"Reportedly, the couple plans to welcome Rolling Stone's cameras into the home they share, which was once Timberlake's lavish bachelor pad. No word yet on when the article will print, but reps for Rolling Stone say it will be as soon as possible."    

Justin rolls his eyes, then quickly changes the channel. I know he's just as irritated as I am, at the constant attention we're receiving. Honestly, I thought it would have died down by now. It' been a little over two months, but we're still being hounded day and night.  The same group of five photographers have been camped out at the front gate, for the last three days.     

I guess it sounds stupid, but I just keep wondering what they do when they're hungry...they haven't left, so obviously they haven't showered, and where the hell do they go to the bathroom?    

On second thought, I don't think I want to know.     

I wish I could say that things are improving, but Justin is as stubborn and pigheaded as it gets. Granted, the few times we've been out, he lays on the charm for the cameras, but the second we're back in this house, the attitude comes back out, and we spend most of our time arguing, or ignoring each other.     

I almost wish we could get along, because I'm really starting to feel like I'm in this thing alone, even though I'm not. Justin and I, should be able to lean on each other. We should be able to talk, it should be us against the world, at this point, and it's not. We're too busy fighting each other to realize, we need each other.     

Sure, I can vent to Jc and Beth all I want, but they don't understand it.  They can offer advice, but nothing they could say, would actually do me any good. The only person in the world, who can understand any of this, is the one person who wants nothing to do with me.        

Normally, I'm not a big fan of interviews or photo shoots or any of the crap that goes into promotion. However, this time, I can't wait to get the ball rolling. The first single will be out at the end of the month and with any luck, the promotion for it, will keep me far away from Justin.    

I didn't expect it, but the constant bickering is really starting to take a toll on me. My stress level is through the roof, and I have this migraine that never seems to go away.     

I guess, the naive part of me thought this whole thing would be a lot easier than it is. Or, maybe it should be easy, and by acting like selfish idiots, Justin and I are just making it harder on ourselves.     

"Somebody die in here or something?" Trace asks with a laugh as he enters the living room.    

I haven't really gotten a feel for him quite yet. Like Justin, he spends the majority of his time ignoring me. According to Beth, we hit it off fairly well in Vegas, but as drunk as I was, I probably could have made friends with a brick wall.    

When he does speak to me, he's polite, but I get the sense that he's completely on Justin's side. Which is understandable. I'm sure, if my best friend Chelsea, from back home was here, she'd be acting the same exact way. Of course, there's no way she'd be as quiet as Trace has been.   

 As loud, obnoxious and outspoken as I am, Chelsea is ten times worse. In fact, I'd say I picked a lot of it up from her. Without her, I wouldn't be the person I am today.    

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Justin asks as he stretches out on the couch.     

"Y'all are sitting around here look like your damn dogs just died or something. Fuck...let's go do something fun."    

"I'm good, thanks." Justin sighs and rolls his eyes.    

"You know what? I'll go with you." I stand up from my spot on the couch and Trace smiles brightly.    

"Sweet. C'mon J...your girl's in."    

"She isn't my girl." Justin scoffs. "Y'all do whatever you want. I'm staying right here."    

"Fine." Trace shrugs and grabs his keys. "Later man."    

He's out in the door in a matter of seconds, but I stop in my tracks before I make it out of the living room.    

"You should come." I say quietly. Justin snorts, never taking his eyes off the television.     

"I'm really not in the mood to hang all over your ass today, Madison. I need a break."        

"From what? We don't do anything, or go anywhere unless Johnny forces us to. I know, this whole thing fucking sucks, and believe me... I would love to fast forward to two years from now, and put this shit behind me, but we can't do that. Grow up, and accept the fact that we screwed up, and now we have to pay for it."    

As usual, rather than respond, he flips me off. One day, he's going to really piss me off, and I'll end up breaking that damn finger.     

I shake my head sadly, and make my way to the front door. Trace is waiting for me on the porch, grinning from ear to ear.    

"Damn...I wish he would have met you 10 years ago." He chuckles as we climb into his truck.    

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" He eyes me carefully for a few seconds, then sighs and shakes his head.    

"Don't get me wrong, Justin's my boy through and through. I've got his back, no matter what, but I know how he can be sometimes. I've never seen anybody tell him how it is, like that. He's got a temper, man. It's just easier to let him act like a dick when he wants to, than call him on it and have him going off all the time."    

"So, he's like that because nobody will stand up to him?"

"Basically, yeah. But, I think having you be the one to call him on his shit, kind of messes with his head, ya know? Like, here comes this girl, who knows nothing about him, not putting up with his bullshit. That's gotta be weird for him. You're kind of turning everything upside down, and it's really fucking with him."    

"I'm not trying to." I shrug. "I'm dealing with the same things he is. It's just as hard on me, if not harder, because I'm the one with the reputation." I roll my eyes as Trace giggles.     

"I never bought that, ya know. I mean, I try not to read any of that tabloid shit, but sometimes you can't ignore it, and you were fucking everywhere. I never believed any of it."

"Thanks." I smile. Maybe Trace isn't like Justin, after all.    

"I mean, no chick can drink like that. Even a bad ass, guitar playing chick."    

"Oh really?" I arch an eyebrow at him and smirk. "I guarantee you...I could drink your ass under the table in a minute."    

"I'll take that bet." He grins an pulls onto the freeway. "Shall we hit the bar?"    

"Definitely." I giggle.    

Maybe, if I misjudged Trace, I've been misjudging Justin as well. However, atleast Trace is making the attempt to get to know me rather than buy into how the media portrays me.     

So, I'm going to use my sudden friendship with Trace, to my advantage. If I'm going to make it through the next two years, I need atleast one friend in that house. I'm just thanking God,it's an actual person, and not one of those damn dogs.

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

"And that, makes 10 good sir." I giggle and slam the shot glass down on the table.    

Trace rolls his eyes, then pours another shot for himself. "Alright...alright...first one to 20." He frowns as he spills some of the tequila on the table and quickly wipes it up.    

"20? Jesus, are you trying to kill me?"
    

"Nah." He shakes his head and smiles stupidly. "Ya know what...I give up. I never thought I'd say this...but you win." He pushes his shot away, and tries to stand up, but quickly sits back down. "My legs don't work."    

I giggle and roll my eyes, before downing the shot he'd poured. Our little competition didn't take very long, and needless to say, we're both far too intoxicated to drive. So, I'm not quite sure how we're going to get back to the house. I could always call Jc or Beth, I suppose.    

"I'm ready whenever you are." Trace slurs as he finally gains his balance. He throws a 50 down on the table to cover our tab, and leave the bartender a hefty tip, before we stumble outside, leaning on each other for support and giggling the whole way.  

"How are we getting home?" He plops down on the curb and fishes his phone out of his pocket.         

"I'll call Beth." I ease down next to him, and quickly dial her number.    

In the four years she's been working for me, not once has her phone gone straight to voicemail....until today. I dial Jc next, and get the same result.    

What the hell?    

"I'll bet you anything....they're fucking." Trace smiles knowingly. "It's those shy, quiet ones you gotta watch out for."    

"Please. They are not." I roll my eyes and shove my phone back in my purse.    

"Totally are. Trust me." He nods. "I'll call J. He'll come get us."    

This, is what I was afraid of. When Trace suggested we go to a bar, I was really worried that neither of us would be able to drive, and we'd have to beg a ride from Justin. I'm sure that for Trace, it's no big deal. However, for me...it's just one more thing I have to depend on him for, and I hate that.    

Luckily, I'm drunk enough to not care. He can bitch and whine all he wants, but I just want to get home to my bed.    

It's a good half an hour before Justin finally shows up, glaring at both of us. I'm sure this is just furthering his assumptions about me, but I couldn't care less. I was not put on this earth to please Justin Timberlake.    

The ride home is spent in complete silence, but I can't help glancing over at Justin every few minutes. He has that whole pissed off, brooding thing down to an art form, and it's actually kind of sexy. If that's how he looked the night we met, no wonder I threw myself at him.    

Or, maybe you just have to be three sheets to the wind, to find him attractive.   

He makes it back to the house in record time, and quickly pulls up the driveway, ignoring every one of the photographers pounding on the car. As soon as he parks, he jumps out and heads inside, without saying a word to me or Trace. Neither of us has moved from our spots in the car, but Trace is laughing uncontrollably as Justin slams the front door behind him.     

"That shit is hilarious! He's so pissed!"    

"He's always pissed." I shrug and climb out of the car. Trace follows suit, and we trudge up the walkway to the front porch.     

"Ya know, you're not so bad, Mrs. Timberlake." He smirks.    

I scrunch up my nose, and shake my head. "That sounds horrible. Maybe, we should just call him Mr. Fox."    

"Oh yeah, that'd go over really well." Trace laughs as I move to open the door.    

The knob turns, but the door won't budge. I try a few more times, but still nothing. Figuring the door is stuck, I try to force it open with my shoulder, but even after putting all of my weight behind my shoves, the door still doesn't open.    

That fucker locked me out.    

He is unbelievable. How childish is it, to lock someone out of a house? I look over at Trace, and he just shrugs, before sitting down on the steps and lighting a cigarette.     

"He locked me out one time before. All you can do is wait."    

"What...is he five years old?" I roll my eyes and plop down next to Trace. "Seriously...who locks someone out?"    

"Told you, he has a temper. I used to have keys, but when he had the guest house built for me, I figured I didn't need them. We could always just go back there." He shrugs.    

"No...you go ahead. He's doing this to piss me off. I'll just wait him out."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. If I freak out, or try to get back in the house, then he wins and that's not happening. Besides, I think me and him need to talk anyway."    

"Alright. Well, if you need anything, just holler at me."    

"Thanks, Trace." I smile as he stands up. "I had fun today."

"Yeah...me too." He gives me a small smile, before stepping off the porch and disappearing around the side of the house.    

I guess this explains why, Justin refuses to give me a key. His reasoning was that someone is always here, or the doors are usually unlocked since he has large fences around the property. Now, I'm realizing that he wants to use the house as a weapon.    

He doesn't want me to get comfortable in my surroundings. He wants me to feel like an outsider, and by controlling my access to the house, he's doing just that.     

It's almost like, there's this power struggle between us. We both want complete control, and neither one of us is willing to compromise.     

If we keep this up, the lie that we've been working so hard to tell, is going to crumble around us.  We need to work together, or everything is going to fall apart. I have to make him see that.    

So, for now...I'll let him throw his temper tantrum and act like a petulant child, but as soon as I get back in this house...things are going to change. I'm going to lay out some rules, and he can follow them, or sit back and let this whole thing blow up in our faces.

******************************    

"He actually locked you out?"     

"Yeah." I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "I've been sitting on the porch for over an hour. What the hell am I supposed to do, Beth?"    

"Why did he lock you out?"    

"I went to a bar with Trace...we got a little drunk, and he had to come get us."        

She lets out a long sigh, and I know, I'm in for a lecture. Most of the time, she doesn't say much about some of the not so smart things I do, but every so often, she goes into Mom mode. I know she's just looking out for me, but sometimes...I need a friend, rather than a baby-sitter.    

"You know...that's getting a little out of hand again."     

I roll my eyes and shake my head, even though she can't see it. "I'm fine...trust me."    

As much as I hate to admit it, there is an ounce of truth to every tabloid story, and the tales about me, are no exception.    

For a very short period of time, my partying did get a little out of control. It was just after the album had come out, and I was still adjusting to my sudden fame. I was being pulled in a thousand different directions every day, and I was constantly at parties. Being around all those industry people and celebrities, completely frayed my nerves. I was totally out of my element.    

Needless to say, I relied on alcohol to get me through it. After a few drinks, I could socialize with those people, and not make a jackass out of myself. I wouldn't be where I am now, if I hadn't been able to do that.   

However, once everything calmed down, my partying eased up. Beth, being the goody-goody she is, was convinced I was on my way to rehab, but I think she over reacts too much. I was never anywhere near being that bad.    

And this time around, is no different. Today was the first time I've drank since the wedding. It just so happens, that my drunken antics are becoming more and more outlandish and noticeable.    

"I'm just looking out for you..." I can just see her shaking her head, but I'm going to let it go.    

My "husband" has locked me out of our house. I have to pee. Jc still isn't answering his phone. I'm pretty sure Trace is passed out in the guest house, so now he's completely useless. I don't need to add a fight with my assistant to that list.    

"I'm not trying to be mean, Madison...I just worry, ya know?"    

"I know...it's fine." I chuckle softly.    

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I guess just sit here until he decides to let me in. I'm still kinda buzzed, so I can't drive."   

"I can come get you."

"It's alright. He'll cave pretty soon."    

"Ok, but if he doesn't, give me a call. Anyway...I gotta go. Jc and I are meeting with Rolling Stone to schedule the big interview." She giggles.    

"Alrighty. Later." I end the call and toss my phone into my purse.    

I completely forgot about the Rolling Stone article. Johnny has been hashing out a deal for the last couple of weeks, and at first, I figured it wouldn't happen. Rolling Stone isn't a gossip magazine, so why would they do an article on Justin and I, as a couple? It just doesn't make sense.    

Somehow, Johnny worked his magic, and now...Justin and I stand to make a nice chunk of change from welcoming a reporter and camera crew into the house.     

I don't really know any details about the whole thing, but I know it's a big deal. It's the first step in letting the world into our "marriage", and I'm terrified.  I honestly don't know how we're going to pull it off, especially with Justin acting like a moron, and locking me out of the house.    

If we actually make this work, I think we both deserve academy awards.   

The front door slowly creaks open, and Justin clears his throat loudly. "Hey."
    

"Finally decided to stop pouting?" I smirk as I turn to face him. He rolls his eyes and comes out to sit beside me. He stares out into the yard, without saying a word, for what feels like an eternity, before he finally looks over at me.     

"Look, I'm sorry I locked you out. But, I was pissed, and I had every right to be. You can't go out and get trashed with my best friend. Do you have any idea how that looks?"    

"Oh please tell me you're joking." I laugh bitterly and roll my eyes. "Justin, there are photographers camped out at the end of the fucking driveway...how do you think locking me out looks?"    

"They can't see anything." He shrugs and gives me a stupid look.    

"Yeah, because nobody could crack your brilliant, top secret security code, and get in here or anything."    

"You know what? This obviously isn't going to work, and honestly...I'm tired of trying. I'll call Johnny in the morning, and get us out of this."    

"Fine by me. I'm not the one who needed protecting. But, you know as well as I do, that Johnny won't do shit. He's trying to teach you a lesson, Justin."
    

"Yeah...never sleep with a drunk, skanky musician in Vegas."    

"Excuse me?" I eye him carefully, and he just laughs. "Let's get one thing straight, alright? I am not a skank, or a slut, or any of the colorful little terms you've been using. If I ever hear you call me anything remotely close to that ever again, I will go to the press so damn fast, your head will spin."    

"You wouldn't do that." He smiles smugly, and I have to fight the urge to slap him.    

"Try me."    

"Johnny would sue your ass for everything you've got."
    

"And you think I care? Unlike you...the money doesn't matter to me. It never did, and it never will."        

"Right." He laughs and rolls his eyes.    

He's got to be the most frustrating person I've ever dealt with. He's so damn stubborn, and seems to have no conscience what so ever. He's a spoiled, selfish, pompous ass. Plain and simple.    

Honestly, I don't see why people are working so hard to cover his ass. I mean, if he was a decent person, I could understand it, but there's nothing worth protecting here. As far as I'm concerned, the truth could come out, and his career could go down the toilet. I couldn't care less.    

"We have two choices here, Justin. We can work together and make this believable, or we can keep going the way we are, and let it blow up in our faces. I'm tried of arguing with you. I'm going back to work soon, and I don't need your bullshit added to that stress. We have the Rolling Stone thing coming up, and this whole thing rests on how that turns out. So, either put in the work, or walk away. It's your choice."    

He bites his lip nervously, and shakes his head. "Right now...I don't know what to do."    

"I don't either, but we can't keep doing this." I say simply.    

"I can't make any promises, but I'll try, alright? This isn't easy for me...it's fucking with everything in my life. I had to break up with my girlfriend, I'm lying to my family and friends... I just...You can't expect me to just be ok with this."    

"See...that right there is your biggest problem. You're not the only one having to deal with this. I had to move out of my home for Christ sake! This isn't just about you. Pull your head out of your ass, Justin." He rolls his eyes before walking back in the house, but this time he leaves the door open.    

For a minute, I thought I was getting somewhere, but the more he ran his big mouth, the more I realized that there is no getting through to him. He's going to say and do whatever the hell he wants and nothing is going to change that.    

However, I am not going to work twice as hard, just so he can be a prick. If this is how he wants it to be, that's perfectly alright with me.

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

A party.    

Of all the stupid, inconsiderate, irresponsible shit Justin's done over the last two months, this is the absolute worst.  Just this afternoon, he locked me out of this damn house, and now...it's packed with his friends and various other celebrities.    

The idiot is throwing a party, for no apparent reason.    

Now, I know I should probably do the smart thing and protest. Maybe hole up in my room, and refuse to go downstairs and play the part of sweet, adoring wife, but here I am... frantically applying my make-up and doing my hair.    

I really don't feel like going down there and hanging all over Justin, but I know if I don't, not only will he throw a bitch fit, but his friends will ask questions. Questions that, I'm not so sure we have the correct answers for.    

He sprung this whole thing on me about 10 minutes before his guests started to arrive, which left me virtually no time to call anyone, or get ready. So, I had Trace call Jc and Beth, while I got a shower and got dressed at the speed of light.    

I'm not too thrilled with the prospect of being surrounded by drunk strangers all night, but how bad can it really be?    

Trace assured me that Justin is much easier to deal with when he's been drinking, so if I'm lucky, this little gathering will go as smoothly as possible. After putting the finishing touches on my make-up, I take a deep breath and make my way downstairs.    

We've spent a lot of time worrying about being able to fake our marriage to the media, but this is a much bigger deal. If the people closest to Justin don't buy it, nobody will.    

I enter the living room and groan inwardly at the sight. The house is jam packed with people, the stereo is so loud, I can actually feel the bass pounding in my chest, and there's a heavy cloud of smoke overhead. I'm all for a good party, but this just isn't my thing. The smell of liquor hits my nose, and I know, I'm in for a very long night.    

A pair of arms circle my waist from behind, followed by sloppy kisses trailing up my neck. I don't have to turn around to know who it is. I'd love nothing more than to push him away and get his slimy hands off of me, but I know I can't. It's show time, and I have to go along with the act.     

I know millions of women lust after him everyday, and would kill to have him touch them, the way he's touching me right now, but I can't stand it. Having him feel me up like this, just makes me feel cheap. His mouth finally stops at my ear, while his hands continue to wander.    

"Hey." He whispers, and the feel of his warm breath on my neck sends a shiver down my spine.    

Clearly, he's got a few drinks in his system. Usually, any affection he shows me, comes across forced, but right now...it's all natural, and it's a little confusing.     

"Hi." I reply quietly, watching the people milling around in the living room.    

"Sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner. It was kind of last minute." He starts to slowly back us into the hallway, and I'm trying to scramble away from him, but he refuses to let go.    

It's almost like...he actually has feelings for me, but I know better than that. He's wasted, and playing his part, the same as I am.    

"It's alright."
    

"No, Madison...it's not." He turns me to face him, and looks me dead in the eyes. "I'm sorry. And, I'm gonna try to be better about all of this, alright?"    

"Ok, Justin." I force a smile and nod slowly.    

If he hadn't been drinking, I might actually believe him. However, I know people are capable of just about anything, once they've had a few too many. Hell, I'm living proof of that.    

He finally pins me against the wall, and his hands settle on my hips. His eyes are still locked with mine, and I have no clue what he's doing.  People are passing by us, every few minutes, but Justin doesn't seem to notice. It's like the only thing in the world he's focused on right now, is me.    

He leans in, and brushes his lips across my neck before slowly moving to my jaw, and eventually my mouth. Before I know it, my eyes flutter shut, and my arms instinctively slide around his neck as he deepens the kiss.    

This isn't the first time he's kissed me, but it's never felt like this. Normally, it's forced and awkward, but this...there's almost this need to it, and it just...it feels good. I can't describe it any other way. It just feels so damn good.    

When his hands move to the button of my jeans, I'm snapped back to reality. This is Justin. The man who has spent two months, criticizing and berating me, because he can't accept responsibility for his mistakes.     

I'm not stupid enough to let him sweet talk me into sleeping with him. He's drunk, and probably has no idea what he's saying or doing, and I'm sure he won't remember any of this in the morning.    

I quickly push him away, and duck into the living room before he has a chance to stop me.  I know how completely wrong that entire exchange was, but for some reason...I can't get the feel of his lips on mine, out of my head.    

I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm afraid I may be attracted to my "husband", and that is definitely not a good thing.