Breakfast is essential. I know I ate at a very rough hour last night, but I’m still craving some hotel bacon and eggs. Bacon and eggs will go straight to my ass, but I don’t care. It’s currently 7 am. I think Trace mentioned traveling to Orlando today, but I’m not too sure about that. One thing I know is if I will be riding in some type of fashion, I will need to be well rested and well fed. Okay, that’s just an excuse. I’m just hungry, and I want to eat.

     Elevators are nice when you are stuck on the tenth floor. This is random, I know, but even as I’m riding down I am enjoying this cheesy elevator music. I should have called Trace so I wouldn’t be so lonely. Of course, then that would probably entail some other company. I’m still seething over the whore remark. I know he was drunk, but he had no right. And part of me knows he meant it. Well, I’m over it. From now on I’m going to start over. And here’s my chance.

     Just my luck that those two dummies, plus somebody else who looks mildly familiar, would be eating breakfast at the exact same time I would love to. I thought I had gotten up early enough to beat the crowd, but I guess not. No turning back now. I push up my head, sling my bag higher on my shoulder and waltz over there sort of cocky. I slide in next to Trace, a very comfortable feeling. I realize that everybody is staring at me like some sort of alien, but I don’t care. I sit there and smile.

     “Good morning everybody! Sleep well?” Everybody is still staring, hard at that. Maybe being friendly was a bad idea. Maybe it was good, I don’t know.

     “You must be Madison,” The girl speaks up first. Typical. It’s always the girl that does so. I like her.

     “That’s me. I’m going to guess that you knew that because you had heard such great things about me.” And she’s laughing. Hell, I didn’t know I was that funny. Well I’ll show everybody just how great I am starting right now.

     “Well I wouldn’t say that, but none the less, I’m Rachel. Justin’s cousin and glorified PA.” So she’s related to Justin? Great. Knowing him he blabbed about how much of a bitch I was and now I’m faced with two people who could really care less about me. It’s okay. Calm down Madison. Be happy. Happy thoughts.

     “Very nice to meet you. Trace has said wonderful things about you,” Trace smiles, proud he’s the only civilized person. I have half a mind to just reach over and smack him, but that would certainly ruin my happy attitude.

     “Yeah. Nice try. Trace thinks I’m the biggest bitch ever,” It’s my turn to laugh. Trace just kind of grunts like he has lost his award or something. I’m really starting to like this girl. Oh, lets go play barbies and do each other’s hair. Oh pretty please?

     “Well I’m sure I could compete.” This was followed by a grunt from my absolute favorite person. He’s looking down. It’s that awkward thing where I want to say thank you for last night, but I feel like he’ll jump down my throat or something.

     “Rachel wins by a mile.” I’m kind of shocked he just talked at all, but much less a compliment in some weird ass way. Rachel smacks him on the back of the head and gets a cheerio thrown at her.

     “Well anyway, I have a job to do. So let me know when you guys need me.” I’m getting up. I don’t know why I’m getting up, but I’m getting up. Do I really want to eat breakfast alone, probably in my oh so quaint hotel room? Well no, but it beats the awkwardness that happened at this table when I sat down. I’m almost gone when I remember something. I turn back around. Why am I doing it? I don’t know. “Justin, by the way. Thanks for last night.” And I’m off…quickly because I’m blushing. Embarrassingly.

----------------------------

     “Trace.” He’s hiding under the table almost. It’s a damn shame through because I can still beat the shit out of him. With one hand at that.

     “Yeah. Oh sorry. Just, you know, dropped my spoon.” Nice excuse. He’s still not looking at me. If he wants children in the future, he better look at me. Or maybe I should decide for him not to have children at all either way.

     “What the hell did you do?” He clears his throat in the denial way. I know Trace like the back of my hand. I know when he’s lying and when he’s fixing to pull a big fib. Same way that he knows about me.

     “I may have sort of sentherroomserviceandattachedyournametoitlastnight.” He says this last part strung together and almost in a whisper, but my absolutely amazing ears caught it.

     “What is this? Are you trying to get me to make nice with her?” I’m restrained right now. I could be strangling him instead of asking him any sort of questions. Besides, I would hate to gut him in front of the whole hotel staff and the other nice people eating their breakfast. So for now, questions will have to do.

     “I’m trying to rid the tension. It wasn’t just me, Rachel was in on it too.” I turn towards my cousin and give her the stare down. She currently giving Trace the look of death. Why is that all my friends are ganging up on me?

     “I was not! I don’t even know the girl!” She says this all the while still giving Trace the death glare. I know when she’s fibbing too. What the fuck is this? Why are people trying to live my life for me? And for nothing anyway. For some stupid girl who I might see a couple times a year.

     “Well you guys are going to have to get over it. I don’t like the girl. Period.” It’s early in the morning, I’m still half asleep really, and I’m dealing with this shit? UGH!

     “Well you did call her some bad names. I mean the least you could do was send her room service,” It’s Rachel. Does she realize just how close to me she is right now? Yes, I said some bad things but so did she. And I just said what came to mind. I mean who else sleeps with somebody they barely know? Well me, but that’s besides the point. I can.

     “You guys make me sick. I am not being nice to her. I would rather she not even be here TRACE.” Rachel and Trace are beginning to look very uncomfortable like they aren’t dishing everything, “What?”

     “Well, we sort of kind of put her on your bus.” Everything is silent. I swear to God I will kill every one of these motherfuckers. I do not have time for this shit. Who the hell do they think they are? Just because I love them to death, does not mean I will not murder them in a heartbeat. Well if they wanted one hell of a grumpy Justin, they sure got one.

-------------------

     I’m beginning to feel odd. Very odd. It’s like watching one of those horrible reality shows odd. I’m sitting here on Justin’s bus. Trace is across from me pretending to read some bogus magazine. I know this because he keeps peeking over the pages at me thinking I don’t see him. Indeed I do. Rachel is writing things down in a notepad. I’m not sure if she is pretending or not. She looks pretty serious over there. Justin has locked himself in the back. I know he’s still alive because at random moments he will shout cusswords at what I believe to be his PlayStation3 or whatever the crap game system he has back there.

     I’m beginning to feel that I’ve been set up. Like those get rich quick schemes. I can’t help but think that Trace is behind it. The only nice person to me since I entered this hell bus has been the bus driver. Not to mention that I absolutely started my day off wrong anyway with a camera in my face. So I’m not in the best mood.

     “Trace, stop peeking at me. So, want to tell me what’s going on buddy ole pal?” I can’t believe we went through silence almost this entire bus ride. We’re almost to the damn venue for God sakes. Trace is looking defeated and caught red handed. He tosses the magazine on the floor. Rachel stops doing what she’s doing too to stare at me, trying to look as innocently as possible.

     “Nothing is going on. We’re just driving to Orlando. We’re almost there.” He’s looking away from me. A sure fire sign that this has BIG written all over it. I’m pretty sure I’m being made fun of or something in this scheme. I almost bust him right there, but then grumpy finally decides to make an entrance. I assume his hands are either numb from playing or he’s hungry.

     “So, I’m ready.” Is he speaking a foreign language, because whatever it is I don’t understand it. He’s just staring at me. Am I supposed to do something? Dance? Sing? Do the hustle? I’m confused.

     “For?” Trace is stuffing his face in a pillow. I don’t know if that’s because he wants to scream or because he’s laughing. I see him shaking though so it’s probably laughter. Or he could be crying. Maybe Justin just announced he’s ready to die or something. Hell, I don’t know. He could be a sick fuck.

     “The clothing line.” What a fucking awkward time for this shit. He’s looking at me like I’m dumb like I was supposed to read his mind. I’m not, however, an expert on Timberlake talk. Lucky for me, I have my briefcase with me. I stuffed everything else under the bus.

     “Sure.” I pull out all the samples and paperwork. There was a lot of hard work put in here by me. I’m proud of it. I couldn’t have done a better job. I hand them over to Justin to thumb through. Trace has already seen all of it, so I don’t include him.

     “Not bad. When do these go into production?” Justin points to one of the ones he of course designed. Justin’s a concept guy. All about what it should look like. He does it with describing words. We all know the guy can’t draw for shit. We have this guy who draw the clothes off of his descriptions, and Justin or Trace or whoever makes adjustments. Don’t get me wrong, Justin has tried to draw before. I’ve seen his work. Not a pretty sight. His vague descriptions are ten times better.

     “As soon as you sign the dotted line.” I didn’t mean to sound smart, but obviously I did because everybody is staring at me. Well, serves him right for getting all crazy eyed at me because I didn’t know his language before, “Also, I brought a shirt with me. Me and Trace kind of designed it. He asked me to bring it along.”

     The shirt was fun. Me and Trace had a heyday with it. One day we got bored around the offices and just went crazy with the shit. Normally nothing happens without Justin’s approval, but Trace assured me it was okay. And it turned out fucking terrific if I do say so myself. I was reluctant to bring it because I thought Justin would lash out at me, even though it happened to be all of Trace’s idea.

     “It’s nice. I’m suggesting Trace did this part.” Justin was referring to the nearly naked woman on the back.

     “Actually, Madi did that part. Of course I was all up in that shit, but that’s Madi’s beauty.” Justin looked at me. I can be guy friendly sometimes. It’s a guys shirt. What do guys like? Women. Naked at that.

     “Nice detail. She’s kind of hot.” Great, Justin Timberlake thinks the woman I virtually designed is hot. He probably wants to fuck her too. I’m surprised he signs off on the shirt. He must be feeling nice or some shit like that. Well, all I came out here for was to get those signatures and stuff. So now I can go home right?

--------------------

     I’m standing in a corner. It’s loud. It’s late. I’m tired. I don’t see how people do this shit. Don’t they get tired? Sooner or later we have to go to bed, am I right about this? I would go to sleep right here in this cozy little corner if Big Bubba were not right beside me threatening to puke and if it were even the least bit comfortable.

     I’ve currently lost sight of everybody I know. It doesn’t make a difference because I haven’t been with them all night, just watching. People watching is a very nice sport. Quite entertaining. So far I’ve seen Trace fall on his drunken ass, Rachel dancing like crazy with some guy, and Justin practically making out at the bar with some blonde chick. All to be expected.

     I am here currently and soberly people watching. In a stuffy corner. I should be on a plane, but Trace would have nothing of it. He said it was too late for me to be flying out. And besides I just got here. Well if there is anything I want to do right now, it is fly back home. Maybe I could sneak out and go back to the hotel. Nobody would notice I was gone.

     “Where are you going?” I’m halfway out of the door. I mean my hand is literally on the door and my weight is about to push against it. Maybe people would notice if I was gone. Damn, that’s some kind of lucky.

     “I’m going back to the hotel.” I would love to just walk out and leave everybody in the dust, but he’s got a pretty firm grasp on my arm. I think he’s too drunk to realize just how much of a grasp he has.

     “Well, if you are going back to the hotel, gather Justin up. Please don’t let him take that blonde back to the hotel. She’s sleazy, ugly, and whorey. He would hate that I let him go home with that. Besides, Justin needs to sleep. He has to get up early.” What the fuck is this? Now I’m like a goddamn adult babysitter. I’m currenly speechless. Fuck that, I’m angry.

     “What do you mean? Why can’t you do it?” I’m spitting venom. Justin hates me already. He would certainly hate me even more if I did any such thing. And for Trace of all people to be treating me like a slave?

     “Well, I would do it. But you see, I’m drunk. I don’t even know which one Justin is. The only reason I know about how ugly the girl is, is because Rachel told me. She would do it, but she is currently being a little whore herself, and she can’t drag herself away. She pointed me in your direction and so here I am asking you. Pretty please? I’ll buy you something nice.” Hmm…I have been wanting that new Tiffany bracelet. This could be the perfect opportunity for me to get it. I haven’t noticed we’ve been walking, but I have noticed that I’ve been pushed. He has pushed me into some guy at the bar who I guess he thinks is Justin, but definitely not. Much better looking. I’m forced to apologize and walk to Justin, who is disgustingly all over this girl. And yes, she is pretty hideous, but I’m not mean.

     “Justin. It’s time to go.” I’m just standing there. What else can I do? How exactly was I supposed to go about doing this? I hadn’t thought it through before I did it. Justin is just looking at me like I just fucking punched his lights out or something, “I’m serious. Get your stuff, lets go.”

     “Are you kidding?” Did I make a joking sound? I swear to God I thought I gave my best bitch voice a shot.

     “No. You have to get up in the morning. It’s already 2:30. Justin you’re hammered. Come with me.” He just stares, “Blondie, take a hike.” He holds fast to her. I sigh and pull out my camera phone. This is really cruel, but I take a picture of her so that I can show him in the morning that he should really thank me. The girl is basically wearing nothing. Who wants to fuck somebody like that? That just screams STD.

     “What are you? My mother?” Okay I give up. I seriously can’t believe I’m standing here doing this right now. I could be back at the hotel already snoozing.

     “Justin, if you do not come with me my shoe is going so fast up your ass.” He lets go of blondie. I do have high heels on right now. Black ones. And I do mean every threat. I mean I want that bracelet bad.

     “Oh, you’re a kinky one.” Oh God. He’s drunker than I thought. Does he even know who the fuck I am? But he loves me, he really loves me. I roll my eyes. Either way he’s now coming with me, wobbly. The good thing about this whole venture is, is that we took Justin’s car here. This just about assures that I will get to drive it home. Never driven a BMW. Would like to though.

     The bad thing is, is that when I get out of the door with him, I can’t see a damn thing. There are flashes everywhere. You would think a damn alien just landed and started communicating or something with all this shit. I grab Justin’s hand on instinct. Number one because I can’t see, and I don’t want to lose Justin. I probably would pay for that tomorrow if I lost a pop star. Number two, because Justin is so drunk he can’t even walk right. He would look nice with a beat up face from falling on his ass though wouldn’t he?

     It’s the BMW. It’s beautiful. Screw these dumb fucks with cameras. I’m driving a BMW! You know, I bet these people wouldn’t be taking pictures right now if they knew how much I hated Justin. Actually, maybe they would because they would want to capture his murder on camera.

     Speaking of Justin his hand is kind of clammy. He’s got a nice hand hold though. Hell, the boys got nice hands. They are soft, not rough like all other guys. What the hell am I thinking? Obviously I’m not, because I’m fighting me and Justin’s way to the car all so that I can get a bracelet? Is this worth it?

     No time to turn back now. I shove Justin in the passenger seat. He protests immediately.

     “Nobody drives my car. Nobody has ever driven my car. You are not driving.” Oh hell, he’s going to make me do it. I take off my shoe and point it at him, “Okay. Drive the car. But if you put a scratch on it, I will kill you.”

    This feels like heaven. That was not as hard as I thought it would be. Now if he was sober, I most certainly wouldn’t have done any of those things. If I would have even suggested the idea, he would have slaughtered me surely. I’m driving a BMW. You know, it feels very similar to any other car. I’m driving slowly only for Justin’s sake. I really do believe he would have me killed if I scratched his car.

     You know what I just realized. I have no clue how to get back to the hotel. So why the hell am I turning here and there? What the hell am I doing? What’s the voice? HOLY SHIT! The car is talking to me.

     “Justin, there is something wrong with your car. It’s talking. It’s making me do things.” He starts giggling like a school girl. Jesus Christ, I can’t wait for this night to be over with…or early morning…or some shit like that. Who fucking has GPS in their car? Okay everybody but me. So it’s new to me, so that’s all that matters. I hope this is the hotel it’s leading me to.

     Damn, this car is good. Maybe I can trade my bracelet in for one of these. I’ll think of something. Haha suckers! The gate to the hotel closes behind me, leaving the paps in the dust. I’m beginning to feel like James…James Bond. I’ve even got this badass car and everything. I wonder if Justin ever feels like this. Probably not, he would probably be whining he didn’t have the newest model or some shit.

     “Come on.” I pull Justin from the car and walk with him up the steps. He makes it okay by himself. I wonder how Trace and Rachel are going to get home. I figure a cab or something. Probably right? Good thing Justin’s room is right next to mine because if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t know where it was. And that would totally crimp my Bond style. Bond knows all.

     I’m just walking into the elevator with Justin, and I realize for the first time we’re holding hands. Did it feel that normal to be holding his hand? Or did I get caught up with Bond? I don’t know, but I’m feeling awkward now. On the other hand, Justin is looking kind of adorable. His hand is latched in mind and he has his eyes closed leaning back on the elevator wall.

     I never thought in a million years I would be right here with Justin Timberlake of all people. I kind of imagined myself living in small town USA with 3 kids by now and a mediocre job. Damn, my life is pretty good. I’m just realizing this by the way.

     We’re walking again. I really hope Justin has his room key. I forgot to get it down at the desk. Of course, he does. He whips it out and sticks it in, opening the door. Okay, duty accomplished. Now off to bed with me, but I’m being pulled into a hotel room instead. Not mine either. Oh, no. I’ve been down this road before, never want to do it again.

     “Justin, I’m going. You are okay right?” He just looks at me and smiles. It’s probably the smile that made millions of girls swoon for him or some shit like that, but I don’t care. It has a minute effect on me. Okay, a little more than minute.

     “Yeah, thanks. See you tomorrow?” I nod. Tomorrow hopefully I will be on a plane back to normal land where people like and respect me.

     “Um, Justin?”

     “Yeah?”

     “My hand.” I would go, but his hand is still clutching mine.

     “Oh, right. Sorry.” He drops it and my hand immediately feels cold. I wish he would pick it back up again. DAMN! What am I doing? What am I thinking? “Goodnight.”

     “Goodnight!” It’s barely a squeak, and I’m out of the door running to my room for safety. I lock every single lock in a hurry, hoping that will rid me of what just happened. What the fuck is going on in my head?