of the office and hide them somewhere that no one could find them.

“So I drove to her place, grabbed the boxes, and took them back to the house. Trace wasn’t there, and so I stashed them in the pool house since no one ever used it the whole time I was there. I went back out, and cancelled my flight knowing that I was getting what I wanted.

“Imagine my surprise when I go back to your house the next morning to find my room completely ransacked. Trace told me what happened between you and Lauren and that I wasn’t welcomed there any more. He called me a thief and said that I was lucky you weren’t going to be pressing charges. I couldn’t get a hold of Maura so she could tell me what was going on, but I was able to put two and two together. She tricked all of us, and yet she’s still working for you. Tell me why you were able to believe Maura so readily when you should take into consideration what your girlfriend had to say more willingly?”

“Because there was evidence against you. My bracelet was in your room, whereas the stuff you’re alleging Maura took still can’t be found,” I retort. I can’t believe I’m actually giving this fucker the time of day right now. All I wanted to do was come to the zoo, look at the animals, and try to forget all the shit that’s been plaguing my head – namely Maura’s innocence in this whole fiasco.

“Well the next time you’re home go look in the pool house, I guarantee it will all be there.”

Hah, I can one up this guy and laugh in his face when I catch him in the act of lying. Pulling out my phone, I immediately dial Trace’s number and wait for him to answer.

“Justin, sup man?”

“Trace, are you home?” I question. He confirms and I smile grimly in Theo’s direction, “Go into the pool house and see if there’s anything in the closet or whatever.” I ignore Trace’s complaints about walking out in the California heat to check the pool house. I stand there with Theo in complete silence, trying not to laugh at Trace’s ridiculous comments. This situation is serious and I shouldn’t be making it a joke.

“Holy shit,” Trace says a good three minutes later.

“What?” I ask quickly.

“It’s all here! All your stuff, man.” I look at Theo with wide eyes and I withhold from smacking the smug grin off his face, “Your DVDs, my iPods, Lauren’s ring and some of her clothes…everything! How did you know it was there?”

“Long story, I’ll have to tell you later,” I respond quickly before hanging up the phone. Theo continues to give me a smug look and I shake my head, “This doesn’t change anything.”

“How could this not change anything?” he asks incredulously, “The stuff was there, exactly where I told you it was!”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean Maura took it. It just means you put more incriminating evidence on yourself. Thanks for letting me know where my things were, but if you don’t get out of my line of sight within five minutes I’ll kick your ass and press charges.” I watch grim faced as Theo continues to look at me with indignation, but he takes my advice and hurries back towards wherever he came from.

Taking a few deep breaths, I calm myself, and head back towards my mother. Maybe I can still salvage what’s left of this day and not think about the fact that the doubt in my mind is deepening.

A few hours later and I’m back at the venue getting ready for the show. Sound check went well, although I was kind of out of it. All I’ve been able to think about is the run in I had with Theo and the thoughts that Maura might not be as innocent as she claims she is.

I don’t even want to know what would happen if I was wrong about this whole thing. I have a feeling Lauren and her brother would join hands and point at me, laughing in my face. But it just seems way too far fetched and way too perfect. I mean how could have Maura done all that without raising any suspicion on my end? She may be good at her job, but she can’t be that good at espionage or any of that other shit.

Or maybe I’m just an idiot who got the wool pulled over his eyes.

Sighing heavily, I sit down on the couch and scratch behind Buckley’s ears. Why does life have to be so confusing? If I could be a dog I’m sure the only thing I would have to worry about was sniffing some other dog’s ass and the fleeting thoughts of where my owner would throw the ball next.

A knock at the door makes me stop petting my dog and I look up as Maura enters. “Hey,” I say before I resume showering my dog with affection. “What’s going on?”

“Just wanted to let you know that you have an interview with a magazine in about ten minutes. You ready for that?"

“Yeah, I guess,” I mumble with a shake of my head. I just want to lie on this couch and think without getting a headache. I’m about ready to cancel the concert because this migraine is reaching monumental proportions, but I can’t do that to my fans. Even if I’m having a shitty day, most of their lives are even shittier.

“So guess who I ran into today?” I ask. She gives me a quizzical look before I respond, “Theo.

Her expression remains the same although I can see her raise her eyebrows at the name, “Really? What’s he doing in Berlin?”

“Documenting the birth of some polar bear cub. But he managed to tell me where all of my stuff went in February.”

“Which was where?” she questions, before I tell her about the pool house.

“And he was very adamant about blaming you for the whole thing,” I add

“I’m sure,” she responds, “Did I ever tell you that he was kind of obsessed with me while he was living with you?”

“No, must have slipped your mind.”

“Well the night before the Grammy’s he made a pass at me, and I told him that he wasn’t my type and it wouldn’t work out. He told me that I’d be sorry for doing that to him…”

“So he tried to plant all that on you?” I ask and she nods softly before she tucks a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Thank God you found that bracelet in his room, because then you might have blamed the wrong person” she whispers and I nod thoughtfully completely unaware that she’s moving closer to me. It isn’t until I feel her lips graze my cheek that I become fully alert as to how close she is. “Thank God…”

I move off the couch quickly and stare down at her for a cool minute. She stares back at me with hope in her eyes. Sighing heavily, I run a hand through my hair and turn to look at the wall behind me. The fact that she’s making another pass at me is starting to annoy me.

“Look Maura,” I begin, “You’re a great girl and all, but you aren’t my type and I don’t have feelings for you like that.” I turn to catch a glimpse of her and I can see she looks a bit miffed, “If you continue to come onto me like that or whatever then you can pack up and go on home.”

And before she has a chance to respond, I head towards the door. I don’t want to be in there to listen to her talk about how we could be great, I don’t want her to start crying in front of me…I just need to get away from people and think hard about what the hell is going on.

Because the more and more I think about it, the more I’m thinking that Maura Delaney isn’t all of the great things she says she is. 

19. Pink Elephants on Parade

“What would you say if I had something that would make you insanely happy?

I stare dully in Trace’s direction glad that my sunglasses are covering the dead look in my eyes. Leaning forward, I reach for the sun tan lotion that’s sitting next to my lounge chair. If there’s one thing I don’t want it’s sun cancer, and with the way Trace is making me sit out in the sun for hours on end, I’m going to need to use an entire bottle. We’ve been doing the soak up the rays of summer for the last part of June and while I’m thankful for Trace helping me get my mind off of things, I would much rather spend my time sitting inside in the shade and air conditioning.

“I would say that you’d have to go above and beyond the duty of friendship to accomplish something like that.”

“Oh come on Lauren, you’re like the fucking stock market right now. Falling up and down and up and down…really it’s driving everybody crazy.”

“And by everybody you mean just you and Elliot, right?” I retort. He sighs heavily and lowers the cap over his face.

It’s getting close to the beginning of July and the dog days of summer are starting to set in. I’m thankful for the dry heat that California has to offer because some of the humidity that finds its way up to Wyoming is just a pain in my ass. But I don’t like spending time outside during the summer months and the fact that Trace is practically forcing me is worsening my already shitty mood.

I’m still in a bad funk with large thanks in part to Justin. The whole Elliot situation has died down now and my friend has thankfully not brought up the fact that he likes me. It hurts me that I’m hurting him, but I can’t force myself to be with him – it just wouldn’t be fair to Elliot.

Of course that’s only a small part of my shitty mood. The larger factor would be the issue of Trace finding all of our missing stuff in the pool house. All I could do was stand there as Trace relayed what Justin told him about Theo and Maura. When he was finished, I slammed the door in his face and didn’t talk to him for at least three days. I mean honestly, Theo handed Justin all the evidence he needs to convict Maura of the theft she committed and yet she’s still working for him, still touring with him, and probably trying to get him in to bed with her.

Whatever, I’m so over it.

No, really, I am.

“So what is this thing that’s supposed to make me insanely happy?” I finally question and I watch out of the corner of my eye as Trace leaps into a sitting position and faces me. The huge smile on his face is so idiotic it’s almost infectious and I can’t help but give a small smile back.

“Well who’s your favorite band in the whole world?”

“Do I really have to answer that, Trace? I thought you knew me better than that,” I scold him as I pick up the magazine I was skimming through at the start of our body bake-a-thon. I give him one last harrowing look before I start to read an article discussing the terrors of skin cancer and how sitting outside in the burning sun will more than likely increase a woman’s chances at melanoma.

“Well, what if I told you that I had two tickets to see them perform this upcoming weekend?” His words hit home just as I’m about to start a quiz to find out how savvy I am when it comes to protecting myself against UV rays. Lowering my magazine, I gaze at him over the top of the periodical and raise an eyebrow.

“Two tickets to see Queen? Last time I checked they aren’t touring in the States.”

“Which is why we need to go out of the country to see them…” Trace starts and I roll my eyes before I bring the magazine back into my line of sight, “I mean really, Loho, these are really good seats. Like, VIP…”

“And how did you manage to get those?” I question from behind the pages of Elle.

“Being best friends with your ex-boyfriend definitely has its perks, especially when he isn’t that much a follower of your favorite band.”

“My first mistake in dating him,” I mumble under my breath as I quickly turn the page.

“So come on Lo, I know you want to go,” Trace says in a sing song voice. I’m about to read about what to start looking for in stores for the fall season when a hand grabs the magazine out of my grip.

“Dammit, Trace,” I grumble, “Where is it?”

“London.”

“No. I’m not going back to England. I don’t know if you failed to realize but the last time I went, I was handed the Crown of Awkwardness to wear for the rest of my days,” I protest. Trace scoffs and rolls his eyes at me, that stupid idiotic grin telling me that he isn’t going to be giving up that easily.

“Which is why you should go back. England is a fantastic country, even more fantastic since that’s where your favorite band in the entire world hails from. And who knows…I could name drop incessantly and get you backstage. Maybe you can get in a word with…”

“The guitar hero himself? Brian May?” I squeak, “You had better not be pulling my leg here Trace because if I don’t’ get face time with Dr. May, I might have to kick your ass for all eternity,” I warn. He holds up his hands to silence me.

“I swear that if you don’t get to see your guitar hero you have full permission to beat me up and take away my ability to have children or any shit like that.”

I smile subtly at him as I snatch the magazine back from his scrawny little hands, “So when do we leave?”

“Well I’ve already got the hotel booked, we’ve got the tickets and airfare. We’re leaving in two days so make sure you’re packed for a fun filled few days in lovely London-Town!” Trace exalts and he adds onto his excitement by springing from the lawn chair and leaping into the pool.

I swear to god this guy is a mother fucking retard.

While he’s gallivanting along in the pool a sudden thought hits me. Getting to my feet, I stray to the poolside, being sure to stay out of Trace’s reach. I won’t put it past him to yank me into the pool although I think he knows better and would like to keep his lower region intact.

“What’s up?” he asks as he wades to the edge of the pool, leaning his upper body against the flagstone.

“Where’s Justin at while we’re in London?”

“How the hell should I know?” Trace questions, “I’m not his personal assistant, and I sure as hell ain’t his secretary. Don’t worry about it. This trip is all about Queen and doing the whole rock out with our cocks out…” he pauses, “well that was more for me and less for you. I suppose you could wag out with your vag out, but that doesn’t sound sanitary or as cool…”

“Trace, shut up. You promise me Justin isn’t going to jump out and say ‘boo!’ when we get there?”

“Oh hell no, I would never do that to you.”

“Good, because me seeing Justin there is a whole other can of worms then if I don’t get to see Queen.”

“I understand, trust me,” Trace responds, “You better get home and start packing, we’ve got a kick ass week ahead of us!”

I shoot Trace another skeptical look, before I turn on my heels and head towards the house. I need to get home so I can finish my laundry and get to packing my suitcase. I make a mental note to pack as much aspirin as I can because lord only knows I won’t be able to spend a few days with Trace without getting an enormous headache.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“So am I the grand master, or am I the grand master?”

“Trace, I don’t know how many times you want me to say it, but I think I can keep it up for the rest of our trip – you are the grand master and I owe my incandescent happiness to you. God bless you and your ability to make me the happiest woman on the face of the planet.”

“And you didn’t want to come to London,” Trace jokes as he slings an arm around my shoulders. I stick my tongue out at him in response as we continue our jaunt through Hyde Park. I just finished having the most amazing concert experience of my life and meeting one of my childhood heroes followed that. Wait until I put the signed picture I have of Brian May and Roger Taylor in Bentley Lexus’s glove compartment – he’s going to pee oil all over himself. The concert just got out and Trace and I decided to get off the tube a few stops early so we could walk through the park and enjoy the brisk July weather.

“Thanks for talking me into it,” I reply, “Honestly, I think you would have forced me to go if I told you no in the first place.”

“You know me too well,” Trace retorts with a grin. “So you enjoyed the concert?”

“Do you like getting tail on a regular basis?” I respond. He holds up his other hand and nods. I grin at him and we continue our stroll. We have two full more days in London and three more nights. The next few days are going to be spent showing Trace the sights of London that he wasn’t able to see when he was traveling with Justin. I have an itinerary all picked out and the little bastard is going to go through with it and not complain when he gets tired.

“So what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”

“Westminster Abbey, the London Eye, Trafalgar Square, the British Museum, a West End show, and if we have time, hitting up a club after that…” my voice fades away as I go through the schedule for the next two days, “Oh and add on Convent Garden for tomorrow as well.”

“Jesus Christ, Lauren, are you trying to kill me?”

“No, but you said you wanted to immerse yourself in London culture and that’s what we’re doing. Be thankful we aren’t going to be here when Harry Potter comes out or we’d be camping out by the Waterstone’s in Piccadilly Circus.”

“Uncle,” Trace whines, “You do promise we’ll take breaks tomorrow, right?”

“You’re such a baby when it comes to this shit, Trace. Just suck it up and deal with it. Think of all the fun stories you’ll be able to tell your co-workers when you get back to the States,” I respond and I push him playfully to show that I’m not going to be entirely pissed off if we miss one stop. After all, this is his little tour de force in London, if he wants to miss something that’s his prerogative.

He’s about to add something but we’re cut off by two over excited teenagers who really shouldn’t be running around at quarter to one in the morning in the middle of a park. Have they not heard stories of Jack the Ripper?

“That was the most amazing concert I’ve ever been to!” one of the girls explains with a huge squeal of delight.

“I know! And to think that he’s performing like, four more times!” the other explains.

“I didn’t know Queen was performing more, maybe we can cancel the West End show and see them again?” I say to Trace. He doesn’t respond because he’s gone deathly silent, which isn’t like him at all.

“We need to talk to your mum to see if she’ll spend more money on tickets,” the first girl gushes, “I mean he doesn’t come over here all the time, she has to understand that!”

“I know,” the other says sullenly, “she just doesn’t understand my love for him like you do. I keep telling her this is just like her obsession with Paul McCartney but she says that I can’t put Big Macca in the same category as Justin Timberlake…”

I don’t hear the rest of the girl’s response because I’ve stopped dead in the pathway, Trace’s arm falling from my shoulders. Honestly, if I wasn’t so sore from rocking out hardcore with Queen I would be throwing Trace in the lake. The little bastard!

“Loho…” Trace begins, but I hold up a hand to silence him, “Please let me explain.”

“You told me he wasn’t going to be here,” I seethe under my breath. I’m trying not to get really upset because that would just put a damper on a really awesome evening. But the fact that Trace used my love for Queen to get me back to England again to possibly run into Justin again is just inexcusable. “You promised me!”

“No,” Trace starts, “I never said that he wasn’t going to be here. I said that this trip was about Queen and that’s true. Justin’s doing a string of shows here in London, but I’m not dragging you to see him or anything like that. I promised you that he wasn’t going to jump out at you and say ‘boo.’”

“Still,” I counter, “I would have appreciated if you had told me he was going to be in the same city! Now I’m going to be looking over my shoulder every damn minute wondering if he’s going to pop out of nowhere.”

“Well thankfully we’re going to highly popular tourist attractions that Justin would never be able to go to without a huge security team and shutting down at least half of the place. So you won’t run into him at all,” Trace replies. “I’m sorry for not telling you, but you honestly can’t say that you would come here if you knew he would be in London.”

I open my mouth to object, but after thinking about it I sigh and shake my head, “Yeah, I know. I’m glad I’m here though…that concert was seriously the best show of my life.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Trace, responds with a grin, “Now can we put that little tiff behind us and have a good time? And I won’t let the big bad ex get you this time around. No need to feel awkward this trip.”

“Oh thank God,” I say sarcastically as I start to walk in the direction of the hotel, “For a second I was thinking I’d have to pull out my crown.”

“Only woman who’s wearing a crown this trip is the Queen of England,” Trace interjects and I smile furtively in his direction.

If the little weasel knows what’s good for him, he won’t surprise me with Justin appearances this trip. He has to know I’d end his life so abruptly…

We walk out of the gates of the park and I let out a pent up breath as I look over my shoulder. Three more nights in London and I can already feel the paranoia settling in.

Great.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“What are your ideas for dinner?” Trace asks me as we walk through Leicester Square. The insanity that is Friday night is sweeping the famous square and the pressing of bodies all around me is definitely making me claustrophobic. But Trace wanted to see the night life of London and I figured I’d let him witness the chaos first hand during our last night in London.

“I really don’t care. I could eat at Burger King for all I care,” I respond as I tilt my head towards the large fast food restaurant in the corner. There are movie theaters all around and people are lining up to take part in exceedingly expensive cinema. I’ll wait to see the new Transformers movie when I get back to the ten dollar theaters in California. I don’t feel like shelling out fifteen dollars for a ticket.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Trace ponders and I shrug with indifference before he’s got a hold of my wrist and is winding through the dense crowd of people. We twist and turn until we reach one of the roads. Holding out a hand, he instantly hails a taxi and soon I’m being pushed into the backseat of a cab. “La Laine in Chelsea, please,” is all Trace tells the cabbie.

“Trace, where are we going?”

“I was looking through one of the dining guides in the hotel room before we left and I found this place, thought we’d give it a try,” Trace explains. I don’t have the heart to tell him that Chelsea is one of the more expensive boroughs of London and anything on that menu is probably going to set us back quite a bit.

Then again I’ve been spending a shit load of money on things I don’t need for the past few days. Trace and I have seen shows, we’ve gone to tourist attractions like nobody’s business, I had to buy a new memory card for my camera because we’ve been taking a shit load of pictures, half of which I won’t show anybody else to save myself embarrassment. Let’s just say Trace likes to steal my camera and take random pictures of people walking past us. I have more pictures of deeply disturbed Londoners and tourists than I could ever want.

But I guess we can afford to splurge a bit on our last night in London. Because I know that I won’t be able to come back here for quite some time. We discuss our visit of Buckingham Palace, Abbey Road, Camden, and the British Library during our cab ride out of central London and towards Chelsea. I have to say that I’m glad Trace and I are good friends because this trip would have been a lot more stressful and boring if I had gone with someone who wasn’t into the same things I was, or fit my sense of humor so perfectly.

Granted Trace will always be a troll to me, but I’m glad we’ve been able to get over the fact that his best friend is my ex-boyfriend and probably my arch nemesis, and be pretty close friends ourselves.

We pull up a few stores away from the restaurant and I can already tell by the clientele sitting inside that it’s a pretty ritzy restaurant. I pay the cab fare and soon we’re strolling towards the restaurant.

And then I see the slew of photographers pressed up against the windows and the beefy security guard standing in front of them to block their zoom lenses. I stop dead in my tracks and dig my fingernails into Trace’s upper arm.

“Ouch, woman, what the hell?” he interjects but when he sees that I’ve noticed the cameras he can tell the gig is up. “Look, Lauren…”

“Trace, you promised me. You fucking promised,” I’m so angry I’m seeing red. I’m about ready to release my clutches and race for the hills. I can feel all of my internal organs turning to liquid inside of my stomach and they’re ready to travel down to my toes.

“Lo, he didn’t even know I was here in London until he called me earlier today. He wanted to see me and I couldn’t tell him no…”

“Oh well, you see that’s really easy,” I interject, “You simply could have said, ‘I can’t…I’m leaving in a few hours…’”

“We both know I suck at lying like that,” Trace responds and I shake my head, “Lauren, can’t you act like an adult and put this behind you?”

“I have put this behind me!” I shout, but I immediately lower my voice when I see that one of the camera men has turned his attention on Trace and I.

“Well if you have put it behind you, then why aren’t you walking into the restaurant like it’s no big deal?”

“Because the last time I saw him, we didn’t exactly say goodbye on friendly terms. Hell, we didn’t say goodbye on any terms! Jesus, Trace, I hate you so much right now!”

“No you don’t,” he returns, “Just suck it up, be a good girl, and smile. I’ll buy you a drink when we get in there.”

“Make that four,” I whisper sullenly as I reluctantly let him pull me forward.

“Deal,” he whispers in response as we’re suddenly swallowed by a sea of questioning paparazzi. We both ignore their onslaught of questions and we make our way into the restaurant.

The place is decorated in deep reds and purples and it definitely has the feel of a swanky lounge rather than a restaurant. My eyes immediately travel to the bar and I don’t even look around to see if Justin is around. I drag Trace in the direction of the alcohol and I hear him sighing heavily.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender questions. Trace opens his mouth to speak but I beat him to the punch.

“Four shots of tequila, a margarita, and an apple martini,” I say quickly before Trace can interject.

“Lauren…you shouldn’t,” he starts but I silence him as I pull his wallet out of his hands.

“You deal with this situation your own way, I’ll deal with it the best way I know how – with a bit of Patron.” He sighs in defeat as the bartender comes back with my four shots and margarita. Trace sullenly takes his martini as I knock back my drinks. It doesn’t help that my future dinner here at La Laine would be the first meal I’ve had since lunch earlier today, but I really don’t care how smashed I get right now.

And it isn’t until Trace is leading me towards the back of the restaurant and I see Justin’s shaved head and tense face that I see the long blonde hair of the other person accompanying him.

“Trace,” I growl under my breath, “can you tell me what the fuck Maura is doing here? Do not tell me I have to sit through a whole meal sitting next to her.”

“I’m sorry, Lo, I didn’t know she was going to be here,” he says sympathetically, “Are you going to be okay? If you really want to leave you can.” I shake my head. There’s no way in hell I’m going to run away from this bitch and if she so much as looks at me the wrong way, her ass is going down the hard way. I have no problem throwing the whore down in the middle of a fancy restaurant.

“Trace!” Justin exalts as he springs out of his seat and hugs his friend tightly. I quickly sidestep any greeting and move past Justin and Trace quickly, sitting next to Maura without a word. I sip my margarita greedily before I grab for the bread basket that’s already on the table.

Maura doesn’t say anything – the bitch is smart.

Their greetings over, Trace and Justin sit down across from us and pick up their menus, Trace talking excitedly about the Queen concert. I read my menu, trying to ignore the fact that some of the words are already blurring together. God damn me and my low alcohol tolerance.

“Did you like the concert, Lauren?”

“Huh?” I ask stupidly as I look up from my menu. Justin’s looking at me expectantly and I see Trace looking at me, his eyes pleading, “Oh, yeah…it was a lot of fun. How are your shows doing?”

“Great, I’ve got two more to finish up and then I’ll be heading back to the States to prep for the second US leg…”

“He’s a busy guy,” Maura interjects for the first time that evening. God her voice is even more grating than I remembered.

“So it seems,” I respond. God I need more liquor.

Thankfully at that moment, the waiter decides to grant us with his presence and soon I’m ordering some finger foods to munch on, you know – since my appetite went out the window as soon as I walked through the door – and a gin and tonic. I have a feeling that I’m not going to be a very fun person to get along with in a few hours, but at this moment in time I really don’t give a flying fuck.

Which is good because by the time Justin, Trace, and Maura are halfway through their entrees, I’m about ready to hurl up my drinks and my lunch from earlier today.

“Lauren, are you okay? You’re looking a bit green around the edges,” Justin asks and I can see the worry etched in his face. Like the asshole really cares. I’m sure all he wants is to take me into the back for a quick fuck before he rushes out of the restaurant like a pussy.

“Lo, do you want to leave? I can get us a cab or whatever,” Trace asks as well. I can just make out his face through my blurry line of vision and I shrug with indifference before I giggle at Maura’s face. She looks a bit put off that the topic of conversation has moved from her old Stanford days to my current state of drunkenness. I want to point out that we went to Stanford together, but my inability to string words together in a coherent sentence inhibits me.

“S’ok,” I slur, “I’ll be fine.” I can tell from the exchanged looks around me that they don’t believe a word I’m saying, but I really don’t care. I’m feeling good, and I have half the mind to strike up a thought provoking conversation with not only Justin, but Maura as well.

“Sowhatareyerthoughtsonglobbalheating?” I ask. I really want to know and I hope they give me a straight answer. I hate it when Justin or other people don’t really say what’s on their mind with important topics and kind of skirt around the answer.

“Dude, she is so drunk,” Trace giggles to Justin. “Maybe I should take her back to the hotel.”

“No!” I shout as I pound the table. The din around the restaurant moves to silence as people turn to look towards the cause of disruption. Once they’ve had their full look, they go back to their eating and conversations. “Everything is grrreat!” I reach out for my glass of wine only to see that mine is empty. Scanning the table, I see that Justin’s is half full and I reach out for it. Apparently my depth perception is a bit off kilter because I find myself scrounging around in the now empty bread basket.

“Here Lauren, drink some water,” Maura tries as she shoves a glass under my nose. I give her a skeptical look and I reach over to take it, but I can’t get a grip on the cup. I spill it over onto the table, most of the liquid traveling across the wooden table and directly onto mine and Maura’s laps.

“Whoops,” I giggle, “My bad."

There’s a general fluster of arms as my party tries to gather napkins to clean up the mess. I take this time to grab all of their glasses of liquor and put them in front of me. I’m halfway through chugging Trace’s second martini when a slender hand grasps my wrist and hauls me out of my seat.

“Whassat?” I mutter and when my vision clears I see that Maura is the one who’s yanked me out of my sitting position.

“Let’s go get cleaned up. The guys will get the check and we’ll meet them outside,” Maura explains as she begins to assist me to the lady’s room. It isn’t until we’re safely inside the confines of the women’s restroom that Maura quickly drops my hand and stands in the corner of the bathroom.

Standing up and sitting down whilst completely trashed are two different concepts and I can feel my center of balance at a tilt. The world is spinning and suddenly I feel as if my insides are doing a tumultuous dance that can only end in an even bigger mess than the water on the table.

“Ugh, I don’t feel well…” I mumble and as I turn towards Maura, I double over and allow the waterfall of vomit cascade to the tiled floor. I hear Maura shriek and see her shrink back in disgust out of the corner of my eye.

Yeah, this is definitely not one of my most dignified moments, but hey, I feel lots better. Still drunk, but I guess now that some of that shit is out of my system, things are starting to get a bit more clear.

“Help me clean this up,” I ask Maura as I grab a few paper towels off the counter. Kneeling in a dry spot on the floor, I begin to sop up the sick, trying to avoid the pounding in my head.

Maura’ scoffs above me and I look up to see her standing over me, a look of disdain and utmost loathing on her face, “Clean it yourself, bitch.”

I let a paper towel fall out of my hand and I continue to look up at Justin’s personal assistant, “Excuse me?”

“I said clean it yourself? God you don’t have one professional bone in your body. Thank the lord Justin got rid of you when he had the chance. I would hate to think where his career would be right now if he was still hanging on to you.” Well that was quite some rant.

“You’ve been wanting to get that out for a long time, huh?” I ask her my words still slurring some.

“You have no idea,” she retorts.

“Good,” I say with a slight nod, “Because I’ve been wanting to do this for months now,” and before either she or I can get a grasp on things, I’m barreling towards her like a linebacker, grabbing her round the mid section and tossing her down on the still vomit streaked floor.

She skids the length of the bathroom and hits the back of the bathroom wall. I can hear the wind being thrown out of her and I stand up, hoping that my reflexes aren’t completely shot to shit. The one night I choose to beat the shit out of Maura is when I’m drunk and not up to par.

Figures.

“You asshole!” she exclaims as she struggles to her feet, “You are so going to regret that.”

“Really? Just to let you know, I used to watch day time soaps, I know how to throw down like the best of them,” I hope this bitch knows she isn’t walking out of this bathroom without a busted lip and maybe a black eye.

Maura doesn’t respond, instead she comes rushing towards me, her eyes wide and jaw set. Cracking my knuckles, I hurry forward to meet her, hoping I can at least rip out a few chunks of her hair before they call the cops.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are you sure bringing her here was the right thing to do?” I ask Trace reluctantly as I sip as casually as I can on a glass of water. Maura and Lauren have been gone for about five minutes and I’m starting to worry.

“Well I wasn’t expecting her to get this trashed, but I figured since you’re coming back to the States and she’s one of my best friends, we had to do a little meeting of sorts to just see where we all stand.”

“I’m not having her turn into an alcoholic just because she needs to be drunk every time to face me,” I state irritably. The last thing I want Lauren to do is start being drunk around me. Sad to say, but she can sometimes be rather violent.

“I think the booze was more for dealing with Maura than with you, buddy,” Trace points out. “I don’t think she’d be able to say five words tonight if she didn’t have the help of some tequila.”

“I don’t get why Lauren still has this thing against Maura,” I respond. Sure I have doubt about Maura’s motives now, but I’m still foggy as to where Lauren got the idea at all about Maura stealing my shit.

“Well seeing as both Theo and Lauren have first hand evidence against your assistant, and you still don’t believe her…” Trace interjects. I’m about to respond but the calm mood of the restaurant is disturbed from a piercing shriek coming towards the bathrooms.

The shriek is followed by a dull thud and several more yells and a few choice swear words that don’t often appear in the British language. I take one look at Trace and before we can even assess what’s going on, we’re out of our seats and dashing for the women’s bathroom.

I can hear the pounding feet and see the flashbulbs from cameras bouncing off the walls in front of us, but Trace and I continue our race to the restrooms. I reach the door first and push it open, nearly falling on my ass due to a very slippery floor. Trace manages to get into the room and we start to allow ourselves to gain our bearings, but the yelling from the paparazzi and concerned restaurant patrons force us to tear our focus away from the source of the screaming.

“Trace, lock the door!” I bellow, my words mixing with the now magnified screams.

“You stupid fucking bitch! I’m going to do to you what I should have done five fucking months ago!”

“I’d love to see you try! You didn’t have the guts then, you probably won’t have the balls to do it now!”

“Justin! I can’t get it locked!” Trace grunts. I look up to see some photographer has got his arm through the door and is wildly taking pictures, hoping he’ll get a money shot without looking inside the room. I quickly reach up, grab the camera out of his hand and slam it to the ground. I hear his yell of indignation before I push his hand back and Trace finally gets the door shut, turning the lock with a yell of triumph.

Our little victory is interrupted by the sound of a smack followed by an acute shriek. Turning around, I finally take hold of the situation.

Lauren and Maura are standing at least two feet apart. The ground is covered in what seems to be vomit, a bit of blood, and a mixture of blonde and brown hair. Lauren is holding onto the left side of her face and I can see that her right eye is starting to swell shut and her knees are skinned up pretty bad.

Maura looks no better. Her chest is heaving up and down due to lack of breath. She’s cradling her left arm, her lip is split, and I can see a nice hand print on the side of her face. It looks like she’s lost more hair than Lauren has and I’m sure that’s either because Lauren has her hair tied back and therefore can’t lose as much, or because Maura has more adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“I swear to God if you don’t get out of my face I’m going to cry rape!” Maura cries, her swelled up bottom lip quivering. They seem to be totally unaware of our presence.

“Oh I’m sure you’d love for the attention,” Lauren shoots back, “Why don’t you lie some more about shit that isn’t true? Why don’t you go and blame my brother again who would never hurt a fucking fly?”

“Fuck off, Lauren,” Maura retorts, “You ruined my life and you know it!”

“Your life? Your life? What the fuck about mine, huh? You took away the only thing I really cared about…”

“Oh please, you were a selfish, arrogant bitch back then, I’m sure nothing much has changed. I’m surprised you haven’t already moved on to capture the heart of your sweet little Elliot…tell me, is he out of Pull-ups yet?”

“Slut!” Lauren rages, “Take that back or you’re in for a world of fucking hurt!”

“I’d love to see you try!” Maura responds. I watch with transfixed horror as Lauren reels back her arm, hand balled up into a tight fist.

“Shit!” Trace winces under his breath as he surges forward. A split second later and I’m hot on his heels as we’re racing to stop Lauren from possibly committing murder. We can’t do anything though, because Lauren’s fist makes direct contact with the other side of Maura’s face.

The blonde recoils and after catching her breath, she pounces on Lauren, the two of them punching, slapping, spitting, biting, and clawing at any part they can get their hands on. It’s a full on cat fight and if I weren’t so concerned that a homicide is soon to follow, I would be so turned on.

“Lauren!” I yell as I manage to grab her arms and untangle her from Maura. Trace has got a firm hold on my personal assistant who’s gone limp in his arms and close to tears. Lauren, on the other hand is far from finished. 

“Let me go! I’m going to fucking kill her! Let me go right now!” she’s struggling against my grip for all she’s worth and I keep a firm hold on her until she’s ready to settle down. Trace is looking at her as if he’s seeing his friend in a whole new light and Maura seems ready to pass out from exhaustion and shock.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I say to Trace. Lauren needs to be completely ignored in this situation so she can get it through her thick and stubborn head that the fight is over and she needs to start settling down.

“How? There are paps blocking the door and there aren’t any windows,” Trace grumbles, “And it won’t look good if you’re seen escorting your bloody and drunk ex-girlfriend out of a restaurant.”

He’s got a good point. I find myself wishing that I hadn’t told Eric he could go back to the hotel early tonight. Lord only knows we could use his brawn right now. Grumbling to myself, I manage to maintain a one arm hold on a tiring Lauren as I fish out my cell phone. We have to get these girls out of the restaurant without humiliating both of them.

I make a quick call to my driver to meet us out back and to make sure that two security guards are with him. One of them can escort us out to the car while the other smoothes things over with the restaurant and grabs our things that we left at the table.

“Lauren, we’re going to leave right now, but I need you to do something for me, okay?” I’m holding onto both her shoulders, forcing her to look up at me

“If you need me to beat the bitch into a bloody pulp I was doing that until you felt the need to interrupt,” she growls. I shake my head and let her go, hoping she doesn’t make a wild lunge for Maura again. I let out a pent up breath when she stands still long enough for me to take off my jacket.

“I’m going to put this over your head and you can take it off when we get in the car.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she seethes, “Why can’t I go with Trace?”

“Because I’m too small and weak to hold you back,” Trace speaks up. Hopefully him poking fun at himself will allow Lauren to back off and let me make sure she doesn’t go after Maura or somebody else right now.

“That’s right, the troll’s too small,” she giggles. I nod quickly as I watch Trace pull off his own jacket and throw it over Maura’s head.

“We’re going to have to make a run for it, Trace you guys going to be okay?” I ask as I turn towards the door. I can hear the people on the other side yelling for ideas on how to unlock the door in order to grab their shots. I really hope we can get out of this without creating more of a scandal.

“We’ll be fine. Just keep going and don’t stop!” I nod grimly as I keep a firm hold on a now blind Lauren. She’s muttering things under her breath and it isn’t until I harshly tell her to shut the hell up that she falls silent.

“Whatever you do, Lauren, keep walking and don’t say anything,” I instruct. Taking a deep breath, I unlock the door and swing it open, the flashbulbs startling me for a split second. Once I’ve become accustomed to the popping lights, I readjust my strong hold on Lauren and start to force my way to the back of the restaurant.

It seems, though, that the camera men only care about my reaction and the person I’m with. As soon as Lauren and I have cleared the bathroom door, the swarms of photographers encircle us and start to chase after us, the mass of people crushing both Lauren and I into the middle of the corridor that will take us to the rear of the restaurant.

They’re screaming questions at me and the person hidden from their view. If I can strain my ears, I can just hear Trace yelling out behind me he and Maura getting lost in a sea of paparazzi and curious bystanders. But I don’t stop walking. If I stop walking they’ll try to tug the jacket off of Lauren’s face and then it’ll just get worse.

Someone reaches out to yank at the corners of my jacket. I turn on the young guy who’s trying to position his camera with his other arm, “Don’t fucking touch her!” I seethe and I bring Lauren closer to me by placing an arm over her shoulder and drawing her to me. She mutters in protest but I don’t hear. I can feel the breeze from outside just a few more feet down the hallway and the car will be there. I can only hope that Trace and Maura are right behind us.

The sea of cameramen separates at the doorway and I see Tiny and Eric, standing there in all their glory. Eric surges forward and begins to shove cameramen out of the way without any apologies. Once he reaches us, he serves as a protective barrier from the unyielding cameras. I mutter my thanks as we step out into the back alley where the car is waiting.

Without any words being spoken, Eric stands guard at the back door as I shove a blind Lauren into the car. She’s starting to protest now, but it’s falling on deaf ears as I slide in behind her. Eric slams the door and the driver automatically locks them so people can’t get inside. The flashes from the cameras are so bright, they’re illuminating the interior of the car. I hear the passenger door open, and Eric jumps in. The engine jumps to life and soon we’re speeding away from the restaurant.

“Wait! We need to go back for Trace!” I shout as I lean forward. The town car is pretty big and I’m leaning over the partition that separates the front from the back. Eric shakes his head and points to the road ahead of us.

“We can’t go back there. Trace is a big boy; he’ll call you when he’s reached a safe place. Right now, you’ve got other things to worry about,” Eric responds before he inclines his head in Lauren’s direction.

I lean back into the seat just in time for Lauren to give me a very violent shove into the side of my door. “Jesus, what the hell Lauren?”

“Why the fuck did you take me away? I wasn’t done with her yet!” she seethes. My jacket has been unceremoniously tossed onto the floor and I groan as I lean forward to pick it up. Lauren takes this opportunity to smack me upside the back of the head and I move out of the way, yelling in protest.

“What the hell is your deal? Would you calm yourself down for two seconds?” I know that’s pretty hard to ask someone who’s just been involved in a fight. Her adrenaline has to be pumping and I’m sure I could let her out of the car right now and she’d run for at least two miles before feeling any strain.

But I can’t let her out of my sight, she’s still drunk and hopefully she got all the throw up out of her system back at the restaurant and she won’t feel the need to upchuck in the rental. “God, I hate you right now!” she glowers.

“I’m not going to talk to you again until you’ve calmed the fuck down, Lauren,” I bristle just as my phone starts to ring. Pulling it out of my pocket, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Trace’s name flash across the screen. “Where are you guys? You okay?”

“I’m fine, I don’t know about Maura though,” Trace shouts into the phone.

“What do you mean?” I counter. Great if my beaten to a pulp personal assistant is close to death or ready to press charges then I’ll have a lot of explaining to do.

“I mean we got separated in the media frenzy. I have no idea where she is and I have no fucking clue where I am.”

“Aren’t you by the restaurant?” I ask.

“Shit, no. That place is swarming with paps and TV crews. This is going to be all over the place in a few hours,” Trace explains and I groan loudly, “I lost Maura soon after we left the bathroom. Her phone isn’t on and I couldn’t stick around. I’m sure she’s on her way back to the hotel. Do you want me to swing by and get Lauren?”

Lauren moaning softly next to me follows his question. I look away from the window and see that her head is lolling back, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She’s gotten surprisingly pale and I can tell that she’s close to passing out. “Shit,” I mutter, “Trace just come get her in the morning. She just needs a bed and maybe to throw up more…”

“No…” she starts slowly as I flip the phone shut and shove it back into my pocket, “What I need is…to kick the shit out of…her.”

“You’ve done enough,” I soothe as I reach forward and push a few strands of hair that came loose from her ponytail away from her face, “We’re going to get you all fixed up and feeling better, okay?”

“Where’s Trace?” her voice is distant and I feel the car slowing to a stop. Luck was on our side and we were able to get back to the hotel without hitting any red lights. Thank the lord the driver is going through the service entrance because I don’t think we’d be able to get Lauren or myself into the hotel undetected through the front entrance.

“He’ll be here in the morning. You need rest, and a huge pick me up,” I respond. She doesn’t say anything and stays silent, her tiny groans of discomfort the only sounds she’s making. I would feel bad for her if this whole thing wasn’t her fault. I mean she’s the one who got drunk, and I’m sure she attacked Maura because that’s what Lauren does when she’s drunk – she gets violent.

Eric opens the car door for us before he looks around the area for any intruders. I pull Lauren out of the car and gather her in my arms. I’m taken back to one of my parties where Lauren and I first kissed. She was so drunk I had to drive Bentley Lexus back to my place and carry her into my house like some fucked up version of a newlywed couple.

Man, déjà vu is a bitch.

Eric covers me as I rush into the hotel. One of the hotel staff members already has a service elevator ready to take us up to our floor. The lifts in some of the older hotels here in London are kind of old to give off that rustic, old era feel, but thankfully the service elevators are new installments. I shift Lauren’s weight around in my arms as we begin our ascent to the upper floors of the hotel. I was able to get a small suite during my stay here in London although there’s only one bedroom.

Looks like I have the couch tonight.

We reach my floor and I waddle down the hallway with Lauren’s dead weight burdening my arms. By some grace of God, I’m able to open the door to my room without having to drop Lauren and soon we’re crossing the threshold, Lauren still whimpering under her breath.

I’ve only been in one fight in my entire life and I know when you come off the adrenaline high, the pain is a bitch. And to top it all off, Lauren is completely trashed. I’m starting to feel for the poor girl.

“Let’s get you in the other room,” I say to her, although I’m sure she has no idea what I’m saying right now. I walk the short distance to my bedroom doors and I pause in front of them. I’m almost positive I left the doors open when I left for dinner tonight. Maybe the maids closed them when they came in for turn down service?

But as I open the doors and turn on the light my eyes meet the last thing I would ever expect to see. Maura stooped over my suitcase, shoving a jewelry box that I know contains my diamond earrings into her purse.

My heart comes to a shuddering halt and all I can do is stand there at a loss for words, Lauren still cradled in my arms. I remember to take a breath and I finally find the words that have been ready to surface since I ran into the women’s bathroom almost an hour ago.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”  

20. She’s a Tramp

I’m finding that the only thing I can do is stare at my bloody and cut up personal assistant who seems to be frozen in her bent over position. She let my earrings drop back into my suitcase and she’s staring at me like she just got her hand caught in the big ass cookie jar.

“Maura? What the hell?” I finally stutter.

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU!” Lauren thunders right in my ear. She startles me so much that I drop her to the ground. She lands hard on her back and yells in pain. I guess any hopes of her quietly passing out are shot to shit because she’s struggling to her feet and trying to stagger over towards Maura. “I was fucking right! I fucking told you she’s a fucking klepto! I fucking told you!”

“Yes, yes, you told me,” I say as I surge forward and grab Lauren’s wrist. I can tell she wants a round two in her fight with Maura but there is no way in hell I’m going to let Lauren get to have all the fun. “Now calm the hell down and get into bed.”

“Like hell I’m getting into bed! I’m going to finish what I started back at….at…wherever we were at. I’m going to kick her scrawny little blonde ass from here until the fat lady sings! Let. Me. Go!”

“NO!” I yell so loudly that I make Maura jump out of her burglar crouch and actually make some of the pictures on the walls move a little, “You’re going to sit the fuck down on the bed and wait for me to come back in here…” I’m getting mad now and I really hope I can keep my temper in check or else Lauren isn’t going to be the only one throwing punches.

Lauren’s drunken glee is subdued as she quietly stumbles over to the bed and sinks down on top of it, giggling as she does so. I glare at Maura and point to the small sitting area just outside the bedroom. She doesn’t say anything as she marches past me and into the other room.

“Sayonara you mother fucking, cunt licking bitch!” Lauren crows as I turn my back at her and slam the doors behind me, silencing Lauren’s jeers. Once her ringing remarks are out of my ears and I turn to see Maura leaning against the back of the couch, her arms crossed, face turned towards the door.

“Would you care to explain to me what the hell you were doing in my room going through my things?” I ask her quietly. I’m in my danger zone and I know for a fact that if Maura steps out of line I may just have to abandon all of my southern gentleman ways and smack her across the face.

“It’s not what you think,” she states slowly.

“Really?” I ask sardonically, “Because to me it looked like you were stealing.”

She’s silent and she bites her bottom lip before wincing. I guess she forgot she was just in a fight and has a busted lip. Part of me wants to make sure she’s okay before I rip her a new one, but I can’t stand for this shit – especially if Lauren was right all along.

“I was making sure that Lauren didn’t steal anything from you,” she begins, “She’s the one who’s been doing it all along, to get your attention!” Maura blurts out. I’m just about ready to believe her, because the babbling drunk in the next room would seem like the kind of crazy person to steal shit for attention. But there’s one vital flaw in her explanation.

“This is Lauren’s first time in this room. How could she have stolen something from me earlier today?” I ask. The steel reserve that Maura set up is slowly starting to melt away and I can see a scared, confused, and conflicted young woman beginning to surface. “Unless you were trying to frame her or some detective shit like that,” I mutter, before the light bulb ignites in my head, “It’s been you all along hasn’t it?”

She doesn’t say anything at all and merely inspects her bruised forearm. She’s handling this whole thing with such indifference that it makes me want to throw something at her to see if she actually cares that I just caught her stealing from me red handed, “Maura?”

“Yes?” her voice is cool and calculating and I’m really starting to think that she believes this is some huge disservice to her intelligence.

“Was Lauren telling the truth all this time?” I can feel myself starting to get really upset because the fact of the matter is, if Maura confirms my question, that means I’ve been wrong and believing in something that isn’t true for the better part of half a year. And the fact that someone who’s worked so closely with me over the past few months has been betraying me and those I love is enough to send me over the deep end.

Maura doesn’t say a word and I can feel my patience starting to wear thin. I open my mouth to say something again, but Maura sees this as a perfectly good time to actually say something.

“You were quick to believe me back in February,” she starts, “Why change now?

“Hmm, let’s see…maybe because you were in my fucking room taking my shit?” I ask her sarcastically. I want to shove her up against a wall and force her confession out of her – regardless of if she’s guilty. All I know is that Lauren is in the other room drunk out of her mind and hurt and my first instinct and priority is to make sure that she’s okay.

But a smaller part of me wants to hear what Maura has to say before I decide her fate.

“And you’re the kind of person who needs to ‘see it to believe it,’ right?” Maura questions. I begin to tell her that she’s wrong but in all actuality, she couldn’t be more right. I didn’t see my stuff in Maura’s apartment and therefore I didn’t believe it. I saw my bracelet in Theo’s room and believed that he was the one responsible for it all.

Wow, I would make a really shitty detective or lawyer. I don’t think I’ll be giving up my day job to go to law school or some shit like that.

“But why?” I ask her, “Why steal at all? I didn’t do anything to you, I let you into my career, do you have a problem?” My temper is starting to flare up again and I can feel my voice starting to rise in volume. God I hope the walls are thick here.

“Oh it’s not what you did, it’s what that god damn bitch in the other room did to me, was doing to me, and still is doing to me.”

“What?” I question incredulously, “Who the fuck are you talking about? Lauren?”

“No shit Sherlock, who else would I be talking about?” Maura retorts, her voice icy cold and indifferent. “She ruined me right from the start! So involved with her own interests, her head is shoved so far up her ass that it’s impossible to know which end is talking!”

“I heard that you fucking bitch!” a muffled voice from the other room calls out. I roll my eyes; apparently Lauren is eavesdropping although I have no idea how she’s coherent at all given the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

“Yeah? Well hear this you stupid cow!” Maura yells back, “You’re an arrogant, self centered bitch who should rot in hell!”

“If it means I can take you with me, then gladly! Except I call the handbasket if we’re going to hell…” Lauren retorts. God they won’t stop fighting even with two heavy doors between them.

“Don’t you move,” I snarl in Maura’s direction as I move back to the bedroom. Opening the door I almost smack Lauren in the head. She’s leaning right against the wall, her ear pressed hard against the wall. “Lauren,” I sigh with disappointment, “get back into bed and try to get some sleep, okay? Let me deal with Maura and then we’ll talk…if you’re still able to…”

I’m waiting for her to tell me to shove my comments up my ass or something of the sort, but she begrudgingly gets to her feet and stumbles back to the bed, landing limply on top of the comforter.

“Happy?” she mutters. I nod before I turn on my heels and march straight back to Maura who’s still in the same position I left her.

“Okay, start from the beginning, explain yourself.”

She shifts her weight uncomfortably and looks past me at the closed doors that are containing Lauren from further beating the shit out of her. Sighing heavily, she gingerly touches her swelled shut eye, “It starts at Stanford. I was there on scholarship, ready to prove myself. Most of my professors thought I showed the most promise out of the whole freshman class. And then that stupid bitch little Lauren Walters came out of nowhere. All the professors fell in love with her little cowgirl ways and she wasn’t one to be modest about any of her accomplishments before coming to Stanford, ‘oh I was the United States Junior Barrel Racing Champion, I was valedictorian at my high school, I got accepted to Yale, Harvard, and NYU, but I chose Stanford! I’ve maintained a 4.0 grade point average all throughout high school! I was first chair violin at the Junior Wyoming Symphony Orchestra since I was thirteen!’ it was all she was capable of talking about. She didn’t care to know anybody else, she wasn’t there to make friends…she was hell bent in being the best of the best and she didn’t care who she stepped on along the way…”

I can feel the confusion settling into the pit of my stomach. I know Lauren was pretty much all of these things – the accolades and awards sitting in her bedroom at home all showcase her accomplishments. But after knowing her for almost six years, she was never one to brag about it. She never talked about back home, never really discussed college, or any awards she’d won. I’m finding it really hard to believe that the almost selfless and sometimes sweet girl sitting in the other room is almost as arrogant and self centered as I am.

“The professors were infatuated. Everything I built with them was shot to shit. I became second best to little Laurie Walters. And it wasn’t because she was better than me or smarter than me. No, she would undermine everything I did. She’d find out what essays I was writing and work twice as hard to convince the professor to do that essay instead. We’d be in the same organizations or clubs and she’d always beat me out of the top leadership position. She was a cold, calculating bitch and I can see that not much has changed.

“Of course she graduated top of our class and I had to settle for salutatorian. Of course we applied for the same jobs outside of school since we had the same major. And the one job that I wanted more than anything was to somehow get into JIVE records and at the time the only job left open was a spot as your personal assistant. I prepped for weeks, put blood, sweat, and tears into that interview and who should be victorious in getting that job, but Lauren…”

“But she doesn’t know you” I cut in, “when she interviewed you for this position she said she didn’t know you at all!”

“Of course not! Do you really think she’d remember the little people, the ones she stepped all over to get to the top? Yeah, sure. That’s not how Lauren works. You don’t know her like I know her. She’s a bully, a strategist, and just a cruel woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if she used her relationship with you as a big door opener to get to the top of JIVE or something like that…” she takes a deep breath to continue but I interrupt.

“I know for a fact she didn’t do that,” I state, “Because if she really wanted to get to the top of JIVE, then why did she quit working for me all those times? Nice try, Maura, but you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Whatever,” she states as she rolls her one good eye, “All I know is that when it got out you two were seeing each other and they were looking for her replacement, I knew I had it in the bag. After all, most of the professors at school and possible employers I interviewed with called me the Mini-Lauren. She’d pick the person most like her to do the job. Except as soon as I started working, she began to do errands for me and make phone calls I was supposed to make…” she continues on but my thoughts go back to the fight I had with Lauren all those months ago. Stating how she was doing Maura’s job for her and doing all the hard stuff…I guess that would check out.

“I knew right then and there that she needed to be out of the picture. It was the only thing I could do to get rid of Lauren and continue on to the top of the top. So I devised the plan of stealing your belongings and ultimately pin it on her somehow. Granted I never expected Theo and his willingness to help me, nor did I ever expect Lauren to go to my place, and I never, ever expected you to believe me. You’re a lot more stupid than I gave myself credit for…”

“Get out,” I growl, “get the fuck out of here or I’m calling security.”

“Well I hope she won’t mind if I press charges against her for assault?” Maura asks a sick grin on her face, “Because lord only knows I’m going to have serious emotional damage and maybe even irrevocable physical harm.”

“Maura,” I retort, “if you press charges I’ll have my lawyers on your ass so fast with a grand theft charge it’ll make your big ass head fall off your neck.” Her smug look falters and she seems taken aback by my sudden legal jargon.

“Fine,” she says shortly, “but don’t’ say I didn’t warn you when your life gets shot to shit when you let her back in. She’ll destroy you, she’ll use you, and she’ll leave you broken. So good luck with that,” she glares at me with narrowed eyes.

“Well that’s a chance I’m willing to take. Oh and before I forget, you’re fired and I hope you know that when I’m done with this you won’t be able to get any sort of career in entertainment. They won’t even higher you to cater a fucking event. So get the fuck out Maura, and if I ever see you again, I won’t be holding Lauren back.”

I don’t even watch her as she gathers her things and rushes from the room. All I can think about is checking up on Lauren and hoping she isn’t drowning in a pool of her own vomit…or trying to jump out a window, or drowning herself in the tub…

Don’t ask…drunk people can do really stupid shit sometimes.

Opening the doors into the bedroom, I expect to see Lauren passed out on top of the bed, but I feel the panic beginning to rise in my stomach when my eyes land on an empty bed spread.

“Lauren?” I call out and I want to hit myself over the head when I hear that my voice is shaking, “Lo? Where are you?”

The dreadful sound of someone retching is all I need to know. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I move towards the bathroom, pushing open the door just in time to see Lauren grip the side of the toilet bowl, her body tensing up as she heaves out the alcohol.

Well this is attractive. 

Moving slowly towards her, I realize that her hair has fallen out of her ponytail and I really hope she hasn’t gotten throw up in her hair because that would just be really fucking nasty. Sitting down cross-legged next to her, I reach out and gently pull her hair away from her face. She turns her head ever so slightly to see who’s interrupted her little puke fest for one, before she turns again and lets it rip.

A few more tense minutes of waiting for the rest of the throw up to come, and the worst of it has past. Taking a deep breath, Lauren moves away from the bowl and pushes down on the silver toggle to flush the contents away. I immediately let go of her hair as she turns to face me.

Good God, fucking Quasimodo from the Hunchback Disney movie looks better than she does right now. She might have kicked Maura’s ass from here to high heaven, but that stupid bitch got a few good hits on Lauren. Nearly the whole right side of her face is swollen and she’s probably going to have a mediocre shiner. Her bottom lip is busted and her recent activity has caused it to open up again. I watch silently as she brings a finger up to brush it and I notice that her knuckles have been rubbed raw.

“Ouch,” she winces as her hand travels up to her growing black eye.

“Yeah, you sure know how to pick your fights…” I tell her with a small smile before I get to my feet and offer my hand to her. My stomach flips when she lets her hand rest in mine as I pull her to her feet, “Let’s get you cleaned up though, I’m sure they have a first aid kit in here…”

“I want to sleep,” she whines and I can tell that the only thing that’s keeping her awake and somewhat coherent is the adrenaline that’s apparently still coursing through her even though it’s been almost two hours since her run in with Maura.

“I know and you can sleep soon, sweetie, but we have to get this stuff clean or else it’ll get infected.”

“Well aren’t you a regular fucking Nurse Nightingale,” she says sarcastically as she clambers on top of the bathroom counter. I find a small first aid kit in the medicine cabinet and open it up. “I didn’t know you even fucking cared.”

“Of course I care,” I say indignantly as I pull out some antiseptic cream and hold my hand out for one of hers. She begrudgingly places her hand in mine and I begin to gingerly spread the cream across her knuckles, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she winces before she tries to yank her hand away from me. I grip onto her hand tighter to keep her from moving away, “Maybe because you didn’t care at the beginning that I was telling the truth…stop that, it stings!”

“Well, duh, it stings,” I fire back, “you fucking kicked the shit out of Maura.” I shake her hand a bit to force her to relax before I reach over for some gauze and begin to wrap up her hands. She looks like a prizefighter and judging by the smug smile on her face, I’m sure she wouldn’t have it any other way.

But I can’t help but feel like the biggest piece of shit on the face of the planet. I mean all this time she was telling the truth, she stood by her story and I didn’t follow the obvious…God I’m a fucking idiot.

I am so, so stupid.

“So she’s worse off than I am?” she asks me quietly. I finish bandaging her hands, looking up to see her brow furrow. Nodding, I grab a washcloth next to the sink and turn the water on, letting the cold-water soak into the towel. “Good…fucking bitch deserved it…I’m still pissed you pulled me away from her,” her voice is low and stagnant and I can tell that she’s about ready to crash.

“You’ve got some dry blood,” I tell her, “hold still.” I move closer to her, my body moving in between her legs. My left hand rests against the counter as I gently wipe away some of the blood that’s gathered in the corner of her eye. Apparently she hit a sharp edge in her fight because she has a small cut above her eyebrow. I hear her sharp intake of breath as the cloth rests right against the cut. “I’m sorry, just give me one more second.” Pulling the cloth away, I grab some of the cream and a band-aid and quickly dress her minor wound.

“There we go,” I tell her as I let my hand fall away. I nearly jump when it brushes the side of her left arm, my hand very nearly landing on top of hers. “Right…” I stutter, “You really should get some sleep…you have to be exhausted.”

“Dead on my feet,” she retorts as she hops off the counter. She’s so unsteady on her feet that she practically crashes into me. I instinctively reach out and hold onto her to keep her from falling over. I try not to think that this is the closest we’ve been since that one night in Manchester that I would much rather forget.

“Let me help you,” I offer. Lauren doesn’t protest as I gather her up in my arms and cover the short distance from the bathroom to the bed. I set her down on the bed and help her get underneath the covers. She looks like a small child snuggled up between the sheets and I want nothing more than to just curl up next to her and make sure that she’s okay. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” I turn towards the closet to grab some sleep gear and an extra blanket for the couch.

She doesn’t say anything, and as I walk away my heart is screaming for her to call out to tell me to stay, to let me know that she needs me by her side tonight, even if it’s to just sit next to her while she falls asleep, I can hear her deep breathing before I even turn the lights in the bedroom out.

I guess I have to do more than pull her away from a brawl, keep her safe from paparazzi, and bandage her up to have her forgive me, and while I knew it wasn’t going to be this easy, part of me thought it wouldn’t be this hard.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I am the sorest motherfucker in the world right now.

Every inch of my body is in pain and all I want to do is lay in this bed and not move a freaking inch.

You can also add onto the aches and pains, the worst hang over of my entire life. This is worse than the morning I woke up after making out with Justin, or that other time when I was with Trace in Las Vegas for some William Rast launch he dragged me to. Yeah…this definitely takes the cake.

Oh yeah…and I’m also going to note that it’s seven in the morning but I can’t go back to sleep because every little move I make just causes me more and more pain. I need a painkiller, or an aspirin, or something that will keep me from thinking about the excruciating soreness I’m feeling.

God, I have a flight to catch back to the States later today. Sitting on a nine-hour flight, albeit in business class, is going to suck major balls. Maybe I can convince Trace to upgrade us to first…I deserve it after the fucking night I had to go through.

Dinner with the ex and his little girl pal, getting drunk to avoid being overly rude to girl pal, and then finally beating the crap out of her in the women’s bathroom. Everything after that got a little bit blurry, although I do remember hearing Justin firing her and him coming back in here to clean me up.

I have no idea where he is now, although I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. I want him to come back in here so I can laugh and gloat about how I was right all along and he was a stupid ass idiot for not believing me in the first place.

But laughing right now probably wouldn’t do well for my aching body. The only thing that’s giving me comfort is knowing that somewhere Maura is in worse pain than I am and there’s nothing she can do about it except see a doctor. She has no one here in London to take care of her like I do

Hah, take that bitch.

But merciful mother of Christ, I hurt. I can’t even crawl out of bed to get an aspirin so I’m left with only one other option.

“Justin?

I’ve got to call his sorry ass in here to help me. God, how the tables have turned. Just last month I was rushing to his side in Manchester to nurse him back to health from drunkenness and illness. Now he’s going to be doing the exact same thing, except this little escapade won’t end in sex of any kind nor will I be hanging out in his hotel room for three days. Trace will more than likely show up in two hours and I’ll be on my merry way – back to the United States and back to people who believe me when I tell them about important shit the first time around.

“Justin!” I try again. The louder I get, the worse it hurts so I know I can’t start screaming until the cows come home. “Justin?”

A loud thump followed by a long string of curse words follows and I wipe the satisfactory smile off my face as Justin comes rushing into the room, looking bewildered and looking almost as tired as I feel.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need anything? Are you okay?” even though it looks like I just woke him up from a deep sleep, he seems frazzled and frantic, which is weird for him. Mostly he’s pretty collected – right now he just looks like he’s had at least eight cups of coffee with double shots in them and is running on seventy-two hours with no sleep.

“Aspirin. And lots of it,” I tell him. He wipes his face with the palm of his hand before he disappears into the bathroom. I try my best to prop myself up on the pillows so I can swallow the pills with a glass of water that Justin is hopefully getting me. I nearly sigh out of happiness when I hear the running of the faucet and the sound of water landing in one of the glass cups left by the side of the sink.

He comes gallivanting back into the room and hands me three capsules of Tylenol and a glass of water. Justin sits on the edge of the bed as I quickly knock everything back. Hopefully this will help subdue the pain somewhat and help me sleep a little while longer. “Thank you,” I tell him as he takes the glass from my hands and sets it on the bedside table.

“No problem. Did you sleep alright?”

“I guess,” I tell him, “It looks like you haven’t slept at all though…”

“I didn’t,” he responds quickly and I see him playing with the edges of the sheets to give him something to do so he doesn’t have to look at me.

“Why?”

“Because I kept thinking about how much of an idiot I am,” he replies.

“Wow,” I state slowly, “I’m sure all that thinking gave you a real big headache… hopefully I didn’t take all the aspirin.” I don’t care if my witty and sarcastic comments make me seem like a bitch, as far as I’m concerned, Justin deserves every little bit of it

“Look, Lauren,” he begins and he drops the corner of the bed sheet and turns to look me dead in the eyes…well at least in my good one, my right eye is almost completely swollen shut and it’s hard to look out of it. I’ll have a hell of a time explaining this to Elliot and to everyone at work, “I know saying I’m sorry isn’t going to cover the damage I caused you over these past few months. I mean I could apologize until I’m blue in the face and I know that it isn’t going to change any of the feelings you felt or still feel about me. But, I’m still going to do it. I was wrong about Maura, I was wrong about trying to stay away from you and not believing you in the first place. As your boyfriend…well at that time anyway, it’s my responsibility to hear you out, and I didn’t…” he bites his lip and looks away and I really hope I’m just imagining the tears brimming in his eyes. God this may turn awkward again.

But I just want him to stop and hear him say that he was wrong over and over again because there might not ever be another time when I hear those words come out of his mouth in that exact sequence again. Then again, why would I hear him speak again at all after this? Just because Maura is out of the picture and he’s realized the error of his ways doesn’t mean that we’ll get back together. If anything I almost want to tell him to fuck off more because it took a really big fucking hammer to hit him over the head in order for him to get the whole picture.

I mean, what would have happened if Justin hadn’t walked in on Maura snooping through his things? I’m sure she would have spun some twisted little story about how I was a belligerent drunk and attacked her out of nowhere. Would Justin have believed her then?

“I’m sorry for not believing you in the first place and for being such a fucking little kid about it,” he continues on and I’m forced to listen to him because I can’t move anywhere or become temporarily deaf, “and you have to know that I really haven’t stopped caring about you or loving you since we broke up. As much as I tried to move on, I couldn’t and I wish I could have told you that in Manchester, but that didn’t really go according to plan.”

Sweet Jesus he just had to bring Manchester up. That was just…a really bad and awkward time and him talking about it is definitely not wracking him up any good points. But the sad thing is, I want to tell him that I haven’t stopped caring either. Even after all the shit he’s put me through, I still keep coming back and I end up falling harder than I did the first time. Man if anything good comes out of this, I’ll probably be stuck with the bastard for the rest of my life, and right now that isn’t a good thing.

“God,” he sighs heavily and rubs his face again, “I wish there was just an easier way for me to get this across to you, because right now I feel like nothing I’m saying makes any sense…”

“Then don’t say anything. Go in the other room and go to sleep,” I reply.

“But there’s so much I have to say, I’m sorry that I took advantage of what we had, sorry that I wasn’t there enough, sorry that I put everything but you first. I found out too late that no matter how many career defining performances I have, they don’t mean shit if you aren’t there with me. I was an idiot who realized he had a good thing going for him after it was already out of his life. I can’t even begin to tell you how much of a fucking retard I feel about this whole situation and I don’t care if we never get back together…” he stops talking immediately, a look of horror transcribed on his face, “I mean I do care, “ he backtracks quickly, “I care what happens to us in the future, what I meant to say was, even if we don’t go back to what we once were, I hope you can still forgive me and accept my apology even though I know it isn’t much.”

Well, even when the bastard hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours, he’s still able to form coherent sentences that make my aspiring filled brain second guess all the prejudice and preconceptions I’ve had for months.

Damn him.

But I’m not going to give up that easily.

“Justin,” I begin and I reach out and pat his hand quickly, despite the protest my arm is giving me, “you’re babbling. And I know you aren’t going to get any sleep on that couch; your Pop Wonder bones couldn’t handle it. So come over here,” I pat the opposite side of the bed, trying to ignore his brightened expression, “don’t get any fresh ideas, and get to sleep. From what I’ve heard you’ve got two more shows to get through and I’m not going to be blamed for fucking up your sleep schedule.” His features immediately darken when I bring up his remaining shows in London, but he moves over to the other side of the bed and quickly gets underneath the covers.

His breathing slows almost immediately and just when I think he’s drifted off to sleep, he turns on his side to look at me. I move my head ever so slightly to look at him and I notice that his eyes are heavy and his weariness makes him seem almost drunk. I hold my breath as he reaches out and moves a strand of hair away from my face.

“Thank you for listening,” he mumbles, “I’m so sorry and I still love you…always have and always will…” his eyes close and I watch as he quickly drifts off into a deep sleep.

Turning my head away, I stare at the ceiling as I try to fight off the wave of tears that are threatening to fall. Why am I almost crying right now? What the hell? The fact that I’m showing an emotion other than contempt and anger right now is frustrating me to no end and I don’t think I can stay here any longer.

I know it’s going to take a full marching band and the apocalypse to wake Justin up right now, so I don’t worry as I struggle to get myself out of bed and into the other room. Thankfully, Justin left his phone sitting on the coffee table so I don’t have a problem getting Trace’s number and dialing it as fast as I can.

It rings a few times before he finally answers his phone, his voice groggy from sleep.

“Lauren, how you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a fucking bus…repeatedly,” I groan as I sit down on the couch. I twist my face due to the level of pain that shoots up my legs. The aspirin still has to kick in, I guess.

“Are you still at Justin’s hotel?”

“Yeah, do you think you can swing by an get me right now? I want to get my things ready for the flight home.”

“Sure thing. I’ll probably have to come around the back because the only thing any of the shit rags around here have been able to report is concerning your brawl with Maura. That’s the only thing I saw on the news last night when I got back to the hotel. Did you guys manage to find her?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, “long story, but I’ll explain it when I see you. Come around the back, I guess.”

“No problem, see you in a few.”

We quickly say our goodbyes and I scurry around the room, trying to find my shoes. Thankfully, I spot them by the bedroom door and I quickly throw them on before looking up and into the other room.

Justin is still on his side of the bed; only he’s sprawled out on his stomach, his left arm thrown precariously over the spot I was occupying. He’s gripping the sheets almost as if he’s trying to hold onto an invisible person. I know for a fact that he’d unknowingly be spooning with me if I had stayed in that position.

Part of me is thanking Christ I moved, and another part, the bigger part, is imagining the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, protecting me, holding me.

Yeah, I need to get the fuck out of here.

Turning on my heels, I try my best to march out of the room, ignoring the pain shooting up my legs. I’m sure I have a bruise on my upper right leg from when Maura shoved me into one of the stall doors. Of course that was before I smacked her over the head with one of the soap dispensers.

I reach the door and open it. The hallway is deserted and I step through the threshold and out of his life once more without looking back.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I think knowing I was going to sleep with Lauren right beside me allowed me to have one of the best sleeps in my life. I remember telling her that I still loved her before slipping away into a dreamless void, and I knew it was all going to be okay because I’d be waking up with her right beside me.

Stretching up, I turn over to stare at her. I’m sure she managed to nod off back to sleep soon after I passed out and knowing that I might get to look at her and realize that this isn’t a dream before she wakes up again, is something that makes everything in the world seem okay.

Opening my eyes, I get ready to feast my eyes on a bruised and battered albeit still gorgeous Lauren, but there’s one thing my brain isn’t ready for when my bleary eyes finally focus.

An empty right side of the bed.

Sitting straight up, I crawl over to her side of the bed wondering if maybe she fell out while she was sleeping. The floor is clear of any sleeping bodies and my next guess is the bathroom. But after inspecting the bathroom and the rest of the hotel room, I find that I’m the only person left present.

Did I just dream that whole fucking thing? The fight, the revelation with Maura, practically pouring my heart out to Lauren while I was cleaning her up and talking to her this morning? No…because I saw the first aid kit still sitting on the counter in the bathroom when I went to inspect it.

Where the hell did she run off to?

I spot my phone sitting on the coffee table and I flip it open noticing that I slept in until eleven o’clock. Trace said he’d be by to pick her up in the morning, maybe he already showed up?

I can’t dial Trace up fast enough and I’m sitting on the edge of the couch, waiting with bated breath for him to answer.

“Y’ello?” he sounds into the phone and I’ve never been so happy to hear his voice.

“Trace!” I practically screech into the telephone, “where are you?”

“The airport, man. What’s up?”

“Is she with you?” I counter.

“Who?”

“Oh you know, Queen Elizabeth,” I grumble sarcastically, “Who the hell do you think I mean?”

“Jeez, did you just wake up? Because you sound like a fucking grump right now,” Trace retorts, “Yeah she’s with me, she’s checking her bags right now.”

“Oh,” I say slowly suddenly feeling very stupid. What am I going to say now? I don’t want to talk to her, well I do…but I don’t know what I would say to her over the phone. “How is she?” I guess I can ask that.

“Fine. Still sore and she looks like she got into a fight with a crazy ass bitch and won, but other than that she’s just fine and dandy. Look, I have to go check in…hang on a second…”

His voice fades away and I hear various sounds coming over the phone – PA announcements, people yelling in the distance, the sound of the phone rustling against clothes or something. I hear Trace’s voice in the not so far off distance, “Look just take it, okay? Keep him entertained until I get done checking my bags…”

“Trace,” her voice sounds gravelly and yet wonderful all at the same time, “please…”

“Oh grow a pair, Walters,” he counters and I want to punch the air in silent victory, “it’s going to take me five seconds to check my shit.”

“Fine,” she says in that exasperated voice that I love so much. I hear more static and scuffing about before her voice sounds in my ear, clearer than before, “Hello?”

“Hey!” I say clearing my throat in the process, “Um…what’s up?”

“Trying to deal with the crazy fuckers here at Heathrow. And I thought LAX was bad,” she’s making small talk and I’m grateful for it. I don’t really want to get into any heart felt conversations over the phone.

“Yeah, no kidding,” my voice fades away and then comes back stronger, “You left in a hurry this morning…”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she retorts, “Didn’t really feel up to hearing your ass snore until Trace came to get me.”

“Very funny,” our banter is back up to snuff and I guess that’s a good thing, but even over the phone I can feel this tension building up and I just want to tear it all down. “Look Lauren, can we talk about this?”

“About what, your snoring?”

“No,” I say quickly, “I mean everything that’s happened. I don’t think you know how sorry I am.”

“Justin,” she sighs and I can almost imagine her rubbing the bridge of her nose in exasperation, “I don’t want to talk about this…”

“Yes you do,” I tell her, “If you didn’t want to talk about it you wouldn’t have taken the phone.” I can tell by her silence that she knows I’m right so I see it as a sign to continue, “Like I said, I’m sorry I put you through all this shit and I was a real prick for not believing you in the first place, and that whole Maura thing…I was just stupid, Lauren. And I’ve learned my lesson this time, Lauren, I promise you that. I won’t ever take you for granted again and I hope you know that.”

“Look Justin, I have to go, we need to go through security and we can’t stay on the phone…” her voice is static, and I know I’m losing her.

“No! You don’t have to go! You can stay here, you can come back and we can figure this out! I want to figure this out with you, I want to make it work!”

“Justin,” she’s trying to cut me off, to try to do the cordial telephone sign off, but I won’t let her, I’ll be damned if I let her.

“Lauren, please!” and I’ve crossed the line from asking to begging, pleading and groveling all rolled into one. My voice is high pitched, I can feel the tears raking my throat and even though I’m sitting in the middle of my hotel room, I’ve never felt more lost. “Please just listen to me!”

“I’m sorry Justin,” she says quickly, “I have to go. Good luck with your last two shows…”

“Lauren, it doesn’t have to be like this! I love you,” but my last three words are cut off by the beeping of my phone, telling me that the other line has been severed. I let the phone fall out of my hand and onto the floor.

I stare at the phone for a minute as I let the sudden realization of everything that’s happened smash into me like a high-speed collision. My need to put my career first and to be the center of attention has cost me the most precious thing to me. And I realize that it doesn’t matter if Maura stole my bracelet, or my prized Disney DVDs or my stupid fucking boom box…she managed to take the trust, love, and camaraderie I felt with one person and tear it to shreds – and there’s hardly any hope of rebuilding the bridges that have been burned.

And I don’t even care if I’m finally letting the tears flow, I don’t care that I’m sitting on my couch practically sobbing like a baby, all I know and all that I am is leaving and probably doesn’t give a damn that I’ve finally seen the inequity in my actions.

Maura’s deception has played its course, and right now, I’m absolutely powerless to stop it. 

“Answer the phone.”

“Why?”

“Because its been ringing off the hook for the past three days. Answer it.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Lauren, come on…how long are you going to make him do this?”

“Until he stops.”

“Lauren, dammit would you pick up the phone!” Elliot suddenly yells and I’m so put up by his increased tone of voice that I jump slightly a few kernels of popcorn falling onto the ground. Unfortunately, I can’t respond to his wishes because my cell phone has currently stopped ringing and is now telling me that I have one missed call from Justin’s Cell.

I can add that onto the twenty other missed calls I have from that same number.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this to him. He obviously wants to talk to you about this and I’m pretty sure you want to discuss this with him as well.”

“What gives you that impression?” I’m starting to get really annoyed with Elliot right now. I’m trying to enjoy season two of Grey’s Anatomy on DVD and the ringing of my phone and Elliot giving me grief is definitely not allowing me to have some one on one time with McDreamy and Meredith.

“Maybe because I find you looking at your phone like it’s grown an extra head. And you’ve got that whole ‘lost puppy dog’ look on your face whenever the phone starts to ring. I’m not an idiot Lauren.”

“Well I’m not an idiot either,” I say stubbornly, “and an idiot would pick up the phone.”

“Sometimes Lauren, I swear to God…”

I’m about to tell him off for ruining a pivotal moment in McDreamy/Grey love, but my phone starts to ring again.

“Oh my god!” Elliot yelps and he throws up his hands in exasperation, “Either you pick up the phone or I will.”

“Fine!” I shout back as I snatch the phone off the coffee table and flip it open.

“Bueno?”

“Um…hello?”

“Quein es?”

“Is Lauren there?”

“Hay no Lauren aqui. Tiene un numero mal.” God I am having way too much fun with this and I don’t care if my Spanish is off. The only thing Justin knows is ‘where is the bathroom’ and ‘two shots of tequilia.’

“Oh…okay, thank you?” I’m trying so hard not to laugh like crazy as he tries his best to be polite about calling the wrong number.

“Y tiene una cara muy feo y estupido. Tiene un dia mal.”

“Uh…sure,” he states and I can hear the confusion in his voice. He quickly hangs up the phone and I throw the phone back on the coffee table, laughing incessantly and ignoring the chastising look that’s strewn across Elliot’s face.

“You are such a bitch,” he mutters.

“Bite me, Rodgers. He’ll stop calling.”

“For a while…” Elliot explains, “I’m sure he knows it was you. And you know for a fact that he’ll be calling you back soon. The Justin that I was able to get to know isn’t one to give up that easily when he wants something bad enough.”

“You know,” I state casually, “All I wanted to do was come home, have a glass of wine with my roommate, and watch some steamy love sessions between my two favorite fictional surgeons. Is that too much to ask for?”

“When you’re stringing along a one time serious boyfriend who might be looking for some closure, then yes…it is too much.” I immediately bristle at the word closure. Who says he’s looking for closure? The last time I actually talked to him, he was on his knees and ready to come crawling back. He couldn’t be looking for closure right now.

Could he?

“So I don’t know what you’re going to do about this situation.”

“Situation?” I ask stupidly. Come on, Elliot, I just want to ignore the current conversation and zone out in front of the television. The least he can do is give me that luxury. But no…the man has gone and opened his mouth and is starting to speak again.

“Honestly, Lauren, I may be stupid when it comes to reading your emotions where I’m concerned, but when it comes to him, you’re an open book. You still love him and you miss him. What are you going to do?”

Well that certainly came out of nowhere. And while I want to throw his blunt comments out the window and act like it didn’t happen, I can’t help but feel that slight twinge in my stomach that is telling me I need to talk about the emotions and thoughts that have been suppressed since I got back from London.

“I don’t know,” I sigh heavily as I turn off the television. Sorry Dempsy…but I guess discussing matters of the heart with your best friend is more important than watching you perform brain surgery on some twelve year old boy while looking dreamily into Meredith’s eyes. “I mean I don’t want to rush back into it, I guess. It took us so long to get together in the first place, I’m kind of afraid what will happen now that he’s starting to slow down with the touring…”

“What do you mean by that?” It appears that Elliot has taken on the therapist approach to this conversation. I half expect him to cross his legs and look at me reproachfully before asking ‘and how do you feel about that?’

“Well,” I start furtively; I can’t believe I’m about to go into this. I’m taking a turn towards vulnerable, paranoid girl world and I rarely visit this place, ever, “He’ll have a lot more free time and where will that leave us? When we were together, we were a couple for literally two months before he was off doing what he does best. But if I go back to him a second time, he’ll be finishing up his promotion and…I don’t know…” my voice is small and unsure and I reach out for my glass of wine, hoping that I don’t run out any time soon.

“So are you scared for the future?” Elliot asks me as he follows my lead and snatches his glass up from the coffee table. My phone, thankfully, remains silent and I can only hope it will let me continue this conversation uninterrupted. “Are you scared that with enough free time he’d might want to marry…”

“No!” I state firmly, “I’m not freaked out about the whole marriage or commitment thing. I’m afraid that when he does take a moment to sit back and take a breather, he’ll look at me and see something that doesn’t look like all the girls he’s dated in the past. I’m kind of freaked out that he’ll wake up and see me as just his personal assistant.”

Whew. That felt good to get off my chest. I mean at the end of the day, I guess I’m just afraid that he’ll get bored of me and what I have to offer and then I’ll be in the exact same boat I was a few months ago – broken, hurt, confused, and totally worthless. I don’t ever want to feel like that again. Ever.

“Come on Lauren,” he scoffs, “Don’t you think he’d have given up on you already if that were the case?”

I give a noncommittal sigh and sit back into the folds of the couch, crossing my arms over my front. While actually talking to Elliot about this and letting a few things come out in the open has made me feel better, I’m still at a loss at what to do. Okay, there are a few things that are totally obvious, like calling him and taking him back, or telling him to fuck off once and for all. But still…there are a dozen underlying things that go along with that.

Of course I would be able to think things through much further, but the phone decides to ring at that exact moment.

Three guesses on who it is and the first two don’t count.

Elliot gives me a knowing look and I sigh heavily as I lean forward and pick up the phone.

“Are you going to try German this time?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“No, you and I both know the only thing I can speak is shitty Spanish,” I retort before I flip the phone open, “Hello?”

“Lauren?” his voice stammers out in surprise. I’m sure the bastard thought I wasn’t going to answer the phone or another Spanish lady would answer.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Um, alright, you?”

“Fine,” I state matter of fact. I want to giggle at how timid his voice sounds over the phone, “Where are you right now?”

“Er, I’m at home,” he mutters and I can’t tell if his voice is trembling out of excitement or acute fear.

“I’ll be right over.”

*~*~*~*~*

I am so fucking nervous.

I can’t even begin to describe the level of nausea that has risen in my stomach. I feel like I’m about to keel over and vomit all over the floor at any moment. I’ve been pacing non stop since I got off the phone with Lauren and I think I’m going to die of cardiac arrest if she doesn’t get here soon.

Sweet shit I am so nervous.

The only reason why Lauren would be coming over here, in person, is because she’s either taking me back with open arms, or she’s telling me to fuck off for good – and I’m sure she’ll throw shit at me for good measure. I mean I can just see her barreling towards me with a bat in her hands or something and she’s yelling at me to stay the fuck away from her.

Which would kind of defeat the purpose of her coming over to my house to tell me that because she’s not staying the fuck away from me.

I’m not making any sense. I feel like my mind is a thousand miles ahead of my body. If you asked me to make a coherent thought I’d probably be a stuttering mess. And the thing that’s making me freak out even more is she’s going to be here.

Here, in the flesh. Like her actual body will be in front of me, close enough for me to touch. “Oh my God,” I mutter to myself as I continue to stumble around the downstairs of my house.

“You need to take a chill pill,” Trace announces from the top of the stairs. His sudden appearance startles me and I jump about ten feet before I try to lean nonchalantly against the wall opposite the stairs. “You are freaking the fuck out.”

“No I’m not,” I mutter as I rub my forearms. I don’t even want to look up at Trace because I know the bastard has a smug little smirk on his face. Sometimes, I hate that my best friend knows me better than I know myself.

“Just calm down. If she’s coming over here to talk to you it has to be a good thing,” Trace explains as he makes his way down the stairs, “Don’t sweat it and if all else fails, we can go out and get completely shit faced tonight.”

The guy has a point, but I’m hoping I can spend tonight with Lauren wrapped up in my arms on the couch. Don’t get me wrong, I like hanging out with Trace, but I don’t think he’d want to cuddle on the sofa – just my intuition.

“I guess,” I mumble. I’m trying to get my nerves in check, but they’re running rampant right now and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep them under control for very long. Man, I feel like I need to vomit.

“Calm the fuck down and get a grip. She isn’t going to want to come back to a guy who looks like he’s got five kilos of coke in the trunk of his car and is about to get searched by the cops.” He’s right, but I still can’t get the huge rolling wave of nausea out of my system.

The doorbell rings and I hear one of the dogs yelp in alarm. Oh wait…that wasn’t a dog, it was me. I can’t believe I yelped like a little girl at the sound of my own damn doorbell. Trace snorts back laughter and he motions for me to go answer the door. I shake my head and press my back further against the wall.

“For fuck’s sake are you kidding me?” Trace asks incredulously. I can feel the color leaving my face and my hands are all cold and clammy. This is ridiculous and yet for some reason I can’t help but think that this is how I’m supposed to feel right now. Like my life is on the verge of ending or beginning all over again based on this simple visit. “Are you going to answer the door?”

“No,” I stammer, “I can’t. Trace, I’m so freaked out right now.”

“Well fine, if you’re going to be a pussy you can just stand there and I’ll get the door. I never thought I’d see the day where Justin Timberlake was afraid of a chick.”

I want to tell him that when the chick in question holds your heart in her hands and can crush it or liberate it with a few words or a single look, you’re pretty freaked out.

 I listen to him mutter under his breath as he makes his way to the front door. The lock turns and I hear the creaking of the door as it opens. There’s an exchange of words and I want to dance around the room when her voice reaches my ears. The fact that she’s in my house again makes me want to kiss some babies or give a few hundred thousand dollars to charity. My stomach is bursting with happiness and motion sickness all at the same time. Honestly, this is fucking ridiculous.

Pushing myself away from the wall, I shove my hands in my pocket and hope to God I don’t look a complete mess. I don’t want her to see that I’m a complete and total mess without her, but then I suddenly realize that maybe me looking like a retard and so not put together will make her realize how lost I am without her.

“He’s in here…being all shy,” Trace’s voice announces as the muffled shuffle of his feet matches the strong and determined footfalls of our new house guest. Brennan and Buckley go rushing past me to greet the new stranger and I watch as she appears from the foyer, bending down to allow an ambush of puppy proportions assail her with flapping pink tongues.

She laughs loudly as she tries to give equal attention to the animals. Trace stands next to her and gives me a pointed look, as if to tell me to say something. I clear my throat and try my best to look cool and collected, but the minute she looks up from Brennan and Buckley and her eyes meet mine, I start to feel like an uncoordinated fourteen year old.

“Hey,” she states with a thin smile. She gives my dogs a few more rubs before she stands up, brushing her hands on her jeans.

“Uh,” I mutter in greeting. Trace shoots me a reproachful look and I yank a hand out of my pocket and rub it over my growing hair. She accepts my ridiculous grunt as a form of greeting and she steps into the room, looking at the stairs leading up to the second floor with what seems to be a hint of nostalgia. I think the last time we were in the house together was when she was rushing down the stairs trying to get away from me screaming at her.

I swear if she isn’t comfortable in this house anymore I’ll sell it and move somewhere else so we can start fresh. I’ll completely redo the interior of this house if she wants it to change so she cant’ be reminded of what happened here.

“How are you?” she inquires and I shuffle my feet back and forth before I look back up at her,

“I’m alright. You?”

“I’m doing well, thank you,” she responds.

“Shit, I think I left…I think I left the cake in the oven. Or some shit like that,” Trace suddenly interjects, “I’ll be back in a little bit!” I stifle a laugh as Lauren rolls her eyes at Trace’s retreating form.

“He’s real subtle that one,” Lauren says sarcastically. She’s about to open her mouth to say something, but for some reason I find myself starting to say something, too.

“Soooo,”

“Soooo,” Shit, this isn’t awkward at all. We just said the same word at the same time with the same vocal inflection. This woman needs to get out of my head and maybe I need to do the same with her. She looks away embarrassed and I find myself doing the same.

Yeah, cue the awkwardness.

“Look, Justin,” Lauren starts and I can feel all of my hope starting to fall out of my ass, “This has all been really fucking weird, you know? All the shit that’s happened to us in the past couple of months…” I start to say that I agree with her but she cuts me off, “I think it best you don’t interrupt me right now because I might lose what I’m trying to say.” I nod in understanding and she takes a deep breath before she continues.

“All the shit that’s happened, I never thought in a million years I’d have to go through all the stuff we’ve had to bear witness to. You were a complete asshole to me; you put your career before me and our relationship; you believed someone who you only knew for a few months rather than someone you’ve known for most of your adult career simply based on lack of physical evidence. You were an ass hat, a fucking jerk off for not believing me in the first place, and yet I can’t really stand here and blame you any more…”

The small shred of hope that was simmering in the depths of my stomach is beginning to bubble and I try not to look like a hopeful little kid as she continues with her little rant. I can’t get my hopes up, I can’t let her know that the basis of her decision right now will either send me over the moon or cast me into the depths of complete despair.

Shit, I sound like such a little emo shit. If I keep this up I should probably start expecting calls from Jared Leto or that crazy emaciated dude from My Chemical Romance.

“I can’t blame you anymore because you believe me now and the way I see it, that’s all that matters at this point in time.”

The hope continues to flourish inside me and I’m hoping that this could mean a possible reconciliation with a final surge in getting back together. I would do anything for her right now. If she asked me to run down Hollywood and Highland buck ass naked I’d ask her if she could give me a ride. At this point I’m so desperate to be back in her good graces and to have her want me back that I’ll do anything

And by anything I mean she could ask me to walk away from my career and I’d do it.

I can tell by her stance that she’s done talking and I manage to take a deep breath to collect my thoughts. How can I word what’s been festering inside me for weeks? All the words are jumbled together and I’m afraid that if I open my mouth it will string out into incoherent sentences and random words thrown in there.

“Look Lauren,” I begin with a huge sigh, “never, ever in a million years did I ever mean to hurt you or cause you any pain. It really is inexcusable what I did to you and what I continued to do to you after we fell apart. It wasn’t fair to you and it wasn’t fair to me, or to any of the people that we know and love. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about the things I said and did to you and I do feel like an asshole and a jerk off for not believing in you and not taking the time to realize what we had was precious. I was stupid, a jerk, I was every bad word you could string together and there are no excuses for my actions. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry and if there’s still something there between us, well I’m pretty sure you don’t need me to tell you twice on where I stand.”

God that felt good to get off my chest. I am praying to Jesus above that she’ll respond with a positive answer – that she’ll tell me that she’s ready to start fresh, turn to a new page. I don’t know what I’ll do if her answer is of the negative persuasion. She’s silent for a moment…well it actually seems like a long time to me and I want nothing more than to fall to heap on the floor.

The hope inside is dying…

“Look, Justin…” her voice fades away and I can feel my chest start to constrict. The room is closing in around me and everything is spinning. I can hear the answer in her intake of breath and I almost want to throw her out of the house before she can vocalize her disappointment and her request that I stay the fuck away from her.

“If we are going to try this again, I want to go slow…” she bites her lip and I want to rush forward and take her up in my arms. “So slow that we’re going backwards. I don’t want to rush into things like we did the last time. If we’re going to do this, I want to do it right. That means no moving back into your place; I’ll stay with Elliot at his apartment…” the little growl in my throat pops up before I have a chance to harness it. Lauren gives me a quizzical look and I sigh heavily.

“Is it a good idea that you stay with Elliot? I mean he’s head over heels in love with you,” I explain. I can’t help that I’m still jealous the little twerp gets to spend just about every waking moment with the love of my life. I’m sure he stands over her bed while she sleeps and has a mini shrine of her stashed underneath a loose floorboard of his bedroom.

“I know that he has feelings for me and we’ve discussed it like adults,” Lauren explains sternly, “I’m staying with Elliot. Get past the whole jealousy thing and realize that I won’t ever like Elliot like that. As I was saying,” Lauren pushes on, “we can date, we can hang out at each other’s places, but I don’t want to get into anything too crazy like moving back in or start with a real serious relationship. As much as I hate to say it, we need to learn to trust each other again and that might take time.”

I sigh heavily and look past her at the hallway where Trace disappeared. I know that there wasn’t a cake and the little troll is probably hanging behind a corner to listen to my exchange with Lauren, but I wish he would show up and break up the daunting and somewhat disappointing rapport I’m experiencing with my once-serious-but-now-not-so-serious girlfriend.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” I blurt out before I can get a hold on my words. God I feel like such a needy little bitch.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you,” she responds and that makes me feel a little bit better.

“Then why can’t we be the way we were?” I all but whine. I’m sorry, but all I can think of is what we had and the fact that she doesn’t want to jump right back into it is making me mad. I don’t want to have to work at it! I know what we could be if she would only stop this whole ‘I’m a hurt female so I’m going to move cautiously,’ bullshit.

“Because it was obviously too fast and you were getting ready to leave to travel the world without me…” Lauren starts but I interrupt without at second thought.

“Yeah, but I told you time and time again to come!”

“I wanted to make something of myself without you by my side twenty-four seven!” she exclaims. Jesus, can we make it through ten minutes without being at each other’s throats. What happened to the time when we would fight just to tease the other and end with a kiss or some other sort of affection? I can tell she’s waiting for me to take our argument further but I stop it before it can escalate. I want to show her that I can be adult about this whole situation.

“Fine, we’ll take it slow,” I respond. She looks surprised that I would end our disagreement and I can see just a hint of respect and what looks to be a hint of admiration in her features. “Are you doing anything tonight?” I ask her.

“No, why?”

“I figured we could see a movie or something?” I suggest hopefully. God I can only wish that she’ll take this with a grain of salt and realize that I’m trying to make a damn good effort to respect her wishes. It’s taking a lot of self control to not jump on her right now and shove my tongue down her throat.

“I’d like that,” she says with a small smile. Well, I can wait and hope for the shoving of tongue down throat for the second date.

Like Lauren said, take it slow. 

So things have been going pretty well.

I mean they’ve been going as well as they could be given that Justin and I have been taking things slow for a little over a month. I’ll admit it’s a little weird not doing the whole crazy relationship Justin and I once had, but I feel as if I’m getting to know the little things about him that I used to have a hold on back when I was working for him.

He’s been a real good sport about the whole thing and hasn’t tried to rush me into anything. In the month that we’ve been back together we’ve only slept with each other once and I think that’s pretty damn good. Believe me, after the deed was done, it was pretty damn hard to not say, ‘okay let’s bring up the speed.’ I feel like I’m in a prolonged form of Lent but let’s face it; I am definitely not giving up sex and all the benefits of being with Justin for Jesus.

We’re rebuilding, we’re reconstructing all the ties that were severed when Maura came into the picture. Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day where Justin and I were able to put aside all the differences that have come between us and finally reconcile. I’m not going to lie of course, there was that tiny little bit of me that hoped and prayed every night that the position I’m in now would come, and now it’s doing the victory lap in my stomach every single time I answer his phone calls or whenever I kiss him.

Which is a lot less often than usual let me tell you.

The dates have become more frequent; the fights have subsided – now we’ve resorted to having petty little arguments about movies or exceedingly random things like that. Nothing life altering, and every single disagreement ends with laughter. We don’t go to bed angry – well I can count the amount of times we’ve fallen asleep together on one hand, but when I put my head down on my own pillow at Elliot’s place, by myself, I’m not angry at him. And he isn’t angry with me; it’s a beautiful compromise.

And when I look back on it that’s the big thing we were missing was compromise.

“Lo ho, Lo ho, Lo ho, Lo ho, Lo ho!” his voice chants incessantly as he bounces on the couch next to me. I want to pick up the remote and smack him upside the head because he is seriously messing up my Flavor of Love 2 marathon.

There are some things that don’t change – my obsession with shitty reality television for one.

“Lo ho, Lo ho, Lo ho!” I swear to God if he doesn’t stop I will kill him. “Lo ho, Lo ho, Lo ho…”

“What the fuck is it Trace?” He grins widely happy that he was finally able to get on my nerves enough to make me take notice of him. “I hope you have a really good reason for being such a pain in the ass right now.”

“Do I ever need a reason?”

“I guess not,” I reply slowly, “Do you still need to talk to me or can I go back to watching my television show without hearing shit from you?” I really, really, really want to find out what happens with Flava Flav and if he really finds love or just another booty call.

“Yeah, uh, what are you doing tonight?” Trace asks me quietly and the sudden change in his demeanor makes me completely give up on watching my show.

I guess it’d be good to say that Trace has been acting really weird lately. The little troll has been secretive and running around and he’s hardly had any time to spend with Justin and I. Well, I have more time than Justin does because that stupid bastard wants to add on more shows. I just want Justin to stay here so I can have him all to myself. Is that too much to ask for?

But back to Trace…he’s been distant and every time Justin has tried to talk to him about it, he’s always evading the topic of what’s making him act like a complete retard. The fact that he’s asking me what I’m doing tonight is a big deal since it’s usually Justin and I trying to coax Trace to come out with us.

“I was going to do dinner and a movie with Justin, but this seems like it’s important,” I offer. I try not to take notice that the girls on the television screen are swearing up a storm and throwing shit at one another – all for a little man with a huge clock dangling around his neck.

What is the world coming to?

“It’d really mean a lot to me, Lo,” Trace adds and any doubts I’ve had about going out with him and blowing Justin off have been thrown out the window. It really seems like there’s something terrible going on in Trace’s life right now and the fact that he’s coming to me first, me and not Justin is a big freaking deal. “And hey, we have some catching up to do, it’s been a while since it’s just been the two of us. And don’t tell Justin, I don’t want him to get all butt hurt that I’m doing one on one time with you and not him.”

He has a point. Justin would get a case of the ass. He fails to recognize that Trace and I are friends, too.

The two of us make plans to meet in Santa Monica for seven o’clock, now I have the daunting task of canceling on Justin. He isn’t going to like this at all. He’s wanted to see this latest Tarantino flick with me for the past like month and now I’m canceling on him. Great.

I dial his number and press the phone to my ear as I say a goodbye to Trace so he can go home and get ready. Justin picks up on the third ring and while I shouldn’t be surprised, I can’t help but smile. This new Justin has only missed three of my calls…better than the old one who would constantly send me straight to voice mail or even worse, have his PA answer the phone.

“Hey Lauren!” he says brightly and I can just feel the smile on his face as he’s speaking. I want nothing more than to be with him right now – the feeling is so strong I feel like I’m about to go crazy if I don’t see him soon. Granted if I wasn’t going out with Trace, I’d be able to spend time with Justin, but Trace needs me and I’m not about to cancel on a good friend. “How’s your day been going?”

“Well enough, how are you?”

“You know, just talking with the production team for the second US leg of the tour. Really boring bullshit but it has to be done,” he explains and I really feel for the guy. If the thought of putting things together and making sure objective things get done bored me to tears, I would be in his shoes, too bad I would gladly trade places with him in an instant. “I can’t wait to see you tonight though.”

“Yeah, look about that,” I start slowly and I can feel the guilt begin to settle in the pit of my stomach.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he questions.

“No, no I’m fine. Just, an old friend got into town and I haven’t seen her in a while, she’ll only be in town tonight and yeah…”

“Oh that’s cool,” Justin says and I can feel the trace of disappointment in his words. It obviously isn’t cool, “we can take a rain check. I’m busy tomorrow night with a rehearsal, but maybe Saturday?”

“Saturday works for me,” I say trying to ignore the guilt. The lucky thing about the party seasons at the Hilton is no one really has anything planned for the end of July beginning of August. Thank God.

“I’ll call you if I have an open spot. Maybe we can still get together after you have dinner with your friend?”

“I’ll let you know,” I state with a grim smile. God I feel like shit, why do I feel like shit?

“Great. Maybe I’ll call Trace and see what he’s doing. I hope your dinner goes well, I love you.”

“Love you, too,” the guilt is tearing me up inside. I want to blurt out that I’m going out with Trace, but I know that would open up a bunch of questions that I shouldn’t be answering. Part of my going out with one of my best friends tonight is to talk him into telling Justin what the hell is going on.

I throw my phone down on the bed and look around my room before sighing heavily. I really hope whatever Trace has to tell me is important. Something has to be worth all this guilt. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Trace decided on a random dive restaurant in Santa Monica for us to eat in. It’s not the best known place and it’s heralded for its privacy and hamburgers so I’m not too dressed up for the occasion. Pulling up in Beverly Lexus, I check to make sure Trace’s car is there before I get out. I have a ridiculous pet peeve of being the one waiting for someone to show up. I guess it’s because I figure I’m on time and if someone shows up late, I’m not to pleased with them.

Thankfully, though, Trace is there and I get out of my car to enter the restaurant. It’s a small eatery and there aren’t many people inside which adds to the thought that it might not be a good place to eat. But I’ve been here before and the food is to die for.

Trace is sitting at a round table in the back and he’s looking pretty anxious. I have no idea what the hell has been eating at him and it’s really starting to worry me. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him nervous or freaked out, aside from his William Rast fashion show for LA Fashion Week of course. I thought he was going to pass out from sheer stage fright.

“Hey troll,” I say with a smile as I sit down across from him. He smiles back and I pick up a menu. I don’t want to jump on him right now and give him the fifth degree, I want him to bring it up.

And it isn’t until we’ve already ordered our entrees and have been discussing whether Batman is better than Superman that I realize I’m the one who has to bring it up or we’ll never really get to the reason why we’re here.

“So Trace…”

“Yes Lauren?” he asks good naturedly. I have to hand it to him, he’s trying to turn his anxiousness into goofiness and it’s working wonders. Too bad I spent an entire five months in his company and am now able to read him like a book.

“There has to be a reason why you brought me here. I mean, you’ve been secretive and dodging Justin and I ever since he got home from London. What’s the deal?”

“The deal?” his voice rises several pitches and he nervously picks up a piece of bread and jams it into his mouth. I wait patiently for him to gulp the rest of it down and he looks at me hoping I’ll change the subject. I’m not going to budge, “well the thing is…”

He’s about to take another bite of bread when he looks up towards the door and the color drains from his face. I’m about to turn around to see what’s gotten Trace’s panties in a wad when suddenly a chair comes out of nowhere and slams down next to me.

“So!” a voice booms and I can hear the unmistakable sound of betrayal in the voice. I look up and see Justin sitting at our table, his face red and jaw set in anger. “So!”

“So what? Justin, what are you doing here?” I ask him, “Trace did you call and invite him?” but judging from the shocked and rather embarrassed look on Trace’s face he didn’t call Justin nor did he even have second thoughts about putting Justin in on this little dinner.

“No, he didn’t” Justin seethes, “Because who would think to invite me to this little pow-wow for two? How could you do this to me Trace? How could you go behind my back?”

What the hell is he talking about? Trace is looking from him back to me in surprise and complete bewilderment. I don’t think I’m the only person who doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.

“Justin, what are you –” I begin but he cuts me off with a slam of his fists on the table.

“Oh you know what I’m talking about! Trace you’ve been sneaking around and being deceptive for weeks now! You’ve been running around and haven’t told me what’s going on. I feel like I’m living with a different person now! But I see now that every time you’ve been creeping around it’s been to her hasn’t it? Hasn’t it?"

“Of course not you big dumb ass!” Trace whispers fervently, “How could I be running to her every time I give you an excuse when you’ve been hanging out with her half the time?” Jesus, Mary, and Joseph I am so freaking confused right now.

“I know you find ways around it! You’re probably waiting in the bathroom or something waiting for her to come to you!” Justin fumes. Trace gives him a skeptical look before he starts to laugh sardonically in his best friend’s direction.

“Lauren, please tell your fucking crackhead of a boyfriend that we are not seeing each other behind his back,” Trace says between his laughter. I raise my eyebrows in surprise and steal a look at Justin who is trying his best to keep his temper under control.

“You think I’m dating Trace?” I ask him. I get my answer when I see Justin lean back in his chair and cross his arms over his chest. “Oh my God…” I say softly before I’m leaning back in my chair as well, only I’m laughing my head off.

“Are you laughing because it’s true?” Justin simmers.

“No!” I laugh loudly, “Oh shit,” I’m laughing uncontrollably now and it takes me a few good minutes to get under control before I can respond, “Justin, the day I start dating Trace is the day I go out to lunch with Maura for a catch up chat.”

“So you two aren’t…” Justin begins and I cut him off with another sharp laugh.

“God no. I’m sorry but I’m not attracted to Trace like that in the least bit. Can you honestly see me dating someone I call Troll on a regular basis?”

“You call me Timberfuck…” Justin mutters under his breath, “And a slew of other names I let slide…”

“Because you think its cute when I say them,” I counterpoint and he shrugs in defeat, “How did you find us?”

“I had Eric trail Trace and he called me. I’ve had enough of his super secret espionage bullshit. I want answers man; I’m your best friend. Sperm to worm! Womb to tomb!”

And the testosterone level at this table just jumped the fucking gun. Thank you Justin.

“You had me trailed? What is this fucking Cheaters?” Trace interjects and I can tell that he’s pretty pissed off now, “Why didn’t you just come and talk to me about this?”

“Would you have denied it? I mean if I came to you with this question would you throw it off like Lauren did?”

“If you asked me if I was dating Lauren of course I’d deny it because that isn’t who I’m dating!” Trace adds and the hint of a blush rises in his cheeks.

“Wait, you’re dating someone?” I interrupt with a huge beaming smile on my face, “Who?”

Justin looks over at his friend in surprise and leans forward to get a better look at the now blushing young man. “You finally getting some?”

“See this isn’t why I was going to tell you off the bat!” Trace spews out, “Because you’d sit there and make fun of me for it.”

“Well karma’s a bitch. Remember when I told you that I had feelings for Lauren and you laughed for a good two hours before we could seriously discuss it?” Should I really be here for this talk? I mean seriously this seems like some honest to goodness boy talk and yet here I am, right in the middle of it.

“You laughed?” I question Trace and he shrugs.

“Of course I did! He had been going on and on about how much he couldn’t stand you and then he comes back from your hometown totally smitten! Of course I was going to laugh because that was fucking hilarious! This is totally different!”

I really could care less on the beginnings of Justin’s feelings for me. I want to know who the hell Trace is going out with! But of course he’s going to try to beat around the bush a little while longer and I’m ready to drag it out of this little sucker.

“Come on Trace who is it? Ignore Justin right now, he’s being a dick head.”

“Hey!” Justin responds indignantly.

“Well you are,” I interject, “You having your best friend tailed, if you were so insecure about it why didn’t you talk to me or him about it? I would have been honest with you. Communication is a key in a relationship and since you seem to have lost that you can shut the fuck up and let Trace talk and not give any idiotic commentary.”

“Oh you got so owned there man,” Trace says with a chuckle. Justin throws me a dirty look before he leans back in his chair again and looks from Trace to myself with a pout.

“So who is this mystery lady?” I question and Trace looks down at his plate before he looks back up at me with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Her name is Joanna,” and just like that his eyes spark and he starts to talk animatedly about the new girl he’s been seeing since he’s returned from London with me in tow. I sneak glances at Justin every now and again while Trace proceeds to talk our ears off about his current lady. His eyes are glowing with pride and I can see just a bit of disappointment tugging at the corners of his mouth. I really hope that disappointment is in himself and not in Trace or me.

“I can’t wait for you to meet her.” Trace adds with a huge grin.

“I can’t wait to meet her either,” Justin claims, “And I’m sorry to both of you for jumping to conclusions. That was pretty shitty of me to do and yeah…but I’m glad this is all out in the open.”

“Apology accepted, man. We should all do a double date sometime.”

“Well you have it bad,” Justin says with a small laugh, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention double dates since high school. Are we going to the malt shop for some milkshakes?”

“Justin I swear to God,” I mutter as I put my head in my hands.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you first. Lauren and I are past that point in our relationship! She doesn’t have to give me shit for important things that happen in my life!”

“Aw come on man,” Justin states good naturedly as he smacks Trace on the shoulder, “I’m your best friend! If you can’t tell me and expect me to not give you shit for it, then we obviously haven’t been friends for very long.”

“Besides,” I add with a small laugh, “We can go to the sock hop after milkshakes and then go to Lover’s Lookout in our jalopy”

Justin shoots me a winning grin as he reaches out and grabs my hand. Trace shakes his head and takes a dejected sip of his water.

“I fucking hate both of you. I should have called Elliot and brought him here for this. He’d be a lot more understanding than the two of you.”

“Oh big deal, Trace,” I state with another giggle, “You know you love us.”

“Only the Big J knows why…”

“I know why!” Justin states with a grin, “Because we’re fucking cool.”

“I didn’t mean you Big J, I meant Jesus, Big J. Please don’t tell me you think you’re the second coming of the Messiah now. I can handle you getting the super model poon, all of the freebies, but I would at least think God would make me the Messiah before you. I mean, you can’t have everything,” Trace mutters as the waitress finally brings our food. Justin quickly places an order of hamburger and fries before he picks up my hand and kisses it gently.

“I have everything I could ever want right now.”

And just from the look in his eyes and the way he’s focused on me and only me makes me realize that he’s still serious and still in love with me and is willing to wait for all of those wonderful things that I keep shying away from because I don’t want to move too fast.

But judging from the millions of butterflies and acrobats flittering around in my stomach I’m ready to strap on a rocket and take it to where we once were. Because its taken this slow ride back into our relationship to realize that at the end of all things, I couldn’t function or manage things without him. As sad and sappy as that may seem, I’m ready to open the door and take the next step.

God help me if I fall again.

23. Appreciate the Lady 

My life sucks without a personal assistant.

The fact that I don’t have anyone around to tell me what my schedule will be, or where I need to be at what time is slowly driving me bat shit crazy and I don’t know if I can deal with it another second. The pressure to get the second leg of the North American tour up is mounting and at the end of the day all I can think about is whether or not I’m going to be able to deal with the stress. And it’s not like this is going to be a bad leg…I’m only going to be out on the road for  two months, it isn’t going to be that horrendous.

Then again, I have management and the label getting on my ass about doing a Pacific tour for all of November that would take me away for even longer. And I don’t know if I can physically and emotionally meet their expectations.

I’m not going to lie, things have been going well for me and I definitely don’t want all the good things to come to an abrupt halt. I’ve been having the time of my life just relaxing and not really taking into consideration the fact that millions of people want to see me perform. I’ve been doing this for almost a year people, isn’t it time for me to take a fucking break?

Apparently not. Apparently I need to go out and tour for four more months and be away from all my family and friends. And it’s not like I can cancel all of the dates…tickets have been purchased, venues have been booked, if I back out now I’d lose millions of dollars and piss off a lot of people.

And yet, it all makes sense when I look at her.

I know in the past I’ve always said that my career comes first and I’ll do anything to further my professional career, but honestly if I could walk away from it all without breaking the hearts of millions…because let’s face it, I am the hottest shit on the market right now, I would do it. In a heartbeat.

But I know that if I even told Lauren that I was even thinking about blowing off my responsibilities she’d kick me in the ass. Repeatedly. And while I’m all for that kind of S&M thing, I know that she would also give me the silent treatment and admit me to a mental institution.

I guess the big thing I’m worried about is the thought that I’ll be leaving Lauren again for a few months and with what happened last time, well can you blame me for being a bit anxious? But this time I won’t have some psychotic personal assistant who is dead set in sabotaging my personal life and hopefully Lauren will be able to take some time off from work to come and visit me.

But I can’t help but be worried that once I leave, everything will get all screwed up again and we’ll have to go back to square one. That’s something that’s been plaguing my thoughts lately and I’m going to blame that and not the stress of getting the tour up and running again for my lack of sleep and insane anxiety.

At least Trace is doing well for himself. He’s spending all his time with Joanna and I don’t feel as bad when I go out with Lauren or tell him all the things that makes her amazing. He can dish it right back at me with his new girlfriend and it makes me realize how exceedingly whipped the both of us are.

“Are you paying attention?” Lauren interjects my thoughts and I’m completely yanked out of my head and into the moment. We’re sitting on the floor around my coffee table looking at the surface with scrutinizing gazes. “It’s your turn to spin."

Shaking my head, I give more focus to the enormous game board and reach forward to spin the wheel. I grin enormously as I try to move my car forward ten spaces. I can’t however, because the board is screaming at me to stop next to the church. I think this is the first time I’ve been to church since Joey got married all those years ago… such is the Game of Life.

“Get married!” Lauren laughs as she throws a small pink peg in my direction. I stick it into the top of my blue car and she leans against the coffee table, toying with her car at the edge of the board, “So who’s your wife?”

“What?” I interject and I can feel my hands starting to sweat instantly.

“Who did you marry? My friends and I would always give our husbands in the game names…who did you marry?” she repeats and I want to tell her that my little pink peg would more than likely be her, but that’s a can of worms I don’t want to open up with her right now. I don’t know if I could trust myself to speak.

“Well, who did you marry?” I ask indicating to the light blue peg man in the passenger seat of her car.

“Oh duh, that’s easy,” she states with a huge grin and I feel my stomach begin to flip flop. I swear to Jesus if she says me I’ll probably throw her in my real car and take her off to Vegas to seal the deal right now. “You know there’s only one guy for me.”

“Yeah?” I say my voice low, “Well I chose…”

“I mean Patrick Dempsey is just so handsome.”

“yo…Halle Berry!” I stumble through my words and hope that she didn’t pick up the hint that I wanted her to be my pink pegged wife.

“You always pick Halle!” she groans.

“Yes, well you have an unhealthy obsession with McDreamy,” I shoot back with a small laugh. “Now can I please roll again and get to my payday? Being a hairdresser isn’t exactly rolling in the big bucks.”

“Sure…you know I can lend you some money, being an athlete and all has its benefits.”

“You an athlete?” I laugh, “Please you can’t even dribble a basketball let alone have that be your profession. You should really trade me,” I offer and she shakes her head while she forks over my $35,000 salary in all its faux money glory.

“In your dreams, Justin. I wouldn’t give up this job for the world,” she responds before she spins and moves her car forward three spaces.

“What about your other job?” I blurt out before I can help it, “Your real job?”

“What about it?” she leans back on her elbows and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. I can tell that she doesn’t really want to get into this topic of conversation but I really don’t care. If I can’t talk to my girlfriend about her job and how it sucks her time and energy away from the two of us over the Game of Life, then when can I do it?

“Can’t you take some time off during August and part of September? I really want you to come on the road with me,” I plead and I can feel myself start to panic when she breathes heavily and turns her face away to look out the window towards the backyard

“Justin…” she starts and I can tell she wants to nip this in the bud right now. But I honestly don’t want to be without her. I can’t let her stay here while I’m out seeing the country and the rest of the world. I did it once, it didn’t work and I’m scared shitless that it’s going to happen again.

“You’ve been working your ass off since I got back from England and I just feel like we need to spend more time together. I don’t want to leave to go do my job and leave you here. I’ve told you time and time again that it won’t be a problem having you come with me. And Elliot can handle your work load…the summer at the Hilton isn’t going to be that strenuous…”

“But it is!” she interjects, “The summer wedding season is starting to pick up towards the middle of August. I can try to get away for a couple of dates, but for the most part, my hands are tied. And you know how I feel about having you fully support me. I need to have my own thing to do and I would feel so useless sitting on the sidelines and not doing anything while you’re running about doing interviews and meet and greets. I need to do something. And I don’t want to put all the workload on Elliot, that isn’t fair to him.”

I want to argue that it isn’t fair to me that I have to suffer because she needs to have her little escape from our relationship or whatever it is she wants to call it. It isn’t fair that my job takes her so far away from me and it isn’t fair that her job makes her stay put in one place. Why does the world suck?

“You’re right,” I relent, “It isn’t fair…” I look over at her and see her expression soften. I’m glad that at this point in our relationship we can catch ourselves before we start to get into the arguments that, in the past, have totally fucked us over. And then the ingenious idea hits me…

“What would you do if someone offered you a job that would allow you to come visit me whenever you wanted while I was on tour?”

“Justin, I told you I’m not going to work for you and follow you around on tour. You know that that’s way too stressful for both of us,” she explains and I agree with her one hundred percent.

“No, I’m talking about you having a job here, but you have the hours that whenever need be, you can come visit me…”

“I’d take it in a heartbeat. Why…do you know of a place that has those kinds of hours?”

“No…” I start slowly but I can feel the gears turning around in my head. An idea is starting to form and the thought is thrilling, exciting, and scary as shit all rolled into one neat package, “I don’t know…just give me a few days Lauren and I’ll think of something.”

“Okay,” she states with a smile before she leans over and kisses me. “By the way, you just landed on the ‘Lose a Turn’ space. And you owe me five grand for having a kid. Pay up!”

“Dammit, I hate playing games with you,” I murmur against her lips, “You always win.”

“Naturally,” she quips and I pull her closer to me. I don’t care so much about the Game of Life anymore…right now I’m living it.

*~*~*~*~*

“I am going to smear your ass all over the pavement you fucker!”

“Whatever, I hope you know that I have the bigger arsenal and you are going to bleed!”

“Dream on asshat. I’m going to school you so bad!”

My eyes are glued to the television and with a few quickly executed moves with my controller I have succeeded in cutting off Trace’s head.

“Dammit!” he yells loudly as he jumps off the couch and throws the controller down on the floor, “Why do you always do that?”

I laugh loudly as I lean back into my armchair, my raucous laughter mixing in with the demonic cackling from the narrator in the game. I can’t help it if I spend all of my time on the tour bus with my Xbox playing Gears of War…and it isn’t my fault that I’m damn good at it.

“You need to spend more time with your game console and not your new lady friend,” I cajole as I set my controller onto the ottoman in front of my seat.

“Oh don’t sit there and give me shit just because I have a life and you don’t.”

“I so have a life,” I counter, “I just manage to make a little more time for the video games in my life and you should do the same.”

“Yeah, sure, right,” Trace says dryly before he shuts off the game, “Sorry that I’m more invested in real life than virtual.”

“Says the guy who actually tried doing the role play thing with Elliot,” I retort with a small laugh.

“Okay, that was one time!” he interjects heatedly, “I was curious, I wanted to see what it was like to have a little plastic army to order around and I swear to God I’m never going to do it again.”

“Does Joanna know your name is Nolan of Stormcrow: Lord of the Elves?”

“How the fuck do you even know that?” Trace asks and I can tell he is exceedingly embarrassed.

“Elliot told Lauren you went to one of the meetings and naturally she told me so the optimum amount of shit giving could be provided,” I explain and Trace rolls his eyes before he chucks a throw pillow in my direction.

“You guys keep reminding me why I need to get new friends,” Trace responds “And I swear to God if you tell Joanna I will murder you while you sleep.”

“Do not worry my Elven brother, I will carry your secret to the depths of my grave and beyond,” I vow and he rolls his eyes once more and the action reminds me so much of Lauren that I feel my hardened expression begin to soften.

“What’s on your mind?” I swear to God, Trace and I have been on the same wavelength since we were kids. I think he’s one of the only people who can pick up on my change of attitude just by the look on my face…especially one as subtle as that.

“Nothing,” I start. It’s better if I don’t let him know what’s on my mind. The fact that I’m even thinking about this idea is enough to make anyone question my sanity.

“Bull shit,” Trace interposes and I look away, hoping this will cause him to drop the subject. Of course it only makes him press the issue harder, “What is going on?”

“You’re going to think I’m fucking nuts,” I mumble.

“Justin,” Trace begins, “I know you’ve been fucking nuts since the moment I met you so whatever it is you’re thinking, it can’t be that horrendous or crazy, or whatever.”

I take a deep breath and look over at Trace who has a look of worry on his face. I hate it when I make him worry or question my motives and the like…God I guess I’m going to have to fess up. Lord knows if I don’t he isn’t going to let up until I snap.

“What would you say if I told you that I’m thinking about proposing. To Lauren,” I add as an afterthought.

He’s silent for a moment, his lips pursed in thought before he turns to me and lets his head rest against the giant pillows on the couch. “I think if you ever did that I would fall over and die of shock.”

“Why?” I cry out, flabbergasted that he would even think that.

“Because I don’t think I’d ever live to see the day when you actually proposed to someone,” Trace responds and I give him a furtive look.

“Well, honestly, I don’t want you to see that day because the thought of proposing to Lauren would be a day where you weren’t present,” I explain dryly. Why is he thinking this is such a crazy idea? Hell, why am I thinking that? The more and more I dwell on the thought of proposal the more sane it sounds.

“You know what I mean,” Trace responds before the living room is bathed in silence, “So you want to propose? Don’t you think that’s too soon?”

“I don’t think it’s too soon. I’ve known her going on six years and we’ve been in some weird relationship for the duration of that time,” I add before I start to think of all the good, and bad times Lauren and I have shared since she started working for me. I can only hope I can make many, many more with her.

“Yeah, but what about all the shit that happened this year? I mean out of the six years you’ve been together, you’ve only been an actual couple for like, four months…”

My patience with Trace is starting to wear thin. I didn’t expect this conversation to go like this at all. I was hoping Trace’s response would be more along the lines of, ‘Go for it! I’m happy for you, blah blah blah. But no, he’s being the Devil’s Advocate and it’s pissing me off.

“You’re supposed to be supportive of this, Trace! You’re supposed to be like ‘this is a great idea, you should do it! What  can I do to help?’”

“True,” Trace responds nonchalantly and it makes me so upset that I can’t sit down anymore. I launch to my feet and start to pace around the room, the wave of nausea that this topic of conversation is bringing me is starting to flip around more and more in my stomach, “but honestly, I’m being realistic here. What would you do if she turned you down?”

That thought hits me in the stomach so hard that I stop in mid pace to rest against the fireplace. That thought had occurred to me, but honestly I pushed it away from any train of thought I’ve been having about this whole proposal spiel, “Please, no one would turn me down, not even Lauren.”

“But what would you do if that happened?”

Jesus, I don’t even want to think about that. But her words of rejection are ringing through my head and I have to grip the side of the mantle for support. I don’t know what the hell I would do if she ever said no. My life would be over, for sure.

“I’d probably throw myself in front of a bus, or rig one of the lights on stage to hit me in the head so a large amount of people could take part in my misery.”

“Okay and I was thinking you’d say something like, ‘I’d be really fucking pissed.’” Trace says and I can hear the worry and trepidation being laid on thick in his voice.

“I’m serious Trace!” I exclaim as I walk towards him, “I’m serious when I say I want to spend the rest of my life with her and I think…no, I know she feels the same way.”

“Then do it man; you have my blessing. I just hope she knows what’s good for her and she says yes,” Trace says with a shrug before he hoists himself to his feet. He casts a sidelong glance at the television before he turns to me and claps a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You are one crazy motherfucker, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re wildly in love. Or some cheesy shit like that.”

I smirk in his direction and he smacks my shoulder one more time, “Do you have a plan or an idea on how you want to do it?”

“Not really,” I start as I set off towards the kitchen. All this talk of marriage and kicking of ass in Gears of War makes a guy hungry, “But one’s beginning to fall into place.” 

25. I Will Go Sailing No More 

I wish someone could tell me why I’m spending my one day off this weekend braving after church traffic to meet Justin at his office of all places. This is the last thing I want to be doing and I really wish he had been more open about what the hell is going on instead of going all Da Vinci Code on my ass.

It’s been two weeks since we had our big important ‘Determine the Relationship’ dinner and I’m still in the process of moving out of Elliot’s townhouse and back into Justin’s place. The front entrance of Elliot’s home is completely littered with huge brown boxes filled with my shit and when I take in the entire scene I realize that I became something of a shopaholic when I was ceremoniously kicked out of Justin’s house. I guess I relied heavily on retail therapy while Justin and I were estranged.

Justin insisted I hire a moving company but I refused outright. Who needs a bunch of brawny, hairy men moving my precious belongings when I can watch Elliot and Trace bitch and moan about it all afternoon as they load box after box into Bentley Lexus and Trace’s enormous, gas guzzling Escalade?

I’m so caught up in the memory of Trace bitching me out for asking him to carry my lounge chair that I almost crash into the back of a Oldsmobile that slams on his breaks suddenly for no apparent reason. I swallow the urge to roll down my window and roll obscenities at the decrepit old man who shouldn’t be driving around the streets of Santa Monica in the first place. I’m trying to cut back on the excessive swearing at complete random strangers in and around the Los Angeles area. One of these days I’m going to cuss out some gang members and we all know that is going to end in terrible bloodshed.

I would, however, love to get another crack at Maura La Whora.

It surprises me that thoughts of Maura should plague me now. My life is absolutely amazing at the moment. I’ve got the love of my life back, my best friends are two insanely ridiculous males – one who enjoys Live Action Role Play and the other who thinks he grew up right in the throws of Compton – I have a dog who adores me, and while my job isn’t the best thing ever; I’m supporting myself and it seems like I’ll be getting a promotion any month now.

But there’s the persistent nagging in the back of my mind that tells me something is going to go horribly, horribly wrong since everything is going inexplicably right.

Twenty minutes of agonizing traffic later, I’m pulling into the parking garage that forms the foundation of the office buildings Justin’s various production companies and business ventures call home. This is where Justin makes the big bucks aside from making millions in music. I might be pumping up his ego when I say he’s the white Jay-Z or Diddy or whatever…but when his voice finally goes from singing like a girl all the time at least he’ll have something to fall back on.

I walk towards the main doors that will take me into the small lobby filled with elevators. I never expected to see Justin waiting by the tall glass doors, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He looks like a small child at Christmas time – he can hardly contain his excitement. What he’s excited for I haven’t the faintest idea although I can’t help but think that his enthusiasm is the cutest damn thing I’ve seen in a while.

I find it so weird that mere months ago I was cursing his name. Now, we’re back to the lovely couple we were before Maura appeared and fucked everything up to hell. Justin can’t even wait for me to walk up to him. He bounds forward with endless energy and pulls me up in a huge hug before kissing me quickly.

“It took you long enough to get here!” he mumbles against my lips. I can’t help but smile as I kiss him again glad to be locked up in his embrace.

“Well, if someone hadn’t instructed me to drive down here during after church traffic maybe I would have gotten here on time,” I retort as he reluctantly lets me go, his hand absentmindedly reaching for mine.

“Oh whatever, you were totally playing with your new obsession at the house.”

I roll my eyes as he presses the button to call the elevator to attention. “Guitar Hero is not an obsession,” I explain in an exasperated tone as the doors to the elevator open. Justin leads me inside with a furtive smile playing at his lips. I’m about to say something else but soon he has me pinned against the wall of the elevator, his body wonderfully solid against mine.

“I know, I know,” he begins before he leans over and places delicate kisses on my neck, “it’s a way of life.”

I suppress a giggle as his lips brush against my collarbone. My hands rest on his shoulders while his hold onto my hips, “Being a Rock God is hard work,” I explain before I lean forward and kiss his head. He stops his latest assail on my throat and looks at me.

“Being a Rock God is my job. You can just be my Groupie Goddess,” he grins wickedly as he kisses me solidly. He tries to deepen the kiss but the elevator signals that our floor is quickly approaching.

“Would you behave yourself please? We’re in a place of business,” I chastise him as I push him away from me. He seems put off that I would stop his sensual attack and I can tell that he’s about to sulk in the corner of the elevator. “Maybe we can christen your office later,” I offer and his expression immediately brightens before the elevator doors spring to life.

I was so preoccupied by Justin’s advancements in the elevator that I didn’t realize he brought me up to the floor that houses his new, fledgling record company – Tennman Records. I give him a skeptical look as he takes my hand and leads me to the front desk where a bored looking secretary is stationed. 

 The woman can sense someone is approaching and she looks up quickly from her computer. I almost want to roll my eyes – she’s probably surfing Facebook or Myspace or some shit like that. “Good afternoon Stacey,” Justin greets her and I’m surprised that he’s actually taken the time to know who the hell is working for him. This is something the Old Justin would have never done. I guess some of my better qualities have rubbed off on him. 

“You’re all set and ready to go, Mr. Timberlake,” she states with a curt nod in our direction. Justin just offers her a goofy smile and heads towards the large double doors that will take us out of the front waiting area and into the depths of what I’m sure is a state of the art headquarters for administrative work and a plethora of recording studios.

I expect to see a team of people running in and out of offices, phones to be ringing off the hook, and the appearance of some of the new acts Justin recently signed to the label while he was over in Europe. But my expectations are a bit high seeing as the entire building is deathly silent. Aside from Justin and I, I think Stacey is the only other person in this part of the edifice.

I start to slow down so I can read Justin’s face and ask him what the hell is going on but he pushes forward, dragging me along with him. “Justin what…” I begin but he turns around and hugs me tightly. I don’t know how long we stand there, but it takes me a while to realize that he’s actually trembling. I don’t know if it’s fear, excitement, anxiousness, or some recent bladder issues, but the guy is really starting to freak me out.

“Justin are you okay?” I ask him as I pull away to look up at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he pauses slightly and puts on a brave smile. Yeah, something is definitely up, “it just suddenly hit me that I’m running this entire record label. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I know you can handle it,” I reassure him and he smiles his appreciation, “I mean you aren’t going to be touring forever and this is a nice cash cow to fall back on. Plus, you get to help other people reach for their dreams and goals and all that schmaltzy shit…” I was going to continue but Justin cuts me off with a huge guffaw.

“I’ve never heard someone put it that way,” he explains, “Only you Lo, only you.” I stand there silently as he steals another kiss and then pulls me down the corridor.

I let my eyes wander to take in what Justin has invested so much time and money into during his free time on the road. You know…when he wasn’t out partying and getting shit face drunk.

The walls are swathed in a deep red and the fabric that covers them seems to be made of suede or some other texture that would make anyone want to rub against it like some pervert on a bus during rush hour. Every so often the walls are decorated with some of Justin’s gold or platinum records. It’s amazing how many accolades his garnered over the years and as we continue our little Walk of Progress the pride I hold for him grows steadily in the pit of my stomach. To think that without my help and guidance he wouldn’t have half the shit festooning the walls.

That sounds a bit pretentious of me, but I have to give myself a pat on the back. He was an insufferable idiot at the start of our...well, I guess you could call it relationship. If I weren’t there from the beginning, hauling his ass out of bed for recording sessions or taking the bong out of his lap when he was fucking around with Timbaland or Trace, none of this shit would have gotten done.

I’m going to take a page out of Justin the Cocky Bastard’s book when I say that I’m pretty fucking awesome.

But I would never, ever be his personal assistant again. Not in a million years. You’d have to hold me at gunpoint to take that position and I think he knows it. Maybe now that we’re together it would be different, but I would be much too lenient with him in regards to blowing off interviews and I couldn’t do that to him. Justin’s career comes first and I think it took a hell of a lot of drama to make me realize that. I can sit here and bitch until the cows come home about how he puts more stock in his vocation than me…but it wouldn’t make any difference. He’s been doing this long before he met me and I’ll just have to put up with the fact that his career is his wife…I’m just the mistress.

We walk until we can’t go any further. Justin stops at the end of the hallway in front of a closed cherry wood door that accents the colors in the wall perfectly. His tall frame covers the bulk of the door as he struggles with a huge set of keys. With some difficultly and much swearing, he manages to unlock the door and it isn’t until he leads me past the open door that I read what’s posted on the door in silver iron letters –

PRESIDENT 

So he wants to show me his office. That’s great. I’m sure it has a wonderful view and I hope he knows I was only half kidding about christening his office. I mean I would probably comply if we were the only two people in the building but his secretary could walk in at any moment and that would be a rather awkward situation. I don’t think Stacey wants to know her new boss that intimately.

I’m about to tell Justin that there is no way in hell I’m going to perform acts of debauchery in his office when he stops in front of the desk and turns towards me, the most mischievous grin I’ve ever seen plastered on his face.

“Look, I…” I try to start but he silences me with a look that seems to say, ‘give me time to explain myself.’ I stand dumbfounded as he comes up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. Pushing me forward, I have no choice but to walk around the desk and into the seat at the head of a rather imposing and impressive desk.

I look up at Justin with I’m sure is a look of utmost confusion. “I’ll be right back,” he informs me before he practically skips out of the office. I turn in the swivel chair to take in the magnificent view that only the best office in the building can provide.

Tennman Records is situated on the top floor of an office building that is close to the touristy part of Santa Monica but is so ordinary that it wouldn’t scream ‘Justin Timberlake Comes Here When He Isn’t Making Music Or Touring The World!’ The President’s office faces west and has the most breathtaking views of the pier and Pacific Ocean. It makes me sad that Justin will hardly use this office since I’m sure most of his involvement with the company will be from the road. After all, he’s going on tour this fall and won’t be able to spend every waking moment in this rather magnificent workplace.

I turn in the chair to face the desk again and I smile when I see a framed picture of Justin and I sitting on the surface. At least he’s had time to put some personal touches into the place. And at least I’ll have somewhat of a presence here whenever he finds himself sitting in this chair for a ‘day at the office.’

The sound of someone stampeding down the hall makes me tear my gaze away from the picture of Justin and I. Looking through the open door, I see Justin come gallivanting down the corridor that goofy, idiotic smile that I adore so much still plastered on his face. But there’s something else playing at his expression. I can’t quite place it and quite frankly I’m finding myself growing frustrated. This is one of the first times I can’t really read him and I don’t like it at all.

“It looks good,” he tells me as he enters the room, “Looks damn good.”

“Sorry,” I begin as I lean forward in the chair, my forearms resting comfortably on the desk, “but what looks damn good?”

“Oh, wait a second,” he interjects. I watch as he holds up a blank plaque and sets it down on the desk. My brow furrows as he takes a step back and stands in the threshold of the door. He takes in the scene before him with a perceptive gaze and nods in approval, “Now it’s perfect.”

The espionage that he’s trying to pull is really starting to piss me off - so much in fact that I reach over the length of the desk and snatch the plaque off the surface. I can feel his eyes on me as I slowly turn the placard over my breath hitching in my throat as I’m faced with letters that unmistakably form words that I’m all too familiar with.

LAUREN WALTERS – PRESIDENT 

“Justin,” I begin, my heart pounding its way into my throat, “What the fuck is this?”

“Your new position,” he exalts as he takes a seat in one of the plush chairs opposite of mine, the enormous desk separating us.

“What do you mean? You’re the president,” I point out. I really don’t have time for this sort of fuckery. I could be back at his house schooling Trace in the ways of Guitar Hero; I was ready to graduate to expert level, too.

“No,” he states slowly as if he’s speaking to a retarded child, “I’m the CEO. There isn’t any way in hell I could be president.”

“And why ever not?”

“Because when the label is up and running, the president needs to be in the office running all of the shit. I can’t possibly do that because I’ll be on the road and pursuing other projects.”

“And you have this funny idea in your head that I could do this job?” I ask him. I swear if this is some kind of joke I will leave him here and now. The fact that he’s dangling my dream job in front of my face – a job I’ve wanted ever since I arrived at Stanford as a doe eyed, innocent freshman – just isn’t fair. I would never dangle an Oscar winning role in front of his greedy little paws no matter how much I enjoy watching him squirm.

“You’d be perfect! You said if I could find a job where you could spend time with me you’d leave that shit hole at the Hilton.” A waver of uncertainty flashes in Justin’s blue eyes and I can sense that he’s starting to freak out just a little bit. I’m sure he thought I would fall to my knees in worship that he could manage to find a job like this for me. But I can’t help but be cautious. This is a life changing moment for me and I don’t want to fuck it up.

“Justin,” I sigh heavily as I shift my weight in what I can only assume is a very expensive Italian leather chair. My hands brush over my name on the plaque and I can’t help but feel honored that he would trust me with his baby. But I also feel insulted, “I told you I wouldn’t come back and work for you. Not in a million years – we both know what will happen if it came to that."

“No, no, no, you’re missing the point, Lauren!” Justin exclaims hastily as he catapults himself out of his chair. He rushes around the desk and stops in front of me, quickly kneeling so he’s just below my eye level. “You aren’t working for me. I mean the president has to have meetings with the CEO every now and then, but for the most part the president is her own boss. You deal with the inter-workings of the office; you work directly with the talent. You make all the executive decisions but come to me with the really, really big stuff…

I’m working all of this in my mind, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. I should be disagreeing with him. This is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. But I can’t help but think that his words are making complete and total sense to me. I wouldn’t be working with Justin on a daily basis. He would be off touring and dealing with his other endeavors. I would be here in this beautiful office in Santa Monica every single day being the boss, getting paid bank, and from time to time, I would have to get on a plane and go to wherever Justin is. We would have to discuss business of course, but there are twenty-four hours in a day and no one can talk business that long, especially when you only have two people signed to an up and coming label…

I can only think of one thing right now: When the fucking hell did Justin grow a fully functioning brain?

“Lauren? Are you there?” his voice interjects my rambling thoughts and I look from my name on the placard to his anxious face and I find that words have escaped me. I have been rendered speechless and aside from the time when he can be really infuriating or exceedingly romantic, this very rarely happens. “Do you have anything to say? Like yes?”

My mouth flaps open and closed like a fish out of water and my brain can’t wrap its head around the words that I want to say. His expectant look falters and I feel like he’s about to suggest we forget the whole thing. “Would you say something?” he asks through a nervous laugh, “You’re starting to freak me out.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him stupidly as I grip the sign so tightly I feel as if I’m going to break my fingers, or snap the placard in half.

“A simple ‘yes,’ or ‘no,’ would do,” he counters and I can tell he’s praying my response will be the former and not the latter.

“Justin…” the initial shock of what he’s offered me is wearing off and I feel my ability to form coherent sentences is coming back to me.

He sighs heavily and starts to rise to his feet, “Well I thought this was going to work…can’t blame a guy for trying.” His entire body is tense with disappointment as he gets to his feet and turns his back to me. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d expect him to start crying or weeping or something that is entirely out of character for Justin to do at a time like this.

“No, I’m glad you did try,” I explain not finding the nerve to get up out of my seat, “Because if you didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to accept your offer…”

I watch with a small smile as he sighs with relief and turns around to face me. He’s down on his knees again in front of me, pausing halfway to kiss me quickly on the forehead. “Do you mean it?” he asks me, “Will you really take the position?”

“Of course I will! Do you know me at all you silly ass?” I ask with a giggle as a huge grin spreads across his face lighting up his handsome features. “Did you honestly expect me to turn down my dream job, especially when it brings me closer to you?”

“No, which is why you scared me shitless when you weren’t saying anything,” he responds with a nervous laugh as he rests his hands on my knees.

“You caught me off guard, I didn’t expect this at all.”

“Oh good,” he breathes out a sigh of relief, “so will you marry me, too?”

His question hits me in the pit of my stomach and it feels like I’ve collided with fifteen thousand speeding trains. If I was without words ten seconds ago I’m going to need someone to revive me now. I’m so caught off guard that my nameplate falls out of my hands and clatters unceremoniously to the floor. Neither of us makes a move to put it back on the desk. All I can look at is the solemn, hopefully look glued onto his face and his deep blue eyes are searching for any sort of indication of an answer on what I’m sure is a dumbfounded expression.

We’re stuck in time and space and the only thing that is going to bring us out of it is if I say something or a meteor crashes through the windows of what is now my office and starts the Apocalypse.

There is no way I can formulate any sort of word right now so I just sputter and string together syllables. I sound like a babbling idiot.

“Wha-wha-wha-aa-at?” My heart is beating so irregularly in my chest I think it’s going to pop out of my chest and start spazzing out on the floor. My mind is racing and all I can really think about is the fact that he just fucking proposed. He proposed marriage and all I can do is sit on this expensive Italian leather swivel chair and stutter like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man.

It isn’t until he takes his hands off my knees that I realize he was holding onto them for dear life. They’re screaming in relief and I’m surprised he didn’t shatter at least one of them. I want to lean forward and rub the strain out of the bone and thinly stretched muscles, but I find that I can’t even blink let alone move my hands.

I watch carefully as Justin leans back on his haunches and pulls out a small box from his pocket. You know…a box small enough to house a ring that changes the lives of so many fucking couples. My mind is completely blown – if someone asked me to perform simple addition and subtraction I probably would just look at them like they were speaking an archaic language. I expected that maybe one day he would propose or we would seriously talk about getting married, but I didn’t realize he was thinking about doing it so soon.

“I can get all romantic and spew all these gilded words for you to make it sound like I’m some kind of poet…but I’ve done that already Lauren, it’s everything you’ve already heard before and I think everything you already know. You know how I feel about you – even when we were apart for the better part of this year know that I never stopped feeling all of those things I felt about you…” he pauses for a moment as if he’s trying to figure out what to say next. I can’t believe he didn’t write any of this down – if I was proposing or something of the sort I’d have a speech memorized.

But that’s the difference between the two of us – if Justin went the route of preparing some sort of proposal speech he’d sound so robotic and stoic. The fact that he’s doing it off the cuff and from the very core of his being makes it the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed.

But he’s proposing. He has the fucking ring in the box…Holy shit…

“I just hope you know that you’re my better half. When I think of all the things I want to be, I look no further than you for guidance and support. You’ve changed me in more ways than I can describe and I wouldn’t change the time we’ve spent, or didn’t spend, for the world. Not being with you has made me realize that I can’t live without you. You’ve seen me at my best, and at my worst and I love you so much it really fucking hurts sometimes…”

My vision of him is becoming clouded with tears and I try to blink them away furiously without having him see that I’m succumbing to the emotions that are bubbling at the very heart of me. I never thought that this would happen in a million years and now that the moment is finally in front of my face; I’m freaking out.

“This doesn’t have to be an engaged-to-be-married or anything…after this we don’t have to put those announcements in papers and set a date and plan a wedding. I see it as a promise that one of these days it’ll happen. There isn’t anyone else for me Lauren; you’re it for me, and I just wanted you to know that and to give you this.”

The blurry image of Justin cracks open the black velvet box but I don’t see the ring – all I can see is him kneeling before me, scared as hell and completely vulnerable. He’s put all of himself – his pride, dignity, and everything else on the chopping block and he’s given me the power to completely destroy him.

The thought of walking away crosses my mind for a split second but it’s just a blip on the radar and it passes almost as quickly as it came. My body is on autopilot as I feel myself slowly slip out of the chair and onto the floor, our faces completely level with one another.

If someone walked into the room right now, it would look like no one was in the room at all – we’re completely protected by the enormous desk that is mine. This entire room is mine. The ring in his outstretched, shaking hand is mine. And the man in front of me – the man who has put me through my paces, the man who I can sometimes love and hate at the same time, the man who will, surprisingly enough, do anything for me is mine.

All I have to do is reach out and take it.

He gingerly reaches out with the one hand that isn’t still holding onto the box and takes hold of one of my hands. I squeeze it reassuringly and try to find some words – any words – that will make me sound as eloquent as him. There’s really only one thing I can say right now –

“Ask me the question,” I all but whisper and he doesn’t have to take time to read into what I’m asking him. We’ve somehow reached this higher plane of understanding that I really can’t explain – I guess the only thing I can say is when you’ve been through so much with one person it’s almost like you have this ridiculous understanding of everything and anything they’re thinking.

It’s a scary and thrilling thing to possess all at the same time.

Steeling himself, Justin takes a big breath and holds onto my left hand biting his lip to keep his words from shaking, “Lauren Walters, will you marry me?”

We’re both crying on the floor of this semi-high rise office building as he slips the ring onto my finger as I’m vigorously nodding my head in approval. Once the ring is safely placed and the box is stowed away, I waste no time in flinging my arms around his neck and hugging him for all I’m worth. I feel his arms wrap around my waist and all we can do is sit on the damn floor and hold onto one another.

 “You had me scared for a minute,” Justin whispers into my ear as a hand reaches up to stroke my hair, “I almost thought you were going to say ‘no.’”

“And I thought you were going to change your mind,” I counter as we untangle each other from our embrace so we can get a better vantage point of the other’s face. He grins at me and wipes the tears off of my face before he kisses me gingerly.

“Never. You’re stuck with me now, Walters.”

“Well, shit,” I groan good naturedly, “I kind of walked right into that one didn’t I?”

“Do you regret it?”

“No. You’re going to be stuck with me for a long time, Timberlake.”

“It’s okay…I knew what I was getting myself into. Besides, whenever I need you to beat the hell out of my lagging staff I can just give you tons of tequila and let you do your thing,” he explains with one of his trademark goofy laughs.

“So you’re going to make me fight all your battles for you?”

“No,” he says firmly, all traces of teasing gone, “you’ll never have to fight for anything again.”

“I could get used to that,” I tell him as I lean forward and rest my forehead against his. I don’t think anyone in living memory has ever been this happy. At least I can’t remember a time when I felt so incandescently joyous, or anyone else that I know for that matter.

“Good.” I don’t object as he closes the distance between us and kisses me soundly on the mouth. I smile against his lips as he lowers me down onto the floor, the desk still offering us a shield from the rest of the office.

“So,” he mumbles against the soft skin of my neck, “earlier you were talking about christening the office…”

“I’m not going to do that when someone else is here!” I whisper fervently into his ear, trying desperately to ignore his increasing kisses.

“When I went out to get your new nameplate I told her to go on her lunch break. I told her to take her time.”

“You are very, very bad,” I giggle as I push him away so I can look at his face. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching the light bounce off of his eyes, or the myriad of expressions he goes through in just two minutes.

“It’s my nature,” he says with an air of nonchalance.

“Well,” I start as I take a long time to digest his request, “I don’t see why not.” The wickedness that gleams in his eyes sends chills down my spine and I have a feeling that I will have some very good memories to look forward to when I sit at this desk in the future.

He starts to kiss me ardently and my hands have already found their way underneath the hemline of his shirt when I hear the opening and closing of a door in the distance.

“What the fuck?” Justin grumbles in frustration as he pulls away from me. I almost want to tell him to forget the door and to focus on the here and now, but I’m also concerned. Maybe Stacey forgot something and came back to get it…

“Justin! Lo-ho! Where the hell are you?”

“Remind me to smother Trace tonight while he’s sleeping,” Justin seethes as he hoists himself off of me and helps me to my feet.

“I brought Elliot with me! We want to see the rock! Lauren, you better have said yes or we’re going to have to kick your ass!”

“Can we do it together?” I ask him as he grabs onto my hand and brings it up to his lips to kiss it quickly.

“We have a whole lifetime to torment Trace. Maybe we should wait until he’s old and decrepit to kill him off.”

“But he’s very small,” I grumble, “it wouldn’t be that hard.”

Justin throws his head back and laughs loudly, loudly enough to alert Trace of our presence in the back office. I can hear Trace and Elliot rushing down the corridor – their frenzied footsteps sounding like a roll of distant thunder on the horizon growing steadily louder. I look up at Justin who’s staring at me with a look that only means one thing – love.

Grinning at him, we head for the door, ready to meet our future.

 -The End-