Drake could not have been more thrilled to step into the diner and into the air con. The system at the garage was busted and it was one of the few errors they couldn’t fix themselves. While they were waiting for the call out they were dying in the heat.

It wasn’t only the temperature. The entire day so far made him feel like shrivelling up. The customers were all in foul moods. There was not a single easy fix on the roster. Even the things that seemed straightforward kept getting more complicated every time he looked at them. They were a man down. Everybody wanted everything done five minutes ago and to top it all off Reese had called him with the fabulous news that they’d underestimated on the final florist invoice. At first she’d thought they were overcharging, but Nadine’s superior math skills had spotted that the mistake was in their original calculations. None of these things by themselves were the end of the world, but they were piling up and making the day painful. When he’d been involuntarily nominated to go pick up their regular lunch order he hadn’t even protested. He needed the break.

“Hey Emma,” he greeted the waitress. “Come for the usual?”

“Oh, sorry Drake, we’re running a little behind – it’ll be five minutes.”

He was torn between being annoyed and grateful for the delay. He couldn’t afford it, but at the same time it was a few more minutes out of the place.

“No problem.” He waved it off, slipping onto a stool at the counter.

Slumping over, he fiddled with whatever was close to hand. The sugar shaker, the menu, the napkin dispenser, they all served as distractions while he tried to clear his brain out. Something about the pointless movements and the inanity of them served to block out the noise.

He didn’t heed the bell that signalled another customer coming in. He didn’t catch sight of the body that came to stand at the counter less than a few feet away. Drake didn’t register anything until he realised there was a new buzz of conversation in the diner.

When he looked up and around the source became obvious. There in the flesh was his predecessor, looking wary and all too cognisant of the stir he’d just created. Drake had no idea if he’d seen him in return, but if he did he wasn’t showing it. They’d met so very briefly when he and Trace picked Reese up for the airport – only five seconds for a hello and a handshake - that Justin might not recognise him. He was in a t-shirt and jeans and had pulled a baseball cap well down over his face, shielding himself as much as possible.

Drake hadn’t said a word to Reese about seeing the TV show, thought it was best ignored. Seeing the ex in the flesh was weird enough the first time but even stranger now. He seemed so very ordinary compared to the guy in the tux from those clips. That was a lot less intimidating, but there was a little voice in the back of his head reminding him that this rich, famous, powerful man had been with his fiancée and could probably lay much better claim to knowing her than he could. That rankled a little, even though he knew it was silly.

It was also silly to size him up, comparing as if they were prize fighters, yet still he did. Little did he know that Justin had done like wise. Justin had indeed clocked his presence, but hadn’t said anything – too distracted by the obvious thrill that had run through the room. He’d inwardly groaned when he saw the onlookers’ reactions, wondering how long it would be before somebody tried to take a picture. The effect he caused when he walked in a room had been novel at the beginning of his career but was now tiresome.

As comparisons went it was probably a draw. They were more or less the same height. Where Justin was neat and casual, Drake looked dirty. The navy overalls were currently tied at his waist, his white vest covered in oil and making him looking grubby. The vest may have made him look untidy but it also showed off his biceps – where Justin was lean from dancing, Drake was muscled from lifting car parts all day. They were both built enough to make each other self-conscious, at any rate.

Justin placed his order, glanced furtively to his left and took a breath. There was no part of him that wanted to do this, but Reese knew that he could recognise Drake. If she heard from the boyfriend that they’d been in the same diner she’d know he had blanked him. In the interests of making the effort with her he was going to have to do a few things he’d prefer not to.

“Hey… Drake?”

Drake was taken aback and a little on edge at being addressed. “Hey. Good to see you again.”

“And you,” he said, holding out his hand. “Little less rushed this time, I know we ran out of there Sunday morning.”

He hadn’t expected that either, but the politeness immediately helped take the edge off. See, this really was a mere mortal like any other. He returned the shake. “Not a problem.”

“Little overdue to speak properly though, I owe you some congratulations.”

“Thanks. Which, I probably owe you some thanks for helping Reese out with the funeral and everything. I know she really appreciates it.”

“Nah, it was nothing.” Justin glanced down at the counter, managing to look almost everywhere but directly at him. Doing this kind of thing was never as bad as the anticipation of it, but it still wasn’t a picnic. Hopefully one or other of their orders would make it here quickly. “Though, speaking of, would you mind passing Reese a message?”

The kneejerk reaction was indignation – pass on his rival’s messages to his own fiancée? Thankfully he was sensible enough to breathe in and count to five. It was an anger management trick he’d been taught in his rebellious teenage past, and it still proved useful to this day. It bought him the seconds he needed to rationalise away his reaction. Clearly if Timberlake considered him of all people a safe intermediary then this message had to be benign.

“What’s up?”

Justin scowled. “I assume she told you about the press at the funeral and at her night out with her brothers?”

She had, though it was interesting she’d told her ex about the latter. Not so long ago she’d start fuming at the mere mention of him, but seemingly the funeral had mellowed her out towards him. “Yes.”

“I told her I’d let her know if my publicist found out what their story was going to be. As expected it’s some bullshit about how I’m going to run in and object at your wedding or something.”

Normally Justin would have simply texted the news, not relayed a message through somebody else. While talking to Drake though he’d had a brainwave that being nice to her fiancé and using him as an intermediary would benefit him more. It would look incredibly mature of him. That sounded calculated and self-serving even to him but he had a lot of ground to make up. Anything he could do to present himself in a more favourable light he would do, even if it meant dealing with the successor he still didn’t understand.

Drake’s laugh was a little too high pitched and he cursed himself. Did he have to sound quite so relieved, like he’d thought Justin was likely to do that? “Yeah, she said they’re a creative bunch.”

“Yeah.” The blue eyes rolled skyward. “Problem is… you might want to break this to her gently, but apparently they got pictures from inside the service.”

“There were paparazzi inside a funeral? Jesus!”

“No. That’s the thing,” he said. Drake was almost alarmed by the dark shadow that clouded his eyes. “There was a guest list and security; they arranged that precisely because I was there. It had to have been somebody who was invited.”

“Shiiiiiiit.” He let out a low whistle. “Somebody who actually knew y’all did that? That’s low.”

“I know. She’s probably going to be upset, so I understand if you’d rather not have to be the messenger…”

“No, that’s okay.” The reply was too hurried. “I’ll see her before you do anyway.”

Justin tried not to take that as any kind of shot or gloating. It was probably unfounded to even suspect that it was, but he didn’t feel too bad about any unfair aspersions. This guy had Reese so he was still winning either way.

“God,” Drake said. “Photographers following you around, people selling you out at funerals… this what it’s generally like to be you?”

“Unfortunately.” It was the best comment Drake could have made – that small touch of sympathy allowed Justin to warm up to him a bit. The opportunity to whine was what he needed in that second and Trace was occupied elsewhere. “Back when I started out it wasn’t so bad, it was just a few photographers and you had some time before the story would turn up, but now it’s everybody with a phone and that’s much easier to hide than a camera. Everybody’s the damn paparazzi these days - between the two of us Reese and I know pretty much everybody who could have taken that shot.”

It would have been great if it had been anyone in her life other than Justin in front of him. Then Drake could have asked how Reese traditionally reacted in these situations and got some advice. It would be good to know what he could expect when he told her. There was no way in hell however that he was going to admit any deficiency in his knowledge of her to this guy. No matter how polite he’d been, Drake still had the image of him gazing adoringly at his fiancée in his mind’s eye.

“That sucks, man, really.”

“Here you go!”

He was interrupted by Emma finally arriving with the team’s lunch order, so he pulled out some bills and handed them to her. “Thanks Em, keep the change. Listen I got to run but thanks for the info, I’ll let Reese know.”

“No problem. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

**

“Baby?” Drake called out as he heard the telltale click of the lock.

“Hey!” Reese smiled as she walked in, tossing her bag on the table and kicking off her pumps. “Good day?”

“Decidedly not. Everybody’s been in a shitty mood for some reason; think there’s something in the water.”

“That sucks.”

“What about you, how was yours?”

“Boring as usual.” She rolled her eyes. Walking over to the couch, she flopped down next to him. Even as she did he was lifting his arm up so that he could settle it over her shoulders.

“Hey, only a week to go and then we get some vacation time.” Drake leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple. Briefly she smiled back at him before reaching over and pulling the TV guide off the table. “So listen, did you feel like going out for dinner? There’s nothing in the place.”

“Could always cheat and see what my mom made,” she replied as she flipped through the pages. “Way she likes to overfeed Ollie when he’s home she’ll have extra. Heck, I bet she’s got enough to keep us going ‘til the wedding.”

He was not keen on that idea since it meant sitting through a dinner with said brother. The guy didn’t seem to have warmed to him much. Dean was friendly, Sam was politely engaging, and Clark showed typical teenage disinterest. Oliver displayed minimum courtesy but hadn’t made much effort to get to know him or to connect when he tried to start a conversation. Since he appeared to be Reese’s favourite brother (though Drake was sure she’d deny having one if asked) that bugged him.

“Honestly, much as I love my future in laws after a day like today I’d prefer to be greedy and have you to myself.”

“Nice answer, charmer.” Without looking up from the magazine she gave his leg a poke. “Out’s fine then.”

“Any preferences?”

“Nope.”

Drake peered down at Reese’s face and smiled. He enjoyed the normality of such mundane interactions. It might sound stupid to some but he loved the domesticity. Nobody could be surprised after an upbringing like his, constantly being evicted and shunted between relatives, but he cherished the opportunity to be secure and stable and even a bit boring. Things had been on a constant upswing since he’d moved here. He finally had a steady job and some prospects; he’d met a wonderful woman and was going to have the family he’d always wanted. He had friends and a life and a future, all happily settled and a far cry from the upheaval and histrionics of his childhood home. In hindsight, his mother kicking him out (for the final but hardly first time) in favour of her hundredth unsuitable boyfriend had been the only good thing she’d ever done for her son. He didn’t miss anyone or anything from his former existence.

The smile faded when he remembered he needed to have a conversation with her about something distasteful.

“Oh, I umm, I wanted to mention something to you.”

“Yeah?”

“I ran into Justin Timberlake at the diner today.”

Reese’s body stiffened, and finally she looked up from the magazine. In such a small town it was bound to happen some time, but the way he’d led into it couldn’t be good. Had Justin been rude?

“Oh?”

“He, umm… apparently you spoke to him about that whole thing with the photographer?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“He asked me to pass on a message from his publicist; it’s an article about him crashing the wedding or some dumb shit.”

“Oh.” Her relief was both audible and visible. It made Drake cringe because he knew it was premature.

“But apparently they managed to get photos of you from inside the funeral.”

“They WHAT?”

Reese jumped back off of the couch, storming away, and Drake held out his hands as if to ask why. There hadn’t been a split second between him telling her and her leaping up like that. Of course he hadn’t expected her to be happy, but to leave his side with such sheer speed? She couldn’t possibly be mad at him for relaying the message could she?

Muttering obscenities and not bothering to keep it under her breath, she had yanked her bag back off of the table and was digging furiously through it.

“Don’t suppose he said if he’s told Tiffany or Steve yet?”

“Didn’t mention it.” Did that mean she was mad at Justin? What was this reaction?

When she located her phone she yanked it out and tapped out a brief text message to Justin asking the same question. The reply was almost instantaneous – she guessed he’d been expecting her to contact him.

‘Yeah, I let Tiff know so she can warn Steve in person. So sorry about this peanut x’

Her reply back was succinct.

‘Not your fault people are soulless bastards.’

‘Not sure what pics they got but trying to find out. Though will probably be online before I can anyway.’

Well that was just great, Reese thought to herself. Now she was going to spend all evening with one eye on the gossip blogs. They were poisonous places which she knew she should stay clear of. She’d learned that lesson quickly while with Justin (they’d given her a persona as suited them, which was as a needy girlfriend paranoid about more famous rivals). Most of the time she exercised self-restraint – that was a particularly impressive feat around the time of the break up. Now however she knew curiosity would get her. She had to know what pictures they had. She’d be scrutinising the angle to see if she could work out who might have taken them.

“Are you okay?”

It made her jump. Momentarily she’d forgotten her fiancé was in the room. “Yeah, sorry. Just pissed off. It was a God damned funeral for God’s sake, you’d think people would show some respect.”

“Yeah, Justin was saying everybody with a phone is trying it these days,” Drake said. “Man, bet you really don’t miss that. Not a lot of paparazzi around here.”

“Paparazzi can all go die horribly as far as I’m concerned,” she replied.

“I mean, really, how did you live like that every day knowing anybody could turn around and sell you like that?” He mused out loud, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. “Can’t imagine anybody doing that around here, people actually know you and give a shit about you. You get to a city like that and it’s everybody for their own, no sense of neighbourliness.”

“Not exactly the city’s fault,” Reese replied. “People can be greedy anywhere, and there’s a lot of great stuff in LA.”

“Heh. Lord knows we’re better off here,” he responded.

With that comment, Reese immediately decided that tonight was not the night to discuss the prospect of moving. The more she’d thought about it the more she thought the town held no decent job prospects for her, but clearly this was not the time to convince Drake of that. The prosecution had just put forward some powerful evidence, so her defence might need to be timed for a more suitable moment when the bad impression had died away. He was wrongly attributing the darker side of fame to the location.

“You know what, after that I think some friendly faces are in order - ones I know would beat up paps for me not sell me to them. Think we should go to my mom’s after all.”

He tried not to sigh out loud.