“WHAT are you guys doing?!” The three people in front of me lift their heads up with vicious yells in my direction. I love to mess with people with hangovers. It’s a joy. Especially at 7:00 in the morning when they haven’t had much sleep. I, on the other hand, had a great sleep. I woke up all refreshed and shit.

     “Jesus, will you pipe down.” Trace is funny. I’ve only seen him this bad one time before. We went out to this little underground bar and we had a competition to see who could hold their liquor better. I think I won, but I can’t really remember.

     “Certainly. Just came by to tell you guys farewell. I’m on my way back to the land of opportunity.” Some land. I’m actually dreading the long flight back, which has a stop on the way. That sucks for my ass. I’m getting too old for this. Okay, I’m really not, but I need an excuse.

     “You are leaving already?” Rachel whines to me from the table. I’m standing over her, giving her the pity look. We’ve really bonded over the past two days…well I don’t really know about that, but it was nice to say anyway.

     “Yep. I have a flight in two hours. I need to beat the rush. Anyway, Trace call me if you need me?” Trace does this whimper thing that I guess means yes. Out of all the fairytale goodbyes I had imagined in my head, this was definitely a keeper.

     “Was I dreaming last night or did you drive me here…in my car?” Justin lifts his head up from where it was laying pathetically on the cool tabletop. I wonder what will happen to me if I admit this. Will he strangle me? Or do I have time to catch my flight out of here before he can get over his hangover to catch me?

     “I did actually. You were pretty fucked. Trace and Rachel made me do it.” I love blaming other people for things. It’s so much fun. Trace and Rachel groaned as Justin opens his mouth to say something.

     “Since when do I need a babysitter?” There were more groans from Rachel and Trace. Justin seems to have sobered up just by getting irate. I’m glad I won’t be a part of this crew for that much longer.

     “Since this,” I whipped out my phone and flipped to the picture of the slutty girl with the slightly large nose, “I took it in case you wanted to murder me.” He gazes at the picture in disgust before putting his head back on the cold table. But I don’t get a thank you. I never get thank yous. Instead I’m on my way out of the door because my cab is here. I tell them goodbye and they just grunt at me. What a load of great people.

     My mother calls twice on the way to the airport. I have a thing about my mother. I refuse to answer her calls unless I’m in a great mood. She tends to bring my mood down a couple of notches whenever we talk. She’s a great woman, do not get me wrong. I love her with all of my heart, she just tends to criticize everything I do. I think this is half because my dad isn’t giving her any or something along those lines. My dad has been reduced to a couch potato over the years. Hell, they barely even hold a conversation anymore. So she has to bitch to someone or have someone to bitch at because I think my dad stopped listening or caring a long time ago. And if I know my mother, she lives for the fight.

     You know, I think the worst thing in the world just happened to me. Well, maybe not in the world, but close. What is wrong with these people? Am I up for president or something? I have half a mind to just scream at them. I have a feeling I know what my mom was calling about now. Probably something to do with what I’m staring at in the airport right now. And by whom I’m being stared at. I try not to pay attention too much to it so they don’t get the wrong idea. I just take fruitful glances every now and then. It’s a picture of me and Justin holding hands from the night before. The caption on the magazine, a tabloid no doubt, reads “Justin Reveals Secret Girlfriend.” Oh Christ, make me throw up why don’t you.

     I’m halfway looking at this because there are people following me in the airport taking pictures of me. Get lives! Even I can think of better ways to make money. Besides, who gets off on posting a bunch of lies anyway? I mean, sure, it looks as though me and Justin have something going on, but anybody in their right mind would realize Justin is drunk off of his ass and as a friend, I am helping him.

     “Hey mom,” I decide to call my mom before getting on the plane because if I don’t there will be a full missing person’s report filed by the time I land.

     “Madison Marie, what is this I see in the supermarket? You are on a magazine. And to make matters worse, I got some guy following me around asking me questions about some Justin guy. I told him I didn’t know a Justin guy and to leave me alone. What have you gotten mixed up in now? And Mrs. Betty down the street came over not five minutes ago and asked me were you some kind of celebrity and we were hiding it or something.” The thing about small towns was everybody knew everybody. The people were nosey as hell too. This is why I moved away from Alabama. I visit when I can, but I mostly just catch up by phone. I knew the wrath my mother would send out as soon as I dialed. So why did I dial? Oh right, I didn’t want her to worry about me.

     “It’s nothing mom. It’s a complete misunderstanding. Just don’t tell anybody about anything. Anyway, I just called to let you know I’m alright, and I’m about to get on a plane back to Los Angeles.” I heard my mom sigh on the other end.

     “Where are you at? I wasn’t aware you left.” Oh here comes the lecture.

     “Mom, it was work stuff. I was gone for two days. Now I’m going back to LA,” As if I needed to explain everything to my mother. But, I kind of did. My mother was one to be feared. She would come and hunt me down and talk turkey to me and that is not what I wanted at all.

     “So out at a bar or whatever last night was work? Are you involved in illegal activity? Is that what this is about?” Help me. I’m begging for somebody to help me.

     “No mom! I am not involved in anything crazy. I’ll explain it later, but I’ve got to catch a plane now. I’ll call you when I get back in LA if it isn’t too late.” I hang up quickly before she can say anything else. I put my phone on vibrate just in case she tries to call back.

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     “Mother fucking shit,” I slam my hand on the table, making everybody in the room jump. It had been quiet for the last five minutes until I did that. If there is one thing I hate in the world, it’s people with cameras. And I have another bone to pick right now. Why the hell was she holding my hand?

     “Calm down.” It’s Trace. It’s always Trace. He thinks everything is so simple. That’s because he is not me. He is not Justin Timberlake. He doesn’t have everybody breathing down his neck.

     “Hard to do right now. I don’t even like her! Hell, I despise her.” It had been six hours since Johnny had called me up asking me what the hell was going on. And why the hell did I bring some floozy out into the open. It was bad enough that I was a manwhore, he said, but now it’s worse that I have to flaunt it. Hell, I made that mistake once, I wasn’t about to make it again.

     “You did sleep with her,” Rachel pipes up from the corner where she is currently reading said gossip trash magazine. I would really like to strangle her. Trace looks like he’s about to fall over from shock.

     “Once. Before I knew her. Trace you knew that.” He was still just standing there dumbfounded.

     “I thought that was just something you said when you were drunk. I just thought you didn’t like her,” Trace is giving me the eyes. The eyes of death, I like to call it, “YOU SLEPT WITH HER!”

     “Oh thanks Rachel.”

     “No problem. Glad to be of service.” That is the last time I tell Rachel anything. She goes back to nonchalantly reading her magazine.

     “The point is, this is a total disaster. Now the media is going to be around me 24/7 waiting for her to come around.” Trace is still slitting his eyes at me, “Trace would you stop it!”

     “No! You can’t even lay off of one girl Justin. You could have done without fucking Madi.” Oh God, kill me right now. I don’t know what Trace’s issue is, but something’s got him strung. Usually he gives me a high five. Hell, usually I’m giving him one too.

     “Geez, we were drunk. Lay off. It was before I even met her sober. This is not the point, the point is…well I don’t know what the point is.” Rachel rolled her eyes from over the paper.

     “I need to call Madi. She’s probably getting swamped as we speak. I need to make sure she won’t say anything,” Trace gets out his cell phone, but I swipe it away from him, “What they hell are you doing?”

     “I’m calling her. I want to know what the hell she was thinking last night holding my hand.” I browse through the phone book and find Madi. She’s speed dial number 4 on Trace’s phone. It’s ringing before he can protest.

     “Trace, my fucking God. I’ve been waiting for you to call me. Have you seen that piece of trash paper? Hell I don’t even like Justin. He’s a total bastard and not worth all of this shit I’m getting. My mom even called to bitch me out. MY MOM!” She is really firing me up. I mean how can she not like me? What is not to like?

     “Nice to know,” I hear her breath catch in her throat. It’s obvious she is completely thrown for a loop.

     “Justin?” She clears her throat as if she’s completely embarrassed. I don’t give a fuck. I want to know what the hell happened last night.

     “By the way, just curious. What the hell happened last night? I’m vague on the details, mind filling me in?” She sighs and grunts like she’s ready to scream at somebody.

     “Trace said he and Rachel were too drunk to take you home and didn’t want you shacking up with fugly. He asked me if I would do it. Being the nice person I am, I rounded you up and took you back to the hotel.”

     “And the hand holding? Did Trace ask you to do that too?” If this girl was just looking for publicity, I’ll make sure to get her the hell out of dodge.

     “No, that was me. As a favor to you, my dumbass grabbed your hand. You were so drunk you couldn’t even walk. To save you from falling on your ass in front of the whole world, I grabbed your hand and helped you to the car. Let me tell you something, I would gladly take it back in a heartbeat.” She sounds legit. She also sounds like she would love to rip me one. Oh well, good enough for me. I hand the phone to Trace. He snatches it from me and hits me on the back of the head.

     “YOU SLEPT WITH HIM?” I know this can not be going well and Trace puts the phone back in my hand. I flip him one. That bitch is close to being gone.

     “You told Trace we slept together?” I can tell she’s trying to hold her anger in, but it’s’ starting to burst at the seems.

     “No. Rachel told Trace we slept together.” It goes silent on the other end. I’m starting to wonder if she is even still there.

     “You told Rachel? Are you trying to make me look like a slut?” The honest answer to that questions is no. Actually, I told Rachel because I was freaking out at the time.

     “No, I am not trying to make you look like a slut.”

     “Because I am not one of those. And if I could take that incident back I would.” Eh, I don’t believe it. Women are attracted to me. I’m like a magnet. Nobody regrets me.

     “No you would not.” I really must have done something because it’s silent again. I’m waiting for her to say something but I realize that I am pretty much holding my ear to a phone that is not connected to anybody anymore, “Bitch.”

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     I have my head down for a reason. Not that having my head down does anything. Everybody in this building knows who I am. They just kind of know not to ask. I have been stared at all day. By my employees nonetheless. It’s like I’m walking around with 4 eyes and 4 tits or something.

     Ever since I told my mom the real truth, she’s now obsessed with me dating Justin, even though I told her it was quite the opposite. Now she is begging me to bring him home for dinner.

     I haven’t heard from Trace in over a week. I guess he’s still upset about me sleeping with Justin. This is probably because Trace is one of the only ones that knew I was a virgin. He’s probably ill I would waste it on his best friend. And I bet Justin didn’t even tell him the whole story about me being drunk and all.

     Some of the hype about me has died down. I’ve been laying low and staying in my house most of the time. I’ve been avoiding calls from most everyone from my best friend to my sister. It’s better that way. I will fully cope better if nobody knows what is going on with me. The only downside to this is that I’ve been lonely and bored out of my fucking mind. I’ve been trying to watch comedy movies to cheer me up and it hasn’t quite worked like I planned.

     “Ms. West?” I stop and turn around to look at who called me. I’m startled by the interaction being that the last interaction I had was with my mom. This is because everybody is probably afraid I will snap their head off.

     “Yes…Tiffany?” I read her nametag. I’m not familiar with everybody in the office. I should be though. That can be one of my goals. I don’t like to treat people like they are nothing, but usually I just get too busy to do things like learn people’s names.

     “Mr. Ayala called for you earlier this morning. He asked for me to tell you to please call him back. It’s important.” I kind of make this face, but then smiled politely.

     “Thanks.” I turn to go but she stops me again. What now?

     “Also, Mr. Timberlake called. He says it’s an emergency.” This is quite odd. I guess everybody is peeved at me for turning my phone off. It’s the best way for meditation. Why Justin would call me is beyond me, but hell a lot of crazy things have been happening in my life lately.

     “Thank you. Did Mr. Timberlake leave a number where he could be reached?” Tiffany smiled and handed me the note where she wrote everything down. I said thanks and proceeded to my office. It was quaint. It wasn’t humongous, but it wasn’t small either. It was enough for me. I was kind of in love with it. I decided to call Trace first.

     “Madison, where have you been? Why haven’t you had your phone on?” I should have known it would be like this. Maybe I should have called Justin first. Hell, maybe I shouldn’t have called anybody at all.

     “I was meditating. Now what is it that you want?” The sooner I get this conversation over with the sooner I can relax.

     “We’re going to be in LA this next week on account of the VMA‘s. We’re coming in on Wednesday. I just wanted to call and let you know. And also, don‘t forget that we need to get together for the William Rast fashion show that‘s in two weeks.” Great. More work thrown down my neck when I’m already super busy with some huge buy that just came in from Chicago. Trace was really supposed to be helping me with this. It wasn’t only my job, it was Trace’s. Yet he leaves me here to tend to it so he can go live the glamorous life. It was beginning to piss me off.

     “Okay. I penciled it on my calendar.” I said this in a non interesting way.

     “Are you mad at me or something?” Oh here we go. I did not want to get into this today or possibly ever.

     “Why would I be mad? I’ve just been busy and stressed out. It’ll be fine. I’ll call you later.” I hung up without intention of calling him later. I picked the phone back up and dialed the number Tiffany had given me for Justin.

     “Trace just said you hung up on him?” What is this? The gay lovers or something?

     “I hung up because the conversation was over. Now what do you need?” I came out as snappy, which I kind of meant.

     “I see somebody is PMSing today. No worries though, I don’t take offense. Anyway, I want to say that I’m coming in on Wednesday you know, and I was kind of wondering if you could come to a meeting at my house. Apparently, this whole tabloid thing has gotten out of hand, and Johnny has requested a meeting. I’m supposed to get you to come, so are you in?” Just how I want to spend my time. At some meeting discussing me and Justin’s non existent relationship. This should be entertaining.

     “I guess I kind of have no choice.”

     “You’re right. Anyway, see you then my lover,” And he hung up. What a bastard. He loved to taunt and pick fun at people purely for sport and his own laughs. Well, we’ll see who gets the last laugh.