You know what my favourite of all celebrity personal assistant perks is?

It is, by far, the shopping. Naturally these movie star types can afford way more than we common folk (which makes it really unfair that they get given more free stuff) and it is so much fun spending somebody else's money. Sophie in particular is real trigger happy when it comes to her credit card. Most of the time I have to step in and remind her that while a few grand on a Cavalli dress is one thing, paying five hundred dollars for a plain white t-shirt you could buy at identical quality for thirty is just dumb. Even if I can't afford them myself, it is just so, so nice to be around all these gorgeous things. Plus, Sophie does like to treat me occasionally so that's pretty darn awesome.

Today, I reached a new shopping high. I'm being paid to go shopping, and my employer isn't even here. Sophie never just hands me a credit card and lets me go buy her stuff unless I'm only picking up something she pre-ordered. Justin, on the other hand, just handed me his card and PIN number with a wave of his hand and 'I trust you' before swanning off to do his interviews. Apparently he wants some new clothes for the show and a couple of casual outfits but his stylist was nowhere to be seen. He handily overlooked the fact that his stylist knows his measurements and I don't, but a quick call to her has fixed that. I thought she might've insisted on coming with, but apparently she's ripping her hair out over another client so she was more than happy to leave me to it.

I haven't been shopping for a guy since breaking up with Will (and he never used to wear what I bought him anyway, tasteless fool), so this is quite pleasant. Clearly this is some kind of childhood throwback to my obsession with keeping Ken as well dressed as Barbie but it works for me. With Starbucks in one hand and my nice new Kate Spade in the other it's a new dawn and a new day and I'm feeling good, as James Brown might say. I've been wandering in and out of all the nicest stores, and it turns out the one thing Hannah did do for this shopping trip was call ahead and warn the stores that I was coming, so I'm being royally sucked up to. It's great!

At the moment I'm just wandering around one of the swankiest department stores the city has to offer, and after making a very unnecessary stop at the jewellery counter so I could lust over some pendants I'm on the case. (There might also have been some spraying of perfume, ahem). I already bought some nice collar shirts for him, but I haven't yet found the perfect suit. Everything all seems to geography teacher or too old. I will, though - give me time.

My brand new Panic At The Disco tone comes blaring out of my phone and I have real trouble managing my bag, my now empty cup and trying to rummage into the bag. I'm surprised but also grateful when an assistant whips the cup out of my grip with a smile… though maybe she was just afraid for the clothes. Anyway, it's given me a hand free to get to the phone.

"Chelsea, babe!"

"Trace, babe!" I mimic.

"Don't mock me."

"I wasn't mocking you."

"Yeah and I'm Brad fucking Pitt. How are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good…" I flick through a rail and scrunch my nose up at the suits they have. I'm starting to wonder if I'm just being too fussy. The best thing to do is to give it a break for five minutes and go look at something else, so I start flicking through some promising leather jackets. They feel butter soft to my fingers, always a good start.

"What are you doing?"

"Hannah's job."

"He sent you out with the black card, did he?"

"No, I'm only worthy of the platinum," I joke. "I just need to get him a couple new stage outfits, I think he's getting bored of the ones he's got. Tell me, does he prefer his leather jackets with or without collars?"

"You mean like does he want a Danny Zuko jacket or one of those one that just comes up flat on your neck without the lapels?"

"Nobody past 1989 wants a Danny Zuko jacket, Trace," I roll my eyes.

"And neither does Justin; that was my point."

"Got it." The next thing to do is to umm and ahh between black and this nice chocolate brown. Black is your classic never let you down colour, but brown is good too. Then again I suppose he is stinking rich, I could just get him both. "So what are you doing?"

"Right now I'm up to my neck in purchase orders. The warehouse which held our shipment got burnt down and it's costing us a fortune to source new material on such short notice."

"Shit, that sucks," I commiserate. "Is it going okay though?"

"Yeah, I think so. We may have to leave a couple of pieces out of our next runway show because they won't be ready in time, but we managed to turn it down from catastrophe to really annoying shit so it could be worse. Actually, I kind of wanted to talk to you about it…"

"Huh? Me?"

"I'm not getting out of this for a while and Rachael's still nowhere near being back, so I was wondering how you'd feel about sticking with Justin a while longer."

"Umm…" Oh boy, way to blindside me. "I'm not sure Sophie would go for it."

"We can talk Sophie round." You should have heard him say that, the cocky tone in his voice is almost as bad as Justin when he gets going. "Besides, you can NOT tell me that you wouldn't rather be with Justin."

It's a good thing I already finished my drink or I probably would have choked on it. Has Justin told him something or am I reading innuendo into that purely because I know more than Trace does? Taken in a less sexual way, he's right that I'd have a hard time denying it. The hours are a little crazier with Justin, but he's a lot less demanding than Sophie is. He does fail on the girly chats and gossip and the manicure front, but generally speaking life around him is a little more chilled than life around Sophie. Also, Justin's mom doesn't make me want to commit homicide; Enrique makes me want to commit it and then resuscitate him just so I can commit it again.

"Well… I'm happy to stick with him a while but like I say, you're going to have to talk Sophie round and the longer she's stuck with her Dad the harder you'll find that," I warn.

"Don't worry babe - you and I are PA, we can talk anybody into anything." I giggle just as he lets out a curse. "Shit, babe, I got to cut this short. Call me later."

"Will do."

"Ciao."

We both hang up at the same time, no further pleasantries required. I don't need an explanation and he just knows I'll call him back. Trace is somebody I really appreciate having in my life right now. It's been a long time since I've had a really close guy friend around and particularly one that I'm so in tune with. He and I just seem to instinctively get each other, and if I could be sappy for a second that's something I treasure in a person. It's one of the reasons Kennedy's been with me such a long time; she and I have the kind of relationship where we know just from the 'hello' what kind of mood the other is in, and it's made us great at knowing when to come close and when to just leave each other to some alone time. Trace is quickly going the same way - and after being with Sophie who has no concept of this, I really do value people who get it.

I can't lie though, he's cute. He's cute and hilarious, which are very attractive qualities in a guy.

Turning my attention back to the rails, now two leather jackets and a couple of retro punk tour t-shirts heavier, I find myself drifting into the lingerie section. I find it absolutely hilarious that they station this so close to the menswear - clearly they're hoping that if the clothes don't hold the guys' attention that the thought of shapely women in the nearby bras and panties will. This is cynical floor planning at its best, I tell you.

I'm not one to talk though, I'm far too easily distracted from my purpose… right now I'm looking with greedy eyes at one set in a green and gold leaf motif, and another one in pink and black pinstripes. There are two things that I'm a real sucker for when it comes to shopping - accessories and underwear. I only need to be wearing jeans and a vest to feel sexy if I've got the right underwear and sunglasses on. I'm weird, I know, but that's just my thing.

I'm about to pick them up when it occurs to me that I may not actually have my credit card on me. It's a major feat of handling, but I manage to hold onto all the items of clothing in my hand and rummage through my bag for my purse… as suspected, the only credit card in there is Justin's. Damn it all to Hell.

Speak of the devil, his ring tone starts sounding through my bag. He should feel special, he has a dedicated ring tone… though that's purely for recognition purposes. I need to know if I can ignore my phone or if I have to pick it up because it's the boss on the line. He insisted on choosing, so right now it's Timbaland (what a shock).

"Justin," I answer without preamble.

"Hey lady. How's it coming?"

"You have many shirts, some jackets and I just need to find some decent suits and I'm done."

"Excellent, because we need you back here as soon as you can."

"No problem." I look at my watch… if I stop being so picky about pants I can probably be back at base in an hour. After all, he's probably way less fussy than I am. "Give me an hour or so."

"Cool. Where are you now?"

"In the lingerie department at…" I have to check the store name, "Darlington's."

"You planning on making me wear panties at the next show? Those things chafe," he jokes.

"And how would you know?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Burn. So is this why you've taken so long? You been buying you clothes instead of me?" With some people I'd think I was in trouble, but he's got a smile in his voice so I know he's just kidding around.

"No, I've just been coveting clothes I could have bought if I hadn't left my Visa at home! I think I got everything you asked for though, you said you'd just hit up Trace to send you some of next season's jeans?"

"Yeah, he's sending them to Hannah for me. And if you left your card at home just use mine."

He… what? Did Justin Timberlake just give me the green light to buy exorbitantly expensive clothes on his credit card... I mean ones that aren't for him? Even though he knows full well where I am and that it can't be cheap? I cannot have heard him right - I must need my ears syringed or something. I've been working for Sophie for years and she'd never let me do that - I mean, she's pretty generous and she buys me stuff all the time, but never blindly and without knowing what I'm charging.

"No, I couldn't."

"Sure you could."

"Umm… are you sure?" I ought to just turn him down flat, but those bras were really cute. I can always pay him back, right?

"I said so, didn't I? How many times you need it repeating?"

I'll take the sarcasm as a yes. "Thanks, JT."

"No problem. I like to think I'm helping good looking women go out into the world in good looking underwear," he jokes. "Now, on a more important note what have you got me?"

See that's more like it - he was sounding far too altruistic for a moment there. "You have shirts in white, blue, grey and pink, plus t-shirts in more colours than I can remember."

"Pink?"

"Manly pink."

"That's okay then. You said something about jackets?"

"Leather in brown and black. Oh, and they also gave me a set of Police sunglasses with their compliments. Ass kissers."

"Freebies!" He exclaims. "Even better. I need to send you out for me more often, Hannah never gets me freebies."

"Do I need to get anything else before I come back in?"

"No, I sent Tiny on the coffee run so just get your good self back here when you can."

Quickly I sign off, smirking. Tiny despises doing the coffee run, says that he was hired to guard a body not a Starbucks carrier. Though he then always says that the carrier is probably worth more so maybe he should reconsider… which always leads to Justin threatening to give him a pay cut and then Tiny reminding him how easily he could kick his ass. The guys are predictable, but they are funny.

It takes a deep breath for me to be able to pick up the underwear and take Justin up on his offer - not least because I find it weird after the other night that he's paying for my smalls - but I quickly get over it once I get to the till and the assistant starts running everything through. I chat idly to her about Justin's planned show and give her tips on when to show up at the door for returned tickets (earlier the better, people do camp out) and give her a little tease about which famous types are on the guest list for tonight. In reality they all bowed out at the last minute so there's not a chance of her seeing any, but technically they're still on the list so I feel no shame.

I do have to walk a few blocks back to the car, so it gives me time for a little sun on my face and a little thought. I hate driving the Escalades, but all cars for the use of Justin's team seem to be those darn things so it's that or get a taxi. I had a hell of a time trying to park it since it's so much bigger than my little Audi. I swing the bags as I stroll along, glad I was sensible enough to wear flip flops instead of the wedges I was considering. And as a bonus, I even had the foresight to wear a tube dress today so hopefully my shoulders should catch a little sun, no nasty strap marks in sight.

Of course there'll be a big white block where my boobs are, but that's easier to cover than strap marks. Since there is no man in my life I only have to be concerned about the parts that are publicly on show - it's an upside to being single. There's no one to notice if you're a day late shaving your legs if there's no one who's going to be feeling that part of you up. I mean, don't get me wrong, I look after me anyway and purely for my own benefit, but when you have a boyfriend you can't get even a little lazy about it.

My mind can't help thinking back on what Trace said. As far as being a PA goes, Justin is easier than Sophie. We don't have the friendship that she and I do and I miss the girly stuff, but he's a lot… well, easier. The vibe around him is less frenetic somehow, even though he's just as busy as she is. As a PA I'd rather work for him, but as a wannabe movie producer only moonlighting as a PA for experience Sophie is the way to go. I need the movie industry, not the music one.

It's oddly easy to dwell on Sophie's lesser qualities when I'm not around her. Some people look great on paper but when you get around them you're reminded that in practice they're asses, but with her it's the opposite. If I just describe her she sounds high maintenance and a diva, but when you get around her she's warm and funny and a sweetheart. I am, by the way, still mad about Marco. There has been yet more canoodling pictured in the tabloids and the one time I spoke to her about it, she just made this lame spluttering about how truly sorry he felt.

That is 'felt,' by the way. He never said it, but she just knows: her words, not mine.

I don't know. I've spent a good few weeks away from her now, which is the longest I've been away from her since she hired me. In a lot of ways it feels… you know how sometimes you can have a pair of jeans dig in so uncomfortably that when you take them off it's actually more painful than when they were digging in? At first you think you were better off with the jeans still on, but give it time and it's a vast improvement. I feel like that being away from Sophie right now… not that she doesn't fit, but I just think I wore her too long without a break. I'm going to quit with the lame clothing analogy now.

I don't know. I feel guilty even thinking it, but I find the longer I'm away from her… well. Absence doesn't always make the heart grow fonder I guess.