Amanda cringed at the sound coming from the headphones she held close to her ears. She’d never heard herself sound so awful, not even on her worst day. And if it weren’t for the simple fact that a certain someone wasn’t in the room, she’d put the blame on him for her less than spectacular sounding vocals.

As a result of the altercation she had with the arrogant man in the Ferrari, that cut in front of her, she had arrived an hour late at the studio.

She thanked God that she saw the black shiny Ferrari in time to slam on her brakes. Her car had a big black gash on the side fender that matched the white one on the mans’ car. She’d taken a few calming breaths after the incident, then she’d stepped out of the car only to have the arrogant man yell at her.

After exchanging insurance information with the man, she made sure to let him have a piece of her mind. She’d let him know that he clearly re-compensating for a small penis with the big flashy car. And how calling the one eight hundred number for Rogaine, wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

On top of being an hour late, she was in a foul mood, which hadn’t pleased the producer. The producer who hadn’t been Justin, which in turn ticked her off more. She’d gone into the booth without warning up and as she sat there listening to the playback of what she’d just recorded, she knew she was paying the consequences.

She’d spent an entire week in New York with Johnny as a punishment for not taking her studio time seriously. Johnny had called her into a meeting to inform her that she would be tagging along on a promotional tour for one of his artists, for the quote on quote ‘learning experience’. She’d wanted to tell him that she knew how it all worked. She’d wanted to tell him that she’d been in the business as long as Justin had, but by the serious intimidating tone he used while informing her, she decided against it. Instead, she sat quietly in his big intimidating office, next to her co-manager, Justin Timberlake, seething at the mouth.

Justin had simply sat there without saying a word the entire time, proving once again that she needed new managers, or maybe just one. She’d left to her hotel suite without a word after that.

Her time in New York was repetitive, to say the least. Interview after interview, she sat in the background wanting to commit herself to psychiatric treatment. She’d been annoyed because she didn’t feel she had a lesson to learn, she already knew how to dodge these interviewers from watching Nsync for so long. She joked with Johnny’s assistant about the fact that she could probably train the new artists, on their interviewing skills, only to have Johnny berate her for it. By the time the end of the week came around she was ready to get back to her own work, which had pleased Johnny. And even if it meant having to be around two people she didn’t necessarily like at the time, she wanted to get to the studio.

But neither was to be found in the studio that morning.

Which only wound her up more, if possible.

“That sounds like shit!” she said into the microphone. The man across the glass from her rolled his eyes at her before proceeding to his earlier task. “What the hell was that look for? I may be singing the damn song but you’re producing it, Nate. So if it sounds like complete fucking shit, it’s as much your fault as it is mine.”

“Such language from such a pretty mouth,” the producer said into the headset, causing her to take them off and slam them against the stool behind her. “Justin did warn me.”

“What did you say?” Amanda asked once out of the booth, grabbing the water bottle she’d left on the counter. “Did he tell you I have a bad attitude?”

“Oh no, I figured that one out on my own,” the producer said with a smirk.

“Whatever!” Amanda said drinking from her water bottle. “Why are you here, Nate? Or should I call you Danja?”

“Producing a song, or butchering it according to you,” he said. “And you can call me anything you want. Hasn’t really stopped you today.”

“I haven’t directly called you anything, but it’s still early,” Amanda commented. “And no shit, I know what your doing, what I mean is why you’re here? Where’s Justin? He’s supposed to be doing this track.”

“He asked me to fill in for him. I owed him,” Nate shrugged.

“You owe him?” Amanda rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Nate. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy to think you actually wanted to work with me.”

“I did. I heard great things about you. None of which I’ve seen or heard today but great things nonetheless. Although the fact that you are beautiful, talented and a complete bitch goes without saying,” the man said with a smile. “Still doesn’t change the fact that I owed Justin a favor.”

“You just called me a bitch and you’re smiling?” Amanda couldn’t help but smile back. “What did Justin do for you? Why do you owe him?”

“Ohh…the nosy part is true too,” the producer laughed. “And to clarify, I didn’t call you a bitch, someone else did.”

“Really? Justin called me a bitch?”

“God, no. Justin claimed the beautiful and talented part,” the producer said with a wink. “The bitch part was all Trace.”

“Assholes,” Amanda mumbled before drinking from her water bottle.

“Speaking of,” the producer said pointing behind her to the door. Trace walked in first carrying a huge McDonalds bag and two cups of sodas. Justin followed with his cell phone attached to his ear while balancing two more cups in his other hand.

“Where the fuck have you two been?” Amanda asked from her seat next to the producer. Justin rolled his eyes at her foul language before greeting Nate with a simple nod. Not acknowledging Amanda’s question he turned to the other side of the room to continue his conversation.

“Nice to see you too, Manda,” Trace said before looking at Nate. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yeah I heard what you told him,” Amanda said. “He knows all about what a bitch I am.”

“I’m sure,” Trace said setting the two cups next to the ones Justin sat down on the coffee table. “How’s the track coming along?”

“It’s a piece of shit, thank you very much,” she said quickly. “Completely my fault,” she said giving Nate a smirk. “Why weren’t you two here this morning? All this bullshit talk about punctuality and all that jazz, you weren’t even here.”

“Very perceptive of you,” he shrugged. “And you should talk, you were an hour late,” Trace said. “You guys hungry?”

“I had a reason,” Amanda said. “What kind of assistant are you? I could have needed something.”

“You could of but I,” Trace started to say before Justin came over to them, his hands on his hips.

“What did you do to your car?” he asked angrily and Amanda briefly cringed at the sound before looking up at him.

“What?” Amanda asked with a roll of her eyes.

“That’s an eighty thousand dollar car, Jo,” Justin explained agitated.

“Amanda,” she corrected. “And so what? Some asshole cut in front of me. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Nice, Amanda,” Justin said pronouncing every syllable in her name purposely. “Do you know how much that’s going to cost?”

“What do you care how much it’s going to cost? You don’t have to pay for it,” Amanda shouted back.

“I got you a double cheeseburger, Manda,” Trace said trying to bring the tension down.

“Why wouldn’t I pay for it? I paid eighty already, what’s another five grand to fix the big ass dent? If you wouldn’t drive like you run your mouth, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

“What?!” Amanda asked standing defiantly in front of him.

“I’m going to take a guess and say you drive fast and carelessly. Sort of like your mouth does.”

“SHUT UP, TRACE!!” Justin and Amanda yelled at the same time.

“Do you want a cheeseburger, man?” Trace asked the producer. “Cause it looks like we’re the only two civilized people in the room.”

“Whatever!” Amanda said. “I told you, some asshole cut in front of me. It wasn’t my fault!”

“It’s never your fault, Jo,” Justin said setting her to the side with his hand, dismissing her before taking a seat next to Nate. “How’s the track going, Danja?”

“Well, we’ve been,” Nate started to say but was interrupted by Amanda as she stood in between the two men.

“What do you mean, it’s never my fault?” Amanda asked. “It’s not my fault the fucking guy hit my car. You don’t even stop to ask me if I got hurt, you asshole. I couldn’t have gotten hurt! And it’s not my fault this track is shit and it’s surely not my fault that you’re pissed. And…you know what? I don’t really give a shit.”

“Really? Then why are you so intent in letting me know that it wasn’t your fault?”

“Whatever, Justin! What I do know is it’s your fault that,”

“That what?” Justin questioned glancing at Nate, who looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Nothing,” Amanda said.

“That I have what, Amanda? That I have destroyed us? Isn’t that what you said? Or maybe you mean it’s my fault that you have completely turned your back on me when I have never, ever in your entire life turned my fucking back on you. Is it my fault that you’ve managed to do just that, in a matter of seconds? Or maybe it’s my fault that I can’t get five fucking minutes of your precious time, when I’ve given you my ENTIRE life? Is that my FAULT?” turning to Trace he asked. “What do you think Trace?”

“Don’t try to involve me in your bullshit, Justin. You’ve lost your chance,” Trace shrugged.

“I would appreciate if you would please stop discussing my BUSINESS in front of just anyone!” Amanda snapped angrily pointing at Nate. “Just because you’re confused and delusional doesn’t give you the right.”

“I’m going to take that as my cue to get out,” Nate said uncomfortably as he stood to leave.

“I’ll go with you, man,” Trace said grabbing his soda “I’m done dealing with this myself.”

“Confused? Delusional?” Justin questioned from his seat. “You’re incredible, you know that? I’m not confused, I know exactly how I feel. There aren’t a million questions running through my head, unlike yours. And maybe I am delusional because the way that you’re acting is NOT what I pictured in my head. So yeah, I may be delusional, but don’t YOU be confused thinking that I’m unsure about how I feel. And believe me, the past couple of fucking MONTHS I’ve been trying my hardest to feel differently. Which isn’t really fucking working because since I’ve been trying for my entire LIFE!”

“Try harder!” Amanda shouted. “You can’t come in here and try to run the guilt-trip game on me, Justin! It ain’t going to work, so don’t waste your breath!”

“Why not? It seems to me that I’ve wasted my entire life on you, why not the rest of it? I don’t have a fucking thing to waste because what I thought I had, you’ve managed to snatch away.”

“I took what, from you? YOU DID THIS! Not me, drop the reverse psychology bullshit,” she said rolling her eyes as she stood directly in front of his chair.

“Explain that to me, Jo. Explain to me what I’ve done. Because as far as I’m aware, what I ‘did’ was tell you how I felt, how I still feel. And don’t look so damn surprised that it’s still the same way, either. You really think that I would ‘ruin’ us if I wasn’t sure of how I felt? You out of anyone, besides Trace should know me. ME! Justin, your best fucking friend!”

“Shut up, Justin!”

“Why?!” Justin yelled, standing to look down at her. “You don’t like hearing what I have to say? It hurts, doesn’t it? It hurts when your best friend says nasty things, doesn’t it? How does it feel?”

“Shut up, Justin,” she said looking anywhere but him as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“Why are you crying, Jo? Why is it that Jeremy can cheat on you after thirteen years and I have yet to see you cry, Jo? Why?” Justin asked lifting her chin to look at him. “Tell me why you’re fighting. Tell me why the thought of me loving you, scares you so much. Tell me, Jo. Tell me because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t have you hate me, I can’t.”

“Please don’t, Justin.” Amanda said in a whisper as she choked back the flow of tears that threatened to spill.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, why aren’t you backing away, Jo? If the thought of me kissing you is crazy, why aren’t you stopping me?” Justin said as he closed the space between them slowly.

“Don’t,” Amanda said causing Justin to hesitate for a split second before continuing his path toward her lips.

“Stop me,” Justin whispered back before he slowly placed his lips on hers. The simple contact lasted what seemed like centuries, before Justin spoke, his lips moving against hers. “What are you so scared about, Jojo?”

Pushing away from him, she stood looking at him. The tears that threatened to spill earlier, making their live presence. She couldn’t speak and she was having a hard time breathing, but she stood there quietly looking at him. The sound of the door opening and banging against the wall, as Trace walked in with Elisha, startled her making her jump at the sound.

“Hey, girly,” Elisha said quietly. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, umm I just…have allergies,” Amanda said quickly, turning to grab a few Kleenex tissues from the shelf over the soundboard. When she couldn’t reach, Justin reached over her and handed her the box. She took the box without looking at him, before she cleaned up her face and turned toward Elisha. “How you doing, girl?”

“Good,” Elisha said with a smile as she hugged her. “You sure, you okay?”

“She’s fine, Elish. Leave it alone,” Trace said from behind her with a roll of his eyes at Justin.

“I’m good, Elisha, thanks for asking,” Justin said sarcastically as he took his seat again.

“Boy, you know better than to mess with me,” Elisha said giving him a smirk and taking a seat on the couch. “Did you make this mess?” she asked waving her hands across the mess of food on the coffee table.

“That’s all your man,” Justin said with a smirk to match hers.

“Where’s Nate?” Amanda asked with a sniffle.

“He left,” Trace said taking a seat next to Elisha, putting his arm around her shoulder, making her snuggle against him.

“He left? What about this track?” Amanda asked with a sniffle, before clearing her throat. “This is the kind of responsible people you hire?”

“I didn’t hire him,” Justin said. “He owed me a favor, I’m here now, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Are either of you eating? Cause this food is getting cold,” Trace asked before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“I’ll eat,” Amanda said quietly, taking a seat across the table.

“I’m not hungry,” Justin said turning toward the soundboard and setting headphones over his ears shortly after glancing at Amanda from the corner of his sad eyes.

“Suit yourself,” Trace mumbled before grabbing a cheeseburger and handing it to Amanda.

“So what are you working on today?” Elisha asked Amanda, before the tension in the room slowly broke. Justin turned to watch Amanda, she seemed to become animated as she spoke about the recording process.

Justin caught Trace’s eyes as he looked up at him. Trace simply nodded at him, silently asking him if he was okay. Justin nodded back and returned his line of vision toward Amanda once again. He remained sad and hurt but as he turned toward the soundboard, a smile decorated his face. He felt confident that his best friend had been right, even though he’d never let Trace know that.

If Amanda couldn’t see what was in front of her, he needed to show her. And he had a tiny bit of hope that he’d shown her, even if it was a little tiny bit.