"Sevens?"

"Go Fish."

Trace looks utterly confused; clearly he was convinced I had sevens. For somebody who claims he rules at this game, he really kind of sucks. Justin, on the other hand, readily admits to sucking and from there the only way is up.

Yes, I am hanging out with Justin and Trace. I have been hanging out with Justin and Trace a lot for the past week, mostly on account of me being totally furious with Sophie and her lame ass still-not-ex boyfriend. I get more furious ever time I look in a mirror at my purple nose or I call Kennedy. To be honest, I kind of wish I'd done this earlier (not the injuries, just the hanging) because Trace is awesome. I already liked the dude, but he is truly awesome. Justin is also extremely pleasant company, though sometimes I still feel a tad uncomfortable when he's around. It's taking me a little while longer with him - it's the celebrity thing, I still get a little star struck sometimes. I really feel like I should have befriended these guys earlier.

"What time is my call for tomorrow?" Justin idly asks Trace as he stares at his cards, wondering what to do with his move. I get the competitive impression from him. It's not like he cares that much over a game of Go Fish, but sometimes you just see a little of it stirring behind the eyes.

"Umm…" Trace is thinking too hard about this. "Umm… I think it's six."

"It's got to be more like five," I correct him. They look up at me in surprise and it almost makes me roll my eyes a little. Justin's been on a few sets now, he should know the drill. "Justin's on the same shooting schedule as Sophie tomorrow and her call is six, but with those cuts and bruises they'll need to do at least an hour's worth of effects make up on Justin first. There's no way they'll have the same call time."

Justin reaches out and gives him an affectionate smack around the head. "See, she knows my shit better than you do, ass."

"Whatever, butt- munch," Trace replies. "I'll double check the call sheet."

"Kings, Chelsea?" Justin finally takes his move and begrudgingly I hand him over the three Kings I collected. Damn it, I hate it when that happens.

"Hey, how's Kennedy?"

"She's okay, yeah, her mom's thinking of going home tomorrow and I know she wouldn't go if anything still looked wrong."

Trace asks this at least once a day, another reason I like him. I have to say, both of these guys seriously raised themselves in my estimations after that hospital saga. I'm still mildly ticked at Justin for participating in that fight, but he was really great with me on the way to the hospital and everything. If he hadn't come out there and found me I probably would have had a full scale panic attack; I'm a total wuss with blood, particularly my own. I can be around horror movie sets or watch movies with tons of fake blood splashed everywhere, but only because I know it's not the real thing.

Trace rode with Kennedy in the ambulance, and he sat outside her room waiting for news then rushed through to my cubicle to update me with it. Justin sat with me through the whole painful examination, and the guys even went to x ray with me while they ascertained that my nose wasn't broken (yeah, my nose was so swollen the doctor wasn't actually sure, and he said normally he can tell straight off). Ken had a pretty nasty concussion so they kept her for observation overnight, but the doctors said she'd pretty much recover on her own; her mom just came to stay to keep an eye on her and be there to dial the hospital if there was any dizziness or bad signs like that.

"Nobody's been anywhere near her looking for quotes, have they?" Justin chews his lip nervously. "Fours, Trace."

I shake my head as Trace hands over his solitary four of clubs. "No. There was one guy but Ken's mom lied her ass off and said she was the new tenant, Ken had just moved."

"Shit. I'll give her a call later and say sorry."

That was the other thing the guys did. They took both our home and cell numbers and for the first couple of days when I was off set and not there to give updates, they religiously checked on us.

"It's not necessary Justin; she knows the deal and her mom got rid of the guy anyway."

Justin sets his jaw and I know he'll call anyway, but at least I tried. I feel horrible for him over this whole thing, actually. Of all the extra scandals to pop up on top of that woman beating crap, he had to get into a fight which reinforced this 'mad, bad and violent' image. Trace swore me to secrecy on what actually happened with Monica, and if somebody hadn't got injured I would have laughed my head off. It sounds so soap opera.

The paparazzi have descended on the set in hordes and the studio has actually taken on extra security to keep them back. It's also cost them a bundle to rent more space - they don't need it for filming, but it keeps the vultures further back. Sophie's drama cost them a lot of money, and they're not particularly pleased with her right now. Justin only got back into their good graces after offering to let them take it out of his fee.

"So, you actually speaking to Sophie yet?" Trace asks.

"Nope," I say through gritted teeth.

"You probably should, she feels horrible," Justin says.

"So she fucking well should." I bristle at his defence of her. She doesn't fucking deserve it.

Her lame ass boyfriend went psycho and seriously injured both me and Kennedy and did he say sorry? No. Did she say sorry? Yes, but in the way of 'oh I'm sorry but you're not going to press charges are you' so I really don't think it counts. I nearly hit the roof. He put my best friend into a hospital bed, she was being checked for possible brain damage and Sophie is more worried about her precious Marco than Kennedy or even me who she claims is her best friend?

So, my relationship with Sophie has currently deteriorated to 'strictly business.' I don't talk to her unless I'm asking or answering work questions. Even when she asks me to do the coffee run I just get up and go do it without speaking. I know this is childish and if I'm honest it's hard work, but I would like a real apology from her first. I also think I deserve one from her bastard of a boyfriend (who still blames her and Justin for this, can you believe it) but that'll happen the day the dinosaurs make a comeback.

"Threes, Trace." Okay, for somebody who claims he sucks why is Justin winning so easily? "Yeah, I know she should Chels but she really does. You're the only thing she talks about and if I'm honest, I'd like you to forgive her purely so she'll shut up. If I have to give my opinion on what kind of sorry present she should give you one more time I'm gonna have to throw some shit."

Present? I haven't seen any gifts, what is she…

Wait, no, righteous indignation here, focus on that Chelsea. She's still screwing the asshole that hospitalised you and your best friend. Actually, that's the thing I really would be telling her if I was still speaking to her. He was a total asshole to her as well as being a violent freak. He was jealous, paranoid, jumped to ridiculous conclusions, he made a total scene of her in public knowing that she's a total tabloid magnet and as far as I'm aware I'm not the only one missing an apology from the son of a bitch.

"And also… twos, Chelsea?"

"Go Fish," I tell him.

He picks up a card, licks his lips and then speaks again. "Have you ever noticed when she gets upset she speaks Spanish a lot?"

"It's come to my attention." I have been working for her for four years, dumb ass. I know her considerably better than you do, even if she has got her flirt on.

"Yeah, I didn't take Spanish, I took French and I sucked at that too. I like it when she talks like a normal person."

"Because Spanish people aren't normal, moron?" Trace takes the words right out of my mouth.

"You know what I mean."

"I'll take your suffering into consideration next time I look in the mirror and see how my nose is now only twice as big as normal instead of like five times."

Okay, I was being kind of bitchy and I was doing the glare that normally scares all men far away from me, but instead he just reaches out and ruffles my hair. "I appreciate that."

I have no idea what to say to that, so instead I play with the beads around my neck and stare at my cards. Normally I'm good at this game but the change in topic has totally rid my mind of all my careful strategising. I don't particularly want to talk or even think about Sophie right now. I feel really betrayed, to be honest. Like… intellectually, I knew I was an employee and that I wasn't as important to her as she makes out. Hell, I told you that myself. It's… now I feel like she's only gone and proven how little I matter.

"Queens, Trace?" I finally manage to speak and he willingly hands over one. "Same, Justin?"

"Damn it." He hands his last one over and look at that, I made another nice tidy little set for my pile.

"Umm… tens, Trace?"

"Go Fish." He shakes his head at me and then ponders his own set of cards. "So what delights has Miss Chelsea got in store tonight? You going to go get in more club brawls?"

I ignore the inappropriate joke. "Kennedy and I were going to go see a movie and have dinner but she's still really tired. I'll probably order pizza and watch Bones."

"Well hey, so long as you weren't going to some chick flick we could go," he suggests. Justin's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline at this suggestion, and I can't see why. It didn't feel like a date invitation. "JT here has schmoozing to do and I'm not invited."

"Hey!" Justin smacks his arm. "It's not like I want to go to the stupid thing."

"This that thing Sophie has tonight at the studio?" I ask. Justin nods in the affirmative. It's very exclusive, VIP only. The little people don't count. I just hope Marco's not considered important enough to be let in or I foresee another smack down. Mostly because Marco's an asshole and Justin's still kind of pissed about last time - I like to think a little of that is on my and Kennedy's behalf.

"What do you say, Chelsea, wanna save me from some boredom?"

I'm not so sure I want to be saved from staring at David Boreanaz for an hour, but I still say "sure."

***

She thinks I don't know, but I do.

If Sophie wants to improve on her stealth I suggest she cuts out the little breathy sighs. I'd also recommend she didn't shuffle her feet so loud. Because as it is, I am well aware that she's been hovering behind me for the last five minutes and it's starting to irritate me. She's irritated me quite enough for one lifetime so she needs to stop. On the one hand, I don't want to talk to her. On the other, I'd really like her to quit it and it might be easier if I let her know the jig's up.

"Chelsea?" Oh, no, points for showing some guts finally.

"Hmm?" You notice my non-committal response there. It's not talking but it's not ignoring my employer either. I have far too much practice at the silent treatment - used to give it my mother all the time before I moved out.

"You gonna talk to me some time this año?"

I give an equally non-committal shrug and she sighs again, sitting down next to me on the trailer steps. They're not really wide enough for my fat butt and her skinny one, but she just about manages to perch. She stares at her nails, picking at her French manicure like that'll tell her how to fix this. A sheet of glossy dark hair falls at the side of her face and I'm sure that if this were on film it'd look dazzling.

Well it's not and it sucks.

"Look, I'm really sorry. And I know I can't make what that hijo de puta did right and I can't fix you or Kennedy but I miss you. I bought you a present…"

I'm about to turn around and start ranting at how throwing Prada or Crème de la Mer at me won't fix anything, but she's actually pulled out a gift certificate for the local Cineplex and a slip of paper with a time and an address scribbled on it. I recognise the name on the address - it's a little family pizza place me and Kennedy frequent but Sophie won't set foot in. It's that stupid diet of hers, she says pizza is junk. And also she told me how in Italy it originated as a way to use up old leftovers.

Did I mention I'm somewhat confused by this?

"Justin told me that you and Trace were going out tonight, so I thought…" She blushes, and I'm not sure why. Is she nervous?

"This gift certificate is way too much for two tickets." That's pretty much all I can think to say. Sophie blushes even deeper then, and something that I think is shame passes over her face.

"I figured I owed Kennedy too but Justin said she was still too sick to come out. Is she going to be okay?"

I nod. "Yeah. She's just tired and the doctor told her to take it easy."

"Bueno," she says. Nice to know she doesn't hate Kennedy that much, I guess. "I broke it off with him. Marco," she clarifies like she'd be talking about anybody else. I'm surprised - even if she hadn't told me I'd have thought her publicist would have mentioned it. "You were right, he's an asshole."

"Hmm." I'm back to evasive. I'm a little blindsided, to be honest. The second Justin told me she'd been thinking presents I started thinking she was going to throw expensive shit at me. This, much as I hate to admit it, was actually thoughtful… though I could have used some more perfume. I'm running out and it's Sophie's fault I'm hooked on Dior in the first place.

"I was too," she admits in a surprising moment of candour. "Getting drunk, getting into that stupid… whatever that was with your friend, dragging Justin into it. Not standing up for you better. Not dumping him on the spot. Bastardo estupido."

"I can't say I disagree," I let out a huff, but then she turns those big doe eyes on me.

"I really am sorry."

"You should be. You were really irresponsible, you caused yet more media trouble for Justin, you've had two sets of publicists working over time, and that asshole put two people in hospital and you were more worried about him than us. Oh, and your father chewed me out like it was my fucking fault and you said nothing. You really pissed me off, Soph."

"I know. I really am sorry. Forgive me?"

I let out one more sigh, plucking at the beaded bracelet on my wrist. Funnily enough, now I've actually let that all off my chest it seems… well, not like it doesn't matter any more, but just like it's more energy than it's worth to stay mad. "Eh, you had me at dumping Marco."

She throws an arm around my shoulder and plants a big kiss on my cheek, her smile bright. I can't say I'm smiling and I can't say that I'm going to have immediate fluffy bunny feelings for her again, but I appreciate the apology. Also, I really hated Marco even before he trashed my nose so that's a huge bright spot in my day. You may have got that impression by the way I consistently call him Marco Fako. In fact Trace and I had a really amusing conversation in which we came up with many unrepeatable variations on said nickname.

"So what's with dating Trace?"

Wow, she wastes no time.

"It's not a date."

"Oh." Wow, she looks kind of disappointed. I bet she was dying for gossip.

Then Justin decides to mosey on by - Sophie's on break right now so I'm guessing he's just been let off for his - and he smiles and nods at me. I have a sneaking suspicion he thinks I actually listened to him earlier. I really, really didn't. I had every intention on being mad at her for at least another two days. Maybe three if her father so much breathed anywhere near my good self in the meantime… and it would have been a week if Marco had shown up.

"Ladies."

"Justin," Sophie smiles. "Ready for tonight?"

He rolls up his sweater sleeves like wardrobe aren't constantly yelling at him for it and groans. "I think I might be washing my hair."

"Huh. I was planning a family emergency." She crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out, a sign of precisely how little she wants to go to this studio shindig tonight.

"That's a better excuse."

"Back off, I had it first."

"Now, now, children, more than one family is allowed emergencies at a time. Just don't make up medical conditions that don't exist, people do check. What?" I ask as they look at me strangely. So I made up a virus one time, big deal.

Justin shakes his head out as if to say 'whatever.' "Oh, Sophie, can I ask you a Spanish question?"

"Sí," she answers. Apparently he at least knows enough to know she said yes.

"What exactly does 'tuves una piña amohedo' mean?"

Now both of us are staring at him bug eyed. This isn't even because his accent is atrocious and he totally mangled that sentence (I'm not even sure it's grammatically correct or that tuves is a word but that's more a Sophie question). I'm really not sure I heard what I think I just did. Who the hell told him that piece of weirdness?

"Who told you that?" She asks.

"Trace. He told me to say that to your deranged ex next time I saw him…." Wait, she told Justin before me? Didn't know they were that close. "Why, what does it mean?"

Sophie laughs and shakes her head before finally telling him. "It means 'you're a mouldy pineapple.' You better be glad you got the translation first or you'd have sounded really stupid."

I'm trying not to laugh but… come on, this is hilarious. Trace told him to walk up to a guy and call him a mouldy fruit. We're both biting our lips and trying not to crease up at his expense but it's somewhat painful keeping this kind of belly laugh in.

"Right." Justin blinks for a moment and then cracks his knuckles. "Excuse me, ladies. Chelsea, I apologise but Trace might not show up for your date tonight, since I'm planning on killing him and tossing him in the marina and all. Later."

I don't even have time to protest that it's not a date before he walks off. I don't even have time to reiterate it to Sophie because the second he's out of earshot we've both collapsed into each other in the kind of giggles that don't quit for a good ten minutes. The kind of giggles that are set back off the minute you even remember having them.

See, this is why Trace is awesome.