What is it that holds us together in times of sorrow and desperation? I don’t want to sit around and wallow in self pity because I have a job to do, but this just hurts. I walk past my bedroom mirror and take in my pitiful, yet somehow put together self. There are bags under my eyes, but my outfit is like any other day. I’ve opted for my usual slacks, Jimmy Choo shoes and blazer for work as always. As I walk past the front table that holds my keys, I stare down at the box that sits the way it has since Christmas Day when I left it there. I refuse to drive the vehicle even if there is five inches of snow in Memphis because I would rather kill myself attempting to drive in a car than drive in his car. 

I safely make it through most of the snow and make it into work, as I come off of the elevator and step foot into the law firm, I know that everything that’s been going on in my life is left at the door and it’s back to business as usual. I may only be twenty-five years old, but I’ve worked hard for the job I have. I have no intentions of letting Justin or anyone else for that matter ruin my chance at partner in the next year. I round the front corner and head to my secretary’s desk.

“Any messages for me, Missy?” I smily softly to the younger girl, hoping that there’s nothing for me to do. 

“Liz, there are over half of a dozen missed calls from Justin, every one of them ending in ‘it’s urgent and imperative that she call me back.’ Your mom stopped by and left you a lunch and Trace said that if you needed anything to give him a call but he’d probably see you later. Mr. Brown left the newest case folder on your desk and he hoped that you could give it a look over before the lunch meeting.”

“Anything else,” I ask softly, not wanting to know any more about my personal life. 

“No that’s all, shall I keep intercepting your calls for you for the rest of the day, Liz?” Missy asks politely and I nod, knowing that there will be more to come.

I move towards my office as Mr. Brown calls out my name. 

“Liz, dear how are you this morning?” The older looking gentleman asks. He’s nearly fifty, his gray hair starting to peak out among the rest and as he looks up you can see the wear and tear in his eyes after all of these years of working as hard as he does. 

“Fine sir and how are you?” I ask back, grabbing the file off of my desk. 

“Been better, Liz. I’ve been going crazy over this case, trying to figure out whose best to fight it. This is a huge case, we’ve got to win. If we don’t it could mean bad things throughout the whole firm. I’m counting on you to do the best you possibly can with this.”

The case is a multi-million dollar lawsuit between a real estate development and a green peace act and I’d be fighting for the green peace act. My client wishes to keep the forest in its natural condition, the other has apparently laid claim to the land a long time ago that wishes to make it into a recording compound for a new record company. 

I realize the name and I know that neither one of these sides should have anything to do with the forest, a forest always owned by Justin’s family. The forest was always a place near and dear to my heart. We used to play there when we were kids, Trace, Justin, all of us. The times we spent there were some of the best times we’ve ever had. 

I’ll be defending several clients in the suit because it’s turning into a class action suit. Most are just wealthy locals that refuse to see the land go to waste. The names Decker and Smith are two of the frontmen, but the first name of my client list has been blacked out as has the defendants name.

“Mr. Brown, who is arguing in favor of the recording company?” 

He sighs and takes a seat at the sofa in my office, “That’s the thing, Liz. You’d be fighting against Justin Timberlake.”

I drop the papers down suddenly, realizing that he’s talking about Tennman Records. Justin for months has been saying that he’s been looking all around for the perfect place for a compound. Saying how it’s going to be the best recording compound ever, it might even top Johnny’s in Florida. I had no idea that he was laying claim on the one piece of land that meant something to the three of us in Memphis. 

“Mr. Brown, this is such a huge conflict of interest,” I state. “How am I even supposed to go about this?” 

“I have faith in you, Liz, the whole firm does, too. You’ll be the best as you always are, just be you. Speaking of which, the meeting at eleven is between both parties so you get an idea of what each is asking for. I’d look up on the files, see what you come up with, I know there’s got to be something I’m missing in all of it.”

He stands, straightening himself as he waves, leaving my office. I look down at the folder again as I grab my phone out of my purse, preparing to take notes on what I’m about to read. As I turn the device on for the first time in a week, I’m flooded with texts and voicemail from him all of which I ignore, knowing now why he’s calling me. 

I begin to read further into the document where I find that for the longest time, Justin and his family believed that the forest would always remain a natural habitat like it has been for many years. Only recently, however, have his views on the property changed. I note particular instances when the family has spoken out about the land, wondering why now everything has changed for him. 

Sighing at this, I make the last of my notes and head into the conference room early so that I mentally prepare myself for him and the effect he has on me. As I continue to reread my notes, I hear the laugh and suddenly every little piece of the puzzle has been put together to answer my questions.

Lauren is in a black dress, grey sweater with her signature Gucci heels. She clings onto him for dear life, afraid that at any point he could up and leave her if ever given the opportunity. His arm lays across her shoulder like it used to do with mine whenever we walked somewhere together. 

Mr. Brown walks in after them, motioning for them to sit alongside their attorney. 

“I’m David Brown, this is Elizabeth Hall,” Mr. Brown states towards the other attorney. 

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Nick Evans. This,” he motions towards my so called best friend who is nuzzling with his fiancee, “is Justin Timberlake and his girlfriend Lauren.”

“Excuse me,” the bitched quips, “he means fiancee.” She states, flashing her ring so that it reflects the light right onto my face. 

I cannot take it, I feel the blood boil inside of me and I do everything I possibly can to restrain myself from jumping over the table and beating the hell out of her. This is my place of work, my sanctuary of sorts, and she is here, ruining every part of my job that I love. I begin to formulate words in my mind, trying to think of the best way to start this meeting but the only ones that continue to reoccur are those of ‘golddigger,’ ‘bitch,’ ‘slut,’ but I know that’s no way to win over Evans and his clients. 

“Well,” Nick states, “Let’s get down to business. My clients are simply asking that their right to the land remain and they be free to do what they wish, whether that be leaving the forest as it is, or making something out of it.” Nick Evans is his late twenties, you can almost see the fear of the word ‘thirty’ in his mind, he’s a brunette with the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen, covered only by the lenses he wears that seem to add to his intelligence. 

I counter back, however, knowing that regardless of who Nick is, he’s still arguing for something I cannot believe in or agree to. 

“First and foremost, Mr. Evans, this forest has been passed down throughout the family for hundreds of years. To throw that away and create a recording compound is not only environmentally detrimental but not profitable in the least. Most major recording companies will fund and determine where there artists are to record and if Mr. Timberlake has already been funded such money, it’s absolutely senseless and selfish for such a natural piece of Memphis’ history to be destroyed.” Mr. Brown nods in agreement but as I look across the table, I see her continuously roll her eyes at the conversation at hand as though she has an ultimate goal throughout all of this.

“Be that as it may, Miss Hall, but Mr. Timberlake and his soon to be wife hope to someday raise their family on such land, would you deprive them of one of their dreams?” Evans questions. 

Again, I see the smirk on her face and suddenly it all clicks, she’s out to prove her point and from the way my face feels fire red, she’s achieved that goal. 

I hear the door to the conference room open and then close again, “Sorry I’m late, bad traffic,” the familiar voice states. Trace has taken the seat next to me, dressed in a suit and tie, “Now, where were we?”

I sit back, shocked at what this has turned into. Justin’s eyes are wide with shock, Lauren continues to play with her ring around her finger, oblivious to the situation at hand, worried only about her own greed. I feel Trace pushing a paper in front of me where I see his name in the spot that was once blacked out. 

“What are you doing here?” Justin asks, “This has nothing to do with you.” 

“As a matter of fact,” he straightens himself in the chair, “It has a lot to do with me, I’m one of the clients arguing against such a selfish act. Li- Miss Hall will gladly provide you all with the names of people I’ve collected willing to fight against this.”

“The petition,” I start, “has over five thousand signatures. Most notably, the entire country music community has come on board with my clients.” 

“Mr. Evans,” I continue, “I hope that you understand that only those immediately affected by such a matter as this case be present in court. Mainly those being immediate family as well as my clients. I wouldn’t want this to turn into a circus of sorts.”

He nods, agreeing with me, “I do believe that to be true, Miss Hall. Miss Winter?” He questions to Lauren, “You’ll be okay with this of course?”

“The fuck I will,” she quips, “This bitch doesn’t want me there because she doesn’t want to see my future sealed with that forest. She’s just jealous of all of this.”

“Mr. Evans, as I’m sure you understand, I will not tolerate such defamatory language to myself or my clients and I believe that such language, though suitable for high school students, will not be accepted or appreciated by the judge.”

Evans and Justin attempt to calm Lauren down as Justin continues to shake his head, finally speaking, “This is bullshit! We’re leaving, I’ll see you in court.” 

Trace looks up, shifting from his original position and without hesitation nor any ounce of shock states, “I look forward to it. Make sure you bring tag-a-long over there, too.” 

Lauren looks at Trace as the battle between the best friends has just begun, “Justin,” she states, “He’s not worth it.”