I hate the smell of Starbucks.

This is weird since I subsist on coffee, but I despise the smell in there. Maybe it's a little too strong or something, I don't know. Possibly it's just because I associate it with standing in long lines. If I can get a little too big for my boots just for just a second, dropping Sophie's name helps me skip a lot of waiting and I'm totally spoiled. I have this rule though that I'm only allowed to drop her name if she's honestly involved (to date, I have broken it but once in the name of Birkin - I felt so guilty I wound up giving Sophie the damn thing anyway).

However, Sophie has absolutely no place in this line. It's my day off and I don't have to even think about her. Especially since I'm about to order the most fat filled and sugary latte I can get my grubby little mitts on. She and her vegetarian low fat verging on macrobiotic diet are not conducive to fat and sugar. Heck, half the time I have to remind her that fat is in fact a necessary part of a diet. I also consider chocolate a necessary part of a diet but I have more trouble convincing her - I think she's a traitor to girl kind, not liking chocolate. My punishment for that is not speaking up for her when her abuela is trying to force meat down her throat (though a small part of that may be the fact I don't like PETA's tactics and Sophie does a lot of promo for them).

Wait, didn't I say that today was not about Sophie? This is the problem with being a celebrity's PA - it's a twenty four seven job and it can kind of take over your life. If she needs to work on a weekend, so do I. Anytime she wants me I have to be there, and if she calls at three AM for something I have to jump. Thankfully she doesn't do that a lot, and when she does she (usually) has a good reason. It just makes it hard to switch off when I do get a day off. She is not allowed to call me today and if she does I have the right to tell her to fuck off - not that I would, because that's a dumb thing to say to your boss.

Why is it that whenever I get anywhere near the front of a line my phone goes off?

"Hello?"

"Hey chica."

"It's my day off."

That cute little laugh tinkles down the phone. "I know sweetie, this is a social call. What you doing?"

"Ummm, not much… just getting a drink, mooching round the mall and spending too much money."

"You went shopping without me? That's a sackable offence!"

"It's- my - day - off." I repeat with a laugh. "And aren't you with Marco anyway?"

"Apparently there was some crisis with a hemline," she grumbled. "Why he personally had to deal with it instead of the zillion people he employs, I have no idea." Then she perks up, something she has an incredible ability to do. "But that was why I was calling, you wanna go to the movies and maybe dinner tonight?"

"I can't, I already have plans. Lo siento." I always break into a little Spanish when I'm telling her something bad. Habit I picked up from her - and also I think it softens the blow, it's a home and comfort thing for her.

"Oh. What you doing?"

Ahh - I try not to tell her these things because she has a habit of inviting herself. I spend enough time with her as it is. I love her, but anybody will get annoying if you spend that much time with them. That's why I moved out of my parents' house when I was eighteen when all my friends were still at home. I love my mother but if I spend too much time with her she drives me crazy. Like, certifiably bat shit crazy.

"Just hanging with a friend. Hey, why don't you hit up some of the cast or crew or something? Have like a bonding night?"

Here's another trick for dealing with disappointed or annoyed movie stars used to getting exactly what they want - always offer a viable alternative. It does exactly what I need it to do, and she brightens right back up. She's a very sociable creature, not somebody who likes their own company - unlike me who tends to be a little bit of a lone wolf. My friendship circle is intentionally small. I always think Sophie's going to wind up getting married and punching out a huge number of kids so that she can have a house full of people, that's how she likes it best. She's actually pretty good for me in that respect, forces me to meet people instead of being an anti social bitch.

"I have Justin's number, I guess I could call him."

"Is that a good idea?" I really did not mean to say that so fast. "Given Marco's jealous bitch fit?"

"Marco Fako can get over himself, he ditched me. Besides, I'm thinking Justin probably knows a few people we can call out too, it's not like I'm planning to date the dude."

"Oh okay." Okay, I can relax now, disaster averted. So long as she's not planning to plaster pictures of what looks to be a romantic date everywhere it's all good. Any time she does that, particularly with anybody famous, it inevitably leads to a period of increased blood pressure for moi and her publicist Jenny. "Listen Soph I'm at the front of the line so I need to go, but do you want me to call you back?"

"No, chica, I got a night out to organise. You have fun with your friend and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

"Adios."

I turn back to the barista, who looks slightly annoyed at the all of ten second delay. "Sorry about that." I attempt to smile winningly but I really am not Sophie so I then just quit the stupidity and give the dude my order.

***

So I lied.

I'm not going out anywhere or with anybody. I am sat at home, in my apartment, feeling gloriously lazy. I have a great night of Dirty Dancing, Footloose and Grease ahead of me. I have a deliciously gooey and overly large pepperoni pizza due from Dominos in… it'll be 17 minutes now. My two favourite men Ben and Jerry are chilling in my freezer and I plan on doing absolutely nothing tonight.

Or, okay, sometimes I get up and dance along. Only sometimes.

I love my apartment. It's all totally mismatched because when I moved in I went crazy and bought a ton of stuff that didn't co-ordinate before I realised that it didn't. It was the thrill of finally being able to buy my own place rather than renting, it was a head rush. I returned a few things, but the rest I just had to organise so that even if they didn't go I didn't look like a totally tasteless freak. It's all mismatched but I like to think it's artfully so.

I have the most comfortable couch ever. It is chocolate brown and you just sink into it; makes it hard to get out of, but that's fine by me because I love it. I've got some colourful paintings on the wall that I picked up at a market, but I will confess that a couple are from Ikea and thus probably on about three million other walls. My coffee table is this beautiful piece of handcrafted mahogany that I paid way too much money for because it was handcrafted. My kitchen in contrast is very chrome and white (I like food preparation places to look clean) where my bedroom is more serene, I've got it painted white with blue retro bordering and everything's in sixties kind of polka dots and blue stripes.

Nothing in my apartment goes, at all. It's pretty bad really, but I was smart enough to make sure the walls and carpets are all neutral so that if I ever sell, once my furniture gets taken out it'll be a blank canvas.

It seems overly luxurious to me to spend a night at home with chick flicks and a pizza, but I think that's because Sophie's always so busy. She's a very motivated, go-getting person, and I think she's allergic to taking too much down time. I really admire that drive, but the flip side is that if she's not taking lots of down time neither am I. It's lucky for me that my friends and my parents understand about that or they'd probably accuse me of neglect. And because she's always got so many people around her it's rare that I don't.

So I am relishing this. I'm totally living the cliché - I'm in my PJs, my hair is in curlers, and I have plans for giving myself a DIY manicure and pedicure. I did also buy a mud mask but it looks kind of gross so I may wait until after the pizza guy gets here. I wish he would already, my stomach is rumbling. I was too busy spending money to think about eating at lunchtime. What can I tell you? It's hard finding the perfect jeans.

Sadly… I found them at William Rast. My butt looks great in the pair I picked out, but I may have to avoid wearing them around Trace in case he starts crowing. He can be a little cocky sometimes - so can Justin, actually. I'm not sure who is influencing who there, but it's kind of funny how the two of them have picked up a few matching mannerisms. I people watch a lot, I notice these things. Like their co-star, Elliot, he has this tendency to rub his nose any time he doesn't like something but is too polite to mention it (I figure if it's written all over his face he might as well just say it).

Hurrah! The doorbell has gone! Pizza time! I buzz the guy in and grab my purse. I'm licking my lips at the thought of all that grease, and I'm not even going to do the extra few minutes on the treadmill to make up for it tomorrow. It can stay on my hips for all I care. The knock at my door comes, I open it up with a big smile…

…which evaporates when I'm met by the sight of Justin fucking Timberlake. Words cannot describe how embarrassed I am by the way his eyebrows just shot up.

***

I'm guessing that Chelsea was expecting somebody else. Generally speaking, the only women who will knowingly answer the door to me in curlers are my mother and Rachel. Also, the fact that she's gone bright red is a dead giveaway.

"Hi there," I try to say as nicely as I can. I think it best to totally ignore how embarrassed she is to spare her any further embarrassment.

"Umm, hi." Through the crimson, her face is starting to take on a confused expression. "Umm, what can I do for you?"

Oh shit. She's totally not expecting anybody is she? I figured she was just running behind with getting ready, but she clearly has no clue why I'm at her door. Gee, thanks Sophie. 'Just swing by and pick up Chels,' she said. 'Inform her that she's being dragged out for the evening when she looks pretty much ready for bed' did not feature anywhere in her list of instructions. To add to my awkwardness, she's wearing a little pair of shorts and a skimpy strappy thing for PJs; I have nowhere to look. Don't want to meet her eye when I piss her off with the explanation but really don't want to be caught looking down either.

"Sophie… asked me to come pick you up. Didn't she tell you?"

Oh shit, I really have pissed her off. She looks mad. Not like she's about to explode, but her teeth just got gritted a little bit. "No. I haven't spoken to Sophie since this morning when I told her I had plans tonight."

"Oh, I'm really sorry…" Yeah, sorry Sophie put my ass in this situation. It's a little presumptuous of her considering she's known me for like two weeks.

"No, it's not your fault," she sighs with the look of somebody used to this. "What precisely did she send you over here for? She's organised some night out or something?"

"Yeah, she invited me and Trace and Elliot out to Nobu and then we were gonna go hit a bar or something. She asked me to pick you up on my way and I just figured that, well…"

"I was actually aware she'd made plans for me?"

I have to nod because I have no idea what to say and she really does seem pissed off. I don't know Chelsea too well, she seems kind of standoffish to me most of the time and I feel really uncomfortable being put in this situation where I'm the messenger and she looks in a shooting mood. That shit is bad enough when you actually know the person in question.

"Look, Justin…" she's clearly reaching for something to say. I can see that fight going on in her face between what she wants to say and what she thinks is best for me (or maybe Sophie) to hear. I see that look a lot; it's a hazard of working in an industry of yes men.

"Maybe I could just look innocent and tell her you weren't home?"

Wow, that was the fastest change of expression I ever saw. She looks so grateful that it's swelling my manly ego; it's definitely a lot more fun being the knight in shining armour than the bearer of unwelcome news. It makes her face look a hell of a lot softer too, she should try relaxing a little more often.

"Dude, you rock. Thank you."

"I just didn't want to wait on you to get changed. This is all about me," I joke. Was it just me or did I get a little hint of a smile out of that?

And then suddenly a guy from Dominos turns up at the door, and he looks mightily surprised to see me standing here. Shit, I can just bet he's going to go score a few bucks off US or Star or somebody telling them I was standing at a barely dressed woman's door. Oh well, it's not like anybody ever believes those rags anyway. Chelsea, God bless her, immediately recognises the situation and manages to simultaneously pay him and shoo him away at incredible speed. Clearly she's well practised.

Then she opens the box and I get a fantastic whiff of pepperoni. Mmm… what time is our reservation again? I'm fucking starving.

"Slice of pizza for your trouble?"

Ahh. Rescue a damsel in distress from a night out she clearly can't be assed with, receive free pizza. See, good deeds do get rewarded.

"Thanks." She doesn't need to ask twice, I've already pulled out a slice and have taken a big old bite. I didn't take the biggest piece though, that would just be rude. Though even if I had, that's a pretty big pizza for one person… wow, she must have a stomach and a half on her. Good for her, women with a good appetite get the thumbs up from me.

"Well, I guess I'll get going. Thanks for the slice," I say.

"Thanks for the cover."

"S'okay. Next time Sophie asks me out and I don't wanna go I'll expect you to come up with my alibi."

Hmm, those words felt kind of funny coming out of my mouth, Sophie asking me out. It's not like she's trying to date me or anything - and if I was going on a date I would certainly not take Trace. I learned very early in life that double dating with him was a bad idea.

"Done." I even got a little wink. Maybe there is some warmth in the ice maiden after all. "Night, Justin."

"Night." I raise my pizza in a salute and then turn to head back down the stairs, trying to think how best to form my story for Sophie.