"And so then Trace left me this message..." Shannon rambled on about her love life as McKayla's mind wandered on.

It'd been two weeks since she'd left Justin and not a word. She'd expected him to call, to atleast check up on her. Or have Nick call her with some BS reason to check on her for him. But there was nothing. Life continued on as if nothing had happened. She was up in Canada and he was still in LA. And to make matters worse, she'd come down with the flu and was getting sicker and sicker by the day. Then some paper had remported that she'd gotten SARS.

Morons.

"Are you even listening to me?"

McKayla snapped back into the present.

"Huh?"

"I said are you listening to me?"

"Ofcourse I was," she glanced over Shannon's shoulder to Athena, giving her a 'what the hell was she talking about?' look.

"Then what was I talking about?"

"I--It was uh--hrmm," McKayla studdered back and forth before giving Shannon puppy dog eyes.

"I knew you weren't listening to me," Shannon's hand slapped her knee, "You were thinking about you-know-who, weren't you?"

"No."

She hadn't been, not in a direct way atleast. Right?

"I'm sorry sweetie. Here I am going on and on about my love life and yours is... well."

"Can we please change the subject?"

"How about we change the subject to the fact that it's time to leave for your appointment with Fredrick?" Athena joined Shannon on the bed.

"Yeah yeah yeah," McKayla sighed as she stood.

Her body paused and she stood frozen before she raised a hand to her tummy.

"Wait, I think... I'm gonna... lose... my lunch."

McKayla began a brisk walk towards the bathroom while Shannon and Athena exchanged a look.

"That is the third time she's thrown up today," Athena stated.

"I know. We have got to get her to a doctor. I mean, I know why's she's sick. She's running herself ragged. She's dealing with Justin and the seperation and moving out and everything else all at once and trying to act like nothing's wrong. I'm not suprised it's making her puke her guts out, but she still can't go on like this for much longer."

"I made her an appointment for next week, after the ball."

"The ball," Shannon chewed on her lip, "That's not going to help her either."

"Seeing Justin again, after two weeks, wouldn't be easy on anyone."

"I'm not helping either, telling her about Trace all the time."

"It's not your fault," Athena patted her hand, "She'd dislike it even more if you were being all weird and not telling her stuff."

Shannon nodded.

"He asks about her ya know."

"He asks about her? She said that he didn't-."

"Oh he doesn't call her, " Shannon shook her head, "No, she'd hang up on him in two second flat. He asks Trace to ask me about her."

"Oh, well still, that's something.

"Yeah. He doesn't like her being sick either."

As if on cue McKayla opened the bathroom door, and Shannon motioned for Athena to keep the information she'd just given her on the down low.

"Alright you guys, let's go," McKayla sighed as she pulled on her jacket.

Justin sat on the sofa, tossing a baseball back and forth between his hands. The TV was on, but he was staring at it, half numbly. For the first time he could care less whether or not the Yankees won or lost.

He couldn't believe it'd been so long. Weeks. Two weeks. It was a miracle he'd made it this far. With every second that passed, the urge he had to go running to her hotel room (where ever that was) and beg for her to come back. His plan was slightly flawed though. He didn't know where she was, though that could be solved with a call to Nick, and he was almost positive she'd curse him out, and then kick him out.

He was trying to give her her space, because he knew that's what she needed. Any person in their right mind would need space after what happened. There was even a point in time in which he had sat down and evaluated their relationship. But in the end, he always came out as slightly more the bad guy than she did. And perhaps that was the appropriate thing for him to be. Thinking back to the words that they had fired at eachother and the actions that had transpired, he was disgusted with his own behavior, and even though it still hurt, he could justify hers.

"Hey, Loser!" Trace called out as he stepped into the house.

"Why do you have a key to my house?"

"Your Mom gave it to my, for security reasons," he smiled devilishly as he shoved the key into his pocket.

"Well beat it," Justin went back to tossing his ball back and forth.

"Dude, can't, here's why. You and me, are going out tonight."

"No," Justin's answer was simple.

"J, you have been sitting in this house for days, doing exactly jack shit."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is. You get up and you sit on your ass and pout."

"No, I went out to lunch earlier."

"For an interview. That was work, it doesn't count. Now come on, get up, let's go, we're going to Amber."

"No."

"Yes, now get your ass up," Trace tugged on his arm.

"No."

"Yes, I am tired of sitting here watching you slowly turn into a vegetable. Now, do't make me call Mike, cause you know he can make you go."

Justin shot Trace a glare before allowing himself to be pulled from the couch.

"Up the stairs, shower, get dressed, you got 20 minutes."

"Hi, we're here for a 6:30 appointment. The names Lindsay," Shannon smiled politely at the receptionist.

"One moment please," she woman typed a few words into her computer and after a moment her face went alittle pale and she looked up.

"Your Fredricks 6:30?"

"That's what she said,"Athena piped up.

The whole point of scheduling McKayla under a false name was to avoid people like the one standing before them, though it didn't help when salons put her actual name in the computer.

"Uh... please-please follow me," the woman studdered.

McKayla was lead down a hall to a room in the back, where a man with dark hair and brown eyes waited.

"McKayla!" he shouted happily, "Sweet heart."

"Hello Fredrick," McKayla replied as he kissed both her cheeks.

"My dear, how are you? You look fantastic. How have you been?" he held both her hands.

"Oh thank you. I'm doing good, how are you?"

"Your people flew me out here for $200 an hour, I can't complain."

"If they flew you out here, you could have just come to my room."

"Your not my only client sweet heart. Although your my favorite."

It didn't take a genius to know that he was kissing up to her, although mixed in somewhere was alittle geniue liking and consern.

"Is it true what I heard on the television? About you and Justin?"

McKayla shrugged, niether conferming nor denying. It wasn't that she didn't trust Fredrick, it was that, she didn't know Fredrick all that well.

"That's alright sweetheart, you don't have to say it. I understand," he squeezed her shoulders, "But turn that frown upside down because you are a new McKayla and you are better off without him anyway. Men are nothing but trouble, take it from me, I'm an expert."

Whether Fredrick was talking about the fact that he was a man, or the fact that he dated men she wasn't sure. But she smiled just the same.

"Now, come into my budrarr and let me take care of you."

McKayla sat down in the chair and was covered with a __(sheet?)__. After pulling all of his tools to his side he leaned down so he could meet her eyes in the mirror.

"So, what do you want to do today?"

McKayla started to ask for a wash and trim, but shut her mouth instead. She may have been a 'new McKayla' but the woman staring back at her looked exactly like the old one.

"What would you do?" she asked him.

"If I had my way?"

She nodded.

"Well, I would cut it first. A woman's neck is incredibly sexy and you should show yours off," she pulled her hair into a twist and lifted it up to give an example, "Then I would change the color. Black is beautiful on dark skin, but so are lighter colors like a red or blonde. Look at that one rapper uh... Eva?"

"Eve?"

"Yes, Eve, she looks radiant. It's brightens up her complection, makes her almost... glow. Then highlights and low lights to give it depth and demention. Then I'd give you a bed head kind of style. It's simple, easy, and fast so it's good for your lifestyle, but it's hip and edgy, like you and the height will compliment your round face. But that's just me, that's what I would do, but I am only the stylist, you are the client. What would you like?"

Hip and edgy or same dull Kay? Wasn't much of a choice was it?

"Go for it," she said.

"Really?" the man's face practically light up.

"Yes. I am yours, do with me what you wish."

"Alright. Well look in the mirror and say goodbye to this McKayla," he allowed her a second before spinning her chair away from the mirror.

"Helllllooo ladies," Trace made eyes at a table of girls.

When he turned to Justin for approval, he replied with a 'pshh' noise and rolled his eyes.

"Can we leave now?"

"We just got here."

"This place is not jumping Trace," Justin looked around.

"The night is young man. Grab a seat, I'll get your a drink."

"I'm not thristy."

"Well get thirsty. You need something to make you chill out," Trace muttered as he left the room.

Justin chuckled to himself before looking around. The places was packed with drunk gyrating 20-something year olds. Something that normally would have been his scene, but he didn't feel like it tonight.

"Here old man, drink up," Trace handed him something.

Justin sniffed it before wrinkling his nose.

"What is it?"

"Water, now shut up and drink."

"This ain't water, bitch," he was getting slightly annoyed with this short person ordering him around.

Regardless, he still put the glass to his lips and swallow most of the contents.

"Definately not water," he coughed out.

"Nope, here, lemme get you another," Trace slapped him on the back before trudging off again.

"And here we are," Fredrick smiled at her, "You look amazing."

Her chair was spun around and the __(sheet?)__ was removed. McKayla sat there a moment staring at her reflection. Was that... was that really her? She winked one eye just to be sure. Yep, it was her.

"Wow," she said. That was all she could say. Her hair was short and layered, little whispy side swept bangs falling into her eyes and hairs tickling the spot where her neck became her back. It was tossled and messy, but still put together. She liked all that about it, but what she wasn't sure if she liked or not, was the color.

When Fredrick had said a lighter color, he definately meant a lighter color, but she wasn't even sure what color this was exactly. It wasn't quite blonde, and it wasn't quite brown, and it wasn't quite red. It was... copper? Rust maybe? Something along that line. Her bangs were lighter than the hair on the top of her hair, and there were honey blonde streaks through out. She wasn't quite sure of what to make of it.

"Well, what do you think?" Fredrick asked.

"It's just wow."

"I know it's a big change, it'll take a day or two to get used too."

McKayla had the feeling she'd been more like a week, or two, minimum.

"I think I like it," she said.

She wasn't interesting in hurting the man's feeling, even if a small part of he felt like crying.

"I'm glad, you look beautiful," he smiled.

"Thank you," she stood up to hug him.

Then he primped her hair once more before leading her back down the hallway to the reception area where Athena and Shannon were waiting.

"May I present to you, the new and improved, and Justin-less, McKayla Malone," Fredrick stepped to the side allowing her to be seen.

Athena's mouth dropped open before she elbowed Shannon who was on her cellphone.

"Oww! Quit it. What?" her eyes landed on McKayla and her face went blank.

"I'll call you back," she muttered into her phone before closing it.

"Well?" McKayla asked, wincing as she prepared herself for anything.

Surprisingly, a slow smile spread over Athena's face before she let out a scream.

"I love it!" she launched herself at McKayla, giving her a hug before playing with her hair.

"What?"

"I love it. It's so cute, oh my God," she smiled.

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

"Shan?" McKayla turned to her bestfriend.

"You look so hot," the woman smiled.

"Really?" this was the exact opposite of what she'd expected.

"Yes. I love it, it's so so cute on you."

"Your not just saying that are you?" she asked quietly.

"No, it's adorible. I'd get it, but I'm pretty sure my pale skin couldn't care off that color."

"What color is it exactly?" Athena leaned in closer to examine.

"Would you get your hands out of there? It was perfection before you messed with it," Fredrick shooed her hands away.

"Well... pshhh... excuse me then," Athena made a face at him.

"Now children, please," McKayla turned to them, "We need to be going. Athena grab your bag. Fredrick, thank you so so much."

"It was a pleasure sweetheart. And don't worry, be happy right?"

"Yeah," McKayla nodded.

"Okay," he kissed her cheeks again and sent her off towards the elevator, the two woman bickering and asking questions about her style along the way.

Nearly an hour later, two figures stumped towards the dance floor in a fit of laughter. Justin had lost track of how many glasses of 'water' Trace had given him, but the effects had long since taken hold. He felt good, better than he had felt in a while. He felt free and alive and dare he even say happy. He was on top of the world, and he deserved to feel like that. So what if he had problems, they'd still be there tomorrow, waiting to haunt him, so what was wrong with letting lose tonight?

"Over there," Trace pointed to three girls on the floor, smiling back at them.

Justin bite his lip and moved his head along with the bass as one of the girls did a dance to the beat.

"Oh yeah, come on," Trace grabbed Justin collar and pulled him towards the floor.

It was several fast paced hours before they pulled themselves from the floor again to return to their table, the three girls along side them.

"What do you want? You want a drink? Boiler Rooms all around," Trace ordered.

The five of them were squished into a booth, talking animatedly about absolutely nothing at all.

"Oh yeah, I dated a guy like that. Total ass," the blonde nodded her head.

"Yeah? That's so cool," Trace leaned into her with astonishment, "You know, we have alot in common. I really feel like we're connecting on a spiritual level."

When he raised his hand, she placed hers against it and stared as if there was some magical, powerful force being unlocked.

"Me too," she said.

Justin and the other two girls burst out laughing and Trace and the un-named blonde glared at them.

"Hey, hey you wanna come do shots with me?" the redhead nudged them.

"Naw, that's okay," the blonde shook her head.

"Come on! Bet I can do more body shots than you," she challeneged.

The blonde raised an over waxed eyebrow at her.

"Your on!"

The girls giddily climbed out the booth, Trace scrambling behind them yelling 'I get to be the body!'

Justin laughed and looked over at the girl he was now left with.

"No shots for you?"

"Nope," she shook her head, "I'm happy with my Boiler Room for the moment."

She was quite obviously the soberest of them all. She knew when to slow down, Justin didn't, though he preferred to think he had no choice in the matter and Trace had made him swallow every drop of alcohol coarsing through his system.

"What's your name again?" he asked the brunette.

"Mack-."

"Wait," he held a finger up, "I love this song! This is my song!"

Before she could blink Justin was standing up in the booth, his drink in his hand.

"Everybody in the club gettin tipsy!" he shouted.

When several people around them turned to look at him, the girl tugged on his shirt till he climbed back down.

"I can't believe you did that!" she shouted.

"Me neither!"

The two fell all over eachother, laughing in hysterics and trying not to spill their precious drinks in the process. After a moment Justin's laughter started to subside and he looked over at the brunette whose laughter was so infectious. It was seemed so familiar to him for some reason.

She stared back at him, her brown eyes dancing happily across his face. Her eyes, her laugh, her dark hair. She seemed so warm, so familiar, so homey, but he just couldn't put his finger on why. But for some reason, something insdie of him felt like he was supposed to be with her, and he got the greatest urge to kiss her. It was impossible to resist, he was a man who hadn't been kissed in what felt like years.

He leaned forward slowly, he could hear the girls sharp intake of breath as he got close to her. But she didn't move, didn't back away. His lips touched hers gently at first and he pulled back to catch his own breath. The girl just sat beside him with her eyes closed, so he leaned in again, this time adding more pressure to his lips. Her hands slide to his shoulders as she kissed him back, and for a second a red light went off in his head.

Wrong.

Wrong.

WRONG.

Something about it suddenly didn't feel warm, suddenly didn't feel homey. But she had seemed so familiar before.

McKayla.

That was why. Brown eyes, infectious laugh, dark hair. His drunken mind was subconciously searching for her. But it wasn't McKayla that he'd found. She may have resembeled her through a drunken blur, but her hands didn't slide to the back of his neck like McKayla's always did, and she didn't moan into his mouth the way McKayla did. Her fingertips didn't sent an electric wave over him and her lips weren't full and soft the way his wife's were.

She wasn't McKayla.

Justin pulled away abruptly and put a hand to his lips.

"What?" the girl asked, clearly startled.

"I-I," he studdered, "I have to go."

Justin wobbly slid out of the booth and moved over to the bar.

"We have to go," he called to Trace.

"What? Why? Come on man, the party's just beginning."

"No, I'm leaving, you can come on or find a ride on your own."

The blonde from before poured Tequila over his abdomen and Trace's eyes light up.

"I'm staying man," he declared.

Justin flicked him off and flew down the stairs to the main floor and over to the door. After ushering security to call him a cab, he moved away from the crowd, the smoke, and the noise, to a secluded area. He leaned his back against the wall, the alcohol making him strangely and uncomfortably emotional. He raised his hands to his eyes, willing the tears not to fall.

"Stop," he told himself, "stop it."

But that didn't stop the flow of emotion and he allowed a few tears to excape before he angrily brushed them away. What the hell did he just do?