The pounding of the music is hurting my ears and I’m wondering why Marty has to make the stereo system in the rehearsal hall so fucking loud. Because seriously, I want to keep my hearing well into my old age thank you very much.

We continue to go through the motions of the choreography and I am so ready to call it quits it isn’t even funny. I’m pretty much drenched with sweat and I feel so dirty…but it does feel so freaking good.

I just got back from an exciting weekend at home with the family. I think Lauren is glad to be home and away from the eyes of my parents and relatives who all think she can’t keep her pants up. I’m the golden boy and the thought of me initiating sex would be unthinkable in the eyes of my family – with the exception of my mother. She knows how I can get.

But being back in LA means getting back to work and getting back to work means I’m a few days closer to heading off on tour and being without Lauren or Trace. The two of them are staying behind in California while Rachel and I embark on a world tour that’s going to see me busy from January to October. Now that I think about it, I just want to go back home and lay in bed with Lauren and forget that I even have a job and a duty to entertain millions of people with my good looks, charm, and superior talent.

My group of dancers and I finish the combination with ease just as the door opens and Lauren walks in. She looks all business and no fun dressed up in a business suit and looking like she’s about to walk into a corporate building and not a laid back dance studio. We’ve only been home for two days and she looks absolutely exhausted. After complaining nonstop on the trip home about interviewing new assistants, Lauren threw up her hands and said she’d interview people while she prepared for her new job. I would have complained that she’s putting too much on her plate but she wouldn’t hear it and told me to shut the fuck up.

So shut the fuck up I did and now I feel guilty because my girlfriend looks like she was just working at a death camp for three days straight. Okay, maybe it isn’t that extreme, but I can see the circles starting to form under her eyes and I haven’t seen those since she was working for me.

Marty is starting the count for the next combination but I’m already halfway towards Lauren who’s leaning against the far wall and watching intently. I can hear Marty grumble under his breath, which is surprising since the music is way too loud. Whatever, I’m just happy to see Lauren

“Hey Moanin,” I say with a huge grin on my face. She reaches out and punches me on the shoulder. I wince and rub it; I keep forgetting that the girl has an arm on her that would make Tyson weep with pain.

“This is the last time I bail out your ass,” she mutters before I kiss her lightly on the lips. “You do not know how many head cases Jive is sending me to be your new assistant. Every single one of them I’ve seen this morning are either aspiring singers or want to get down your pants…”

“So what’s wrong with that?” she punches me again and I wonder if I’ll start to develop a bruise.

“I have five more interviews after lunch and I am not looking forward to them at all. If I see one more blonde haired, big busted skank walk through my door I’m going to scream.” My heart goes out to the poor girl. She’s probably interviewing each girl like they’re about to guard the President and going through their resumes with a fine toothed comb. I almost feel sorry for the bitches but then I realize that one of them has to get through the Lauren Seal of Approval before they can get to me and the hell I’ll more than likely put them through.

“Well the sooner you find someone, the sooner you can stop and not have to deal with it. Really you can pick some random girl who isn’t that good and I’ll whip her into shape in no time. Just don’t stress yourself out about this, alright?” She sighs heavily and I turn her towards me, both hands on her shoulders, “I’m sure I’ll love whoever you pick out because it’s you who did the picking.” She smiles brightly and I rub her shoulders a bit to help her relax.

“J, would you stop trying to secure a bone for later tonight and come and dance?” Marty yelps from the front of the room. Lauren shoots him a scathing look and my choreographer rolls his eyes. Yes, Marty may have helped Lauren on the plane but that’s as far as their friendship goes. They still hate each other with a passion.

“Shut up Marty! Don’t be jealous that he’s getting some and you aren’t,” Lauren chides and I can’t help but let my guffaw laugh escape. “And how do you know he hasn’t already secured a bone and he’s about to go and get it?”

“Really?” I ask eagerly but she responds by rolling her eyes at me and smacking me on the other shoulder. I’m not going to have any arms in a few months if she keeps this up.

“No,” she whispers, “But you have secured a lunch date. Ready?”

This is a new side of Lauren. She’s asking me to skip out on a rehearsal early to have lunch with her – something she never would have done when she was working for me. But then again the times we had lunch dates were absolute zero.

“Justin, where are you going?” Marty yells as I turn to leave with Lauren. I slide my hand into hers and I can tell that Marty is going to absolutely torture me when I get back into the studio. But I really don’t care, I’m with my girl and that’s all that matters

After five minutes of bickering about where to eat, we settle into our seats at a little Italian eatery on Sunset. The conversation is good enough but we’re steering clear of any talk of her interviewing people and the thought that in less than two months we’ll be separated.

I’m going to fly her out every single chance I can and I’ll hopefully fly back to California whenever I have a day or two off. And I hope she knows that I’ll be calling her whenever I’m not in an interview, on stage, or sleeping. Everything else goes – even when I’m in the shower or on the toilet I will be calling her. I don’t care if that’s gross.

We’re halfway through our entrees when Lauren’s phone starts to ring. I notice that she’s changed her ring tone from ‘Under Pressure,’ to ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love.’ I beam at her as she picks up the phone and returns the smile before she’s all business.

“Lauren Walters speaking…” I watch as her face goes from radiant to ashen. “I am so sorry, I’ll be right there.” She hangs up the phone and throws it in the purse before she looks at me. “Shit!” she exclaims, “Fuck!”

“What’s wrong? Lauren, are you okay?”

“I had a total fucking brain fart and forgot that I had an interview scheduled for twelve thirty. Oh Jesus, I’m half an hour late!” She gathers her things and shoves another bite of her sandwich into her mouth. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Of course. Dinner and a movie night, remember?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it. Love you,” she states hurriedly before she gives me a kiss on the cheek. I love her, but I’m not about to kiss her on the mouth after she’s stuffed a turkey sandwich in her mouth; thankfully she already knows I won’t appreciate it.

“I love you, too,” I explain before she takes off at a jog through the restaurant. Sighing sadly, I pick up my fork and stick it into my salad. I’ll finish the rest of it and get back to Marty, who’s going to be pissed that I left. I don’t give a damn. Even though it was short lived, I’m still glad I got to spend time with Lauren.

*~*~*

I careen into the Jive parking lot behind the wheel of Bentley Lexus like a mad woman. I’m ready to scream with frustration since I hate being late and the fact that this person has probably been sitting outside my closed office door looking like a complete moron for almost forty-five minutes makes me freak out even more.

Jumping out of the car, I sprint for the building while attempting to calm down my hair, which has decided to go ape shit on me for no apparent reason. I’m worried one of my heels is going to break, but thankfully I’m inside the office and rushing for my little room that the manager set aside for me while I conduct the interviews.

I notice the woman sitting on the chair but I don’t really look at her. I stumble past her and mutter apologies as I unlock my door and shove my way in, “I’m sorry, please come in,” I manage to get across in English before I switch on the lights and take my seat behind the desk. Once I have a good hold of my sanity I look up.

A blonde haired, blue eyed woman is standing in front of me, looking every bit the professional. She’s carrying a portfolio under one arm and the other is gently smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt. She smiles brightly, revealing a row of straight, white teeth and I can’t help but smile back.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I had a total brain fart. Please, come in and sit down,” I explain before I offer her a seat. “I’m Lauren Walters…”

“Maura Delaney,” she states matter of fact before she reaches forward and shakes my hand. Her grip is firm and she’s looking me in the eye. So far so good, shows she has balls and isn’t afraid of me – something she’ll need working for Justin. As Maura sits down, I can’t help but feel that she looks strikingly familiar. But then again I’ve met my share of beautiful blonde women working for Justin and she does look like this one girl who threw herself at him during one of his many parties…

“Here’s my resume and list of references,” Maura breaks into my thoughts and hands me a small tablet of papers that none of the other girls had. Well this is comforting, it shows that she’s done some work before and she isn’t afraid of me contacting any people.

“Before we get this underway I have to ask the Big Two,” I explain as I lean back into my chair, “Please answer these truthfully because the answers to these questions will more than likely be revealed should you get the job.”

“Alright.”

“Do you want to be famous or have any desire to be famous?”

“No.”

“Do you want to sleep with Justin Timberlake?”

“No.”

“Alrighty then, we can continue,” I say with a grin before I gather a few slips of paper that have questions scribbled all over them. 

“Do you actually get people who say yes to those questions?” Maura asks incredulously.

“Oh yeah and then I show them the door and cross them off my list,” I explain

“Wow that’s pretty messed up,” she comments and I agree with a nod of the head.

We begin the interview and I see that this girl isn’t going to be a complete push over. I know that Justin wanted someone who was going to kiss his ass and let him do whatever the hell he wants, but if that ends up happening he won’t get anything done and it’ll more than likely get blamed on me when his management ascends from on high to get him in line.

I glance at her resume in between various questions and answers and I can see that she’s highly qualified. She worked at a high end club in LA as a booker and she had a stint as an assistant to a prestigious wedding planner in the area who has diva fits that rival Naomi Campbell’s. 

I can see that Maura will take shit to an extent but if it gets too extreme she has no problem putting her foot down – I definitely wasn’t like that in the beginning; I had to learn to be a hard ass the difficult way. I can safely thank Justin for making me a cold hearted bitch when I need something to get done. What a guy.

“He can be a bit demanding at times,” I say with a furtive smile, “It is a twenty-four seven job and sometimes it can be a little ruthless…” especially if you have to deal with Trace, “but the rewards are great. Travel the world, free concerts, and then of course you get to be thrown into the wonderful paparazzi pictures and you can have the entire fan community explode trying to figure out if you’re just the help or flavor of the week.” Maura laughs and I’m starting to like her more and more. There’s only one more test to pass and none of the other girls have gotten this far.

“I think I can handle that,” she states with a wide grin. Good.

“Well as far as I’m concerned, Maura, you’ve got the job,” her blue eyes light up and I half expect her to get up and do a victory dance around the room, “I just have to call a few of your references and then you can officially sign the paperwork. Granted you do have to meet him, but that can wait for tomorrow,” I explain. I quickly write the rehearsal hall address on the back of my business card and hand it to her. “Just meet me in front at eleven thirty and we can sign the paperwork and you can meet your new slave driver.”

Maura giggles and takes the card with a well-manicured hand. I like that she laughs at all my lame jokes, definitely a keeper.

We exchange cell phone numbers and other random tidbits of information about the other as we walk out to the parking lot. I tell the secretary to cancel all my other appointments for the day and I end my meeting with Maura Delaney in a hug before I jump into Bentley Lexus and let the familiar sounds of Queen wash over the interior.

My peaceful drive home is short lived because my phone starts to ring. Sighing, I pick it up and press it against my ear.

“Lauren Walters speaking.”

“Laurie, honey how are you?” my mother’s unmistakable western twang hits my ear and I try my best to suppress a groan.

“Hey mama, I’m fine. How’re you?”

“Good. I just wanted to call my little girl and see how she’s doing and to ask her a question.” Oh great, a question…when my mom has a question to ask me it usually results in me going up to Worden or flying out to some exotic location where my parents are following the mating patterns of bears and then taping them like its some Discovery Channel Porn.

“Yes?

“What are you and your ex-boss doing for Christmas?” The funny thing with my mother is she knows that I’m dating Justin, but she refuses to call him my boyfriend. She loved Neal like a son and the fact that I’m with the guy who made my life hell for almost five years instead of with the man who would call my mom at the end of a long day just to see where in the world she was kind of pisses her off. So she decides to piss me off as well and call Justin my ex-boss.

“My boyfriend and I don’t have any plans, why?” But my mom isn’t listening. Instead she’s asking somebody named Theodore to bring her the new wide angle lens so she can get a picture of a caribou or something. “Where the hell are you?”

“Northern Alaska. Your father and I are going to be in Wyoming for Christmas, I figured we could have a family affair and you could bring your…” she pauses for a moment and I wait on bated breath for her to actually say… “ex-boss as well.” Guess I can’t have everything.

“Well I need to talk it over with him, but for the time being I’m going to say yes.” But Mom is yelling at Theodore that he brought the wrong one and to go back and get a different model. “Where’s dad?”

“He found a doe in labor a few miles back and he stayed to photograph the birth and imminent death of the calf.” I’m about to ask why the baby’s death is imminent but I’m sure she’s going to tell me anyway, “It’s almost below zero here and a calf isn’t going to survive…that and there’s wolves on the outskirts of the birthing area.”

“Oh that’s lovely mom, I’m glad you guys are getting that on film.”

“It might get us our fifth National Geographic cover,” mom explains and I roll my eyes. Sometimes I just want to reach through the phone and smack my mom in the face.

“I have to go mom, say hello to dad for me,” I manage to get out. My mom is currently gabbing about how she and dad have been following the herd for the past two weeks with some guy named Theodore who is no doubt their assistant. I’m not listening anymore and finally mom announces that she has to go since the herd is on the move.

Silently thanking God, I hang up the phone and throw it back into my purse. I pull up into Justin’s driveway and park Lexus in front of one of the garage bays. I don’t want to go to Wyoming, but I haven’t seen my parents in about three years or so. I kind of owe it to them to see them around Christmas and I know that Justin won’t go anywhere without me and I don’t want to go anywhere without him.

I sigh heavily and lean my forehead onto the steering wheel.

Wyoming here we come.