"Look at this shit, man." Trace throws a copy of US Weekly down in front of me, and frowns. "And this isn't the only one...it's everywhere."    

I grab the magazine, and roll my eyes at the cover. The words "Trouble in paradise?" are printed in big, bold yellow letters, and underneath of them, is a picture of Madison seated on the front porch, holding her head in her hands.     

It's from the day I locked her out.     

I flip the magazine open, and stop when I reach the article. There's pictures of us at several appearances we've made, but the interesting ones are from that day. There's a few of me storming into the house, a few of Madison and Trace leaving the bar, on the porch, and of course...there's another four or five, of Madison sitting out there alone.    

Honestly, I don't know how anyone could have gotten that close. When I had this place built, I made damn sure that it was impossible to see the house from the street. But, somehow...they still managed to get their shots. Bastards.     

"Read it, man. It's not pretty." Trace sighs and shakes his head.     

"Trouble in paradise, already? It sure seems that way for America's newest 'it' couple, Justin Timberlake and Madison Fox.  They wed in a quicky ceremony in Vegas, a little over two months ago, shocking friends and family, as well as the nation. By all accounts, the couple seemed happy. They've been spotted at numerous events together, smiling happily and answering questions about their marriage.  Last Saturday, our sources spotted Ms. Fox out with Timberlake's personal assistant, Trace Ayala. The two headed into a small bar for several hours, before emerging, clearly inebriated. Not long after, Timberlake arrived to save the day, and escort the two home. Things seemed to take a turn for the worse at that point, and according to our sources, Timberlake locked his assistant, and new bride out of the house, for close to two hours, because of their hard partying. Reps for Fox and Timberlake refused to comment on the story, but speculation is quickly arising. Are the newlyweds headed for divorce, or can they hold onto martial bliss?"    

"That's fucking ridiculous." I toss the magazine into the trash, and glare at Trace. "Why even bring that shit home?"    

"Because, that's exactly what happened!" Trace squeaks. "All I know is, you better lay it on thick for this Rolling Stone thing tomorrow, cause if you don't...the shit's gonna hit the fan." He strolls out of the room, leaving me alone once again.     

I know it's not great that an article like that, is coming out so soon. But, it's normal. Those shit rags are always looking for the bad in any situation. I've dealt with them enough to know their games. I'm really not worried. Johnny will spin the story, and it'll be fine.     

Nobody pays any attention to the tabloids anyway. So, why should I?    

I'm going to ignore the bullshit, and focus on the Rolling Stone article. This thing, is crucial to the media buying the act Madison and I are putting on.    

If we don't come across as a happily married couple for this thing, everything will go to shit, and Johnny will probably kill both of us.     

It has to work. There's no other way around it.  

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

I enter my living room and force the best smile I can, at the sight of a camera crew, and several reporters milling around.  There's about 20 of them total, including the stylists, assistants, and God only knows what else.     

Out of the thousands of interviews and photo shoots I've done, this one is a first for me. I've never welcomed these people into my home, and I sure as hell never let them wander around freely.    

I bypass all of the commotion in the living room, and find Madison, Beth, Jc and Trace in the kitchen. Madison is seated on the counter, giggling stupidly at something Jc is saying. 

I know it sounds kind of childish, but I really hate the fact that he's part of her little team. I mean, I fucking grew up with the guy. Even before all of this shit happened, we were still pretty good friends. I mean, we didn't really see each other, but I called him every chance I got.    

For the last two and a half months, the only time we've talked, is during meetings, or on the rare occasion he's here to do something for Madison. I guess you could say, this has kind of destroyed our friendship.    

"Justin, Madison...we're ready for you." An older woman smiles at me as she enters the kitchen. Madison hops off of the counter and links her arm through mine before leading me into the living room.     

"Nina has your clothes, we'll just need you to change, then we have some things to discuss. We'll get the photos out of the way, then Robert will conduct the interview. Any questions?"    

"I think we're good." Madison grins at the woman before collecting her clothes and disappearing into the bathroom.    

I should have known they'd do something fucking corny and make us wear matching outfits.         

I thought once I established myself as being more adult, this kind of shit would have ended, but apparently not. I mean...the clothes really aren't that bad, it's just so damn cliche.     

Madison steps out of the bathroom, and giggles when her baggy black dress pants pool at her feet. Right away, three women rush over to her and start fussing over her hair and make-up.    

I make my way into the bathroom and quickly change into the clothes that have been picked for me. My own pants are just as baggy as Madison's, and I can't help but roll my eyes.    

This is so fucking lame.     

My white T-shirt is a little tighter than I would have liked, but whatever. Clearly, I have no say in any of this.     

I step out of the bathroom and listen intently as Jc drones on about the questions that have been approved, and where in the house they're allowed to shoot. He goes a little overboard on pointing out that "our" bedroom is strictly off limits.     

Way to draw attention to it, Jace.    

The Rolling Stone folks agree without question, and I can't help but smile. People really are eating this shit up.     

They have absolutely no clue that Madison and I pretty much despise each other, and that you couldn't pay us to sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed.     

They decide that most of the shots should be taken in the studio, with a few in the living room and kitchen thrown in. The photographers begin setting up their equipment, leaving us to stand around until they're ready.    

Before I even realize what the hell is going on, a loud drumline is pounding through the house, followed by the sound of an 80's synthesizer. 

Madison is grinning from ear to ear, dancing and singing along, while Jc and Beth erupt in laughter.

No one looked
I walked by
Just an invitation would have been just fine
Said no to him again and again
First he took my heart then he ran    

I can safely say, that I have never heard this song ever in my 26 years, and could have gone the rest of my life without hearing it.         

She makes her way over to me, that same silly smile still planted on her face. I didn't notice it before, but her make-up is virtually non-existent, and for the first time since I met her, I can honestly say she looks good.         

Instead of being full of product and tangled, her hair is hanging straight, her bangs swept to the right side of her face. There's a light dusting of blush across her cheeks, and her eyeliner is so light, you can barely see it, but somehow...her eyes are as bright as ever. 

I don't know who this Nina woman is, but she's a fucking miracle worker, because she has made Madison Fox one of the most absolutely beautiful things I've ever seen.

Stand back, stand back
In the middle of my room
I did not hear from you
It's alright, it's alright
To be standing in a line
Standing in a line
To be standing in a line    

"What the hell is this crap?"    

The smile immediately falls from her face, and her jaw nearly hits the floor. "You...You don't know what this is?" She asks, disbelief written all over her face.    

"Afraid not."     

"This, is Stevie Nicks...and how dare you call it crap." Her smile is back full force as she presses her body against mine and guides my hips to the music.     

"I call em like I see em." I shrug.    

"FYI....Stevie Nicks is my idol." She whispers. "You'll probably need to know that." She nods, before releasing me and dancing back over to Beth.     

I don't think I've ever seen her this...fun. I mean, she's smiling and happy and just...this is not the girl I've been living with for the last two months. The transformation is almost unbelievable. I know part of it could be due to the fact that she's playing her part for the benefit of the cameras, but I've got a funny feeling that's not completely true.    

She's loud and silly and totally relaxed. I have to admit, this suits her much better than the angry, bitter side I've been seeing. If this was the girl I met in Vegas, it's not hard to see why I was attracted to her.    

The woman in charge, who I'm quickly learning is named Sheri, directs us to head down to the studio, and I have to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat.    

Outside of the bedroom I gave her, it's pretty much impossible to tell that Madison lives here. The studio just solidifies that.    

The walls are covered in the awards I've won, magazine covers I've been on, and my various platinum records. There isn't a single trace of Madison Fox in that studio, or anywhere else in the house.    

We really should have waited a little longer before we agreed to do this. We should have given ourselves the time settle her into the house, and throw some of her stuff around.   

It's the small details like that, that could throw this whole thing off.    

Everyone files down the steps, and as soon as my feet hit that last step, I can almost feel the shock register on my face. How in the hell.....    

The walls that were once filled with my accomplishments are now plastered with the plaques, magazine covers and awards of Madison Fox. A quick glance around the room, shows you every milestone in her career, as well as mine.    

"I did it last night." Jc says quietly and pats me on the back. "You can thank me later."    

I nod dumbly, looking around as the people from Rolling Stone admire the walls and snap a few photos. I don't know how he got in here and did all of this without me knowing, but thank God for Jc Chasez.    

I know it's kind of stupid, but it's finally dawning on me that I'm making all of this so much harder than it has to be. Granted, I'm not happy about the situation, and I still don't necessarily like Madison, but by acting like a spoiled, selfish dickhead, I'm making things incredibly difficult for everyone.    

Madison and I aren't the only ones involved in this, and we really need to start taking everyone else into consideration. There's really no telling what kind of mess we'd be in if we didn't have so many people getting us through this shit.    

Madison quickly pulls her acoustic guitar from its case, and plops down on the piano bench. She plays a few chords, but stops when I sit down beside her.    

"Jc did really good with getting your stuff down here."    

"Yeah, he did." She smiles fondly as her eyes scan the walls. "I wouldn't have any of it, if it wasn't for him."    

I'm quickly realizing, that not only do I know virtually nothing about her as a person, but I know even less about her career. Honestly, I don't think I've ever even heard her sing until that little display upstairs, and even then it was clear she wasn't using the full extent of her voice.    

Obviously, she has to be somewhat talented if Jc put his neck on the line for her. Back when he first got her signed, she was all he could talk about. Unfortunately, I was far too wrapped up in my own shit to listen, or really even care.    

"We're ready whenever you two are." Sheri calls out, and I feel every muscle in my body tense.     

I have no idea what I'm doing. I've done God knows how many photo shoots throughout my career, but for the first time, I haven't got a clue what the hell I'm doing.    

"Just act naturally. Like we aren't even here." Sheri says with a smile. Is she a mind reader or something?    

Madison begins playing yet another song I don't know, and not knowing what else to do, I try to follow her lead on the piano. She hums along for a few bars, before opening her mouth and letting out the most interesting sound I've ever heard.

Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Say... Women... they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean... you'll know    

I can honestly say, I've never heard a voice like hers. It's raspy, but still kind of clear and wraps around the lyrics beautifully. She's got one hell of an instrument, that's for damn sure.        

I almost wish I'd have discovered her myself.        

"Lemme guess...more Stevie Nicks?"    

She shakes her head with a smile, continuing to play. "Close, but no. It's Fleetwood Mac. Guess I'll have to educate you some time, huh?"    

"Guess so." I chuckle.    

Her playing stops suddenly, before she scoots closer to me on the bench, and plants a kiss on my temple. Before I even realize it, my lips are on hers and my hands are tangled in her hair.        

The girl can kiss. I'll give her that.    

"Damn...they keep this up, y'all might have the conception of their first child on film." Trace says loudly, and the entire room erupts in laughter.    

Madison pulls away from me to giggle with the rest of them, and I can't help but laugh myself.     

I expected to feel awkward during all of this, but I'm totally at ease. We're actually pulling it off. As unbelievable as it is, we're really doing it.     

Looks like I'm a pretty damn good actor after all.

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

We did it.    

We got through the photo shoot and interview. I don't know how, but we did it. The questions were all pretty basic, and luckily, we were able to help each other through the harder ones.    

After today, I've actually gained a bit of respect for Madison. When she was questioned about her past, she handled it with nothing but grace. She was honest and humble and just...I was completely blown away at how well she did.    

More and more everyday, I'm seeing that she is nothing like what the media has presented her as. The girl really has gotten screwed when it comes to that stuff. A lot of people probably would have cracked if they caught half the shit that she has.    

She's not this fame seeking, partying, uptight bitch that people have made her out to be. The more she talked, the more I got the impression that she's just a hard working, down to earth girl, who desperately wanted to sing.     

She's worked her ass off to get where she is, why shouldn't she be allowed to live it up a little? She's the first person I've ever seen, who is completely open about who she is, and the things she's done, whether they were good or bad.    

How can you not respect that?    

I stop in my tracks as I pass her bedroom door and stare at it. As soon as the house was cleared out, she disappeared up here, and I haven't seen her since. How somebody can spend four hours locked in one room, is beyond me.    

I knock and wait for her muffled "come in", before I open the door. She's perched in the middle of the bed, her guitar resting in her lap, a notebook spread out in front of her.    

One thing I have noticed about her, is that she seems to be constantly writing in that damn thing. Every time I turn around, she has her nose stuck in that notebook. At first, I thought it was a journal or something, but the more I think about it...it might be full of song lyrics.    

"You need something?" She asks, never taking her eyes off of the work in front of her.    

"Nah...I just...I wanted to let you know that you were really great today. They totally ate that shit up."    

"I did what I had to do." She shrugs.    

See? Just when she gets me thinking I was wrong about her, she goes right back to being a bitch.    

"I'm trying to be nice here, Madison."    

She gives me a bored look and rolls her eyes. "If you really want to be nice...you could get out." She smiles sarcastically before scribbling something else in her notebook.    

"Whatever." I sigh as I exit the room, making sure to slam the door on my way out.    

I give up. Why should I even bother with trying to get along with her, when she's just going to slap me in the face? I am not going to get down on my hands and knees, and kiss her ass like she's some God damned queen or something.   

 All of her "we're in this together" speeches are complete bullshit. She couldn't care less how all of this turns out. She has nothing to lose.    

I don't know what the hell she wants or expects from me, but I'm not going to sit around feeling sorry for her or myself. As far as I'm concerned, she can stay locked away in that room for 24 hours a day, and leave me the hell alone.     

I'll parade around, smile for the cameras and let the world believe I love this woman, but I'm done trying to make the best of a bad situation.    

I made a mistake. I know that, and I'll suffer the consequences. But, I'll be damned if she thinks I'll let her play the victim.     

I grab my phone and quickly dial Trace's number. "Get dressed. We're going out."

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

"Have you lost your damn mind, Justin?" Johnny shouts angrily, and all five of us jump in our seats.    

Yet again, I have made a massive mistake and some jackass pap was there to catch the whole fucking thing on film.    

I didn't plan on going out last night. Didn't plan on drinking entirely too much. Didn't plan on smoking that joint with Trace, and I certainly didn't plan on kissing that girl.    

I just...I needed to blow off some steam. I'm getting so tired of the constant arguing and bullshit. I'm so sick of having to watch every move I make. I feel like I can't even fucking breathe sometimes.    

I've dealt with a ton of stress in my life, but this is on a whole other level. I have to worry about how every single thing I do looks, or how someone might interpret it. It's exhausting.    

For one night, I just...I wanted to go back to my life.    

So, Trace and I hit a few clubs. It was a typical night for us...loud music, drinks and women throwing themselves at us every five minutes. I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in God knows how long.    

Call me crazy, but I've really missed that life. Especially the freedom.    

Marriage wasn't even an afterthought for me. I mean yeah...everybody wants to get married and have kids at some point, but I was by no means ready for any of it. I liked my life just the way it was.    

I wish I could remember that night more clearly. The last thing I can recall is walking into that God forsaken chapel. Trace was just as drunk as I was, if not worse, so he hasn't got a clue what the hell happened either.    

However, there is one person who knows every detail of that night, but for some reason...she isn't saying a word. She claims she doesn't remember anything, but we all know that Beth didn't have a single drink that night. For the life of me, I can't figure out why she won't tell us what happened.    

I thought Johnny could bring the legal team into it, and get her to enlighten the rest of us, but apparently lying isn't a crime. Good thing too, otherwise my ass would definitely be pulling a life sentence.    

"I mean...how hard is it, to just do what you're told?"    

"It's not...I just..."    

"I really don't feel like hearing excuses today, Justin. I just want to know what the hell made you think you could get away with this shit?"    

Deep down, I know he's completely justified in freaking out about this. I made out with that girl, knowing damn good and well that it could destroy the public image of my so called marriage.    

I could always just blame it on the liquor, but I think a part of me just didn't care what I did, or who saw it. I wanted my life back, even if it was just for a few hours.    

Of course, I didn't plan on a bunch of bastard photographers being there. I know, I should always keep an eye out for them, but they aren't allowed into the clubs like that. Whoever got those pictures, definitely wasn't a professional.    

"It was my fault." Madison says suddenly.    

"Oh really? And exactly how does that make it better?" Johnny eyes her menacingly, but she isn't backing down.    

"It doesn't make it right." She nods in agreement. "But, it isn't completely Justin's fault. I told him to go out...I told him to just forget about everything, and have a good time."    

"I guess if she tells you to jump off a bridge, you'll do that too?" Johnny rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head sadly. "Nothing I say is going to change what happened. All I can do is release a statement saying it isn't you. Luckily, the photos aren't all that great, probably taken by an amateur. But, I'm warning you, Justin...if anything like this happens again, there will be hell to pay. You're all free to leave."    

I let out a sigh of relief and we all file out of Johnny's office. Once we reach the elevators, Trace lets out a low whistle and shakes his head.    

"This shit just gets crazier everyday."    

"Trace, shut up." I mutter and roll my eyes. I really don't need him trying to be funny right now.    

"Hey man, don't get all pissy with me. I wasn't the one shoving my tongue down some chicks throat last night." He chuckles softly.    

"I just don't understand how they got in the club." Beth says quietly as we reach the first floor.    

As they step off the elevator she, Jc and Trace debate over how the pictures could have been taken, while Madison and I slowly trail behind them.    

"Thanks for trying to stick up for me with Johnny. You didn't have to do that."    

"Don't get used to it." She mutters as she laces her fingers through mine and we step outside.    

There's a group of photographers hanging around the doors and as soon as they spot us, they begin shouting out questions and taking pictures as quickly as their cameras will allow.    

If it wasn't for them...I wouldn't be in this mess. I'd still be free to do just about anything, and I wouldn't have to make excuses for every thing I do.    

Assholes.     

As soon as we reach the parking garage, Madison jerks her hand away from mine and jogs to catch up with Jc and Beth.     

The woman is seriously pushing me to the point of a psychotic break. One minute, she's ready to rip my head off, and the next she's trying to defend me.    

It just doesn't make sense. Nothing she does makes any damn sense, and trying to figure her out is completely exhausting.    

She has me constantly second guessing my own damn thoughts, and I can't take it anymore. Nobody has ever frustrated me as much as she does.     

She's gonna land me in the fucking nut house, I just know it.

"Stand Back"-Stevie Nicks

"Dreams"-Fleetwood Mac