I'm starting to think that something's up with Sophie.

When she concocted this little plan to go to a club and Trace said he had some pals coming here, I figured I might as well. I'm sure they'd have had a great time without me, but it's not like I'm needed for shooting tomorrow and my meeting with management isn't until three. I can sleep all morning and still be perky for the suits so long as I'm smart enough to watch my hooch intake. That's me though - it never occurred to me that Sophie is required on set tomorrow and that she's seriously setting herself up for punishment.

And she's… okay, maybe this is some Spanish or European attitude to alcohol and I'm just being a naïve American, but she seems to be putting away a lot of red wine. She still seems coherent, but I'm starting to see her eyes glaze over. She's not wobbling even on those killer stilettos and it's not like she looks obviously drunk, it's just… she really has sunk a lot of wine. Her voice is getting progressively louder as the evening goes on, too, although to be fair she has got a lot of competition from the really overdone bass. I'm half tempted to run along to the DJ booth and fix his levels for him.

Ahh, I'm probably just being paranoid, is all. The club's pretty cool. It's all one big open space, no sequestered little room for VIP or whatever. Normally I like my privacy when I'm out so I make a beeline for those rooms, but I actually kind of like this now I'm here. Feels like you got a lot of space even though the place is rammed. My eagle eye thinks it got a little extra rammed after me and Sophie got here but maybe that's just me being a cocky son of a bitch. I am listening to Sophie and actively participating in the conversation, but I'm also people watching. I like people watching, especially in clubs - drunk people can be kind of funny.

"…So I made the mistake of saying the only place anybody would ever get me to do that would be SNL, and lo and behold me and my big mouth caught their attention and next thing you know…"

Wait, did I say I was paying attention? I must have been lying because I missed that entire story.

"So Justin, did you say you were going back on tour soon?"

"Oh, yeah," I respond. Thanks God for making her change subject and not showing me up as non-listening guy. She just talks real fast - but then I think that is a Spanish thing. When she and Enrique are talking I swear I don't hear them draw breath, ever. "After shooting's done."

Shooting which on my part will actually be done in a month. It's scary how fast time goes on a movie set, I swear I only just got here. Normally I don't like to mix music and movies, I focus on one at a time, but it was basically to keep the suits off my back for a while. They wanted an album with all the promo and touring shebang that goes with it, I've given them a little club tour. It'll take a month of my time to buy me at least six more to chill a little and do the next album at my own pace, so I'll make the sacrifice. The thing you learn about this business is when to push your own agenda and when to cut a deal.

"Sounds exciting, I'd love to come see it," she smiles at me. She really is a very attractive woman. Some girls can look really hot but still like they'd bite you in the balls if you came anywhere near them, but Sophie has a very approachable quality to her; I think that's her secret. "Chelsea and I will swing by."

"Sounds good," I respond honestly.

I don't know them so well even after being on set with them a while, but they seem like cool women. Obviously I speak to Sophie a lot more than her girl there, but both of them seem about as un-Hollywood as it ever gets in Hollywood. Everybody's always got a touch of it, even me, but there's a point at which you stop being real and just become Hollywood. Sophie and Chelsea haven't crossed it far as I can tell and that makes them alright by me. Sophie's a lot of fun to talk to, actually, she always seems to have a funny story about somebody and she even knows a decent amount about basketball. It remains for me to educate her on golf though.

"So where is your Girl Friday, anyway?" I ask. She looks confused at the reference, but clearly she still knows I'm talking about Chelsea because she's just given a little huff and her lips have pursed.

"She brought her friend Kennedy onto the set today and they disappeared at some point, but when… yo no sé."

"Huh?"

"I don't know," she clarifies. Then she gives a little angry shudder of some kind, and I'm suspecting there's past beef on this issue. That kind of pissed does not happen on a first offence. That's an odd thought to me actually; Chelsea seems ever present and ever ready. She strikes me as hyper-organised and the conscientious type. "Whenever that bruja shows up I seem to lose my assistant for a few hours."

I look blank again, but when she doesn't offer a translation I have to assume whatever she just called this Kennedy girl wasn't good. I guess Kennedy is probably the red head I saw Chelsea with earlier.

Then she magically brightens up, smiles at me again and changes the subject. She has this uncanny ability to do that, change mood at will, and to be honest I find it kind of unnerving. It's good I guess that she can just get over it so quick, but on the other hand I'm forced to wonder if she's gone in actress mode again. She certainly did it at the bar - flirting with the guys behind there, pushing those corseted breasts out a little and getting her drinks totally free. It'd almost make me wish I was a woman if I didn't find the idea of hitting on dudes and having periods so totally gross.

Trace bounds up the stairs towards me, congenial smile on his face and we do our secret little handshake. It looks like the general greeting most guys do but it has our secret little knack to it. It's lame and we probably should have stopped doing it a good ten years ago, but old habits die hard. He's been hanging with his boys; since he's been working on William Rast rather than being my PA, he's got a whole new crowd of guys that I'm friendly with but not so into. It's great for him, he really feels like he's got his direction now. He's only my PA right now as a cover for Rachael who has some stuff going on.

"Dude, Señora."

"Señorita, actually," she corrects him. "I'm not married."

I give him the look which tells him not to burst into my song if he knows what's good for him. Trace just grins and swipes my Bud, taking a long gulp that's practically half the bottle. Jerk off needs to go buy his own drink, I pay him enough.

"So how come you guys aren't dancing with Chelsea? You didn't have your groove on?"

Oh shit. Sophie's turning purple. It's making her a lot less attractive and she starts ranting in Spanish. That 'bruja' word comes up again, the only one I recognise and Trace looks kind of shocked. He leans into me and mouths 'why did she just call Chelsea a witch and a slut?' Huh, would you look at that - I didn't know the words and he didn't know it was aimed at Kennedy, but together we have decoded the entire insult.

Then she does that freakish mood change thing again. It's even creepier this time, because I can still kind of see the fire in her eyes. Did I mention that she's had a lot to drink, too? This may not be fun. She's kind of pushed Trace ahead of her, nearly making him fall ass over feet down those stairs, and she's dragging me behind. Oh boy.

***

Okay, you know I said Sophie could be creepy? Now I'm leaning back to drunk.

The blow out that Trace and I expected didn't happen. She came down and did the air kiss thing, even with the 'bruja.' If I wasn't so poised and ready for the sting in Sophie's tail, I'd have actually found the whole thing funny. Chelsea went about as white as it's possible to get, and after a whispered conversation with her Trace informs me that she spotted us in VIP earlier and has been hiding ever since. She would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for that snooping kid…

Please excuse my lame Scooby Doo reference there. Point is that Sophie has been charm itself. This Kennedy chick, who very politely introduced herself to me and Trace… well, she's clearly not buying it. She's just doing her thing (clearly this girl's a trained dancer - believe me, I can spot 'em a mile off) but she's eyeing Sophie the way you would a rattlesnake. Bitch fights and intrigue, I'm actually kind of curious as to what this is about. From that little disappearing assistant comment Sophie made, I'm guessing there's some kind of power struggle going on here.

That might explain why Chelsea's head keeps whipping back and forth between the two of them like she's watching a tennis match. She's dancing with Trace and she's not too shabby on the floor herself, but she looks kind of afraid. Call it a wild guess but I'm thinking she was expecting to get her own ass chewed out by Sophie, but instead she's got the scene unfolding before us now. A scene out of a really lame teen flick, I might add. She too seems to have noticed what I've noticed.

Wait, what does Chelsea's hoodie say? Is she really wearing PCD?

Sorry, distracted - what Chelsea and I have both noticed is that Sophie's drunk self seems to be attempting to compete with Kennedy via dance. It's not exactly a dance off or anything that lame, but clearly the pair of them are trying to outdo each other. I expect that any bystanders who are unaware of the loathing wouldn't spot it, but me knowing that Sophie thinks this girl is a slut and a witch I can see what she's up to. It's a little case of 'anything you can do I can do better.' I'm just kind of shuffling around by myself, Trace is behind Chelsea with an arm around her waist and they're getting down (I think he likes her), but Sophie…

I'm kind of embarrassed for her, actually. I don't want to tell her, but it's purely her celebrity keeping her afloat here because this friend of Chelsea's while less attractive than her is about ten fucking times the dancer she is. She's fully aware of it too, you can tell by the smirk. I have worn that smirk myself, I know that smirk. It's the look of somebody who's barely even trying, still winning by a mile and knows it. I may have to consider using her for my next video actually, that confidence comes off well in performance even if it pisses people off in real life.

Still, this is all looking fairly harmless for the moment so I'm keeping my overly large and ugly nose out of it. I know better than to get in the middle of a bitch fight.

At least until I'm pulled into one by Sophie using me as a stripper pole. Shit, now bystanders really are looking. Kennedy has this disgusted 'you whore' expression on her face and I'm trying to stay deadpan. I really wish she wasn't doing this, I do NOT need more press attention right now and this is a gossip column gold nugget right here. I also really wish she wasn't grinding into my crotch because this could get me into an embarrassing situation here, especially given that she's got a boyfriend.

Oh shit, what if her father gets wind of this…

…or her boyfriend who just swung for me. Huh. Where'd he come from?

***

Oh hell. Marco Fako's in the building and going for Justin. Oh fucking shit.

My first instinct is to grab Sophie out of there and pull her out of the way. What with her rubbing up on Justin like a bitch on heat she was directly in the line of fire. God only knows what she had to have been drinking to be pulling that hoochie dance crap, she doesn't even like dancing. I practically throw her back behind me; Kennedy catches her and Sophie looks disgusted about that but I'm not too interested. Trace has immediately jumped into the fray to protect his buddy, and there's a gathering crowd of onlookers.

Shit, I see cell phones pointed our way… just fucking great. What's Marco doing here? What are any of these famous people doing here? Why the hell did I have to get myself caught up with famous people? It's nothing but drama. Why did I let Kennedy talk me into coming out here in the first place?

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

"Asshole!"

"Bastardo!"

"Piece of shit…"

"¡Hijo de puta!" That one was Sophie and I refuse to translate it.

All three of the guys are throwing insults and I'm thinking it's a good thing that even if cell phones can take film or photos of this whole sorry incident the music should be too loud for them to pick up sound.

Trace and Justin finally manage to shove Marco backwards and away from themselves. After taking a stumble he rights himself, manages to get steady on his feet. I almost have to laugh actually, because he is totally wearing Justin's outfit only his pants and waistcoat are pinstripe. Collar shirts, waistcoat, suit pants and statement belts - it'd almost be funny if I wasn't afraid he was going to charge for Justin again. Where the fuck are the club bouncers? Neither of them is likely to back down so it'd be easier to split them up if one of them got kicked out… more tabloid worthy too but right now I'm more concerned about faces being smashed in.

Then Marco decides to round on Sophie instead, firing off at her in Italian. Italian and Spanish aren't the same language, but they're both rooted in Latin and enough is the same that if you know one you can get the gist of the other. You might not be able to translate exactly, but you can catch the meaning. I'm not good enough at either to get what he's saying but Sophie is and now she's yelling at the top of her lungs in Spanish. I'm guessing that whatever he just called her it wasn't nice.

I don't like it when they have these bi-lingual conversations at the best of times. I only get half of what she's saying and none of what he's saying. This is bad enough when they're just talking (they need a lot of mediation and if I don't know what they've said it's difficult). When they're yelling like this and I suspect punches might get thrown again it's downright dangerous.

"Ken we need to get her out of here!" Did I mention I'm panicking?

My best friend doesn't help with the evil grin she's wearing. She loves this far too much. "It's her own problem, honey. She's the one dry humping a dude who's not her boyfriend."

Then Marco's had enough of Sophie and tries to charge for Justin again. The two of them are now actually on the floor. If I weren't so terrified of cops and tabloids and losing my job, I'd be walking away in disgust. This is pathetic. I know the Italian Impostor started it but does Justin need to be getting quite so into trying to beat the crap out of him? Though I would like somebody to beat the crap of him so on balance…

Sophie's being useless, Trace is trying to help but having difficulty getting between them when they're on the floor like that, and me and Ken make the colossal mistake of trying to help Trace pull Marco off him - he had a lucky break and now has Justin pinned. Clearly the little reprobate has done this before.

Why is it a mistake, you ask? Marco kind of rears back to shake us both off and in the process sends Kennedy flying, her head smacking the floor with a sickening thud. As for me, I get his elbow smashed into my nose and I see stars. Then I taste blood.

***

That bastard just practically KO'd Kennedy. Fucking asshole, you don't do that to a woman! She's sitting up, which is a good sign, but she's gone from sober to looking like she's been sinking tequila all night in the space of five seconds. That's not good, she might have a concussion or a head injury or something and where were those fucking bouncers when he started this shit on me? It's not my fault his girlfriend was having a jealousy fit over Chelsea! Well, his girlfriend's taking care of him right now, yelling and slapping and generally going ape shit. He's too busy to worry about the fact he just assaulted two women who were only trying to calm his crazy ass down.

Shit, two women… why do I only see one? Where the fuck did Chelsea go? I saw her take that hit and she should not be running off anywhere alone right now, how the fuck did she get out of this circle of vultures round us and where the fuck did she go?

"You okay with her?" I shout to Trace who is by Kennedy's side and asking her to tell him how many fingers he's holding up and who's President.

"I think she needs an ambulance!" He yells back. I think he's right - she seems to be slumping back down again, having a hard time sitting up. Thankfully, I see a couple of the people who were taking pictures on their cell phones actually doing something useful and dialling 911 on them.

"I'm going to find Chelsea!" I yell at him even as I've jumped to my feet. Nobody else seems to be thinking about her. I imagine Kennedy would be if she hadn't just had her head thrown into the floor so she gets a reprieve, but Sophie seems more concerned with bitching out her loser boyfriend.

It's hard trying to push my way out through the crowd, and I'm being pretty rude and aggressive about it. There's a group of girls who seem disinclined to let me through, like they think this is my fault and I need my ass arrested, and then there's another group of girls who are equally disinclined like they think I should spend some time with them instead. I'm taking a wild stab in the dark here, but if I were Chelsea I'd want air and space so I'm headed for the door.

Sure enough, I burst through the back door with its conspicuous lack of bouncer and she's slumped against the wall. Her hands and her previously white hoodie are covered in blood and all I can think is "oh shit." Her nose looks nasty and I'm thinking she'll need the hospital too - I suspect it's broken. Her breathing's all shaky and her eyes are wild. She might be going into shock, too. Shit, why didn't I take that first aid class at camp instead of opting to go kayaking?

"Chelsea?" I kneel down next to her and gently pull her hands away from her face - it'll only hurt more if she keeps touching it.

"Oww," she whimpers, tears rolling down her face. She looks scared as all hell and I really want to go finish pounding the living daylights out of Marco Lame-o in there. It's bad enough injuring one woman like that but two? He didn't even attempt to say sorry to either of them!

"Are you dizzy?" I ask her. "Can you see alright?"

"My nose really hurts."

"Yeah, I think maybe I ought to drive you to the hospital." I help pull her up to her feet, and she's really unsteady on them. I wonder how much she drank before this happened; it can't be helping and I'll probably need to warn the docs in the ER.

"Did I mention I'm having a shitty night?"

I almost had to laugh at that, but I can't quite do it. I've got my arm around her back and she's clinging onto me like she thinks she's going to fall down if she doesn't. I'm worried this is a realistic possibility, and I'm also worried because she seems so scared by all this. I can feel her shaking and it makes me tighten my grip, draw her closer. Well, at least my car's close by and I only had half a beer before Trace stole it. I'll be okay to drive.

"You and me both but on balance I think you take the prize for shittiest. My car's just in the lot, you okay to walk?" Preferably as fast as possible because the paparazzi have to be racing here at seriously illegal speeds?

She nods, but then she kind of straightens up and turns to go back in the club. "Oh my God, Kennedy…"

"Is with Trace, he's getting her to the hospital too. We'll meet them there. It's better for her if we get me out here before the tabloids show up so they don't crowd her trying to get to me."

That's actually a good point now I think of it, but it's not my true reason at all. I just don't think it wise to tell her right now that I think paramedics ought to be driving Kennedy there rather than me. In fact, now it crosses my mind they ought to bustle Sophie out of there too, so I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and give Trace a quick call with instructions to do just that. Being the tabloid veteran that he is, he's already ordered their asses out of there. I'm not comfortable with the idea of Marco taking Sophie home, but then she does seem to be the only woman he didn't hit this evening.

Chelsea still seems like she's wavering, like she wants to go back in after Kennedy, but I firmly steer her towards the car and eventually she acquiesces, sinking into my side in defeat. I hear a couple of sniffles and then a wince of pain as she realises that broken noses and sniffing lead to ouch. She's wiping blood off her face but is only succeeding in smearing it, though at least it seems to have slowed.

"So you got plans for tomorrow?" She's trying to distract herself.

"Got a meeting with my management about my tour, though I guess now it'll be about bar fights, too." It's my turn to wince. This shit will be everywhere.

"I knew it was a bad idea her going out with you," Chelsea comments. She sounds a little dazed, actually, and I try to concentrate on this being not great medically rather than her suggesting this is my fault. But hey, if she's dazed then she can't know what she's saying so I'll forgive her.

"Why's that?"

"Tabloid dream even before Marco Fako decided to start woman beating. I bet one of them called him and told him."

Oh. Actually, she has a point. She's bleeding and in shock and even she managed to realise before I did that this evening was asking for trouble. Shit, now I feel really fucking stupid.