"But carrot's a vegetable, Auntie Chelsea. So if I have cake is like having vegetable?"

My face cracks into an enormous smile. If carrot is a vegetable then so must be carrot cake - that's my kind of logic. I love my niece.

"You have to do what Mommy says, sweetie, so if she says no cake then no cake."

"But why?"

"Because Mommy's the boss - now you go back to the table and finish your lunch, okay?"

"Okay. Bye bye."

"Bye, sweetie."

The other way in which my niece is already a chip of the old Auntie block is that she's already sneaking away from the dinner table to make phone calls - and she's already worked out speed dial. This is so bad and I really ought to tell Lisa, but I kind of like being the cool Aunt they come to for the fun stuff. Plus, much as I love my sister she can be a very overzealous mom; she'd probably call this 'a rebellion against authority' and 'underlying deception' and want to pack her off to a child psychologist. She already did that once and it was a very expensive way to find out what everybody knows - little boys are dirty creatures and they often take longer to potty train. It's not psychological, it's the Y chromosome.

"You got nieces or nephews?" Rachael asks as she wipes her forehead and looks critically at the wall we just finished painting. She's redecorating one of the rooms in Justin's guest house and this was the last wall to need its final coat. The others were all done a couple of days ago and so are ready for us to break out the stencils and the spray cans she's bought. I think this woman has watched one too many of those home makeover shows.

"Yeah, a few. My niece just wanted to know if carrot cake counts as a vegetable," I laugh.

Rachael smiles and giggles too. "Your niece thinks like me. So are you ready?"

"Yeah, about that…" I look doubtfully down at the paint can in my hand. "Are you sure this isn't something we should leave to the professionals?"

"But it's fun!"

Well, yeah, it has been fun, but it could be expensive and annoying to fix if I screw this up. She basically has these stencils that she wants us to spray along the middle of the wall as a border, which she's marked out. She's even taped some newspaper either side of it so if we have any mishaps with the can it won't get on the walls, but I just… this is a bad idea, I feel. It was fine when we were just doing a plain wall and pretending to dab each other with paint, and she stuck a paint brush through my hair like a chopstick, but this makes me nervous. Why couldn't she just buy some wallpaper border? Pasting and sticking, I can totally do that.

"Okay but I am not paying for the interior decorator to come by when I inevitably mess up!"

Rachael goes first, holding the stencil to the patch of bare wall between the newspapers. She's exacting about making sure it's straight and in the right spot, so there are a few seconds before she gingerly shakes the can and sprays. She's careful not to overdo it, so when she pulls the stencil away there's actually a pretty neat silver leaf motif against the wall

"Woohoo!" She punches her fists in the air in triumph. I feel this a little premature since there's an entire room to do (plus there's another stencil to go on top), but I guess I feel mildly better about attempting this myself.

"Oh, I have to turn this up!" I bounce over to the docking station I plugged my iPod into and start jamming out to Candyman. I wasn't a huge fan of Christina's faux forties phase (I preferred Stripped), but this song rules.

Rachael's immediately laughing at me as I wiggle my hips and do my own little Andrews Sisters style dance to it. If it was Kennedy she'd be doing the exact same thing, but Rachael's a little less girly than we are so she's just taking amusement at my expense and egging me on. That's okay, so long as we're laughing all is right with the world. She laughs even harder when I pick up my stencil and work the rhythmic bass line into the way I shake and spray the paint. You know, oddly enough that kind of works for even coverage. Would that go for nail polish too?

"Come on, shake that ass!" I tell her as I shimmy my hips and shoulders. Then it's my turn to laugh as Rachael takes me literally and hops backward across the room, leading with her butt like she's doing the Beyonce booty shake and the moonwalk all at once.

Then a wolf whistle from the doorway stops us in our tracks and we both freeze in total embarrassment. "Work it Mommas!" Trace calls out through manic laughter.

I have to admit I'm paying more attention to Justin than Trace. He's leaning against the doorway with his arms folded over his chest, and the only amusement getting out through his rock face exterior is a small smile. He looks cold and impenetrable.

"Say, Rach, can you teach me how to do that?" Trace does his best impression of what she was doing and I burst into laughter that's a little too hysterical as Rachael beats at him with a spare paintbrush.

"What do you want, losers?"

"Sorry, we didn't know you had Chels over and we were going to ask if you wanted the last game ticket."

"Oh, you guys going to the Lakers tonight?" I'm answering Trace but my gaze is firmly on Justin. It's strange seeing him in the flesh when he's been refusing to take my calls for about a month. He's been like a ghost - I've been over here a lot for Rachael and Trace lately but he seems to magically disappear through a doorway and not emerge until after I've left. I won't lie, it really stings.

"Yep. I'd invite you if we had another ticket but…"

"It's okay Trace, I'm booked with the boss tonight."

"Oh yeah? How's it going?" He smiles brightly as I turn down the Beatles song that just came on.

"Great. Just a meeting with some director."

I'm lying through my teeth. I am completely free and available tonight, and if I wasn't it would not be on account of Brett Henderson who fired me yesterday. It's a very long story, but the crux of it is I blew my big chance because I was stupid and let my heart get in the way of my head for the millionth time. See, it's moments like this I think I ought to let the whole Justin thing go because clearly when I get emotionally involved with people it makes me crazy and then I make stupid life decisions. I was so involved with Sophie I stuck with her years longer than I should and I'm now so involved with Justin that I've got fired for spending more time being his personal assistant than Brett's.

Not that Justin has any idea - I basically did it undercover for Rachael. Well, I say for Rachael, it was more my lame way of trying to assuage my Justin guilt. Rachael was ill and way too busy, so I immediately stepped in and took not just some but all of the slack. I basically did her entire job for her when all it would have taken was my picking up a few errands at the end of the day. As usual, I just threw myself in trying to do everything myself and because I was so good at doing her job I totally neglected mine. So, yep, I've totally shot myself in the foot because I'm now completely unemployed and Brett Henderson is now going to tell every producer he knows that I'm a waste of space. All because I've fallen ass over feet for Justin Timberlake and it's made me stupid.

Yeah, okay, I admit it. Ass over feet. Me. I have fallen. For Justin. Who isn't even talking to me and has no idea I did any of this and who is doing everything he can not to look at me. BAH.

"So to get to why we're actually here…" Justin is talking to Rachael and Rachael alone. "You in for tonight? And also do you have a first aid kit?"

"Yes for tonight and no to the first aid kit. Why?"

Justin lifts his shirt and down his left side is a long and pretty nasty looking graze. It's not deep but it's covered in dirt. "Couldn't find one in my bathroom."

I immediately rush for my bag. I took the kids out yesterday and Lisa will not let me take them anywhere unless I have a supply of band aids and antiseptic. She does have the world's most accident prone children. They just have so much enthusiasm for everything it makes them a little too fearless, I guess. Never something you could accuse me of, fearlessness…

Pulling the bottle out with the small bag of cotton wool pads that come with it, I soak one of them and walk to Justin. "Hold your shirt up." He looks like he's about to protest, but a glare from Trace makes him acquiesce. He still doesn't speak a single word to me, but he's co-operating.

"Oww!" He protests as the first pad brushes against his torn skin.

"Sorry," I tell him. "It stings but it works." I continue to work as gently as I can, sweeping dirt out of the scratches until they're as clean as I can get them. A little dirt won't kill him, especially since theses grazes are very shallow, just surface scratches, but a lot of it could make those things get a little infected which is unpleasant.

"God, how did you do that? That's a lot of dirt," Rachael observes as I get onto my sixth cotton pad. The scratches go practically from his hip to the middle of his rib cage, they are pretty long.

"We were running with the dogs and I slipped in some gravel and kind of skidded."

Okay, is it bad that I missed most of that because I was kind of busy staring at his abs? I just… it's kind of weird being this close to him now. I know I refused to put a label on it, but he was pretty much my boyfriend and the last time I saw his abs we were doing the kind of things a girl does with her boyfriend and it's just weird. I feel like the nerve endings in my hands are inflamed, I have this weird pins and needles feeling.

"Looks like it hurt," I say to him.

"That's fine now, thanks." He brushes my hand away and the material has dropped back over his skin before I can even blink. Awkwardly I stand up and move aside. I feel almost like some servant girl who's just been brushed off by Henry VIII or something. Not that Henry VIII brushed girls off without some sex first, if that Jonathan Rhys Meyers series is to be believed, but whatever. It's weird, this is probably the only time he's ever known me that he's done the whole celebrity 'you are beneath me and thus are invisible' trick. That trick's bad enough coming from some prima donna I don't even like anyway, but from Justin it's a doozy.

Even with Trace and Rachael here I was hoping I could ask him to talk, but the way he's acting I know I'm going to get ignored and that hurts way more in person than it does by text messages, so I stay quiet.

"Look, Rach, I probably ought to go. It's later than I thought it would be and I have to get ready and everything. I'll call you, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." She looks at me with a sympathetic expression, knowing why I'm really leaving. "Good luck tonight."

"Thanks. Bye guys."

I scoop up my bag and leave before either of them could say a lot to me. I know Justin would say nada anyway, but for some reason I just don't want to hear Trace trying to cover up the awkwardness like he normally does.

***

Well, I suppose when I made up a dinner meeting with my boss it was only the meeting and boss parts that weren't true. I have put on some nice clothes and come out to my favourite noodle bar. Thankfully they get a few people who come in by themselves so they don't give you the pitying looks that a lot of places do. Being Hollywood they get a lot of people by themselves either script writing or reading scripts alone over lunch. I guess sometimes living in this town does come up with the occasional perk.

I'm sitting here with a small bowl of complimentary miso soup and a much bigger one of my favourite spicy chicken ramen, but I'm a little miserable. I have in front of me the Hollywood Bible - it's one of the industry papers that basically lists all the production companies around - and I'm trying to work out who I haven't already applied to and who is not going to have heard bad things from Enrique Fuentes or Brett Henderson. The list is depressingly small, particularly when you count in the people I already sent letters off to before scoring the role with Brett who gave me 'don't call us we'll call you.' The food is kind of tasteless in my mouth as I slowly chew, wondering how the heck I'm going to get myself another job.

I'm so stupid. I should never have blown off my job for Justin. It's so unprofessional and it was totally pointless seeing as he hates me anyway.

I'm so intent on what I'm doing I only notice somebody's sliding into the other side of the booth when a leg accidentally kicks mine. It makes me jump and I nearly knock my ramen flying. A soft hand clamps down on my arm as if to steady me.

"Ahh, lo siento. Didn't mean to scare you."

Well I'll be damned. "What are you doing here?"

Sophie shrugs. "I was just going to grab some sushi to go but I walked in and they were immediately saying how you were already here and they'd show me to our table."

Oh - Sophie and I used to come in here all the time. We're pretty well known to these guys because this restaurant is good but not paparazzi central, it was a favourite spot of ours. I guess they saw Sophie and automatically assume she was meeting me. I can't blame them; we've only been here together about seven zillion times.

"Sorry, I thought you were mad at me," I say.

"Well I knew you were mad at me," she smiles wryly. "Nah, I was."

"Was?" I question.

"Was," she echoes with a wistful sigh.

"Why?" I keep pushing.

"The pretend reason was Justin but if I'd been honest with myself it's just because I miss you and I was frustrated that you still weren't talking to me. Especially when you'd made up with Kennedy."

"How do you know I made up with her?"

"I have spies."

"That's creepy."

Suddenly I'm uncomfortable and I pick at my noodles with my chopsticks, chin resting in my other hand. It feels weird to know that she's still been checking up on me since she fired me. It also makes me wonder if she knew about me and Justin long before she let on. Mostly though, I'm just so weary at this point that I feel bone tired. I'm kind of sick of everything being so hard and confusing. It makes me feel helpless and dumb and weak and pretty much like a worthless human being.

"I'm sorry," she sighs.

A waiter interrupts and takes her order, and rather than sushi she goes for the vegetable katsu curry, a personal favourite of ours. She orders a bottle of wine and two glasses. It's somewhat presumptuous of her, but I don't have the strength to send her packing. I don't have the strength to resist her much longer to be honest, so she might as well say her piece and then if I still hate her I can just walk away.

When she's done Sophie turns back to me, looks me dead in the eye and picks up my hand in hers. "I'm sorry," she repeats.

"For what?" I respond blandly. "Firing me, spying on me…"

"Look, I fired you…" Her expression trembles a little and her eyes momentarily dart to her lap, away from my gaze. "I know it's stupid now, but at the time I honestly thought I was helping."

"How would that help?" I ask incredulously.

"Kennedy was right when she said I held you back," she shrugs. "She was a total bitch to me and most of what she said was just her being a bruja, but she was right about me holding you back. In mi corazon I've always kind of known that you should be doing bigger and better than being my personal assistant, but I love you and I wanted to keep you. You were never going to leave me because you're so scared of putting yourself out there, and in the back of my head I knew that you would stay pretty much forever so long as I didn't piss you off too much."

My jaw is hanging open while she makes this speech, but she's not done yet. If this were one of her movies, this would be like the third scene from the end and this would be the big dramatic moment they show at all the awards shows.

"Kennedy was right though. If I was being a better friend to you I would have encouraged you to put yourself out there and helped you move on from me. Except I was so selfish I couldn't bear to, and after she said all that to me I knew that if I didn't just make a clean break and fire you I'd only end up doing the same thing all over again. So I did. It killed me, but I did it."

She… WHAT? She fired me because she loves me? She fired me because she thinks I can do better? WHAT? How the FUCK did she manage to come up with an explanation for that utter piece of craziness she pulled? HOW? How the fuck does this woman always get away with everything? How… why… how… I am so confused right now.

"I just… I know it was stupid and I should have just talked to you about all this instead of firing you, but I stupidly didn't expect you to be so angry and then when you were and you wouldn't let me explain…"

"And Justin?" I choke out.

"I was just pissed that you never told me. And I was kind of pissed that you used to be my PA and my best friend and now you're his."

"Actually no, I lost that job too and now he's not talking to me," I tell her faintly.

"Oh, I'm sorry chica." With the hand that's not holding mine she reaches out to rub my wrist sympathetically. "Whatever it is I'm sure he'll come round."

Wordlessly I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. She's totally knocked me for six here. Never, not once in all the times I dwelled on my misfortune, did I ever consider that there might be any positive reasons for her doing what she did. I mean, it's still a really stupid move on her part and I don't know anybody else who'd react that dramatically, but in some badly thought out way she really had my best interests at heart. That would mean she's not the selfish bitch she acted like and was just being the friend I've always known her to be.

Actually, now I think about it, this whole thing is so Sophie. Doing something utterly ridiculous out of the best of intentions.

"Listen…" Sophie now grasps my hands in both of hers, looking hopeful. "I have a proposition for you."

"Oh?" I squeak.

"I heard about Brett Henderson."

"Oh," I grouch.

"I have a job offer for you. I want you to come work for me."

Wait… didn't she just say she fired me to help me further myself? And now she wants me to come back and work for her again? How would that be furthering myself? What is this woman on?

"On the production company, I mean, not as my PA." She rushed that out and I'm guessing it was after she saw the look on my face. "It'd be a new role for you, more about what you actually want to do and not so… subslave? Subservant?"

"Subservient?" I correct her.

"Yeah, that. I just… you worked so hard on it with me and it seems wrong doing it without you, and I really miss you Chelsea. I'll totally up your salary, too. Call it my birthday gift."

Well, at least somebody who wasn't my mom or Kennedy remembered that it's my birthday today. Nobody else did and those two are out of state, so they don't count. I look up at Sophie and a faint ghost of a smile passes over my face. I guess if nothing else, now I won't have to spend it alone.

"Okay."

"Really?" She gets the big movie star smile going on and in a flush of relief I realise how glad I am of it.

"Si."