I'm a little pissed off with myself right now. I'm not giving my best. I could tell you it was because it's too hot today and under these lights it ain't any cooler. I could tell you it's because I had a fight with my most recent ex girlfriend a few days ago (over who gets our non refundable trip to St Lucia, if you must know). I could tell you it's because Enrique Fuentes is hanging around like a bad smell instead of spending time with his daughter. I could even tell you it's because of the paparazzi lurking at the perimeter.

None of this would matter if I could concentrate. It's amazing what you can block out when you're concentrating. Sadly, the skill eludes me today.

"Cut!" The director Craig yells that immortal word for what feels like the fiftieth time. Actually, we're only up to take sixteen. He looks a little frustrated too, and when he starts walking over to us I know it's not good.

It's worse when he reaches me and Elliot and slings an arm over both our shoulders. He's going to tell us in quiet, confidential tones that we suck. I say "we," but that's a little unfair to Elliot who is actually on this planet with everybody else today.

"Guys…" he drawls slowly, carefully, trying not to bruise our delicate star egos, "this isn't working."

I want to reply with something on the lines of 'no shit Sherlock,' but I hear it's dumb to say that shit to the man in charge.

"This scene is the crucial part of Jonathan and Ben's relationship in this movie," he says. I knew that already, but fine. "This scene sets the tone. You guys are arch rivals, but you're not doing this the usual way. This isn't about macho pissing contests or squaring off for the big fight, this is subterfuge. Ben smells a threat and Jonathan sees an obstacle."

"But didn't you say that Jonathan at this point isn't looking at Lucy as anything but a pain in the ass?" Lucy is Sophie's character, by the way. The two of them start this big feud in their newspaper columns; much hilarity ensues until finally they hook up. "So why would he see Ben as an obstacle?"

Apparently I asked a dumb question, because Craig immediately starts talking to me like he's trying to explain that two and two make four. "Like we discussed with Sophie earlier, at this point the sexual attraction is subconscious. He might not be thinking about it and if you asked him he'd never call Ben an obstacle, but it's there in the back of his head. You need to play that without making it obvious you're playing that, you get me?"

I really don't get him, but it's unwise to clue him in on what a space cadet I'm being today. Instead I just smile and nod, letting him clap me on the back in relief that the child has finally come through and we can go onto adding some bigger numbers, like ten and everything.

Thankfully, he decides that the best thing we can all do is take a break. He wants to readjust the lighting anyway, says that the acting's not the only thing wrong with the scene. Elliot and I shared a mutual wince at that, but I guess you have to take the criticism if you're going to learn. I honestly can't dispute it either because I am not on my game today.

It doesn't help having Enrique hovering around like a big Spanish bat, either. It's weird; he's Sophie's manager and Sophie's father, but is he spending time with Sophie? No, he's hanging around the set schmoozing and watching the rest of us with narrowed eyes. The more cynical part of me thinks he's looking for a weak link in the chain, anybody who might drag the film down and thus harm baby girl's career in even the slightest way. The guy is like a fucking pit bull, I wouldn't dare to breathe wrong near his daughter if he's around. He looks like an older and uglier version of Antonio Banderas too, it's very off putting.

Actually, that's an insult to Antonio so I gotta take that back. I really like that dude and I really do not like Sophie's… I wanna say padre. Isn't that the word they use in Zorro for the priest and stuff? So father, padre, that'd make sense wouldn't it? Unless there's a different word for that in Spanish… whatever, I don't like him and he makes me nervous so I've been trying to steer clear of Sophie except in scenes.

I've also been steering clear of Sophie for other reasons. You know those paparazzi I mentioned? Even on set I can see them in the background and their lenses are focussed on Sophie and Chelsea. The two of them are sitting out enjoying the sun, ignoring the AD's warning to everybody that at high noon we should be avoiding the sun wherever possible. They got their director's chairs out in front of Sophie's trailer, though only hers gets a name on the back, and Sophie has Chelsea's foot propped in her lap. I can't see what colour she's painting the toenails, but it makes a great photo for the rodents.

Sophie has been bending over backwards to be nice to Chelsea for the last week. I wasn't there on set that day, but I hear Chelsea really chewed her out for that whole stunt she pulled with me. Actually, Sophie's been a little quieter than usual ever since. I mean, I don't know her well enough to be sure so it could be something else, but I think it really bothered her having Chelsea angry at her. I can kind of understand - in this business there's so few decent people you can pull around yourself, and Sophie does rely on Chelsea a heck of a lot. She'd probably be lost without her. Or heck, maybe it was that loser boyfriend of hers. He was hanging around like a bad smell yesterday the way Enrique is now but today he's absent, probably because of Enrique.

Hey, maybe women do pick men like their fathers.

I guess it's kind of cute though. The two of them are giggling away over somethin' or other and Sophie's doing an admirable job of ignoring the flashes. Wish I could say the same but if I see anybody come near me… well, the mood I'm in I can't be held responsible for what my middle finger might do.

Speaking of which… my mother's walking over with that lip chewing expression she gets when she's the bearer of bad news. Oh boy, just what I need.

"Hey baby, can I steal you a second?"

"Sure," I ask like she really needed to hear me say it. She knows she's always got my time.

It's when she pulls me right away from the crew and towards my trailer that I really start worrying. When she opens the door and walks into it, then I know I'm in serious shit. This is clearly a conversation that she doesn't want overheard; the non existent walls still manage to have ears on film locations. Once I finally climb in and shut the door after me, she's pouring herself a glass of water. She's also messing with her sun visor the way I fiddle with my baseball caps when I'm nervous - constantly pulling it off and on. I guess more things are genetic than you might think.

"What's up Momma?" I ask her straight.

"You remember that time you and Monica had that… incident?"

What my mother can't bring herself to be more specific about is the fight that broke me and aforementioned most recent ex up. Monica and I had an extremely tempestuous relationship - it was full of heat, but it was also full of drama. I've never been a particularly confrontational guy, but she and I used to get into some real blow out fights. She's not a bad person and I like to think I'm not either, but we brought out the worst in each other. We also had a tendency to be overdramatic and throw shit around when we fought…

…The time that actually broke us up, I accidentally hit her with a pretty heavy hardback book and it bruised the fuck out of her eye.

Now, Monica will be the first person to tell you I did NOT mean to hit her. She moved when I didn't expect her to. It ended the fight pretty quickly because I was so busy freaking and apologising, but she was actually really cool about it. She even managed to joke that it was amazing one of us hadn't managed to accidentally concuss the other before. Still, it was that little accident that convinced us both that splitting up was a good idea.

Why my mother is bringing this up three months later, I'm not sure. It cannot be good, because she's still fairly ashamed of me for my behaviour. I can't tell you how much that stings that she's disappointed in me, but I guess that's life. I can't be the perfect son or actor or whatever, much as I might like to be. I'm pretty un-perfect today.

"Vividly," I answer. "Why?"

Mom takes a sip of water with one hand and rummages in her bag with the other. She tosses out a gossip rag, and I curse a blue streak at the heading. It's a picture of Monica with the bruise, and below it is a wonderfully sensational headline about the possibility of me being a woman beater. Her eye looks terrible, and I suspect they may even have altered the picture to make the colours pop even more. It didn't need altering, I can tell you - she looked awful. (May I please take this moment to repeat how horribly wrong I still feel about that?)

"Shit." My hands kind of lock together at the back of my head; it's like they have a will of their own. They will not leave my face; they're either rubbing it or hovering over my mouth or scratching at it in horror. "This is so much bullshit."

"Unfortunately, it's bullshit we're going to have a hard time countering," my mother says quietly with a worried expression. "Monica's denied it, but they give her all of a sentence to do it and then they just say she's too scared of you to admit it."

"Why we gonna have a hard time countering?" I ask. She's really got my attention now. I mean this is awful and it's a pain in the ass and some idiots will believe anything they read, but why's she thinking this is worse than any other rumour? "Did you speak to Ken?"

That would be Ken Sunshine, my publicist, and she nods. "The problem is baby that people will read guilt into whatever you say or don't say about it. Like I said, if Monica denies it they say she's just scared, if you keep quiet it's an admission of guilt, you claim you didn't do it you're just lying…"

"And the actual truth sounds like a real crappy tall tale of the 'walked into a door' variety," I finish for her. All she can do is nod at me with this real grim fear in her eyes. Then something else occurs to me. "Shit, are the police gonna ask questions about this?"

It wouldn't be the first time the police have come knocking because of tabloid crap, but Momma thankfully shakes her head. "Not unless Monica wanted to press charges, and you know she wouldn't."

Then, inevitably, I hear the 'Justin Timberlake to set' call over the tannoy and the conversation is cut short. I'm in even less of a mood to go do this now than I was before, but I can't let anybody know I'm rattled. It'll make me look like I have something to hide. Instead I kiss my momma's cheek, whisper that it'll work itself out and head back to the grindstone.

The heat's baking and I'm pretty much staring at my sneakers as I walk. I'm sure I got enough lines in my forehead to make me look fifty but I can't keep the frown off my face. I hear a few catcalls from the paparazzi as I pass by Sophie and Chelsea, but I ignore them. Earlier I might have made good on that middle finger promise, but right now I'm going to have to swallow it. They'll be looking to provoke me and make me do something that'll look real violent in pictures.

My gaze strays over to the two girls and I see Sophie's reading the offending article with a slightly open mouth. I pray to God she's looking so stunned for a pro-Justin reason. I really hope she's thinking 'these people are full of shit' and not 'oh my God I'm working with an abuser.' Chelsea spots me and my eye flicks quickly to the paparazzi she has her back to.

Then she mouths 'ignore them' at me with a not entirely unsympathetic expression; at least me doing her a good deed won me a little credibility. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.

*** "Holy mierda," Sophie breathes quietly as Justin continues on his way to the set. Her eyes are glued to that article like it was directions to a ninety nine percent off Manolo sale. You can bet she wouldn't dare to swear like that if Daddy wasn't a nice safe hundred feet away. "Can you believe this?"

"Is that a rhetorical question or do you want my actual opinion?" I mutter. Those jerk paparazzi guys threw the magazine over the barricade in our direction and suggested Sophie get to know her co-stars a little better.

"Well you can give me your opinion but if you say yes I'm gonna have to fire you for being so damn stupid."

Privately I think to myself that for all we know, it might not be such a stupid suggestion. We've been on set for three weeks, nearly a month now, and Sophie's hung out with Justin socially a couple of times but I've barely even seen him in passing. We don't know this guy. That said, this is clearly shoddy and sensationalist journalism and they don't have a shred of proof. His ex girlfriend denied the whole thing, though they managed to bury that at the end of the article and make it look insignificant.

"I was gonna have to go with no. This rag is better used as toilet paper."

It's a shame that we have to mutter so much. It's particularly so because my 'likes to turn the car stereo up way too loud' self is practically deaf, but we can't afford to have those assholes hear us. Sophie, ever the consummate professional, is managing to speak audibly whilst barely moving her lips - there'll be no lip reading for them. If she could throw her voice a little further she'd be a great ventriloquist.

"Poor Justin…" she clucks her tongue disapprovingly. "And Monica, they'll be hounding her ass too. You know I met her once at an award show? She was so sweet to me."

I have to smile at that. Sophie's always saying that so-and-so was "so sweet" to her; I don't have the heart to tell her that a good number of them are just kissing up. I doubt it of Monica Greenwood though, because she was super nice to me too. The ass kissers don't know I exist, but you know you got a genuine nice one when they bother to extend the same courtesy to the hired help. Sophie, God love her… for someone so canny about the business and how to progress her career, she can be a little naïve about plain old people.

"Well today's headlines are tomorrow's trash. They got nothing," I tell her. We both know that's not necessarily true and that mud sticks, but we hope for the best.

"Hmm. So, we definitely on for Thai tonight?"

She looks so hopeful; I can't bear to say no. She knows that her father makes me uncomfortable, but I'm often useful as a buffer between them; they have very different ideas on how her career should be run. Enrique's a very… uhh… forceful character. He's bossy as all hell too and he doesn't understand the concept that I am Sophie's friend as well as her PA. To his mind I don't need to be treated any better than dirt, but thankfully Sophie likes me a little better than that.

But, this is what friends do. After last week she's doing me the courtesy of asking and giving me a choice; she's giving me a choice despite the fact that I am on call and technically she could just order me. So, I go. I refuse to drive though because I will need to consume some vodka.

"Fine by me." I nod and she brings out that money making smile.

Much as I'm green with envy, she is stunning. She has this long, elegant face with these perfect high cheekbones and she's got this life behind her eyes that you just can't pay a plastic surgeon for. She's even one of those bitches who can look stunning without a smudge of make up on. Wench. How come I can never master that little trick?

Even as I'm peering at my split ends thinking I need to go have my hair done again (and if I could possibly trade in my entire body while I'm at it), Sophie's chewing on her lip and starting to look thoughtful. I can see the cogs ticking over in her brain but know better than to interrupt. It's far too easy to make this woman lose her thought track. Occasionally, if you do it via confectionary or baked goods, it's also very entertaining.

"You think it would be helpful if maybe we all made a point of going out with Justin?" She asks.

You might not see what she's getting at, but I immediately do. A lot of times when you see stars partying or meeting up by 'coincidence' at the same restaurant, it's all a total set up. Their publicists or managers or whoever arrange for them to be seen together to boost their respective images. Hell, sometimes entire relationships are totally fabricated. Sophie's not normally one to put up with that bullshit, she's passionate to Christina Aguilera level about being judged solely on her talent, but I can see what kind of favour she's trying to do for Justin here. Not to do anything for her PR, but to help his - to let people know he's well liked and respected and people don't believe the worst of him.

God love her, she's trying to help, but her dad will have an aneurysm. He's real funny about her being seen with any guy she's not known to be dating anyway, but an accused woman beater? He'll throw a bitch fit. She doesn't need that and I honestly don't think it'll help Justin too much. People already know he's well liked; that's why accusations that he's a woman beater are so juicy for the press.

"I think…" How can I put this delicately and without discouraging her from being nice? I mentioned before how self centred she can unwittingly be sometimes, so I don't like to squash her more altruistic moments. "He'll need private rather than public support, I think. And I think he'd probably just feel bad if he thought we were being seen with him just to do a good deed."

She chews on a pink lip for the moment, thinking about this before nodding her head. "True. He'd probably feel like it was pity or something." She shakes her head out, and then looks at her watch. "It's coffee time but I have a feeling they're gonna want me soon. Would you please do the coffee run sweetie?"

"Sure." I ease out of my chair and shove my feet back into my flip flops, wiggling my newly pink toes. Sophie gives the best pedicures.

"Oh and… maybe you could ask if Justin and Trace want anything? But like, real subtly?"

It really is funny how in moments like last week I want to strangle this woman but at times like this I kind of want to throw my arms around her and tell her she's beautiful. I might, if she wouldn't think I'd gone loopy.