20. She’s a Tramp

I’m finding that the only thing I can do is stare at my bloody and cut up personal assistant who seems to be frozen in her bent over position. She let my earrings drop back into my suitcase and she’s staring at me like she just got her hand caught in the big ass cookie jar.

“Maura? What the hell?” I finally stutter.

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU!” Lauren thunders right in my ear. She startles me so much that I drop her to the ground. She lands hard on her back and yells in pain. I guess any hopes of her quietly passing out are shot to shit because she’s struggling to her feet and trying to stagger over towards Maura. “I was fucking right! I fucking told you she’s a fucking klepto! I fucking told you!”

“Yes, yes, you told me,” I say as I surge forward and grab Lauren’s wrist. I can tell she wants a round two in her fight with Maura but there is no way in hell I’m going to let Lauren get to have all the fun. “Now calm the hell down and get into bed.”

“Like hell I’m getting into bed! I’m going to finish what I started back at….at…wherever we were at. I’m going to kick her scrawny little blonde ass from here until the fat lady sings! Let. Me. Go!”

“NO!” I yell so loudly that I make Maura jump out of her burglar crouch and actually make some of the pictures on the walls move a little, “You’re going to sit the fuck down on the bed and wait for me to come back in here…” I’m getting mad now and I really hope I can keep my temper in check or else Lauren isn’t going to be the only one throwing punches.

Lauren’s drunken glee is subdued as she quietly stumbles over to the bed and sinks down on top of it, giggling as she does so. I glare at Maura and point to the small sitting area just outside the bedroom. She doesn’t say anything as she marches past me and into the other room.

“Sayonara you mother fucking, cunt licking bitch!” Lauren crows as I turn my back at her and slam the doors behind me, silencing Lauren’s jeers. Once her ringing remarks are out of my ears and I turn to see Maura leaning against the back of the couch, her arms crossed, face turned towards the door.

“Would you care to explain to me what the hell you were doing in my room going through my things?” I ask her quietly. I’m in my danger zone and I know for a fact that if Maura steps out of line I may just have to abandon all of my southern gentleman ways and smack her across the face.

“It’s not what you think,” she states slowly.

“Really?” I ask sardonically, “Because to me it looked like you were stealing.”

She’s silent and she bites her bottom lip before wincing. I guess she forgot she was just in a fight and has a busted lip. Part of me wants to make sure she’s okay before I rip her a new one, but I can’t stand for this shit – especially if Lauren was right all along.

“I was making sure that Lauren didn’t steal anything from you,” she begins, “She’s the one who’s been doing it all along, to get your attention!” Maura blurts out. I’m just about ready to believe her, because the babbling drunk in the next room would seem like the kind of crazy person to steal shit for attention. But there’s one vital flaw in her explanation.

“This is Lauren’s first time in this room. How could she have stolen something from me earlier today?” I ask. The steel reserve that Maura set up is slowly starting to melt away and I can see a scared, confused, and conflicted young woman beginning to surface. “Unless you were trying to frame her or some detective shit like that,” I mutter, before the light bulb ignites in my head, “It’s been you all along hasn’t it?”

She doesn’t say anything at all and merely inspects her bruised forearm. She’s handling this whole thing with such indifference that it makes me want to throw something at her to see if she actually cares that I just caught her stealing from me red handed, “Maura?”

“Yes?” her voice is cool and calculating and I’m really starting to think that she believes this is some huge disservice to her intelligence.

“Was Lauren telling the truth all this time?” I can feel myself starting to get really upset because the fact of the matter is, if Maura confirms my question, that means I’ve been wrong and believing in something that isn’t true for the better part of half a year. And the fact that someone who’s worked so closely with me over the past few months has been betraying me and those I love is enough to send me over the deep end.

Maura doesn’t say a word and I can feel my patience starting to wear thin. I open my mouth to say something again, but Maura sees this as a perfectly good time to actually say something.

“You were quick to believe me back in February,” she starts, “Why change now?

“Hmm, let’s see…maybe because you were in my fucking room taking my shit?” I ask her sarcastically. I want to shove her up against a wall and force her confession out of her – regardless of if she’s guilty. All I know is that Lauren is in the other room drunk out of her mind and hurt and my first instinct and priority is to make sure that she’s okay.

But a smaller part of me wants to hear what Maura has to say before I decide her fate.

“And you’re the kind of person who needs to ‘see it to believe it,’ right?” Maura questions. I begin to tell her that she’s wrong but in all actuality, she couldn’t be more right. I didn’t see my stuff in Maura’s apartment and therefore I didn’t believe it. I saw my bracelet in Theo’s room and believed that he was the one responsible for it all.

Wow, I would make a really shitty detective or lawyer. I don’t think I’ll be giving up my day job to go to law school or some shit like that.

“But why?” I ask her, “Why steal at all? I didn’t do anything to you, I let you into my career, do you have a problem?” My temper is starting to flare up again and I can feel my voice starting to rise in volume. God I hope the walls are thick here.

“Oh it’s not what you did, it’s what that god damn bitch in the other room did to me, was doing to me, and still is doing to me.”

“What?” I question incredulously, “Who the fuck are you talking about? Lauren?”

“No shit Sherlock, who else would I be talking about?” Maura retorts, her voice icy cold and indifferent. “She ruined me right from the start! So involved with her own interests, her head is shoved so far up her ass that it’s impossible to know which end is talking!”

“I heard that you fucking bitch!” a muffled voice from the other room calls out. I roll my eyes; apparently Lauren is eavesdropping although I have no idea how she’s coherent at all given the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

“Yeah? Well hear this you stupid cow!” Maura yells back, “You’re an arrogant, self centered bitch who should rot in hell!”

“If it means I can take you with me, then gladly! Except I call the handbasket if we’re going to hell…” Lauren retorts. God they won’t stop fighting even with two heavy doors between them.

“Don’t you move,” I snarl in Maura’s direction as I move back to the bedroom. Opening the door I almost smack Lauren in the head. She’s leaning right against the wall, her ear pressed hard against the wall. “Lauren,” I sigh with disappointment, “get back into bed and try to get some sleep, okay? Let me deal with Maura and then we’ll talk…if you’re still able to…”

I’m waiting for her to tell me to shove my comments up my ass or something of the sort, but she begrudgingly gets to her feet and stumbles back to the bed, landing limply on top of the comforter.

“Happy?” she mutters. I nod before I turn on my heels and march straight back to Maura who’s still in the same position I left her.

“Okay, start from the beginning, explain yourself.”

She shifts her weight uncomfortably and looks past me at the closed doors that are containing Lauren from further beating the shit out of her. Sighing heavily, she gingerly touches her swelled shut eye, “It starts at Stanford. I was there on scholarship, ready to prove myself. Most of my professors thought I showed the most promise out of the whole freshman class. And then that stupid bitch little Lauren Walters came out of nowhere. All the professors fell in love with her little cowgirl ways and she wasn’t one to be modest about any of her accomplishments before coming to Stanford, ‘oh I was the United States Junior Barrel Racing Champion, I was valedictorian at my high school, I got accepted to Yale, Harvard, and NYU, but I chose Stanford! I’ve maintained a 4.0 grade point average all throughout high school! I was first chair violin at the Junior Wyoming Symphony Orchestra since I was thirteen!’ it was all she was capable of talking about. She didn’t care to know anybody else, she wasn’t there to make friends…she was hell bent in being the best of the best and she didn’t care who she stepped on along the way…”

I can feel the confusion settling into the pit of my stomach. I know Lauren was pretty much all of these things – the accolades and awards sitting in her bedroom at home all showcase her accomplishments. But after knowing her for almost six years, she was never one to brag about it. She never talked about back home, never really discussed college, or any awards she’d won. I’m finding it really hard to believe that the almost selfless and sometimes sweet girl sitting in the other room is almost as arrogant and self centered as I am.

“The professors were infatuated. Everything I built with them was shot to shit. I became second best to little Laurie Walters. And it wasn’t because she was better than me or smarter than me. No, she would undermine everything I did. She’d find out what essays I was writing and work twice as hard to convince the professor to do that essay instead. We’d be in the same organizations or clubs and she’d always beat me out of the top leadership position. She was a cold, calculating bitch and I can see that not much has changed.

“Of course she graduated top of our class and I had to settle for salutatorian. Of course we applied for the same jobs outside of school since we had the same major. And the one job that I wanted more than anything was to somehow get into JIVE records and at the time the only job left open was a spot as your personal assistant. I prepped for weeks, put blood, sweat, and tears into that interview and who should be victorious in getting that job, but Lauren…”

“But she doesn’t know you” I cut in, “when she interviewed you for this position she said she didn’t know you at all!”

“Of course not! Do you really think she’d remember the little people, the ones she stepped all over to get to the top? Yeah, sure. That’s not how Lauren works. You don’t know her like I know her. She’s a bully, a strategist, and just a cruel woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if she used her relationship with you as a big door opener to get to the top of JIVE or something like that…” she takes a deep breath to continue but I interrupt.

“I know for a fact she didn’t do that,” I state, “Because if she really wanted to get to the top of JIVE, then why did she quit working for me all those times? Nice try, Maura, but you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Whatever,” she states as she rolls her one good eye, “All I know is that when it got out you two were seeing each other and they were looking for her replacement, I knew I had it in the bag. After all, most of the professors at school and possible employers I interviewed with called me the Mini-Lauren. She’d pick the person most like her to do the job. Except as soon as I started working, she began to do errands for me and make phone calls I was supposed to make…” she continues on but my thoughts go back to the fight I had with Lauren all those months ago. Stating how she was doing Maura’s job for her and doing all the hard stuff…I guess that would check out.

“I knew right then and there that she needed to be out of the picture. It was the only thing I could do to get rid of Lauren and continue on to the top of the top. So I devised the plan of stealing your belongings and ultimately pin it on her somehow. Granted I never expected Theo and his willingness to help me, nor did I ever expect Lauren to go to my place, and I never, ever expected you to believe me. You’re a lot more stupid than I gave myself credit for…”

“Get out,” I growl, “get the fuck out of here or I’m calling security.”

“Well I hope she won’t mind if I press charges against her for assault?” Maura asks a sick grin on her face, “Because lord only knows I’m going to have serious emotional damage and maybe even irrevocable physical harm.”

“Maura,” I retort, “if you press charges I’ll have my lawyers on your ass so fast with a grand theft charge it’ll make your big ass head fall off your neck.” Her smug look falters and she seems taken aback by my sudden legal jargon.

“Fine,” she says shortly, “but don’t’ say I didn’t warn you when your life gets shot to shit when you let her back in. She’ll destroy you, she’ll use you, and she’ll leave you broken. So good luck with that,” she glares at me with narrowed eyes.

“Well that’s a chance I’m willing to take. Oh and before I forget, you’re fired and I hope you know that when I’m done with this you won’t be able to get any sort of career in entertainment. They won’t even higher you to cater a fucking event. So get the fuck out Maura, and if I ever see you again, I won’t be holding Lauren back.”

I don’t even watch her as she gathers her things and rushes from the room. All I can think about is checking up on Lauren and hoping she isn’t drowning in a pool of her own vomit…or trying to jump out a window, or drowning herself in the tub…

Don’t ask…drunk people can do really stupid shit sometimes.

Opening the doors into the bedroom, I expect to see Lauren passed out on top of the bed, but I feel the panic beginning to rise in my stomach when my eyes land on an empty bed spread.

“Lauren?” I call out and I want to hit myself over the head when I hear that my voice is shaking, “Lo? Where are you?”

The dreadful sound of someone retching is all I need to know. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I move towards the bathroom, pushing open the door just in time to see Lauren grip the side of the toilet bowl, her body tensing up as she heaves out the alcohol.

Well this is attractive. 

Moving slowly towards her, I realize that her hair has fallen out of her ponytail and I really hope she hasn’t gotten throw up in her hair because that would just be really fucking nasty. Sitting down cross-legged next to her, I reach out and gently pull her hair away from her face. She turns her head ever so slightly to see who’s interrupted her little puke fest for one, before she turns again and lets it rip.

A few more tense minutes of waiting for the rest of the throw up to come, and the worst of it has past. Taking a deep breath, Lauren moves away from the bowl and pushes down on the silver toggle to flush the contents away. I immediately let go of her hair as she turns to face me.

Good God, fucking Quasimodo from the Hunchback Disney movie looks better than she does right now. She might have kicked Maura’s ass from here to high heaven, but that stupid bitch got a few good hits on Lauren. Nearly the whole right side of her face is swollen and she’s probably going to have a mediocre shiner. Her bottom lip is busted and her recent activity has caused it to open up again. I watch silently as she brings a finger up to brush it and I notice that her knuckles have been rubbed raw.

“Ouch,” she winces as her hand travels up to her growing black eye.

“Yeah, you sure know how to pick your fights…” I tell her with a small smile before I get to my feet and offer my hand to her. My stomach flips when she lets her hand rest in mine as I pull her to her feet, “Let’s get you cleaned up though, I’m sure they have a first aid kit in here…”

“I want to sleep,” she whines and I can tell that the only thing that’s keeping her awake and somewhat coherent is the adrenaline that’s apparently still coursing through her even though it’s been almost two hours since her run in with Maura.

“I know and you can sleep soon, sweetie, but we have to get this stuff clean or else it’ll get infected.”

“Well aren’t you a regular fucking Nurse Nightingale,” she says sarcastically as she clambers on top of the bathroom counter. I find a small first aid kit in the medicine cabinet and open it up. “I didn’t know you even fucking cared.”

“Of course I care,” I say indignantly as I pull out some antiseptic cream and hold my hand out for one of hers. She begrudgingly places her hand in mine and I begin to gingerly spread the cream across her knuckles, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she winces before she tries to yank her hand away from me. I grip onto her hand tighter to keep her from moving away, “Maybe because you didn’t care at the beginning that I was telling the truth…stop that, it stings!”

“Well, duh, it stings,” I fire back, “you fucking kicked the shit out of Maura.” I shake her hand a bit to force her to relax before I reach over for some gauze and begin to wrap up her hands. She looks like a prizefighter and judging by the smug smile on her face, I’m sure she wouldn’t have it any other way.

But I can’t help but feel like the biggest piece of shit on the face of the planet. I mean all this time she was telling the truth, she stood by her story and I didn’t follow the obvious…God I’m a fucking idiot.

I am so, so stupid.

“So she’s worse off than I am?” she asks me quietly. I finish bandaging her hands, looking up to see her brow furrow. Nodding, I grab a washcloth next to the sink and turn the water on, letting the cold-water soak into the towel. “Good…fucking bitch deserved it…I’m still pissed you pulled me away from her,” her voice is low and stagnant and I can tell that she’s about ready to crash.

“You’ve got some dry blood,” I tell her, “hold still.” I move closer to her, my body moving in between her legs. My left hand rests against the counter as I gently wipe away some of the blood that’s gathered in the corner of her eye. Apparently she hit a sharp edge in her fight because she has a small cut above her eyebrow. I hear her sharp intake of breath as the cloth rests right against the cut. “I’m sorry, just give me one more second.” Pulling the cloth away, I grab some of the cream and a band-aid and quickly dress her minor wound.

“There we go,” I tell her as I let my hand fall away. I nearly jump when it brushes the side of her left arm, my hand very nearly landing on top of hers. “Right…” I stutter, “You really should get some sleep…you have to be exhausted.”

“Dead on my feet,” she retorts as she hops off the counter. She’s so unsteady on her feet that she practically crashes into me. I instinctively reach out and hold onto her to keep her from falling over. I try not to think that this is the closest we’ve been since that one night in Manchester that I would much rather forget.

“Let me help you,” I offer. Lauren doesn’t protest as I gather her up in my arms and cover the short distance from the bathroom to the bed. I set her down on the bed and help her get underneath the covers. She looks like a small child snuggled up between the sheets and I want nothing more than to just curl up next to her and make sure that she’s okay. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” I turn towards the closet to grab some sleep gear and an extra blanket for the couch.

She doesn’t say anything, and as I walk away my heart is screaming for her to call out to tell me to stay, to let me know that she needs me by her side tonight, even if it’s to just sit next to her while she falls asleep, I can hear her deep breathing before I even turn the lights in the bedroom out.

I guess I have to do more than pull her away from a brawl, keep her safe from paparazzi, and bandage her up to have her forgive me, and while I knew it wasn’t going to be this easy, part of me thought it wouldn’t be this hard.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I am the sorest motherfucker in the world right now.

Every inch of my body is in pain and all I want to do is lay in this bed and not move a freaking inch.

You can also add onto the aches and pains, the worst hang over of my entire life. This is worse than the morning I woke up after making out with Justin, or that other time when I was with Trace in Las Vegas for some William Rast launch he dragged me to. Yeah…this definitely takes the cake.

Oh yeah…and I’m also going to note that it’s seven in the morning but I can’t go back to sleep because every little move I make just causes me more and more pain. I need a painkiller, or an aspirin, or something that will keep me from thinking about the excruciating soreness I’m feeling.

God, I have a flight to catch back to the States later today. Sitting on a nine-hour flight, albeit in business class, is going to suck major balls. Maybe I can convince Trace to upgrade us to first…I deserve it after the fucking night I had to go through.

Dinner with the ex and his little girl pal, getting drunk to avoid being overly rude to girl pal, and then finally beating the crap out of her in the women’s bathroom. Everything after that got a little bit blurry, although I do remember hearing Justin firing her and him coming back in here to clean me up.

I have no idea where he is now, although I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. I want him to come back in here so I can laugh and gloat about how I was right all along and he was a stupid ass idiot for not believing me in the first place.

But laughing right now probably wouldn’t do well for my aching body. The only thing that’s giving me comfort is knowing that somewhere Maura is in worse pain than I am and there’s nothing she can do about it except see a doctor. She has no one here in London to take care of her like I do

Hah, take that bitch.

But merciful mother of Christ, I hurt. I can’t even crawl out of bed to get an aspirin so I’m left with only one other option.

“Justin?

I’ve got to call his sorry ass in here to help me. God, how the tables have turned. Just last month I was rushing to his side in Manchester to nurse him back to health from drunkenness and illness. Now he’s going to be doing the exact same thing, except this little escapade won’t end in sex of any kind nor will I be hanging out in his hotel room for three days. Trace will more than likely show up in two hours and I’ll be on my merry way – back to the United States and back to people who believe me when I tell them about important shit the first time around.

“Justin!” I try again. The louder I get, the worse it hurts so I know I can’t start screaming until the cows come home. “Justin?”

A loud thump followed by a long string of curse words follows and I wipe the satisfactory smile off my face as Justin comes rushing into the room, looking bewildered and looking almost as tired as I feel.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need anything? Are you okay?” even though it looks like I just woke him up from a deep sleep, he seems frazzled and frantic, which is weird for him. Mostly he’s pretty collected – right now he just looks like he’s had at least eight cups of coffee with double shots in them and is running on seventy-two hours with no sleep.

“Aspirin. And lots of it,” I tell him. He wipes his face with the palm of his hand before he disappears into the bathroom. I try my best to prop myself up on the pillows so I can swallow the pills with a glass of water that Justin is hopefully getting me. I nearly sigh out of happiness when I hear the running of the faucet and the sound of water landing in one of the glass cups left by the side of the sink.

He comes gallivanting back into the room and hands me three capsules of Tylenol and a glass of water. Justin sits on the edge of the bed as I quickly knock everything back. Hopefully this will help subdue the pain somewhat and help me sleep a little while longer. “Thank you,” I tell him as he takes the glass from my hands and sets it on the bedside table.

“No problem. Did you sleep alright?”

“I guess,” I tell him, “It looks like you haven’t slept at all though…”

“I didn’t,” he responds quickly and I see him playing with the edges of the sheets to give him something to do so he doesn’t have to look at me.

“Why?”

“Because I kept thinking about how much of an idiot I am,” he replies.

“Wow,” I state slowly, “I’m sure all that thinking gave you a real big headache… hopefully I didn’t take all the aspirin.” I don’t care if my witty and sarcastic comments make me seem like a bitch, as far as I’m concerned, Justin deserves every little bit of it

“Look, Lauren,” he begins and he drops the corner of the bed sheet and turns to look me dead in the eyes…well at least in my good one, my right eye is almost completely swollen shut and it’s hard to look out of it. I’ll have a hell of a time explaining this to Elliot and to everyone at work, “I know saying I’m sorry isn’t going to cover the damage I caused you over these past few months. I mean I could apologize until I’m blue in the face and I know that it isn’t going to change any of the feelings you felt or still feel about me. But, I’m still going to do it. I was wrong about Maura, I was wrong about trying to stay away from you and not believing you in the first place. As your boyfriend…well at that time anyway, it’s my responsibility to hear you out, and I didn’t…” he bites his lip and looks away and I really hope I’m just imagining the tears brimming in his eyes. God this may turn awkward again.

But I just want him to stop and hear him say that he was wrong over and over again because there might not ever be another time when I hear those words come out of his mouth in that exact sequence again. Then again, why would I hear him speak again at all after this? Just because Maura is out of the picture and he’s realized the error of his ways doesn’t mean that we’ll get back together. If anything I almost want to tell him to fuck off more because it took a really big fucking hammer to hit him over the head in order for him to get the whole picture.

I mean, what would have happened if Justin hadn’t walked in on Maura snooping through his things? I’m sure she would have spun some twisted little story about how I was a belligerent drunk and attacked her out of nowhere. Would Justin have believed her then?

“I’m sorry for not believing you in the first place and for being such a fucking little kid about it,” he continues on and I’m forced to listen to him because I can’t move anywhere or become temporarily deaf, “and you have to know that I really haven’t stopped caring about you or loving you since we broke up. As much as I tried to move on, I couldn’t and I wish I could have told you that in Manchester, but that didn’t really go according to plan.”

Sweet Jesus he just had to bring Manchester up. That was just…a really bad and awkward time and him talking about it is definitely not wracking him up any good points. But the sad thing is, I want to tell him that I haven’t stopped caring either. Even after all the shit he’s put me through, I still keep coming back and I end up falling harder than I did the first time. Man if anything good comes out of this, I’ll probably be stuck with the bastard for the rest of my life, and right now that isn’t a good thing.

“God,” he sighs heavily and rubs his face again, “I wish there was just an easier way for me to get this across to you, because right now I feel like nothing I’m saying makes any sense…”

“Then don’t say anything. Go in the other room and go to sleep,” I reply.

“But there’s so much I have to say, I’m sorry that I took advantage of what we had, sorry that I wasn’t there enough, sorry that I put everything but you first. I found out too late that no matter how many career defining performances I have, they don’t mean shit if you aren’t there with me. I was an idiot who realized he had a good thing going for him after it was already out of his life. I can’t even begin to tell you how much of a fucking retard I feel about this whole situation and I don’t care if we never get back together…” he stops talking immediately, a look of horror transcribed on his face, “I mean I do care, “ he backtracks quickly, “I care what happens to us in the future, what I meant to say was, even if we don’t go back to what we once were, I hope you can still forgive me and accept my apology even though I know it isn’t much.”

Well, even when the bastard hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours, he’s still able to form coherent sentences that make my aspiring filled brain second guess all the prejudice and preconceptions I’ve had for months.

Damn him.

But I’m not going to give up that easily.

“Justin,” I begin and I reach out and pat his hand quickly, despite the protest my arm is giving me, “you’re babbling. And I know you aren’t going to get any sleep on that couch; your Pop Wonder bones couldn’t handle it. So come over here,” I pat the opposite side of the bed, trying to ignore his brightened expression, “don’t get any fresh ideas, and get to sleep. From what I’ve heard you’ve got two more shows to get through and I’m not going to be blamed for fucking up your sleep schedule.” His features immediately darken when I bring up his remaining shows in London, but he moves over to the other side of the bed and quickly gets underneath the covers.

His breathing slows almost immediately and just when I think he’s drifted off to sleep, he turns on his side to look at me. I move my head ever so slightly to look at him and I notice that his eyes are heavy and his weariness makes him seem almost drunk. I hold my breath as he reaches out and moves a strand of hair away from my face.

“Thank you for listening,” he mumbles, “I’m so sorry and I still love you…always have and always will…” his eyes close and I watch as he quickly drifts off into a deep sleep.

Turning my head away, I stare at the ceiling as I try to fight off the wave of tears that are threatening to fall. Why am I almost crying right now? What the hell? The fact that I’m showing an emotion other than contempt and anger right now is frustrating me to no end and I don’t think I can stay here any longer.

I know it’s going to take a full marching band and the apocalypse to wake Justin up right now, so I don’t worry as I struggle to get myself out of bed and into the other room. Thankfully, Justin left his phone sitting on the coffee table so I don’t have a problem getting Trace’s number and dialing it as fast as I can.

It rings a few times before he finally answers his phone, his voice groggy from sleep.

“Lauren, how you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a fucking bus…repeatedly,” I groan as I sit down on the couch. I twist my face due to the level of pain that shoots up my legs. The aspirin still has to kick in, I guess.

“Are you still at Justin’s hotel?”

“Yeah, do you think you can swing by an get me right now? I want to get my things ready for the flight home.”

“Sure thing. I’ll probably have to come around the back because the only thing any of the shit rags around here have been able to report is concerning your brawl with Maura. That’s the only thing I saw on the news last night when I got back to the hotel. Did you guys manage to find her?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, “long story, but I’ll explain it when I see you. Come around the back, I guess.”

“No problem, see you in a few.”

We quickly say our goodbyes and I scurry around the room, trying to find my shoes. Thankfully, I spot them by the bedroom door and I quickly throw them on before looking up and into the other room.

Justin is still on his side of the bed; only he’s sprawled out on his stomach, his left arm thrown precariously over the spot I was occupying. He’s gripping the sheets almost as if he’s trying to hold onto an invisible person. I know for a fact that he’d unknowingly be spooning with me if I had stayed in that position.

Part of me is thanking Christ I moved, and another part, the bigger part, is imagining the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, protecting me, holding me.

Yeah, I need to get the fuck out of here.

Turning on my heels, I try my best to march out of the room, ignoring the pain shooting up my legs. I’m sure I have a bruise on my upper right leg from when Maura shoved me into one of the stall doors. Of course that was before I smacked her over the head with one of the soap dispensers.

I reach the door and open it. The hallway is deserted and I step through the threshold and out of his life once more without looking back.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I think knowing I was going to sleep with Lauren right beside me allowed me to have one of the best sleeps in my life. I remember telling her that I still loved her before slipping away into a dreamless void, and I knew it was all going to be okay because I’d be waking up with her right beside me.

Stretching up, I turn over to stare at her. I’m sure she managed to nod off back to sleep soon after I passed out and knowing that I might get to look at her and realize that this isn’t a dream before she wakes up again, is something that makes everything in the world seem okay.

Opening my eyes, I get ready to feast my eyes on a bruised and battered albeit still gorgeous Lauren, but there’s one thing my brain isn’t ready for when my bleary eyes finally focus.

An empty right side of the bed.

Sitting straight up, I crawl over to her side of the bed wondering if maybe she fell out while she was sleeping. The floor is clear of any sleeping bodies and my next guess is the bathroom. But after inspecting the bathroom and the rest of the hotel room, I find that I’m the only person left present.

Did I just dream that whole fucking thing? The fight, the revelation with Maura, practically pouring my heart out to Lauren while I was cleaning her up and talking to her this morning? No…because I saw the first aid kit still sitting on the counter in the bathroom when I went to inspect it.

Where the hell did she run off to?

I spot my phone sitting on the coffee table and I flip it open noticing that I slept in until eleven o’clock. Trace said he’d be by to pick her up in the morning, maybe he already showed up?

I can’t dial Trace up fast enough and I’m sitting on the edge of the couch, waiting with bated breath for him to answer.

“Y’ello?” he sounds into the phone and I’ve never been so happy to hear his voice.

“Trace!” I practically screech into the telephone, “where are you?”

“The airport, man. What’s up?”

“Is she with you?” I counter.

“Who?”

“Oh you know, Queen Elizabeth,” I grumble sarcastically, “Who the hell do you think I mean?”

“Jeez, did you just wake up? Because you sound like a fucking grump right now,” Trace retorts, “Yeah she’s with me, she’s checking her bags right now.”

“Oh,” I say slowly suddenly feeling very stupid. What am I going to say now? I don’t want to talk to her, well I do…but I don’t know what I would say to her over the phone. “How is she?” I guess I can ask that.

“Fine. Still sore and she looks like she got into a fight with a crazy ass bitch and won, but other than that she’s just fine and dandy. Look, I have to go check in…hang on a second…”

His voice fades away and I hear various sounds coming over the phone – PA announcements, people yelling in the distance, the sound of the phone rustling against clothes or something. I hear Trace’s voice in the not so far off distance, “Look just take it, okay? Keep him entertained until I get done checking my bags…”

“Trace,” her voice sounds gravelly and yet wonderful all at the same time, “please…”

“Oh grow a pair, Walters,” he counters and I want to punch the air in silent victory, “it’s going to take me five seconds to check my shit.”

“Fine,” she says in that exasperated voice that I love so much. I hear more static and scuffing about before her voice sounds in my ear, clearer than before, “Hello?”

“Hey!” I say clearing my throat in the process, “Um…what’s up?”

“Trying to deal with the crazy fuckers here at Heathrow. And I thought LAX was bad,” she’s making small talk and I’m grateful for it. I don’t really want to get into any heart felt conversations over the phone.

“Yeah, no kidding,” my voice fades away and then comes back stronger, “You left in a hurry this morning…”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she retorts, “Didn’t really feel up to hearing your ass snore until Trace came to get me.”

“Very funny,” our banter is back up to snuff and I guess that’s a good thing, but even over the phone I can feel this tension building up and I just want to tear it all down. “Look Lauren, can we talk about this?”

“About what, your snoring?”

“No,” I say quickly, “I mean everything that’s happened. I don’t think you know how sorry I am.”

“Justin,” she sighs and I can almost imagine her rubbing the bridge of her nose in exasperation, “I don’t want to talk about this…”

“Yes you do,” I tell her, “If you didn’t want to talk about it you wouldn’t have taken the phone.” I can tell by her silence that she knows I’m right so I see it as a sign to continue, “Like I said, I’m sorry I put you through all this shit and I was a real prick for not believing you in the first place, and that whole Maura thing…I was just stupid, Lauren. And I’ve learned my lesson this time, Lauren, I promise you that. I won’t ever take you for granted again and I hope you know that.”

“Look Justin, I have to go, we need to go through security and we can’t stay on the phone…” her voice is static, and I know I’m losing her.

“No! You don’t have to go! You can stay here, you can come back and we can figure this out! I want to figure this out with you, I want to make it work!”

“Justin,” she’s trying to cut me off, to try to do the cordial telephone sign off, but I won’t let her, I’ll be damned if I let her.

“Lauren, please!” and I’ve crossed the line from asking to begging, pleading and groveling all rolled into one. My voice is high pitched, I can feel the tears raking my throat and even though I’m sitting in the middle of my hotel room, I’ve never felt more lost. “Please just listen to me!”

“I’m sorry Justin,” she says quickly, “I have to go. Good luck with your last two shows…”

“Lauren, it doesn’t have to be like this! I love you,” but my last three words are cut off by the beeping of my phone, telling me that the other line has been severed. I let the phone fall out of my hand and onto the floor.

I stare at the phone for a minute as I let the sudden realization of everything that’s happened smash into me like a high-speed collision. My need to put my career first and to be the center of attention has cost me the most precious thing to me. And I realize that it doesn’t matter if Maura stole my bracelet, or my prized Disney DVDs or my stupid fucking boom box…she managed to take the trust, love, and camaraderie I felt with one person and tear it to shreds – and there’s hardly any hope of rebuilding the bridges that have been burned.

And I don’t even care if I’m finally letting the tears flow, I don’t care that I’m sitting on my couch practically sobbing like a baby, all I know and all that I am is leaving and probably doesn’t give a damn that I’ve finally seen the inequity in my actions.

Maura’s deception has played its course, and right now, I’m absolutely powerless to stop it.