The silence in the limo wasn't exactly stony. A tiny hint of gravel, perhaps, but it wasn't cold so much as exasperated and a little resigned.

They had steadfastly ignored every reporter that tried to approach the pair of them as they’d left the building. Between Mike and Dre, Justin’s guards, and Quentin, Kie and Derek, Renee’s, they’d been pretty well shielded but she was sure some pictures of Justin practically yanking her arm out of the socket trying to get her as fast as he could to the vehicle would show up in the papers and be routinely dissected by fans, body language experts and talk show hosts alike. Of course there had been a camera pointed in their faces for pretty much the whole ceremony after the performance but it was easy enough to appear focused on the events on stage and smile and laugh at appropriate times.

Award ceremonies were all well and good because you could watch and not talk to the person next to you but unfortunately for Renee they were alone in the… actually, she wasn't sure if it was a limo or not. If it was it wasn't stretch or anything. But it was a nice car and there was a privacy window between them and the driver so to her mind it counted.

Whatever, she was sat on one side with her legs crossed and her arms folded and Justin was sat on the other trying to look casual but given away by his constantly jiggling leg. That more than anything was what filled her with dread because he was looking fairly guilty. Maybe that was just what she wanted to see and she was twisting everything in her mind but still the silence was killing her. She would have broken it – if she had any idea of what to say to him.

“Sorry to disturb you folks but did you wanna hit Clive’s party or some place else?” The voice came over the intercom.

“Ren?” Justin asked softly, looking at her with what she imagined were probably big puppy dog eyes. She wouldn’t know however because she wasn't looking back.

“I don’t care.” She shrugged. “Not in the mood for partying.”

“You wanna just go back to the hotel?” He asked, obviously disappointed at the frosty response.

“Yeah.”

Justin leaned forward and hit the intercom button to speak. “Thanks but just head back to Renee’s.”

Well, it was just another celebrity party, right? She’d have the chance to attend plenty more. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t – in the high personal drama of everything that had gone on tonight she had almost forgotten Claire’s shock announcement. That in its own right was enough to completely mess with her head. Hadn’t Claire herself said it was impossible, that the wish couldn’t be undone, and that it would involve moving heaven and earth yet again?

A great tired frown marred her face and all she wanted was to be back at home in her own bed with her mom in the kitchen making hot chocolate and yelling up the stairs asking if she wanted one. For now she’d have to settle for going into her suite, scrubbing every last trace of make up off of her face and sinking into the bath, which she would not be calling the bath butler for. It was ridiculous; the hotel literally had a guy on call just to go draw baths for the guests. She could turn a faucet on all by her own damn self.

Justin, in contrast, was staring at Renee who was staring out of the window. He hoped to God that she wasn't going to order him out and make him go home because they really needed to talk. He’d known what this mood was for and he’d been too chicken to go to final rehearsal because he knew what kind of mood she would be in and he knew exactly why. She always got like this when she saw these rumours. Not the stupid groundless blurbs that appeared on Page Six, but the ones with pictures, the ones with some loose form of evidence.

As best he could figure, she knew from her own experience that tabloids made a lot of stuff up so she couldn’t blow up at him straight off the bat but she could get very distant, which was what she was doing now. He was desperate to talk to her but knew better than to start personal discussions when the driver was just hired and not one of their usual guys. If you didn’t know them, you didn’t trust them and you didn’t open your mouth and start shooting it off when there was any possibility they could hear.

The ringing of Renee’s cell phone disturbed them. She promptly answered, noting Louise’s number on the screen; she hadn’t spoken to her sister since this whole thing had started. “Hey Lou.”

“You were so robbed. Beyonce’s song was terrible and wearing that kind of orange get up should be a felony.”

Renee gave a slight giggle. “Wearing any orange should be a felony.”

“True. Loved the performance though, you guys rocked it. Though I think a couple of people are probably gonna rag on you for performing together at all.” Louise’s bright, chirpy voice was such a comfort to her right now, though the girl couldn’t possibly know it. It was something about listening to her big sister’s voice and her dissing the person who had beaten her out. She’d always used to do that at the talent shows too, Renee vaguely recalled.

“Like I give a shit.”

“Okay, somebody sounds grumpy, what’s up?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“You’re in the dressing room with him now aren’t you?”

“Car.”

“I’m sure it’s a bunch of crap, it always is honey.” Louise told her supportively. “You call me with the details when lover boy isn’t eavesdropping. Anyway are you still gonna be in Florida next week?”

“I think so.” She steadfastly ignored Justin who she knew was trying to decipher what they were talking about.

“Well it’s Ben’s birthday and we’re having a pool party so if you’re in the state then attendance is mandatory.” Renee noted that Louise was in fact still with her boyfriend in this reality – that was good. The more little things she found that hadn’t changed, like her family, the better she felt.

“I’ll check with Marcia. Anyway sweetie we’re just pulling up to the hotel so I’ll call you tomorrow or maybe later?”

Justin noticed the ‘later’ part and cringed. Obviously she wasn't planning on being busy… say with talking to her boyfriend.

***

Why had he bothered? The whole point of her silently getting out of the car and silently being ushered into the place and up to her suite was that she didn’t want to talk to him.

What she needed was to have a good long think about how she should handle this; the kind of think that today had prevented her from doing. The only thing on her schedule tomorrow was a lunch meeting with some of the record execs, presumably about the forthcoming album release. She could do that she was sure; she just had to let them do the talking. In actual fact she was glad of it because maybe then she would have a better idea of exactly how to work this whole gig.

As for her wants, what Renee really wanted was for Justin to give in quietly and leave, say he’d call her tomorrow or something. But no, he had followed her upstairs, probably feeling safe in the knowledge that she couldn’t do or say a thing to him until they were behind closed doors. Pulling out her earrings she pushed a hand through her hair, grimacing at the amount of products she could feel coming off on her hand. She needed to wash it as soon as humanly possible - she dreaded to think what the sprays were doing to her already chemically coloured hair.

Justin watched all this silently, giving the odd huff of a sigh to himself as he watched her proceed to run a brush through her hair, yank off her ridiculously high heels and toss them across the room. He almost laughed – she had to be pissed with him if she was throwing her precious Jimmy Choo or Manolo Blahnik or whatever shoes across the room. They kind of made a couple, shoe wise; his obsession was sneakers, hers was heels and stilettos and anything which would give her a little height.

“Are you even gonna talk to me?” He finally broke the silence, unable to take it any more.

“What do you want me to say?” Renee shot him a long-suffering expression.

“I know you saw that stupid article.”

“I know I did too,” came the snipe in return. “What do you want me to do, fill in the blanks and decide exactly what I’m pissed at you for and start yelling?”

“So you are pissed at me?” Justin pounced. He soon regretted it when she really did start looking angry.

“No shit Columbo.”

“Then tell me why?”

“Why don’t YOU go read some article in a paper accusing ME of cheating on YOU with photographic evidence of me taking some guy into my hotel room and tell ME why YOU’RE pissed!” she snapped, having had about enough. She was kind of surprised; it usually took a lot to get her worked up.

“I didn’t cheat on you, I swear!”

“Then you better tell me what the fuck you did because from where I’m standing it looks like cheating.”

She was standing over the coffee table with the article open and some picture of Justin and a Hispanic looking woman - a woman who would have been pretty attractive had she not insisted on wearing cheap, nasty clothing and far too much cheap, nasty gold jewellery. Renee refused to listen to the part of her brain that told her she would have thought the girl looked cheap and nasty even if she was wearing Tiffany jewellery and Gucci clothing; it was the first rule of the scorned woman that whoever the offending tramp was, she was clearly cheap and a slut. They looked just that little too close to be just friendly and in one picture, though she couldn’t be sure, it looked like they were kissing.

“Fuck.” Justin growled, running his hands over his face and shaved head. He had no more idea of what to say to her than she did to him, and he knew something she didn’t so technically he should have been able to talk.

“I mean God, we spent all frickin week together and you’re lying to my face telling me everything’s fine and then I open up a newspaper and it turns out you’re a cheating asshole. I bet this was only like the night before you came out here.”

“God… I… we were on a break!”

“Uhh…”

It was a gasp of disbelief. It was based on a few things: one that he could sound so much like an episode of Friends, two that she had most definitely not known they had even had any kind of break, thirdly that he most definitely had done something with this girl and then on top of that it had suddenly occurred to her that technically, he hadn’t even cheated on her. He’d cheated on his Renee. God, he wasn't even her boyfriend, at least not completely, morally speaking she couldn’t make a totally legitimate claim on that.

She’d known the guy for five days, why was she getting so angry?

“I think you better explain yourself and like now.” She muttered, sitting on the couch and taking a calming breath of air.

“That stupid fucking break we promised to never talk about ever again?” Justin began, breathing heavily with a strange mix of fear, a little annoyance and a lot of worry and haste in his voice. “The worst few weeks of my life? Me and Trace went and got drunk because I needed to go let loose and at least try and have a good time and I met this girl… I was wasted and she was coming on to me and you hadn’t called me back after I left like a dozen messages on your damn phone and it was like well at least somebody wanted me.”

“So you’re telling me you picked up some girl in a bar and slept with her because I didn’t call you back?” Renee asked calmly.

“I didn’t,” Justin replied, voice hollow as he stared at her. He couldn’t handle the way she was reacting. One minute she was all fire and fury and the next she was all quiet disappointment. “I swear, Ren. I mean… I took her back to the room and I think that was kind of what I expected to happen and what she definitely expected to happen but we got there and I… I kicked her out after like five minutes, baby, I swear. I didn’t even kiss her.”

“Good for you.”

“Damn it, Renee!” Her bland sarcasm felt exactly how he imagined a knife to the stomach would. “I screwed up! I’m sorry, but I was drunk and I was practically suicidal thinking you were never gonna talk to me ever again! I didn’t even sleep with her and even if I did we said we were on a break from us and that we weren’t gonna be together for a while! You stopped even talking to me and I thought you’d fucking broken up with me for good… I don’t even know why they brought up this shit now; it was like two months ago!”

Justin kicked at a trashcan and sent it rolling across the room, clattering as it went.

Her head was in a complete whirl as she stared up into his anguished face. She was now more confused than angry… this would have been a difficult enough situation if he had been her real boyfriend but yet again she had to account for the fact that she’d known this guy for five days and it hadn’t really been her that he’d hurt. It was a great big mess in her brain – on the one hand, she was telling herself that if they had been on a break then she had no right to get angry and also that it wasn't like she herself was in love with the guy. Looking at it like that, it really wasn't such a big deal.

There was, however, another part of her brain saying that being on a break was not a licence to go screwing anybody you wanted, and that even if she wasn't the original Renee Anderson… Justin Timberlake didn’t know that. He was supposed to be her boyfriend and into her and in love with her; he had no idea anything was different. Besides, if he’d missed her that much how did that explain him going after other women? How did running after somebody else show how much he wanted and missed her?

“Waiting for the opportune moment.” She muttered in answer to his question.

“Look, baby, I’m sorry.” Justin’s voice was cracking and he sounded strangely on the verge of both nervous breakdown and fury as he collapsed onto the couch next to her. “I didn’t tell you because we were on a break and nothing even happened and I didn’t think it mattered. But I swear to God I didn’t cheat on you. We talked in the room for five minutes and I sent her home because she wasn't you and I felt bad.”

Her silence at the end of his little speech was killing him. The eyes were glazed over, betraying little emotion and her body language told him nothing either. She seemed strangely devoid of reaction now, after her initial little fit.

“It’s fine,” she eventually muttered wearily.

“Fine?”

“Fine.” Renee gave in. It was a lovely little dilemma that she didn’t know him well enough to figure out. Technically she could see how there was an argument for him not being blameworthy in the matter and apart from anything else… she just didn’t care enough.

There was a still a weird, ticked off feeling in the pit of her stomach which was pretty inexplicable but was there much point in her getting angry and ending it or whatever you did when you convicted your boyfriend of such a transgression? She could live with this. Maybe if she had been the real pop star Renee and had dated him that long and knew all the details she’d react differently but this… making a thing of it seemed more hassle than it was worth. For all she knew she’d done something similar in this strange break of theirs, which she would have to grill Claire about next time the spook showed up.

“Really?” Justin asked, disbelieving. He couldn’t believe she’d let it go that easily. For a second a voice in his head asked indignantly why she wasn't more upset, if she didn’t care. He quashed it quickly.

“We were on a break,” she begrudgingly admitted. “We’ll just forget about it. You ever do it again I’m kicking your ass.”

“Thank God for that.” He breathed before throwing himself at her and squeezing her tightly to him. Hesitating for a second, Renee eventually reciprocated the embrace as Justin placed a kiss on her neck and then buried his face in it. “I love you baby.”

“I would too, I’m hot.” She joked lamely.

“You still love me?” No, she wasn't getting away with that, she was going to have to say it.

“Guess I do.”