New Years Eve is vastly overrated.     

Or, maybe it's the fact that I've never really enjoyed a "normal" New Years Eve. Every year, it's the same damn thing. I get dragged to Times Square and shoved in front of a camera. It used to be me and the guys, then it was me and whoever I was dating at the time and now...it's me and Madison.     

I would have been perfectly content to stay in Memphis, but Johnny pretty much demanded that we make an appearance on the MTV New Years Eve special. I think he just wants to drum up all the publicity he can since the Rolling Stone article is out next week.    

It'll be kind of interesting to see once it's finally out. Johnny's read it, but he has yet to send me a copy, so I haven't got a clue how it turned out. I think it'll be alright though. He wouldn't approve anything that would make me look bad.    

Unfortunately, things have been a little shaky for Madison since Christmas. Her album has already been summed up as a monumental flop, and I can't help feeling a little responsible. All the shit we've had to do to protect my image, the interviews, the photo shoots, even the crazy tabloid stories, have completely overshadowed her and her work.    

RCA is actually debating over whether or not to send her on tour, and I've got a bad feeling I know exactly how it's going to turn out. If they have to question anything, 90 percent of the time...the answer is no.    

So, one of two things will happen. Either they send her back into the studio to cut another album with better material, or they drop her completely. Needless to say, Madison's been a bit of a head case since Jc told her that everything is kind of up in the air right now.     

I wish I could say I know how she feels, but I haven't got a clue. I've never had an album that didn't sell, never had the fear that my record label was about to cut me loose. I've been damn lucky when it comes to my career.     

"You guys ok? You're not too cold or anything?" Jc asks as he hands each of us a cup of hot chocolate.    

"Yeah, I'm fine." Madison replies and wraps her long black peacoat tighter around her body.        

I will say one thing, I may not be enjoying this little shindig, but it forced Madison into dressing up for a change and she looks damn good. Her hair is pulled back from her face and her make-up is kind of smokey, causing her blue eyes to really pop. She has on this ridiculously tight and short gray skirt and a fairly low cut, light pink blouse and cardigan.    

She looks kind of...elegant, I guess would be the right word.    

"How much longer do we have to stand out in this shit? It's fuckin freezing man." Trace rolls his eyes angrily.     

"It's just after ten." Beth smiles and receives an eye roll from Chelsea.     

I don't know why, but I find Chelsea's hatred for Beth slightly comical. She's constantly making faces behind Beth's back, rolling her eyes, making snide remarks and Beth, does absolutely nothing. Madison says it's because she's just too nice, but I'm inclined to believe that she's a little afraid of Chelsea.    

Hell, I'm afraid of Chelsea.     

The girl doesn't give a shit about anything. She'll tell you exactly what she's thinking, whether you like it or not and she won't hesitate to kick your ass for whatever reason. She definitely isn't the type of girl you want to piss off.    

I have no doubt that if they ever really got into it, Chelsea would probably kill Beth with her bare hands. It'd be pretty funny to watch though.    

"We can go inside, as long as we're back in this booth before 11:30." Jc says sternly, raising his voice so we can hear him over the crowd.    

"Yes dad." Trace rolls his eyes before he and Chelsea erupt in giggles.     

I'll be glad to get out of this damn booth but what I'd really love, is to go home.     

This whole set up is stupid. There are several of these platforms spread throughout Times Square, reserved specifically for the celebrity guests to watch the ball drop while MTV films their reactions. They're high up enough to get a good view of the ball as well as overlook the massive crowd down below.     

I almost feel like we're on display or something. All those people on the ground are staring up at us, taking pictures when they think we aren't looking. I bet this is how caged animals in the zoo feel.    

"Cheer up J." Madison smiles brightly as she loops her arm through mine and we follow our friends down the steps.    

"Me cheer up? You're the one who's been moping for a fuckin week."    

"Yeah well..." She shrugs, the smile never leaving her face. "I've actually been thinking going back in the studio might not be such a bad thing. I've been writing a lot lately."

"Oh yeah?"    

"Yep. I'm pretty happy with what I've got so far."    

"If you wanna use the studio at the house, let me know. I can help ya out."    

"I will. Thanks." She smiles gratefully.    

I actually caved and listened to both of her albums several days ago. The first one is surprisingly pretty damn good. It's got this lighthearted pop/rock feel to it. The lyrics are fairly simple, but I could tell it was all by design. She obviously wanted her first album to have a really fun vibe to it and she more than succeeded.     

The second album however, as much as I hate to say it, just isn't very good.    

The material is much darker and there's more of an edge to the music and the lyrics. I think maybe, she strayed a little too far from the sound she originally established and it just didn't connect with people the way her first album did.    

I wouldn't dream of telling her that though. From what I've heard, she put a lot into that second album and I'm not about to criticize anybody for their hard work.     

"J...bar." Trace grins and elbows me in the side. I nod and follow him through the crowd. Alcohol is about the only thing that's going to improve this night.     

I know I should just be enjoying the fact that I'm here with my friends and we've all made it through another year, but this just fucking sucks.     

"I talked to Johnny this morning. Word on the street is that RCA is sending Madison back in the studio. They're dropping promotion for the album and they don't even want to release a second single. If she doesn't come up with a decent demo in a month, they might actually drop her."    

"Does she know?"

"Not yet. She's got a meeting with RCA in the morning. I just figured you could use the heads up. She's gonna freak man."    

"Nah, she'll be alright." I nod and take a sip of my beer. "She wants to go back in the studio. I told her I'd help her out."    

"Good thing." He chuckles and shakes his head. "Johnny's submitting your resume so they can tap you to produce."    

"Seriously?"

"Yeah man. Don't get all pissed and shit, I wasn't supposed to tell you." He shrugs before spotting someone he knows and disappearing.    

I'm not pissed, really...I'm not. However, I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea of my manager volunteering me for shit without asking me. I have no problem with helping Madison out, I'm just not sure I'm capable of producing anything for her.     

I've got a pretty good feel for production, but only in a certain style of music. Madison's stuff is way out of my comfort zone and I don't want to be responsible for driving her career into the ground.     

We've just started making some headway here. I'd even go so far as to call us friends at this point, and I don't want to mess that up. I have to live with this girl for the next two years and I don't want the bickering to start up again.     

Before I get mad, I'll wait and see what Johnny has to say. I don't doubt anything Trace has said, but there's always two sides to every story.    

Unfortunately, I've got a funny feeling this is going to be like everything else Johnny has thrown at me the last few months.    

I don't have a choice.

*****************************************    

"How much longer?" Trace asks for the millionth time in the last hour.     

The more he drinks, the more impatient he becomes. Not that I really blame him, it's cold as shit out here and the wind is blowing about a hundred miles an hour.    

We've got another 20 minutes until the ball drops and then we'll have to fight our way through the crowd to the car, and of course there'll be an insane amount of traffic. There's really no telling when we'll get back to the hotel.    

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to starting the new year, but the hoopla around it kind of kills the little bit of excitement I am feeling. I just keep thinking about how much more enjoyable this holiday would be if we were in Memphis. Hell..I'd even be happy in Chicago in that crummy karaoke bar.     

Basically, I'd be happy anywhere other than here, in the freezing ass cold in New York City.    

It's weird. I usually love this city, but I guess being dragged away from my family and the spectacle of this whole thing has made me just slightly bitter.    

"Will you cheer up already? It's almost 2008!" Madison grins and slides her arms around my waist. Under normal circumstances, I'd figure she's doing this because people can see us, but right now, I think she's just trying to get warm.     

I throw my arm around her shoulders, pulling her against me and that's when the scent of her perfume hits me. I don't know what it is, but it has this light, spiced cherry smell to it.     

I know it sounds kind of weird, but I've always thought that only certain people can wear certain scents. Something that smells amazing on one person, might smell horrible on someone else.     

Madison has obviously found the perfect perfume because the smell is almost intoxicating. I don't know why I never noticed it before.    

"Ten minutes!" Chelsea squeals excitedly. I swear, that girl has some type of hyperactive disorder. She never shuts up and she can't sit still for five damn minutes.    

"So, any New Years resolutions?"     

"Nah." I shake my head and laugh. "I never really got into that. How about you?"

"Not really." Madison shrugs quickly. "I used to make them but I never could keep em..so it's like, what's the point?"    

"Makes sense."    

I'm trying really hard to keep my mouth shut. Trace told me not to say anything, but it's getting more and more difficult by the minute. The only thing that's stopping me from telling Madison what RCA plans to do, is the fact that this is the first time she's seemed happy since Christmas. She's smiling and laughing, and doesn't look like she could cry at the drop of a hat.    

She deserves to know, but I don't want to be the one to upset her. I'm sure it'll take some time, but I think she might be able to see the positive in the whole thing. She can go back in the studio and hopefully turn out something amazing.    

I'm just slightly worried about my role in the whole thing. Johnny wouldn't recommend me if he didn't think I could do it, but I don't know how Madison is going to feel about it. I mean, it's one thing that we have to make all these appearances and shit together, but does our "marriage" really need to cross over into our work?  Me being in her video was bad enough, but this is on a whole other level.    

"5....4.....3....2.....1!"    

"Happy New Year Justin." Madison smiles and before I know it, her mouth is on mine.    

When her tongue finally meets mine, I can't help noticing how different this feels. There's this need behind it, and for some reason, I can't stop myself. My hands are tangled in her hair and when she presses her body into mine, I can feel that familiar strain building in the pit of my stomach.    

I wish I could blame it on the alcohol, but I had half of a beer. That definitely wouldn't give me enough of a buzz to be enjoying this as much as I am.    

She quickly pulls away, staring at me wide eyed and gnawing on her bottom lip. Without a word, she turns to celebrate with our friends and all I can do is watch her.     

I don't know what the hell has gotten into me, but I would love to do that again.     

In a split second, our security team ushers us down the steps and through the crowd to our waiting car. Madison is silent the entire two hours it takes for us to get back to the hotel. She even avoids looking at me during the short elevator ride to our floor.    

Before she can enter her room, I pull her away from the crowd and she still has that dazed, confused look on her face.     

"Meet me in my room in 20 minutes." She nods dumbly in response before scurrying into her room and slamming the door behind her.    

I don't know what the hell happened when she kissed me, but I felt...something, and the way she's acting leads me to believe she felt it too.        

We have to straighten this out.    

I mean, since I've gotten to know her, I've realized she's a great girl, but I'm not gonna get all caught up in emotions and shit. I'll put in my two years and be done with it. If we stay friends...awesome. If not...life will go on.    

I just...I can't fall for this girl. It can't fucking happen.    

Exactly 20 minutes later, Madison walks into my room and I can't help but laugh at her. She's somehow managed to make even ratty, old sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt look good.    

"What's up?" She asks as she plops down on the couch and looks up at me curiously.    

All traces of her confusion are gone. She's cool as a fucking cucumber and I've spent the last 20 minutes freaking out and worrying that she'd walk in here and profess her undying love for me or some shit.    

Maybe I jumped the gun. Maybe I was seeing something that wasn't there, because deep down...I wanted to see it. Maybe I just read too much into it.    

"I just figured we could hang out for awhile." The lie comes out so easily it's almost scary.    

"Alright." She chuckles and rolls her eyes. "You could have just said that. You didn't have to be all James Bond and dramatic about it."    

"Oh you got jokes huh?" I shake my head and take a seat next to her, making sure to keep my distance.    

I really thought I saw something in her eyes, felt it in the way she kissed me. It was just..so different than the other times I've had to kiss her. It was less forced and more...romantic, I guess. I can't really pinpoint why, but it was.    

I guess I was wrong, and for some reason, that's a little disappointing.

******************************    

"Check this out." Trace mutters as he tosses yet another rag mag down in front of me.    

One day into the fucking year, and it's already starting. Don't these people ever sleep?    

Photos of Madison and I from last night are splashed across the cover, the headline reading "New Year, New Drama For Timberlake and Fox?"    

Yeah, that's creative. Not.    

The article delves into everything Trace told me last night. The possibility of Madison being dropped from RCA, me stepping in to produce her next album, the canceled tour, everything.     

Now this one, I can't quite figure out. Madison left early this morning for her meeting with RCA, how the hell do these people get this information so damn fast? It just doesn't make sense.    

I was under the impression that the only people who knew about this were Johnny, Jc and Trace. Madison didn't even know until this morning when she went to the label.     

The front door opens and shuts suddenly, followed by quick footsteps up the stairs. Looks like Madison's home and by the sound of it, not too pleased with the turn out of her meeting.    

RCA couldn't have dropped her, could they?    

No. There's no way. They've been rolling in money because of this girl, they wouldn't drop her because of one flop. Atleast, I don't think they would.    

If they did, it doesn't matter. Somebody will snatch her up in a heartbeat. She's talented as all hell and there's enough publicity around her to make anybody some pretty huge bank.     

Hell, I'll start a label and sign her myself if I have to.    

I make my way up the stairs and stop in front of Madison's door. I don't even know what the hell to say to her. She may have just lost her record deal and there isn't a single thing I can say or do that will change that.     

All I can really do is try to convince her that it'll be alright.     

I turn the knob, but the door doesn't budge. Great, she's locked herself in her room. How the hell am I supposed to work with that?    

I sit down on the floor, and I wait.     

Almost half an hour passes before the door opens and I jump to my feet. I prepared some heartfelt little speech about how the guys at RCA don't know their asses from a hole in the ground, how she's got all the talent in the world, that I'll do whatever I have to, to help her get back on her feet.     

But, it all vanishes from my mind when my eyes focus on the figure in the doorway, clutching several folders, a camera, and the latest edition of Us Weekly.     

"Beth?"    

What the fuck?    

"Oh..umm...Justin...hi. I..I didn't think anyone was here." She stutters and forces an awkward smile.     "

What is all this shit?" I point to the items in her hands and she looks down at them before quickly looking back up at me.    

"Oh, it's..it's nothing. Really." She tries to sidestep me but I'm quicker than she is. I block the stairs with my body and there's no way she can get to them without pushing me out of the way.    

I grab one of the folders out of her hands and take a deep breath before I open it. I'm not fully prepared for what I know I'm about to see, but I've got to know for sure.     

Inside the folder are dozens of pictures. Madison and I out shopping, candid shots of us at various interviews, but the most damning...pictures of us from last night.     

When I spot a sheet of paper, filled with Beth's large, loopy handwriting, the photos fall to the floor and I can't stop myself from reading the words scrawled across the paper.    

Dates, times, places and headlines fill the sheet. Nearly every story that's been printed about Madison and I within the last two months is here, in black and white.     

In Beth Preston's fucking handwriting.    

I look up at her and I can practically feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Words can't even begin to describe the anger coursing through me as I glare at her.    

It's been her all along, and I fucking knew it. I knew it from the beginning and I tried so hard to convince myself it wasn't.    

She did a good job of covering her tracks, I'll give her that much. Stopping whatever the hell she's been doing after we left Chicago was fucking brilliant. It's almost like...like she wanted someone to think it was Chelsea.     

Madison's supposedly sweet, innocent assistant is just a manipulative, lying, two faced bitch, and I knew it.     

"Justin...you don't understand. I can explain." She pleads.     

I shake my head and pick up the scattered photos. She isn't getting away with this. There's absolutely no way in hell that I'm keeping my mouth shut about this. She's the reason there's been all this extra pressure and stress on everyone. She's done nothing but make a bad situation, worse.    

I don't know why she did it, and frankly...I don't give a shit. I don't want to hear her excuses or apologies. I just want her out of mine and Madison's lives.    

I make my way down the stairs as quickly as humanly possible and once I'm in my car, I peel out of the driveway. My hands are shaking as I tear down the streets of L.A, headed straight for Johnny Wright's office. If anybody can fix this mess, it'll be him.    

How the fuck could anybody do this to Madison? She's done everything imaginable for Beth.    

Madison welcomed Beth into her life with open arms. Gave her a job most people would kill for with a salary that's practically unheard of. She gave her a place to live, brought her into a world that Beth probably never would have survived in. Madison trusted this girl, and in return, she gets stabbed in the fucking back.     

I can't honestly even imagine what was going through Beth's mind when she did all of this. She claimed to care about Madison, went so far as to call herself Madison's best friend.     

Who does this kind of shit to their best friend?    

I pull into the parking lot and head inside, running at almost full speed through the lobby, straight to Johnny's office.    

I slam the folder down on his desk and collapse into a chair while trying to catch my breath. He looks up at me curiously and reaches for the folder.    

"I...I just...Beth." I gasp.    

He flips the folder open and the anger flashes in his eyes as he scans the contents. His frown is growing deeper by the second and I know, all hell is about to break loose.    

He presses a button on the intercom placed on his desk and his voice booms throughout the room.    

"Marcie, get George Henson at RCA on the phone, immediately."