It's pretty weird to be standing outside this photo studio right now. My mom often says to me that life is a circle and eventually you'll find yourself back where you started, but it feels strange to be finally kicking off the promo for this movie when it feels like a life time ago that we made it. This movie introduced me to Chelsea and Sophie and a whole world of weirdness, and it's going to be strange facing Sophie again. On the bright side, at least Chelsea isn't her PA any more. That would be seriously awkward. Part of me wants to get this over with, just face Sophie and get out, but another part of me really wants to turn heel and run.

Rachael links her arm through mine and we follow Randy as he leads the way through the doors. It's a fairly bland building, all white stucco and no personality. That seems fitting somehow, since this day is likely to be boring as hell on top of awkward. This entire thing is going to be nothing but photo shoots, and it's pretty tedious because it involves so much changing of clothes and waiting around. The movie isn't going to be out until Christmas, but this is the time that they start letting little pieces out about it and we three starring actors will have to start dropping it into our interviews pretty heavily. Today I think Elliot and I are going to have to stand around a lot both looking competitive over Sophie, and I think she and I are going to have to do a few publicity shots in various seductive poses. Yippie-yi-yay.

"Hey!" Hannah says as she sees us coming. She's standing by the elevator with a rack full of clothing that I presume is mine.

It's unusual that I get my own stylist on a photo shoot that isn't for music related activities, normally the film production company organises that, but this time Hannah's arranging my outfits and I'm most grateful. No good stylist is ever going to let you look like shit, but a lot of them don't particularly care if you feel comfortable or like yourself in clothes. Hannah makes sure that I'm still 'me' in my shots so I'm happy to have her. I'm always happy to have my own people around me when I'm doing movie stuff, because sometimes I feel like if any part of the entertainment industry would swallow me it'll be Hollywood rather than the music side of things.

"Hey," I respond with a smile. "Gonna make me look good today?"

"Do I ever fail you?"

"Never yet."

"Well there ya go then," she says before blowing me a raspberry. I like Hannah; she's such a kid at heart.

"So how long is this whole thing going to take?" I ask Rachael the question like I don't already know the answer. They picked me up at 8am, they claim they have a lot to get through and photo shoots always involve a lot of hanging around waiting for them to be done with the lights.

"Their best guess is we're not out of here until at least four."

"Ahh."

Okay, I know that was kind of whiny, but I don't want to be here today. I made the teeny tiny mistake of getting a little overfriendly with a girl in a club a few days ago and the paparazzi will not leave me alone now. Especially since she's now gone ahead and sold a story like anything more than a little dirty dancin' happened. I suppose I should be grateful she didn't tell them I had a tiny dick and was crap in bed, but the whole thing is so untrue. We didn't even kiss. I'm also trying not to dwell on the fact that this is the girl Chelsea yanked me away from the night she and I first hooked up - which she did on grounds that she had 'kiss and tell' written all over her.

She called it and I'm kind of bitter about that, both that she was right and that it was her who said it at all.

Whatever, it does not make for me in full professional and focussed mode. I know a true professional should be able to turn that on and off like a light no matter what's going on personally, but I find it a little harder than that. I can do it, but it takes a huge toll on my mood and my general state of mind. That's part of the reason I always have to take a break during albums - part of it is that creatively I like to wait until I have something new to say, the other part is that the constant trying to rise above the media shit wears me down too much otherwise. When I don't have to work I can bitch just as much as I want about it, when I'm at work my schedule's usually too full to let me vent.

"So what shots are they trying to get today?" I should at least pretend to be interested.

"They want some solo shots, some group shots, some of you and Sophie, and they want to do some publicity shots with the outfits from the big benefit scene so you and Sophie will be getting your formal wear on," Hannah advises me. "They've also got some set ups with your office desks and typewriters and cheesy journalist stuff."

"When this is done, I'm going to need to drink," I mutter sideways at Rachael. She just rolls her eyes at me.

I'm kind of pissing Rachael off at the moment, between my bad press mood and my 'treatment' of Chelsea. Trace and Rachael have both told me they're really fucked off by the way I blank her, but I don't see what the problem is. I can't trust myself to hold my tongue if I speak to her, so I don't speak to her. They accuse me of putting them in the middle of me and her; I say that's ridiculous, I'm not telling anybody not to hang. And besides, whose fucking friends do they think they were first? If you ask me I think Rachael's just in a pissy mood anyway, and whenever she's in a pissy mood she gets extra annoyed if I'm in one. Seems to think nobody else is allowed while she's exercising that privilege.

It only adds to my pissy mood when I walk into the room and there on the couch by the hospitality snacks and drinks is none other than Chelsea, looking remarkably friendly with Sophie for somebody who claimed she'd never speak to her again. They're clearly laughing about something and Chelsea has a big stack of papers on her lap… don't tell me she's the PA again? And what happened to that movie producer guy I thought she was working for?

That's so pathetic. I'm not even saying that to be mean, it's pathetic if Chelsea took that job back when she got treated like shit and it's beneath her anyway. See? I'm not just being mean if I still admit she's better than that job. I don't care if it's mean, though, when I say that I'm now even less happy about being here than I was before. I don't want to spend the day with the woman who played me along and then acted like she was ashamed of me.

This is going to be a long, long day.

***

It's not eavesdropping if they're right next to you and it's impossible to ignore them, right? Rachael has totally abandoned my ass (maybe I should consider a pay cut) to spend all her time chatting to Chelsea and Sophie. Rachael doesn't even know Sophie. Rachael agreed from all my tales of Sophie that Sophie sounded like kind of a bitch. Why has she abandoned me to go sit with her then? Especially since there's nothing to do here and I'm so bored I'm reading this copy of FHM for the second time today?

Unless… has Chelsea been back with Sophie for a while? Because if she has… shit, has my cousin being hanging out with Sophie Lumos behind my back?

Whatever. I'm bored, this is dull as hell. It's only mid day and I must be on my fifth set of clothing. These lights are so hot I'm sweating out half my make up, but at least I'm not Sophie who has to be redone from scratch every time she changes outfits - women's make up is complicated. With me they're just evening out my skin for the shots, but for her they've got to get work make up and casual make up and going out make up… it's really complicated. I'm so glad I got a Y chromosome. Sitting in the make up chair is mind numbing enough even when all they're doing is covering a few zits or whatever.

"So what exactly is it you're doing now?" Rachael asks Chelsea. They've been discussing this production company Sophie's setting up for the last twenty minutes or so. I have not been eavesdropping for twenty minutes, because like I said before it's not eavesdropping if you can't help overhearing.

"I'm going to be a production assistant but I'm also going to handle Sophie's admin and her side of the business," Chelsea explains. "I'm kind of like a weird cross between a PA and a junior producer."

"So what are you doing here?" Rachael asks. "I mean, not that you're not allowed…" All three of them laugh together, which makes Sophie's make up artist scold her for moving her lips.v "She's just hanging with me. Though she did bring a ton of papers for me to sign too, but these days she's just kind of along for the ride sometimes, her actual job is exclusively on the production stuff. She's not with me all the time and I'm not making her fetch my coffee any more."

"Damn straight," Chelsea snorts and they all burst into giggles again. Oh… so she's not a PA any more? I can't keep up with this whole thing. Part of me is itching to know how they even made things up at all, let alone started working together again, but I quickly realised from the way they were being that Rachael was already aware of all that and thus it wasn't a topic they'd discuss. Since I'm sure as hell not asking, I'm going to have to grill Trace later. I bet he knows.

Not that I'm interested. I mean, I am, but not out of any, like… I'm only curious.

God, I sound so freaking obsessed, even just to me in my own head. I hate that. I'm so over this whole ridiculous situation and all the wasted energy I spent on it, but when I'm stuck in a room with two of its main instigators it's hard to think about anything else. Also, I keep feeling Chelsea's eyes on me. Maybe I'm just imagining it, but I don't think I am. In this business, with all those paparazzi skulking around, you develop a sixth sense for when you're being watched. Whatever, it's making me uncomfortable and I wish she'd stop it.

"Oh, do I need to call Robert?" Sophie asks Chelsea.

"Oh no, he said it could wait until the meeting tomorrow."

The talk of phones puts me in mind of something else I wish she'd stop: sending me texts or leaving me voicemail. She's not one of those ceaseless stalkers who do it every hour, but still every few days or so she'll leave me something and it's bugging me. It also confuses me that when she sees me she won't do a damn thing about it; she just looks awkward and says nothing. If she wanted to talk to me why doesn't she attempt it in person?

Though, I guess if I'm being fair I do keep walking out of the room whenever I see her. Maybe if I was in that situation I'd be looking at the phone as a safer tactic too.

They're chit chatting away about some book Sophie wants to get the rights to for the company's first movie, and I admit that my eyes keep flicking over to Chelsea. She's in one of those floor length summer dresses that seem to be all the rage right now, a black one, and her hair is scraped back from her face into a tight bun. There's a healthy pink flush to her cheeks and the make up is minimal, the face adorned with a smile and not much else. She looks preppy, even for her, but she looks happy. Pretty much every time I see her these days she's frowning - probably because I keep blanking her, I admit it - but she seems really relaxed with Sophie. How the fuck did Sophie manage that?

"Justin and Sophie to the set please!" I hear the call and it jolts me back into reality. It turns out I didn't even notice that the make up artists have long since stopped on both me and Sophie.

I stride on over, happy for the excuse to concentrate on something else. But as the photographer directs me and Sophie into our first set of poses and I realise we're going to be pressed up and cheek to cheek, it quickly occurs to me that this isn't much of an improvement. We're standing on a large roll of white seamless, which no doubt will have some New York backdrop imposed on it for the photos. Not a single part of the movie was shot in New York, but this is the glory of Hollywood.

"So how are you, Justin?" Sophie asks politely as there's yet more messing with the lights.

"Fine, thanks. You?"

"Fine. So what you up to besides this right now? Anything in the pipeline?"

Oh good, awkward small talk. "No. Looking at a few scripts but nothing's grabbing me."

"Having a dry patch with them myself, that's why I'm so glad we're getting this company up and running so I can create my own projects," she says cheerily. How is this woman always so cheerful? It's not natural.

"That's good."

"So what are you doing with your time then if you're not working? Anything exciting?"

Sophie must be one of those people who just can't bear silence, I've decided. That can be the only reason that she persists in trying to make conversation. "Not much, just having some fun and relaxing, going to a few parties and stuff."

"Yeah, I read that thing in the paper. Don't worry, nobody believes her anyway."

Oh, sting in the tail - I probably should have seen one of those coming. Thanks for the reminder there, Soph, you're a pal. "I'm not worried."

"Have to be careful who you keep around in this business; that's why I'm so grateful for Chels, she's got an eye for those types and she always steers me clear. God, how long does it take to fix a light?"

Okay, she has SO been told that story because it cannot be a coincidence that she just said that. I suppose that means that Chelsea has finally had some balls and told her the whole sad tale. Little late, but I guess you can't have everything. Got to love the little touch with the lights there too, trying to act like the first part of what she said was no big deal. Did I mention before that I hate women?

"Well, let's hope we can get this all over with as soon as possible," I gripe. See? She's not the only one who can take barely concealed shots at somebody.

Maybe the photographer heard, because finally he calls for us to pose and he starts clicking. Sophie and I are standing holding each other but with the front side of our bodies slightly tweaked towards the camera to give him a better shot. Her head is bent so that her hair lightly brushes my chin, and we're both staring down the lens like we're having a competition with it. I'm briefly distracted for a moment when I see Rachael and Chelsea whispering about something, both staring my way, but then I realise it's not my way it's our way - we are the subject of a photo shoot after all, everybody's looking at us. Plus the photographer just yelled at me for it.

"You know, I can't figure you out," Sophie says to me breezily when the lights need to be readjusted yet again before our next pose.

"Excuse me?" What's she going on about this time?

"You get mad because she's not giving you whatever signals you want or whatever, but now it's blatantly obvious the girl's in love with you and you don't want to know. And they say women are weird."

"Excuse me?" I repeat.

Sophie gets out of answering me when the photographer decides that this time he wants us back to back.

***

I'm not quite sure how I got stuck in an elevator with Chelsea all by myself, but I don't appreciate it. Especially since I think two certain broads who shall remain nameless conspired for it to happen this way. I'd accuse Chelsea of being in on it if she didn't look so much like she wanted the ground to swallow her up. To add insult to injury, the button seems to have been pressed on every floor of this pretty tall building and this elevator is slow. It's taking forever.

Actually, no - the insult is the music playing in the background. I recognise my own damn song when I hear it, and What Goes Around was never meant to be played by an ice cream truck. That's what it sounds like, like they taped an ice cream truck playing my song. That song is my biggest masterpiece to date and they're playing it like a kid's nursery rhyme. What the fuck?

"Is that your song?"

"I think so," I nod.

"What the hell did they do to it?" She asks wondrously. See, even she's seeing how bad this is.

"I know, right?"

"You should sue," Chelsea says as she wrinkles her nose in distaste. For a second I'm about to tell her that's a good idea, and then I remember that I'm not talking to her. I just want to get downstairs so we can go on our separate respective lunch breaks like we're supposed to.

Still, it's tempting to temporarily ignore that self imposed rule… I certainly have a few things to… fuck it, I'm talking.

"So you're back with Sophie?" I ask.

There's a funny little jerk of her head, almost like she's surprised I've initiated any further conversation. Well she should be surprised, I am too. "Yeah," she says. "I bumped into her and we talked it out and she offered me this new job."

"Must have been some line she spun, make you forgive her for that." Did that sound as curt as I think it did?

"Long story short, she did a bad thing with good intentions. I prefer to judge people on their hearts rather than their mistakes."

I'm going to pretend I did not hear the sharp edge to that comment or see the somewhat bitter expression that flitted over her face. She does have a pretty good visage going on, that little Hollywood mask she can slip over her emotions, but I at least like to pride myself that I got a little closer than she wanted me to and I can see through such things. Good, I'm glad I pissed her off. Well okay, I'm kind of annoyed that she thinks she's got the right to be pissed off by me, but I'm at least glad I have the ability to bug her.

"And you're back working for her again, after all that."

"I forgive and forget. Fresh start." She's starting to grit her teeth, I can hear it in her voice.

"Hmm. Not something you're known for," I mutter. I don't even care if she heard me. I would dearly like to know why Kennedy and Sophie who did all this shit to her get so easily forgiven and yet I who did nothing but like her got punished for her ex boyfriend's crimes. Not that I care, I mean, I'm over her now, but it's the principle of the thing.

"What happened to that big producer you started working for?"

She flinched again, and this time it was even more visible. I clearly hit a nerve. "Fired."

"Too bad. Why?"

Ahh - she's stood there and taken the pretty abrupt inquisition quietly up until now but this I guess was a question too far. Or maybe it was the slightly mocking tone I just took. "Why do you suddenly give a shit?"

"Excuse me?" I play dumb. "Just making conversation…"

"No, you were just being an ass," she mutters unhappily. "Do me a favour, Justin, I know you hate me now but can you just lay the hell off? You won, okay, I'm the loser and you want nothing to do with me, you made that more than clear from the way you keep blanking me and refusing to let me talk to you about any of this. Do you have to go out of your way to hurt me now, too?"

"Well why the fuck are you still trying then?" I throw back at her. "I didn't make you send all those messages."

"Why am I still trying… good question."

The elevator opens and she rushes out without even stopping to see that we've still got a floor to go. Her flip flops are hitting the floor with a frantic smacking sound as she dashes for the stairs, but I'm more caught by the strangled noise that just came out of her throat and the hand that's clutching at her head. It's not long before her retreating back has totally disappeared - for a woman in a dress she's moved fast. Call me crazy, but I think I just made her cry. And maybe now I think she did know we had a floor to go.

Why is it that annoying her made me feel better but making her cry just made me feel like shit?