‘SHE IS THE DANCING QQQUUUEEEN. YOUNG AND SWEET ONLY – ‘

I grabbed my phone and sat up, eyes still closed, and answered groggily, ‘Good morning and thank you for calling Bender, Klein, and Associates. How may I help you?’

‘Em, babe, it’s me. Where are you?’

‘Hmm?’

‘The phones have been ringing nonstop all morning and I’ve been trying to cover for you, but, honey, I have a job to do. And soon, Mr. Happy Hands is gonna notice that his favorite asset is missing.’

Pause. Sorry, how rude of me not to introduce myself. Hello, my name is Emma Porter and currently my life is spiraling into disaster. The melodic tenor on the other end of the line is my one of my best friends and temporary roommate, James, who I met working at, you guessed it, Bender, Klein, and Associates law firm where we both work as administrative assistants to the head honchos. He and Jennifer, my actress by day- bartender by night best friend/roommate act as my stand in family (think Sex and the City minus the money and the glamour and Sarah Jessica Parker) and I couldn’t imagine my life in LA without them. Now, back to the situation at hand:

‘Wait. What?’

‘Emma, baby, wake up. It’s 9:30. You’re late. Where are you?’

My eyes flew open as I hit the ‘End’ button.

‘FUCK!’

The only thing my boss, the Klein in Bender, Klein, and Associates (aka Mr. Happy Hands) loves more than money and glancing down my shirt in the elevator, is punctuality. As a former military man turned hot shot lawyer, the old buzzard lives to be on time. I heard he actually made one of his many ex-wives get a C-section so she could have his only son, a disgusting little weasel, at exactly midnight. I’m telling you, the man is loony and a pervert, but that’s beside the point. Currently, I was thirty minutes late for my dead end job and I was just realizing that I had no idea where the hell I was.

I glanced around the room taking in the pristine white carpet and walls, the baby grand piano in the corner, and the huge plasma screen above the fireplace attached to a sound system that probably costs more than I make in the year.

I slowly turned to my left, then looked down at myself to confirm my suspicions. Yep, I was in a bed. Naked. With no memory of how I got here… Damn.

I looked over again, hoping to see the man’s face so I could at least try to avoid him if I ever saw him again, but all I could see was a tuft of short brown curls sticking up from under the comforter.

Before you judge me, I swear, I’m not like this. I’m not one of those girls accustomed to sneaking out the morning after, doing the whole walk of shame and all that. God, Jennifer’s gonna have a field day when she finds out Miss ‘Safety First’ Emma had an  one night stand. I’m never gonna hear the end of it...

I took a deep breath before inching towards the side of the bed, sending silent thanks to God that the supple sheets (What are these silk? Who uses silk bed sheets?) didn’t rustle when I moved.  I leaned over the edge and scoped my pink bra peeking out from under the bed. Deep down inside I feel a bit relieved that whoever he was, at least he saw me in my sexy bra, even if it didn’t stay on too long. As I leaned and stretched down to reach the strap, I feel the silk sheets start to shift as I fell out of the bed.

THUMP…

My phone goes sliding under the bed as I hear a rustle from the bed above. I peek over the edge of the bed to see that my mystery man had turned over in his sleep and was now facing me. For a second I just sit there, blinking at the man sleeping naked less than 3 feet in front of me.

I can’t help it, a whisper escapes my lips ‘Oh dear sweet Jesus…’

There he was in the flesh. The man I had lusted over most of my teenage and some of my adult years. My dear God, I had slept with Justin Timberlake. I had slept with Justin Timberlake, world-renown sex icon….and I couldn’t remember a thing. DAMN!!!!

I swear sometime I think I’m God’s running joke. Like when the world gets God down, He parts the clouds and peeks into my life, throwing in a few funny things just to make Him chuckle. For example, here I am, wearing the robe of one of the sexiest men of all time and I’m about to jump off his balcony. Why am I about to risk my life rather than walk out the front door like any other respectable woman? Because it just hit me. It’s JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE. The man probably has paparazzi sleeping on his front doorstep and I’m sure they would find it interesting that some small time writer from Atlanta is waltzing out of the home he shares WITH HIS WIFE!!!!

Yeah, that’s right people, wife. You see, he wanted to with Britney, then he almost did with Cameron, then he actually did it, tied the knot I mean, with the former Ms. Jessica Biel. It’d been about a year and a half if I remember correctly and according to the usual gossip rags I secretly love to read (::cough:: Star ::cough::) things have been getting kinda rocky. But that’s none of my business…well maybe it is now that I’ve slept with her husband, but I digress. Anyways, since I can’t walk out the front door the old fashioned way, I figure the next best thing is to jump off his balcony. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s only one story up and there are some bushes to break my fall, so it shouldn’t be that bad, right? I’ll be fine, I just try to… I don’t know, fall lightly or something.

I look down into the trash bag I’d filched from under his bathroom sink.

Ok, purse, check.

Blouse, check.

Skirt, check.

Jen’s Manolo’s. Double check.

Bra check.

Panties… Panties?....Oh no…Oh God no…

I looked back into the room, my eyes searching frantically for my favorite panties. My pink Hello Kitty panties that aren’t meant to be seen by the light of day. Oh God…

I took a step back towards the room when Justin yawned and stretched, then spied my Blackberry on the carpet where it fell. I didn’t hesitate before diving for it, then reeling back around, I tossed by stuff over the balcony into the bushes below and followed suit.

Let me tell you, in the movies where the good guy leaps from a second story window into a patch of bushes, jumps up, and keeps running like it never happened, all that is a lie. It hurts. A lot. The branches stabbed about every inch of my body, my head’s throbbing, and there foliage in my hair, my snarled unforgiving hair that won’t release the sticks and leaves without a full 30 minute detangle session. And now, to make matters worse,  I have to sprint like Flo Jo so the gorgeous man upstairs won’t see some half naked, nature woman with a trash bag trying to escape in his robe  across his back lawn and over his fence. God, I hate my life….

Three backyards, one guard dog, and half a mile later, I hailed a taxi only after two others had passed, probably thinking I was some crazy, homeless lady.

‘Downtown, the Grant-Miller building, please.’

The cabbie, a creepy looking guy smelling strangely of moldy cheese, gave me smile and somehow managed to give me a once over in the two inch rearview mirror.

‘Whatever you like, ma’am’

Oh, God. I would get one of those. Which made my next request even worse.

‘Hey, I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you don’t looking in the back seat for the next 10 minutes. Every time you look, you lose ten, ok?’

Seven minutes later, I was dressed and the cabbie was down to 40 bucks, the little sleaze. I grabbed my phone and pressed four, my speed dial for James, and hit send while absent mindedly trying my best to yank twigs and leaves out of my wild hair.

The phone rang four times and went straight to voicemail. Odd, that man lived and died by his Bluetooth headset.

After giving me the normal, automated spiel about leaving a message, it clicked to the personal voicemail.

A cheery woman spoke, ‘Hey, this is Jessica. Sorry I couldn’t catch your call. Leave a message after the beep. Thanks!’

I ripped the phone away from my ear and stared at it in horror as it beeped at me. Scrambling for the ‘End’ button, I let out a silent scream.

No. Noo. NOOOOOOOO. You left your phone, your company phone, registered to YOU, at Justin-fucking-Timberlake’s house. I turned and let my face hit the taxi window, something probably teeming with germs and general nastiness, but I didn’t even care. I was going to get fired. And to make things worse, my disgusting cabbie decided to speak.

 ‘ Ma’am are you alright?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine. My life just has some issues.’

“Really? Cause I’d love to subscribe to them.’

‘Don’t push it, buddy. You’re already down to 40.’

He smiled as he pulled up to the shining glass castle, ‘It was totally worth it.’

I sighed, flung the two twenties at him, and climbed out. I swear somewhere up there, God must be laughing…

            James, his lavender button down highlighting his perfectly coiffed,

McDreamy-inspired blond do, intercepted me as soon as I stepped off the elevator, looking concerned. I shook my head before he could speak and just said, ‘Emergency office meeting now!’

           The ‘office’ is actually an ancient file storage closet Jen happed upon one day when looking for the bathroom. Since no one uses it anymore, we discreetly began to move things around, adding a small couch, a minifridge, and a little TV to watch our soaps when no one’s around, we even had someone come change the locks after hours, so no one else could enter. The office is like our little slice of paradise where we go when our bosses push us just a bit too far, like when Jen’s boss muttered ‘She should know how to make a decent cup of tea. Isn’t that what they drink in China?’( Jen, who’s not only of Korean descent, but was born and raised in Seattle, has spat in every single drink she’s made him since.) And it was ten minutes later in the office that I found myself trying to convince my friends that I wasn’t out of my mind.

‘Guys, stop laughing, I’m serious! I spent last night with Justin Timberlake! I did not imagine waking up next to him this morning and I am NOT ON DRUGS!’

Jen and James’ laughter slowly died as they realized that I was serious. They looked at each other and then back at me with concern.

‘Em, when you show late for work with leaves in your hair and your shirt on backwards, what am I supposed to think?’

I looked down at my burgundy blouse and realized that the V-neck was definitely on my back. Strike one. I stood and started to pace, annoyed that my supposed best friends think I’m nutty as a fruitcake.

‘What are you, the fashion police? Look, I got dressed in a cab this morning, sorry I can’t meet your stupid dress code,’ I took a deep breath to calm my temper. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just… why the hell don’t y’all believe me?!’

James grabbed my hand and petted it soothingly, ‘It’s not that we don’t want to but, well honey, I know for a fact that when I left home last night you were in sweats, hugging a bowl of popcorn, and crying at the Notebook. I just can’t understand how you jumped from that to fucking a sex god.’

‘ I know it sounds crazy, but I was just sitting there watching them fall in love and it just hit me that, you know, I could be out there finding my Noah Calhoun, so I went down to that club, the one Tina in Accounting’s brother bounces at, and just let loose. The last thing I remember is some guy trying to send me a drink, but I sent it back.’

Jen interrupted, ‘See, that’s exactly how I know something’s wrong with you. Never turn down a free drink, that’s the first thing I taught you.’

‘I know, but you also told me not to take drinks from creepers. And when the bartender pointed out some creepy guy with long blonde hair and huge sunglasses… it was midnight! You know I don’t trust people who wear shades late at night. So, I just told the bartender to send it back and say ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ And the next thing I know, Poof! I’m in Justin’s room.’

Suddenly it hit me that I still had his phone. I pulled it out and hit send twice to pull up the recent calls, ‘Look.’

James and Jen looked at me again, then peered down at the tiny screen and scrolled down, ‘Jess, Mom, Trace, Mom, Mom, Trace, PR, Mom, Diddy –‘

They gasped at the same time and looked up in wonder.

James stared, ‘Diddy as in P. Diddy as in Puff Daddy as in Puffy as in Sean Combs? That Diddy?!’

Jen whispered, ‘Sweet mother of God….you did it. You slept with Justin –Makesmewetterthanafirehose- Timberlake.’

‘Eww, Jen. TMI.’

James chuckled in disbelief, ‘She sleeps with Adonis and still acts pure as the Virgin Mary. I can’t believe it.’

‘Yeah, well it happened, so now the question is how do we get this back.’

Jen held her hands up and shook her head.

‘Whoa. Whoa. Are you trying to gloss over the fact that you slept with the Justin Timberlake. You now have information that MILLIONS of people would pay good money to know and his cell phone to prove it. Spill it, woman! What was it like? What did you do? Did he have a big – ‘

‘Jen! Well, the thing is … I don’t remember anything. I remember the bar and dancing, then that’s it. I dunno where I met him or how we got back to his place. And I do NOT plan on exploiting the man’s life! It’s just not right!’

Jen jumped up, eyes feverishly bright, ‘Emma, think about it, we’d be rich! We could pay off all our bills and we could move out of that shitty apartment! I could act full time, James could, you know, do whatever it is he does (James shot her a dirty look. He was an artist who specialized in ‘modern views of abstract objects’. I don’t get it either, I just look at giant purple phalluses and nod in approval), and you could write full time! And all it takes is a phone call to People. Come on, stop being Ms. Propriety and start being Ms. Prosperity!’

I swear, sometimes I don’t understand that woman. I mean, all though writing full time would be nice, I can’t ruin someone’s career or marriage over that! Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I’m an aspiring writer of children books. Yeah, I know, your first reaction was ‘awww’ right? But you’d be surprised what type of blood-thirsty business it is! Some people would sell their own granny for a decent publisher, its cutthroat madness! Anyways, Jen was right. I could make some serious cash, but I wouldn’t want a ruined life on my conscience. And so what if I was Ms. Propriety? I mean, as the only offspring of a former English barrister and the only three time winner of Miss Black Georgia, what else could I be? I practically came out of the womb with tea gloves and crumpets. Since, moving to LA, I’ve changed a little, but you can’t just reverse 18 yrs of training like that.

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to reply when the phone rang making my mouth to dry up like the Sahara in July.

I looked up at James who vigorously shook his head, then to Jen who was silently screaming, “NOO!!!’. I looked down at the phone on its third ring and made a decision. Letting out short burst of air, I hit the speakerphone button, and answered in my professional voice.

‘Hello!’

‘Hello? Is this the crazy bitch that jumped off my balcony this morning and stole my shit?’

Aw fuck…

Silence stretched over the line as I sat, mouth hanging open, trying to get over the fact that A) He thinks I deliberately stole his things (psh…like he couldn’t afford to buy them again), B) He saw me jump off the balcony, and C) that this rude little fucker just called me out my name. Oh HEEEELLLL no. I honestly like to think I’m a nice person, but I don’t take kindly to name calling. I don’t care how good you look or how much money you have, NO ONE has the right to call me that.

I heard an angry huff followed by, ‘Hello? Did you hear what I - ’

‘Ok, superstar, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna hang up this phone and let you think about how to speak to a lady. You can call me back once you remember your home training, ok?’

‘Excu –‘ and with that I hit End.

There was a short pause before the phone began ringing again. I looked up at Jen and James and hit ‘Ignore’.

‘Can you believe him?’

Jen shook her head, ‘What a douche bag! You’re holding his career in your hands and he talks to you like that! We should call TMZ on his ass!’

James scoffed, ‘I’m so boycotting Justin Timberlake, I don’t care how good he looks on the cover of GQ. No one treats my bestie like that.’

I let Justin cool down over the next few calls, then answered on the fourth ring,

‘Hello?’

After a pause, I heard a sigh and mumbled, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Wait, what was that? The reception here is just awful.’

‘I said I’m sorry, ok! It was rude of me to call you that, even if you are a thief.’

‘Yes it wa – wait, what? Thief? I didn’t steal anything from you!’

He chuckled, ‘So my phone just magically ended up with you?'

I rolled my eyes and sighed at his stupidity.

   “Why yes, I said, ‘Accio cell phone!’ and there it was.” (Yeah, I know the irony in a grown woman making Harry Potter references, but I’m an aspiring children’s writer, remember?)

‘Look at the phone in your hand, it’s identical to mine. I just picked up the wrong one before I left.’

He scoffed. ‘You mean jumped. You know it’s funny, after being with me, the only place most girls wanna jump is back on my - ’

‘Well, I guess I’m just not like most girls then. Look, I was extra trashed last night which obviously impaired my decision making abilities or this wouldn’t have happened. Frankly, I just want to get my phone back and go on with my life, so do you have an address where I could send your phone or do you want to send someone to pick it up?’

There was a long pause on the line. Though I couldn’t see him, I imagined he was staring at the phone in disbelief. He probably isn’t used to rejection, poor thing, but I have worked WAY too hard for anyone to think I’m just another groupie.

‘Uh wow… um. Yeah, I….damn girl that was harsh…’

‘Sorry, but it’s the truth. So, you want my address?’

‘Uh, I don’t…no, I can’t trust anyone to know about my – uh, this … thing. Look, I’m gonna be at the studio in like 10 minutes, meet me there.’

I just love how he assumed that I’d just jump at his beck and call, like I don’t have a life to attend to.

‘Um, it’s like eleven o’clock, I’m at work. I can’t just up and leave. I get off work at 5, I can meet you right after if you’re close.’

‘What about 7?’

‘No can do. I have a thing.’

He sighed. ‘You’re not making this easy.’

I groaned. Today was supposed to be a good day. Why you ask? It’s the last Friday of the month that we’ve affectionately renamed D-Day (aka Debauchery Day). James, Jen, and I (with the exception of today) normally don’t get to spend much time together so we created D-Day where we basically honor our three B’s: Booze, Boys, and Bars. It’s like an R-rated Christmas at the end of every month and this ass is trying to cut in on it.

‘Well excuse me for having a life. Ok, I guess I could meet you AT 6:30. I’d be cutting it close but – ‘

‘Great! Meet me on the street behind 2200 South Grand. See you then.’

I opened my mouth to reply but was met with a dial tone. I sighed and stood up. So much for a happy D-Day.

James gave me an incredulous look. ‘And where are you going?’

‘Uh, to my desk? Someone’s probably looking for me by now.’

‘Oh no you’re not. I’m going to continue being an awesome best friend and cover your ass while you call Jackie to take care of that…nest’ he said, pointing to my hair.

Jackie is our mutual friend and hairdresser who works wonders of biblical proportions on my unruly mane of hair and is consequently the only person I let near me with a curling iron.

‘But what about my boss?’

‘Oh please, I’ll tell him had a personal emergency and had to go. And before you say it, you can afford to take a personal day, trust me. I mean, you look like you got attacked by an angry maple tree and you can’t walk around like that, it’s shameful.’

Jennifer busted out laughing before adding, ‘And for God’s sake, turn that shirt around!’

Jesus, when you have friends like these, who needs enemies….

Nine hours, seven minutes, and fifty five second later, I checked my watched for the millionth time, threw back the rest of my margarita, and rose out of my bar stool, slapping a twenty down on the counter.

 That bastard. That fucking bastard. Did I ask too much? Did I? I came to him at the place of his choosing, never mind that the place was something out of Jack the Ripper’s wet dream. I sat through sixty minutes of rush hour traffic hell in the back of a taxi that smelled like old cigarettes and dirty gym socks (both of which I attribute to the large, suspiciously sweaty driver), and I  still  managed to get  to there ten minutes early.

And when the ‘street’ he mentioned turned out to be a dark, dank alley with a rank odor of garbage juice and urine, did I run away like any sane woman would have? Noooo, I still waited there for half an hour. I just thank God I didn’t get mugged or worse.

There I was looking tres fabulous, if I do say so myself, in a killer pair of gold Jimmy Choo stilettos and this flirty pink dress that hugs my curves just right, and I was just chilling in a deserted alley, acting like the crazies don’t frequent dirty, desolate places like that.

After thirty minutes, my feet were throbbing and there were suspicious squeaking noises towards the end of the alley and, despite my obscenely large fear of rats (anything that started the Black Plague is no friend of mine), did I leave? Again no, I limped my sexy behind to a posh little bar right next to the alley and sat there for an hour, waiting on that rude little prick to answer my ten million phone calls.

But you know what? Fuck it. I’ll just wear a scoop neck top when tell my boss that I dropped my phone in the sink; he’ll be so engrossed in my cleavage, he won’t even notice himself assigning me a new phone.

I throw open the door, the warm night air at odds with my dark mood, and walk towards a parked taxi at the end of the block.

‘Hey! HEY WAIT!!!’

I pause and glance to the left to see a guy in a baseball cap and shades with a dazzling smile jogging towards me.

You have got to be kidding. Lo and behold, here he comes, smiling like he hasn’t made me wait ninety minutes for his ass to show up… Speaking of, he is looking pretty good in that Hanes tee and jeans. Wait, no Emma NO! You’re angry!! This man completely disrespected you! So what if his smile is hot enough to melt the panties off a nun. Stay strong! Stay mad!

‘Phew, thought you couldn’t hear me. Look, I’m sorry for - ’

I held a hand, cutting him off. ‘Save it. Just give me my damn phone.’

I gave an impatient huff and agitatedly raked a hand through my hair, scattering the sleek, Tresemmé commercial-inspired curls. He froze and blinked twice, then shook his head and fumbled for the phone in his pocket.

I smiled on the inside. Yeah, I look just that good.

‘It, uh, died a while ago.’ he said, handing it over.

Well, that explains why he didn’t answer my fifteen calls.

I sighed and put it in my purse, handing him his phone in return.

‘So that’s it then.’

I nodded.

He cast his eyes down, looking embarrassed, ‘I don’t even know your name.’

I gave a small smile and began to walk away, throwing the line I’d been practicing all afternoon back over my shoulder.

‘Don’t worry, you won’t see me again. See you in the headlines, superstar.’

------------------------------------------

For the next two weeks of my life, I was in what some call the ‘eye of the storm’. After a bit of turmoil, everything was calm, celebrity free, and relatively normal (except for when I got hit in the face by a flying sex toy at one of Jen’s plays, which was soooo unacceptable…. I’ll never think of Guys and Dolls the same way again ….) Every morning I followed the same routine: Get up, morning yoga, go to work, catch dinner, and go to dance class (I’ll get into that later) or write until I go to bed. After a while, I hardly even thought about the Justin-cedent (though I admit, I did frantically change channels every time he came on the TV). I was just a regular girl working in the big city, that is, until my world flipped upside down on Monday morning.

‘Then this douchebag told me he didn’t think I’d be right for the part!’

Jen slammed her hand down on my desk, spilling some of my peppermint tea.

I sighed, wiping up the mess with a Kleenex, ‘But, isn’t Sweeny Todd a musical?’

‘Yeah’

‘Jennifer, you’re tone deaf.’

‘So? I was born to play Mrs. Lovett. You can teach anyone to sing, but you can’t teach someone how to truly act. You’re either born with it or you’re not.’

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to contradict her, when she cut me off.

‘Uh oh, the perv is here. Catch you later!’

And with that, she hurried off to her desk as an impeccably dressed Mr. Klein got off the elevators and headed towards his office, whistling a merry tune. Unfortunately, whistling equals fresh meat, meaning one more couple who’s decided to call it quits and are content with paying Klein, Bender, and Associates exorbitant fees to put their partner through living hell.

As expected, he stopped by my desk and smiled.

‘Good morning, Ms. Porter. I need you to clear out my schedule for this morning to meet with a new client. Also, we’ll be having a meeting in the conference room at ten and I’ll need you there to take notes.’

I nodded. Clearing out the morning schedule meant an exclusive client, not a rare thing in the office best known for getting Paul McCartney’s ex-wife her fifty million dollar settlement.

‘Oh, sir,’ I said, catching him at the door to his office, ‘ What’s the name of the client?’

‘A Mrs. Jessica Biel.’

Oh God…..

‘Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh - ’

POW!!!!

I froze, my cheek blazing with pain.

Jen shook me, ‘Jesus woman, get a hold of yourself!’

I dazedly looked up to see James shove Jen out of the way, giving her a dirty look, ‘What are you on, steroids? You could of knocked her teeth loose with that shit!’

He gently tipped my chin up to look me in the eyes, ‘Emma, honey? Em, are you okay? Here, why don’t we take a deep breath to center ourselves like we do in yoga. Alright, close your eyes and breathe deep in through the nose and out through the mouth. In and out. In and out.’

I blindly followed his directions, taking five deep breaths before I opened my eyes again and looked around, recognizing the ladies room’s dusty plastic flower and hideous pink wallpaper.

Jen caught my hand, ‘Emma, what’s wrong? Did Mr. Happy Hands go too far? Cause I know people who can kill him and make it look like an accident…’

I blinked slowly, her words barely seeping in.

‘No, its not him – It’s her….She’s coming in today…She’s….Oh God, I’m gonna get fired…She’ll know…’

Jen looked at me confused while James gave a small gasp and whispered, ‘Noooo.’

I nodded.

Jen looked around, ‘What? I don’t get – oh fuck, you mean her as in his WIFE?!? Oh shit! You are fired!’

James shot her another dirty look, ‘Jen! Not helping! Look, Em, calm down, it’s okay. There’s no way she could know about what happened.’

‘Maybe not, but I’m gonna know it was me. I ruined their marriage. How can I sit there knowing I ruined that poor woman’s life?!’

James snorted, ‘Oh honey please, you’re so naïve. This is LA, everyone cheats. Plus, he’s Justin Timberlake, girls have been chasing after him since he hit puberty, so I doubt this is his first time doing it. Hell, she probably cheats on him too. She’s just mad right now and wants to threaten him.’

Jen nodded, ‘Yeah, it’s not like she saw you anyway. They probably won’t even go through with it. They’ll just kiss and make up like half of the other clients. So relax, you’re good.’

Pause. Hmm, now let’s think about this rationally. If you saw another woman in your bed with your husband would you: A) leave them sleeping peacefully or B) go apeshit and end up being the next Merry Murderess to perform the Cell Block Tango? …Yeah, I’d go with B too… And since I’m still alive, I doubt she saw me in bed with him….And if you saw some lady in your husband’s four hundred dollar Burberry robe leaping off your balcony, you would have called the cops, right? …But no one followed me, so she probably didn’t see me then either. …You know, I’m probably blowing this all out of proportion. I mean, he’s Justin Timberlake, playboy extraordinaire, and she should know that a zebra won’t change it stripes just cause you put a ring on its hand…well, hoof, but you know what I’m saying. People magazine even said their marriage was on the rocks anyways, so it’s probably not even my fault she’s here. So yeah, I can relax….

I took a deep breath, ‘Ok, I’m ready.’

--------------

Five minutes later, I sat down in one of the plush chairs towards the end of the mahogany conference table and began to set up the stenography program on my laptop, hesitating when I saw my shaking hands hovering over the keyboard.

I started to take a deep breath, but froze as my slime ball boss, his understanding expression at odds with the mischievous glint in his eyes, held the door open for the three women to enter.

The first one to enter, a petite redhead with a bland expression, immediately beelined for the elegant display in the far corner of the room where we set up refreshments and a small breakfast basket with muffins, scones, and a bunch of other assorted pastries that, due to my frazzled nerves, I wanted to attack like a wild bear.

Instead I watched as the woman, whom I assume is Jessica’s personal assistant, poured glasses of water for the other two women and then took a seat across from me, nodding politely. I nodded back with a small smile that probably looked more like a grimace. The PA didn’t look suspicious, just…bored, which is a good thing…right?

The next woman in was a leggy blonde who, though she was quite a bit taller, managed to be even thinner than the redhead (quite a feat, trust me). The concerned expression on her face mixed with the rage in her eyes made me peg as ‘the friend’.

I gave a tiny smirk. I’ve always loved ‘the friend’. I swear they’re the reason for most of the divorces in America. Their constant goading (like referring to the other spouse as that rat bastard/the evil bitch) keeps the divorcee angry enough to actually go through with the divorce and half the time they’re the one banging their best friend’s spouse! I secretly love cheating spouse cases because when the unsuspecting husband/wife finds out (and they always seem to find out), the conference room transforms into a Jerry Springer episode complete with cursing, fighting, and sometimes (if I’m lucky) some thrown furniture. But I digress…

I watched as she calmly walked in and sat down.

‘Ms. Biel, Ms. Davis, I’d like to introduce to Ms. Porter, my personal assistant. She’ll be transcribing today’s meeting and any hereafter.’

Maybe I’d been expecting too much. Most first timers come in to their initial divorce proceedings looking hurt or guilty, sometimes with eyes glassy from Vicodin or reeking of Jack Daniels. But the woman I saw in front of me looked completely unfazed.

Her glossy brown hair was pulled back into a loose bun, her makeup artfully applied, and her clothes pressed to perfection. In fact, the only thing slightly off about her was the dark smudges under her eyes that even her concealer couldn’t mask.

She nodded at me, ‘Hello.’

She sounded exhausted… no worse that, she sounded defeated. The guilt I’d been struggling with all morning hit me full force as I choked out a ‘Good Morning’ to her.

For the next thirty minutes I was on autopilot, silently drowning in shame as I typed Mr. Klein’s explanation of the divorce proceedings.

After he finished his speech, he folded his hands and gave a sympathetic smile, looking all the concerned father-figure.

‘Ms. Biel, I know you understand that this is an incredibly important decision in your life. Would you like to take some more time to think about it or would you like to continue with these proceedings?’

Time seemed to freeze as everyone held their breath and waited for her decision.

After a long pause, she bowed her head and nodded, ‘Continue.’

And that was it. With one word, she’d just committed to months, if not years, of nasty divorce hearings and hundreds of thousands of dollars of her money to the black hearted bastard sitting at the head of the table, eyes shining with glee.

Klein gave a slow, regretful nod, ‘Alright well, one of the first things we like to do is go back and find out come you came to this point in your relationship. This way we can start to work on your case. If you can, could you tell me a bit more about your relationship with Mr. Timberlake?’

Eyes downcast, she quietly began, her voice edged with pain.

‘We dated for a couple years before we got married. It was the happiest day of my life. Everything was perfect, my family was all there and Justin…Justin looked so beautiful. I was happy… we were in love.’

She cleared her throat as it clogged up with tears. Her friend immediately reached over and held her hand, eyes glistening. Jessica took a minute to compose herself, using Klein’s offered handkerchief to dot at her eyes before continuing.

‘Then, six months ago….I…we…I made a personal decision that Justin didn’t agree with so he…left for a month…’

I glanced up.

 Personal decision? What kind of ‘personal decision’ would make their husband leave them? And for a month no less…hmm…and the plot thickens….

Mr. Klein simply nodded and jotted down a couple notes, ‘Please, go on.’

‘We, um, talked and decided to go to marriage counseling twice a week. And it’s been…,’ she sighed, ‘It’s been tough. I thought that uh, it was supposed to get better but… it hasn’t. We hardly talk anymore and he’s always cold… not like he’s cruel but like… like he forces himself to be polite…like he can’t even stand to be around me anymore. And then…then…’

Her tears finally spilled over as she broke off with a sob, covering her face with her hands.

Her friend, Ms. Davis, continued, voice filled with contempt, ‘And then we found these last week.’

Jessica’s assistant pulled a Ziplock bag out of her attaché and handed it to Ms. Davis who threw it on the conference table with disgust.

I looked at the contents of the Ziplock and stopped breathing.

There they were. My pink Hello Kitty panties complete with white polka dots and a cute bow on the front…..

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…I’m fucked. Fucked. FUCKED!!!

My DNA would be all over those things and all it would take was eight days and some nerd in a lab coat to seal my fate. Then I’d be thrown out of here on - 

My thoughts were interrupted as Ms. Davis continued,

‘She found them in her drawer. Housekeeping must have cleaned them and put them back in her drawer … as if she would wear anything so tacky.’

My head shot up.

Tacky my ass, those are cute!  Just cause I prefer Macy’s to La Perla doesn’t mean you have to call them tacky. Evil heifer…Anyways…

Mr. Klein nodded again, ‘Mmhmm. Ms. Biel, did you ask your housekeeping staff or Mr. Timberlake about it, maybe it was just a misunderstanding.’

Jessica opened her mouth to speak, but her enraged friend cut her off.

‘Of course she did. The maid said she found them on the floor next to the bed and threw them in the laundry. And when I showed them to that cheating, no good bastard, all he said was, ‘Cute.’ and asked if they were new. The nerve!’

I gave a small smile. So there! Justin thinks they’re cute too and he’s a frickin designer!

My triumph however, quickly died as I looked at Jessica’s face, pain etching lines around her closed eyes.

She finally spoke up, ‘I’m not doing this for the money or the attention….I just want to know for sure….I just can’t believe he’d see another woman, not after everything we’ve been though …I just need to know. If I’m right and he’s been faithful, then I can’t go through with this…this thing…but if I’m wrong and he…brought another woman to our house…to our bed…if he did…then I want him to PAY.’

Jessica looked up, her eyes filled with vengeful tears.

Mr. Klein, having heard the same thing from countless women before, just nodded.

‘Well, Ms. Biel, my firm works closely with a team of very confidential private investigators who are very good at what they do. If you like, I could - ’

‘No, that won’t work. I’m sure they’re good at their jobs, but they won’t be able to follow him that close. Justin’s very personal and he has a lot of people who work to keep his private life just that. So no, that’s not going to work. I want someone with him at all times to see where he goes, who he sees, if he meets other women. I want – no I have to know…I just have to know.’

Mr.Klein made another note, ‘I’ll contact them just in case and I’ll see what we can do.’

And with that the meeting was over, Mr. Klein promised to get started immediately on the case and dispensed with the niceties to get her out. In reality, he was probably going to go hit the golf course like he always did when he saw big money coming in.

I finished typing up some final notes and uploaded them so Mr. Klein or one of his many overworked, Ivy League underlings could look at them later, then headed back to my desk to try to get back to my routine. I updated Mr. Klein’s schedule for the day and caught up on his messages.

Halfway though sorting his emails, my phone began to ring as the light above the number pad lit up. Shit, that meant Klein was calling.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Ms. Porter, may I see you in my office please?’

Head bowed in fear, I stood like Anne Boleyn in front of the guillotine, waiting for Mr.

Klein to verbally decapitate me for interfering in a case.

What I got, however, was a smile. An oily, self satisfied smile, like the cat that ate the canary.

He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk, ‘Please sit down.’

I complied and folded my hands in my lap to hide their shaking.

‘Ms. Porter, before we begin, I’d like to remind you of the confidentiality clause in your job offer. Anything related or pertaining to any of the cases filed with this firm are not to be spoken of outside the premises.’

I nodded emphatically, ‘Yes, sir. I remember, but I haven’t talked to anyone about anything related to this firm.’

... Ok, that’s not completely true. Of course I talk James and Jen about some of the saps and gold diggers that waltz through here, they’re my best friends.

And occasionally I might mention something to my other coworkers.

And maybe I hint at a few clients when I talk to my parents…

And my friends from dance class…

And my hairdresser…

And the cashier at that 7/11 one time...

Wow, definitely not helping my case here. But since I always change the names of the clients, technically, I’m not talking about them. So I guess I wasn’t lying after all. Ha!

Mr. Klein smiled and chuckled, ‘No one’s saying you did, Ms. Porter. I just wanted to get that out of the way.’

‘Oh um, okay.’

He smiled again and I broke out into a sweat. I swear, one more smile and I’m calling an exorcist.

‘Alright, let’s get down to business.’

Before I could stop myself, I thought ‘To defeat the Huns?’

‘What was that Ms. Porter?’

…

…..

…….

…..…… Oh God, please tell me I didn’t say out loud.

‘Uhhhh….I…um…’

Mr. Klein waited patiently as I tried to think of a way to explain why a 25 year old woman was quoting Disney movies and somehow I didn’t think I could rationalize my love of singing cartoons to a man who used to kill people for a living.

My voice quavered as I whispered, ‘Nothing sir’

He paused another few seconds, gave a small frown, and continued.

‘Well, I called and talked to Tim from Special Solutions (our private investigator firm) and he actually agreed with Ms. Biel. Though celebrities are fairly easy to follow from a distance, to get the type of surveillance Ms Biel has requested, we’ll seem to need - how would you say it -  an inside man.’

I gave him a blank stare, mentally yelling, ‘And what the hell does this have to do with me?’

‘I relayed Tim’s message to Ms. Biel who informed me that the only people Mr. Timberlake allows in his private affairs, excuse the pun,  are his family, his bodyguard, and his personal assistant.’

‘Mmm-hmm…’

And then it slowly dawned on me….Nooooo, he can’t be asking what I think he’s asking. That’s ridiculous. Absolutely absurd.

Seeing my perplexed look, Mr. Klein went on, ‘Though Tim could have found a man to take the position of Mr. Timberlake’s bodyguard, there’s no guarantee that he would be with Mr. Timberlake at all times, as he sometimes goes out unaccompanied,  or know Mr. Timberlake’s day to day schedule.’

‘And seeing as how I don’t believe we can conjure up a family member who could testify to Mr. Timberlake’s alleged infidelity, that leaves the role of personal assistant. During our chat, Ms. Biel happened to mention Mr. Timberlake’s current personal assistant’s performance has started to…slip. And as he has a penchant for young, attractive women,’ he took a moment to leer at me before continuing ‘I thought perhaps we could come to an arrangement.’

I sat there like a slack-jawed idiot as I tried to wrap my mind around what the hell he just said. He wants me, Emma Elizabeth Porter, to work as a personal assistant to Justin Timberlake, the man I accidentally slept with by the way, in order to spy on him and make sure he doesn’t meet up with other bimbos in his free time….

…WHAT THE FUCK?!?! The old fart must have a couple of screws loose or gone senile or something!!!

I finally blinked, realizing Mr. Klein had been waiting in silence for my answer.

‘Um…sir. If I understand this correctly, you’re telling me you want me to spy on a client’s husband….’

He chuckled again.

That’s it. I’m calling Ghostbusters or Jesus or somebody cause I must be in the Twilight Zone. Does Ashton Kutcher punk non-famous people? Wait, scratch that, is Ashton Kutcher still alive to punk anybody?...Emma, stop asking irrelevant questions and focus!

‘No, Ms. Porter, I would never ask you to do such an immoral and illegal thing. What I am doing is offering you the opportunity to receive your regular salary in addition to that befitting a personal assistant. This offer would have added benefits such as access to a car to use for any necessary travel and any compensatory bonuses the Timberlakes would like to offer. All in exchange for a daily brief note depicting the day’s events and any…extracurricular activities Mr. Timberlake engaged in that day. None of these official notes, mind you.’

The thought of the car made me salivate. No more public transportation, no more creepy taxi drivers or crazy wankers on the back of the bus. I closed my eyes and imagined breathing in clean, cool air that didn’t smell like old bologna or diesel fuel.

And the extra pay….oh my god. No more insane neighbors who wake you up at 3 am to the sound of cracking whips (yeah, we think Ms. Plain Jane McKenzie next door has a secret S&M thing going on but we’re too afraid to ask). No more broken elevators. No more Mr. Mysterious 2B’s dog who wanders the hall, chews up our newspaper, and humps the dying potted palm tree near the elevator. And hot water, glorious hot water that you didn’t have to wait ten minutes for.

I licked my lips and opened my mouth to say ‘Hell yes’ but paused. Was all this worth my fairly clean conscience? I mean,  I’d have to see this man every day, lie to him every single day, and worse yet, I’d have to stab him in the back. All for some extra pay and a car? Come on, Em, your mom raised you better.

I closed my mouth and sighed.

‘I’m sorry Mr. Klein, but I don’t think I can accept that offer.’

For a millisecond he looked surprised like he was sure he was going to win. Then as soon as it was there, the surprise was gone, replaced with another false smile.

‘As you wish, Ms. Porter.’

I rose to leave but was stopped with a, ‘Please, a little more of your time.’

I sat back down, looking at him warily.

‘If you could process this for me, please.’

I looked down at the paper he sat in front of me.

Letter of Dismissal.

Uh oh, that meant someone was getting the ax. I read further.

Addressed to…Jung-Hye Park

….JENNIFER?!?! …Oh …hell …no, he was not about to blackmail me through my friends. That’s low. Even for him.

My voice dangerously low, I leaned in, ‘What exactly is this supposed to mean, Mr. Klein?’

‘Am I to understand you’re familiar with Ms. Park then?’

‘Yes sir, I am.’

‘In what respect, Ms. Porter?’

I took a deep breath to try to stop the red spreading into my vision.

‘She’s my roommate, sir.’

‘Well, then, I regret to inform you that you may be looking for another roommate soon. You see, Ms. Park has been engaging in some highly illegal activities in regards to this company and will most likely suffer some sort of legal repercussions.’

I froze for a full ten seconds.

‘What?’

‘As you may know, Ms. Park works for Mr. Newby in accounting and has access to certain financial documents and the company checkbook. Well, it seems that for some weeks now Ms. Park has forging checks for small amounts, 200, 400, up to 1000 dollars, then fixing the bank statements she passes on to Mr. Newby. Now, though I’m no criminal attorney, I can assure you that Ms. Park would surely face a number of crimes under the California State Penal Code should a call be made to the police.’

I looked up, tears in my eyes. Jennifer….a thief…a forger… a criminal. She could -  no she would go to jail. I could almost see her mother sobbing in the courtroom, hugging her stoic father and weeping younger siblings.

As tears slowly began to trickle down my cheeks, Mr. Klein passed me a handkerchief with that concerned father look on his face.

‘You know Ms. Porter, you could change all this.’

I sniffed, ‘What?’

‘As of yet, no call to the authorities has been made.’

Sniff. Dab. ‘What?’

‘If you wanted to reconsider your answer to the previous offered I mentioned, this whole incident could be…forgotten.’

Sniff. ‘What?’

That's right Em, you flaunt that college education....

He slid another sheet of paper next to Jennifer’s letter.

‘This is a binding legal document authorizing your acceptance of my previous offer and all it entails. If your position is revealed to Mr. Timberlake, this document will conveniently cease to exist and Ms. Park will be facing a lot more than unemployment.’

My tears immediately dried up. That bastard. That four-flushing, no good, sleazeball, cockroach son of a bitch. He had me by the balls and he knew it.

That….that….MOTHERFUCKER!!!

He smiled, a genuine smile this time as he knew he had the upper hand, and slid a Mont Blanc fountain pen across the table to me.

I stared at it and up a silent prayer.

 Please God, don’t judge me for this.

Then I signed over my soul to the devil.

He slid the paper back over the wide expanse of his desk before neatly placing it in a folder in his desk drawer.

‘Excellent. You’ll start tomorrow morning. Angela, my new secretary, will send you the details later on today.’

Body shaking with anger, I stood to leave.

‘Oh before you leave, please make sure to process that letter like I asked.’

I paused. ‘Excuse me?’

‘The letter of dismissal. Please take care of it before you go.’

My mouth dropped. ‘I thought you said nothing would happen. That Jennifer would be ok.’

He gave a small smirk of satisfaction.

‘I said no such thing. I said the authorities would not be called, but I said nothing of Ms. Park’s employment at this firm. I do not tolerate dishonesty, Ms. Porter. You’ll do good to remember that.’

My voice, quaking with fury, was barely above a whisper when I replied, ‘Yes, sir.’

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain fall outside my window.

It’s a beautiful day

Don’t let it get away

It’s a beautiful day….

I rolled over to turn off my alarm, noting the dark, gloomy rain clouds that almost blocked out the rising sun. It’s as if God was sending me a hint for the horrible day to come. Truth be told, I don’t know how much lower my day could sink. In a matter of hours I’ll have to voluntarily humiliate myself in front of a man who’d probably think I was some crazy goldigger. In reality however, I’d be smiling to his face and stabbing him in the back, recording his every move and searching through his stuff to prove what I already knew.

 I sighed and sat up, putting my head in my hands.

 Despite everything, the only thing I could think of was Jen and how she didn’t come home last night. Even though I know she was probably laying low somewhere, my mind kept up conjuring images of her being in the back of a flashing squad car speeding straight for state penitentiary or outrunning the cops Bonnie and Clyde style on her way to Fiji. I mean, would it have killed her to at least call to say she was ok, although I’m not sure if I would have yelled or cried when I heard her voice….actually, who am I kidding, I love her, but I would have cussed her out as soon as she said ‘Hello’ then demanded an explanation. I closed my eyes as my mind involuntarily conjured up yesterday’s events for what must have been the hundredth time.

I left Klein’s office to find all my personal effects in a box on my desk (presumably packed by my buxom blonde replacement sitting behind it), then  I raced home and tore through Jennifer’s filthy room, looking for evidence. After an hour of searching, I found it under her bed packed into old grocery bags.

Gucci, Christian Dior, Versace. Dresses and handbags and shoes and scarves. Thousands of dollars worth of clothing all stuffed into innocent brown paper bags that no one would think to look through. I threw everything into a pile in the middle of the living room floor before stalking into the kitchen to pour myself some wine. My glass filled to the brim, I went to the living room and waiting, fuming.

After an hour, the door swung open to reveal an unkempt James, his tie loose around his neck and his hair disheveled.

‘Oh my God, Emma. Is it – it can’t be true, right? Jen would never - ’

He froze, staring at the pile of silks, leather, and furs in the middle of the floor. He walked forward as if in a trance and picked up the beautiful blue Hermes scarf laying on top of the pile.

After a full thirty seconds, he whispered,‘ Jesus.  I didn’t believe – I just…I heard from one of the temps about the letter….and they said… I just couldn’t believe it.’

I snorted and giggled, ‘You know, if you drink enough, this whole situation become quite hilarious.’

My giggles turned into a full, throated laugh.

 ‘I mean, think about it. We’re a month behind on rent, all we can afford to buy is wine and Captain Crunch, and all along, we’ve been living with a thief! The woman who always asks me for money for bus fare is buying two thousand dollar purses! It’s comical really.’

James quietly came over and took the empty glass from my hand before giving me a hug as my laughter turned to sobs.

 ‘Ssshhh… it’s okay. We’re gonna get a good lawyer to handle her case and she’ll make it out fine. Don’t worry. It’s gonna be okay.’

As my sobs faded into sniffles, I whispered, ‘She won’t need one.’

James pulled back and looked me in the face, ‘What do you mean?’

I lowered my head and told him all about my deal with Satan.

Ten minutes later, a shell-shocked James flopped down onto the floor.

I poured some wine into my glass and handed it to him.

Without looking at me, he took the glass and gulped it all down.

‘Em, you can’t do this. It’s wrong, it’s just…wrong.’

I jumped up off the couch then paused as my world spun. Eyes closed I answered,

‘Well what do you expect me to do, James? I can’t just let her go to jail! She’s our friend for Christ’s sake!’

‘Em, you know I love her like a sister, but she STOLE! She stole to get clothes! I’m not having you violate those pretty little morals you have for someone who broke the law for a pair of Prada pumps!’

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair,

‘Well it’s done now, James. I signed the papers and if I break my agreement she’s going to jail and we’ll be out on the street. I’m not going to let that happen. Now, Klein’s new bimbo is going to send over some files on my new employer and by tomorrow morning I need to know how many times a day he scratches his ass, so I’ll be in my room studying.’

And with that I turned and left, ignoring the heavy tension between James and myself, where I stayed for the rest of the day alternating between determination, self loathing, and worry.

I opened my eyes and slowly got out of the bed to go face the music.

At 8am, I opened my umbrella and stepped out onto the sidewalk in a pair of sensible black heels that matched my conservative black business skirt and pale blue pinstripe button down. I reached up to tuck a rogue lock of hair behind my hair that, due to the damp weather, took twice as long to straighten and tuck into a tight bun on the back of my head. I topped it off with tiny silver studs and black frames which, though the lenses were ordinary glass and didn’t actually help my vision, gave me a distinguished, no nonsense look. I’d even opted for my faux leather attaché case to prove to anyone who looked that I meant business.

After about thirty seconds, a blue Prius pulled up blasting loud…was that Spice Girls? The pinched redhead assistant from before waved out of the window, but I was too shocked to wave back. Gone was the boring drone that’d followed silently in the office, in her place was a vibrant young woman wearing bright colors and a smile.

I opened the door to be hit by, ‘SSSSSSOOOOO I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want - ’

She quickly leaned over to turn it down, face reddening.

‘Sorry, it’s my guilty pleasure. I never really stopped liking Posh Spice.’

I smiled and shut the door, ‘It’s okay. I was always a Scary Spice girl myself.’

I turned around to throw my attaché in the back, but saw empty Monster cans and shoes and magazines covering every square inch of the backseat.

Following my gaze, her face reddened ever further, ‘Sorry about the mess too. Normally, I don’t do this type of thing.’

My brow furrowed as she began to drive towards downtown, ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, normally new assistants are shown the ropes for a couple days with the old PA, but as Nikki…left… in a hurry, I’m supposed to give you a quick overview on the way to his office and let you do your thing.’

‘Wait, so he doesn’t know I’m coming.’

Oh fuck…

‘No, Jess said you’re supposed to be a surprise.’

Oh he’s gonna be surprised alright. Eventually so is she…

My face must of looked shocked because she rushed ahead, ‘But you know, it’s not really that big a deal. Justin’s cool. He’ll think it’s funny.’

I stared at her as an uncomfortable silence settled over us. She looked at me, probably wondering why I was freaking out, before awkwardly changing the subject.

‘Oh my gosh, I’m so stupid, I’m Amanda, by the way. I’m Jessica’s personal assistant.’

‘Um, hey, I’m Emma…Emma Porter’

‘Hi Emma! Sooooo where ya from?’

‘Oh uh, Atlanta actually.’

‘Really? What brought you all the way out here?’

The face of my ex-fiancée involuntarily flashed though my mind before I could push it away.

‘Um, I just needed a change. Things were…complicated back home and I just decided to go explore and I dunno, just figure out who I am.’

She nodded, ‘Cool, cool. I moved out here five years ago to be a famous actress, now I work for one. How ironic right?’

Though she kept smiling, her disappointment at her situation was almost tangible. I just nodded.

Yet another uncomfortable silence came over the car. God, kill me now…

‘So, going from a law office to a PA so quickly must be a big change right?’

My voice flew up two octaves,  ‘What? What do you mean?’

Oh shit, she knew. The packet Klein sent had said only he, Jessica, and I knew what was going on, but if Amanda knew then I was fucked. For all I know she could sell me out to Justin for some bit part in an SNL skit or worse she could rat me out to the tabloids and I’d be on the front of Star before I could blink.

Amanda turned to look at me, a strange combination of worry and ‘is she crazy?’ on her face, ‘Oh no, I meant nothing by it. I’m sorry, I just….well, I thought it must be so different working in a stuffy old law office than running around with a celebrity that’s all…’

I heaved a huge silent sigh of relief and smiled.

‘Oh! I’m just thankful I got another job so soon after the firm let me go… cutbacks you know. But yeah, I mean it wasn’t all boring in the office, trust me. You’d be surprised how interesting things get in divorce cases. Like when – oh, but you don’t want to hear about that stuff.’

‘Are you kidding me? You’d be amazed how boring celebrity lives really are. I’m dying for some good gossip !’

We spent the rest of the car ride in tears as I recalled the top 10 most hilarious divorce proceedings including some software mogul’s crazy ex-wife who threw her poodle at him after he brought out the prenup she thought she’d shredded and the Forbes’ 500 billionaire who literally had a heart attack after finding out his mistress was actually his wife’s lover too. Ahh, the ol’ good days…

Finally we pulled up in front of a brand new glass high rise that shined like the top of the Chrysler Building.

‘Ok, here we are. Come on.’

Amanda got out and gave her keys to the valet attendant, then turned paused as she realized I hadn’t left the car yet. I hadn’t even removed my seat belt yet. Instead, I just sat there, clutching my attaché for dear life, hyperventilating as I went over my story over and over again in my head.

Ok, Emma Elizabeth Porter, you can do this, now what are you? I am a temp provided by an exclusive firm that Jessica contacted last week. I am well qualified and always prepared. I had no idea I was working for the man who rocked my world (well, I assume he did) less than three weeks ago.

Amanda came up to knock on the window with a smile,

‘It’s okay Emma. You’re gonna kick ass.’

I blinked then nodded before releasing my poor attaché from my death grip and opening the door.

The next five minutes were a blur as I focused on trying to breathe as we headed up to the 25th floor.

As we stepped out of the elevators, my heart went into overdrive, beating so fast I thought I was going into cardiac arrest. We took two steps before the elevator next to us dinged and Jessica stepped out, looking like the pretty girl next door in a flannel shirt and jeans.

‘Hey Amanda! Hi, you must be Emma. I’m Jessica, nice to meet you’

She stuck out her hand, her face the perfect picture of innocence and excitement. Oh yeah, she was good.

I took it her thin, cool hand in my warm, clammy one briefly before letting go.

‘Nice to meet you too.’

‘Oh don’t be so nervous, we’re all like family here. Mandy, could you go in and see if he’s busy please? Thanks.’

Amanda smiled and nodded, walking quickly into the glass doors halfway up the hall on the right.

Though she never lost her smile, Jessica’s eyes seemed to change as soon as Amanda went into the office.

‘Ok, you know what you’re supposed to do, right?

I nodded solemnly.

‘If he meets with anyone I want you to be there and write it down, do you understand me? And if you have the slightly inkling that something is going on with him and some other bitch, you come straight to me, not to Klein, to me. And so help me, if you even get within 500 feet of a camera and microphone, I will personally see to it that -  ’

Thankfully, Amanda poked her head back out into the hallway.

‘Jess, he’s ready for you.’

She turned and nodded, giving me one last meaningful look before walking towards his office.

Sweet Mary and Joseph, that woman is out of her fucking skull. I gave a deep sigh before following her into hell.

In reality, hell turned out to be large, modern-looking office, much like that of Bender Klein and Associates. We passed a receptionist desk, manned by a kind older woman who gave me an encouraging smile as I passed, before winding through a maze of large cubicles filled with young, trendy employees on cell phones. At the end of the hall stood two wooden doors that opened to small waiting room decorated in beiges and brown leather.

Jessica turned around, motioning for me to sit on the comfy looking couch next to Amanda.

‘I’ll be right back’

And with that she passed into another set of expensive looking wooden doors, closing silently behind her.

Amanda turned to me, eyes lit with excitement, ‘Here comes my favorite part.’

I gave her a puzzling look before quickly turning back to the door as a muffled ‘WHAT?!?’ filtered through the thick piece of wood. The voices inside slowly began to raise as they started to argue.

Amanda scoffed, ‘You know they go to marriage counseling twice week. They pay thousands of dollars to meet with this guy for an hour and they’re still at each others throats. It’s ridiculous. Oh just a helpful hint, try to schedule something relaxing for him after the counseling session. They tend to be quite pissy afterwards and they’ll make your life hell. Her Highness likes to go to the spa, but you should try to book him a couple hours on the driving range or something.’

I nodded and took out the tiny, blue notebook I’d found last night to fill with certain things to remember about Justin. ‘Book golf time after counseling sessions’ went right under ‘Justin hates coconuts’ on the C's page in the book.

I finished writing just as Jessica screamed from the other side of the door.

‘Oh my God, Justin! WHY are you so afraid of fucking change? It’s ridiculous!!’

‘Oh stop with that already! It’s bullshit and you know it!’

‘Really? Cause that’s exactly what Dr. Miller said! You’re a fucking control freak!! And when I try to do something for you, you always throw it back in my face.’

‘Really? REALLY?!?! So you did what you did for ME? You killed my -  ’

He broke off as Jessica choked back a huge sob.

I started at the sudden absence of shouting and turned to Amanda.

‘What? What happened? What did she kill?’

Amanda blanched and looked down as the door opened.

Jessica, eyes red, stepped out, whispering, ‘He’s ready to see you now.’

Amanda quickly jumped up, putting a comforting arm around Jessica shoulders and walked out with her, mouthing a ‘Good luck’ to me before she left.

I watched as the door closed with a soft click behind them, then turned to the ominous door ahead. Standing up, I straightened my suit and took a last look at myself in the reflection of the window.  

Ok, here goes….

I walked into the silent office, darting a glance at my plush surroundings before focusing on the large desk to my right. There he sat, his head resting in his arms, looking the picture of depression. For a second, I felt bad for him, knowing his day was only going to get worse.

Head still down, he finally broke the silence, ‘Please sit down.’

I took a couple steps towards the high backed chairs in front of his desk then stopped, thinking it’d be easier to run away if I weren’t sitting.

Hearing my hesitation, he looked up puzzled then froze, staring at me in abject horror.

I looked down, trying hard to keep myself from fidgeting under his scrutiny.

Another ten seconds of silence passed before he gave a booming, full-throated laugh of disbelief.

‘You have got be shitting me. You have got to be shitting me! What the fuck is this, Candid Cameras? Who put you up to it?’

I looked up, making myself seem confused. ‘I’m sorry?’

 ‘Was it Jess? Is she waiting behind the door or something? Waiting to see what I’ll do? Or wait, was it Trace? The little bastard, is he trying to teach me a lesson or something? Who do you work for?’

I frowned with my brows furrowed in an effort to keep up the charade of confusion.

‘I don’t work for anyone. Well, I do, but it’s a temp agency - ’

‘BULLSHIT! Now, I’m going to give you one chance before I call security to kick your trifling ass out of here. Who. Do. You. Work. For?’

My eyes widened as confusion melted into genuine anger.

‘Trifling? TRIFLING? Well excuse me Mr. Timberlake, but it takes two to tango does it not? And it’s not like I wanted to come here and humiliate myself in front of you.’

‘Well then LEAVE! Nothing’s stopping you.’

‘Trust me, I would love to, but I have to pay this thing called rent and I don’t work, I can’t do that.’

He scoffed, curling his lip in disgust, ‘Oh so, you want money. Figures.’

He pulled a checkbook out of his desk, scratching his name across the bottom before ripping it out and waving it at me.

‘Here, a blank check. Do with it what you will. Now get out of my office.’

I stared at him, wondering if I could smack him across the head with my attaché before security caught me. Wait no, if I did that, Jen and I would end up as cellmates in Rikers.

I forced myself to take two deep breathes before saying in a cold, controlled voice,

‘Look Mr. Timberlake, I understand that we have…a history of sorts, but I came here today to do my job because I am a professional and that is what professionals do. Now, you are free to call my agency and put in a  request for another replacement, but they will ask why you found my performance unsatisfactory after approximately an hour on the job and, should you choose not to answer, they will go on to launch an investigation that neither you nor I would benefit from. Now, I understand that as a celebrity, people are always trying to trick you and get something from you, but I am not one of those people. I just want to do my job and make enough money to pay my bills and if you are what I have to deal with to do so, then so be it.’

He leaned back in his chair, assessing me, before giving a slow nod.

‘Fine, it’s not like I won’t break you in a week anyway.’

A cold smile slowly spread across my face, ‘Well then, game on, Mr. Timberlake. Unlike some, I find that I can always rise to a challenge.’

I gave a quick, pointed look down towards his crotch before looking back up to his face, watching it turn a mottled red color.

Sure, I couldn’t remember if he could get it up or not, but he didn’t know that.

Hands shaking with fury, he reached in another drawer and threw what looked to be a list at me.

Glaring, he all but whispered, ‘I want all of it done by the end of the day. Now get the fuck out.’

Returning his glare, I sneered, ‘Gladly.’

Tap Tap Tap

‘Ma’am?’

Tap Tap Tap

‘Ma’am can you hear me? MA’AM!’

A bright light pierced my eyes as a deep, muffled voice filtered slowly through my unconscious.

I groaned and turned away from the light.

‘Ma’am, this is LAPD please step out of the vehicle.’

I groaned and tried to snuggle deeper into my headrest.

…Wait, since when did my bed have a headrest?

... In fact, since when was my bed come with the steering wheel that was digging into my side?

Damn, I must have fallen asleep in my car again. That’s third time this - Did he say LAPD?!?!

My eyes flew open to see the beginnings of a beautiful sunrise in front of which stood a wary police officer holding a heavy, black flashlight which he was now shining around my car.

I felt my face warm as his eyes widened as the sheer amount of Starbucks Espresso cans, boxes of Captain Crunch, and wrinkled clothing strewn all over the backseat and floor.

My voice sounded like gravel as I cracked the door and asked, ‘Is there a problem, officer?’ I tried for a cute smile, but it must not have worked since the officer not only didn’t smile back, but wrenched open the car door and repeated , ‘Please step out of  the vehicle, ma’am.’

Ma’am, who am I, my mother? This guy didn’t look a day below 30 and he was calling me ‘Ma’am’?!?!

I frowned and got out of the car, ‘Is there a problem officer?’

‘Ma’am – ‘

‘Miss.’ I interrupted with a bit more bite than intended.

‘Miss,’ he said with a sarcastic eyebrow -  the bastard, ‘We received a report of a possible B&E, breaking and entering, in regards to this vehicle.’

I looked at him like he had lost his mind, ‘I’m sorry? I don’t understand.’

He smirked, ‘A concerned citizen called 911 to report a homeless woman sleeping in a Silver Prius in the parking lot of the In N’ Out Burger on 21st and Grant.’

My mouth simultaneously dropped open while my face turned tomato red…well more of a mauve really as my mocha skin tone darkened the blush, but that’s beside the point.

Homeless? He thought I was HOMELESS?!?! Me, the former Miss Teen Georgia that was voted Most Likely to Be Famous in high school?! Me, the 2003 and 2004 Emory University Homecoming Queen, a – a  - BUM?!? Oh this is too much! I randomly thought of my mother who would have smacked the policeman across the face for such slander. I mean, sure I didn’t look my best but –

I glanced down at myself and froze in horror.

A filthy red flannel shirt with God knows what splashed across the right arm opened to bedraggled, muddy tank top with one shoulder almost ripped in two. My former pink Victoria’s Secret bottoms were covered and stiff with mud and to add insult to injury, there were grease stains from the fries near the crotch area where I must have dropped the bag when I fell asleep. To top it off, I had one shoe on, a now muddy brown Converse, and a bare foot.

Tears of embarrassment welled up in my eyes.

I could only imagine what the officer saw when he looked at my face. The ruddy complexion and peeling nose and cheeks I now have due to the  intense sunburn I’d gotten a few days ago when Justin had me put grass seed down over his entire lawn, a sprawling multi-acre task, because he thought his neighbor’s grass looked greener than his. My hair, once glossy and thick, now hung in a limp frizzy ponytail since I hadn’t had time to meet with Jackie in weeks and my own hair care treatment consisted of drying my hair out with a flat iron every morning just to look barely presentable. There were bags under my eyes that even Covergirl couldn’t hide. And what was worse…what was worse than the mud or the sunburn or anything else…was the fact that I smelled suspiciously of urine and I didn’t know why.

As I inhaled my own foul stench, I realized this self-righteous prick of a cop had every right to think I was homeless and breaking into cars just to have something soft to sleep on. Why? Because I would have mistaken myself for a homeless person too. My breath suddenly started to hitch as tears began to flood down my cheeks, making trails through the dried mud on my face. I broke into sobs while trying to explain to the officer that this was my car. Ten minutes later, I was left alone in my car with a warning to go home and get a good nights rest.

 I leaned my head back and closed my eyes and thought about how I’d gotten to this point.

It had been six weeks.

Six weeks of pure, unadulterated hell that promised not to cease until either I quit or Justin ran out of evil ideas. 

It had started off with little things. Texts at 5 o’clock in the morning saying ‘Go get my blue shirt from the cleaners’ or ‘Go get shoes from Mike’, making sure he always neglected  to tell me key details like which blue shirt or who the hell Mike was. True to my competitive nature, I’d risen to his challenges at first, pulling pranks like adding excessive amounts of flavorless Metamucil to his tea for a week (which locked up his colon better than rush hour traffic) then slipping a small laxative pill in one of the sandwich bags full of Captain Crunch that Justin always steals from my purse and wolfs down like a Doberman. God,  that had been a sweet victory. I had time to watch a movie on my iPod and take a nap, while Justin holed himself up in the bathroom, moaning and grunting the afternoon away.

After a while though, his constant rudeness, the middle of the night orders, his never ending demands for the impossible started to take a toll. I started having trouble sleeping in part because I couldn’t stop thinking of what I’d forgotten to do that day or how I was possibly going to have time to be with him in the studio and clean the endless supply of Nikes in the closet. I quit sleeping in my bed because I was afraid I’d get too comfortable and fall asleep and miss a call, so I started napping on the couch or even my car, so I could be ready for the next call.  He would always call in the dead of night, asking for things like a Starbucks low-fat blueberry crumble at 2am or telling me at 3:15am that I had to reorder his closet again the next morning at 8 because he wanted his clothes to be organized by color and in alphabetical order by brand.

And all this I’ve had to take in silence. If I even look like I want to complain, he says the same line, the same annoying-ass fucking sentence that I just want to shove back down his throat and make him choke on.

 ‘If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.’

Free to leave. Just like that. Just throw him the bird, turn around, and stomp out shouting curses at the top of my lungs. Like I don’t want to. Like I don’t have to struggle every morning just to wake up and go about my day. Like I don’t have to ignore every fiber of my being that tells me to run away screaming. But at night, when I’m fortunate enough to be able to actually go home, go up to my apartment, and see my two best friends, the two people who make my life in LA worthwhile, I know that tomorrow I’m going to wake up at some ungodly hour and do it all over again. I do this all for them, even though they don’t see it that way. Every time I walk into the apartment, the tension gets so thick you could cut it with a knife. James is so frustrated he can barely speak to me anymore without berating me for taking Justin’s shit. I ignore the words, but the look of disappointment in his eyes when he sees what I’ve done to myself makes me feel even worse about myself. Jen, on the other hand, has been walking on eggshells for the last few weeks trying to assuage the guilt that came from knowing she caused all this. I honestly don’t blame her though, sure she made a mistake, but after selling practically all her worldly possessions to pay Kline back and taking a shitty job as a waitress in some sleazy bar, I saw she was trying to change. In truth, the only person to blame for all of this was Justin.

I have to give it to him though, he’s good. I mean, he’s really good. For example, two weeks ago, after I stupidly mentioned that I was allergic to pollen and pet dander (ie - fur), he immediately went to the pound and adopted a one year old border collie that he even named Emma because ‘you two look so much alike’. Emma who, though lovable, sheds everywhere and pee on everything, was now my red eye - runny nose - skin irritating  personal responsibility,  nevermind the fact he had people in his employ that took care of his other two dogs, Emma was mine and mine alone. In fact, it was Emma that got me to where I am right now, slightly damp, reeking of pee in a fast food parking lot.

Justin had an awards show to attend (thank God) and I had finally gotten the night off, flying home to go sleep in my bed for the first time in weeks. God, I’d been so ecstatic. I put on my favorite pair of pajamas, something I hadn’t worn in a while as I always ended up passing out in my work clothes, and dove into my bed, dumb enough to think I’d have one night of peaceful slumber. Then it came.

Duh-dum-duh duh- duuuuhhh- dum dah- dum dah- dum daaaa

Chopin’s Funeral March blared from my phone, letting me know I had a text from Justin. I rubbed my eyes and bleared at the clock to read a glaring red, 3:34 AM. I let my head drop back down onto my pillow and let out a sigh, before opening my phone.

911.

I stared. 911? He’d never sent a 911 text before, maybe a ‘get here now’ or a ‘move your ass’, but never an actual emergency text. I threw on my gym shoes and grabbed my car keys on the way out the door. I streaked across town, blowing through red lights and breaking speed limits to go all the way across Los Angeles, making it there in 30 minutes, a new personal record.

After passing Hank, the neighborhood security guard who gave me a piteous smile like he did every time he saw me, I zoomed through the neighborhood, my fingers shaking so bad I messed up the security code to his house twice.

Leaving my car in park with the door open, I ran up to the house, sweating bullets, and entered the foyer screaming, ‘JUSTIN!!! JUSTIN!!!! ARE YOU HERE?!?! ARE YOU OKAY??? JUSTINNNNN…’

I started up the stairs, then froze as I took in Justin, standing at the top of the stairs, clad only in a pair of boxers, with a look of drunken amusement on his face.

‘Why the fuck are you yelling so loud? Do you know what time it is?’

I continued to stare at him, bewildered. ‘What? What’s wrong? Are you ok? Is Jess ok?’

My eyes roamed frantically over his body, looking for bruises or burns or something to justify his text.

‘Yeah, we’re fine except for you scaring me half to death by coming in screaming like a banshee. What the hell is wrong with you?’

I felt my jaw start to clinch in anger, ‘Then why did you text 911 at 3:30 in the morning?’

‘Psh, it’s 4 o’clock now. If I was really in trouble, I’d be dead already. Who the fuck takes thirty minutes to respond to an emergency? Do you want me dead? Is that it?’

I remained silent, feeling the blood start to boil in my veins.

‘Anyways,  Emma needs to go out.’

I paused, allowing ten seconds of silence to float through the house as Justin began a slow smile slightly reminiscent of the Grinch after he stole Christmas from the Whos.

I blinked once, then twice,  ‘What?’

‘I said Emma needs to go out. See, that’s why you do such a shit job, you never listen.’

My eye twitching, I ground out, ‘Emma needing to go out does NOT qualify as an emergency, Justin.’

‘I’m sure Emma thinks it’s an emergency. Plus, I don’t want her peeing all over the carpet again. Your hands smelled horrible.’

My voice shook with contained fury of volcanic proportions, ‘That’s because you didn’t give me gloves, Justin.’

‘Whatever, look just take the damn dog out and do your job. If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.’

There it was again. You’re free to leave. Oh, I’d leave him alright, Broken and bloody at the foot of the stairs after I pushed him down. I took a deep breath to control myself and let it out over five seconds before calmly climbing the rest of the stairs and walking past him to get Emma out of her bed in the hall.

After a fifteen minute jog around the block, I returned to Justin’s ridiculously large mansion and began walking up the driveway. I was about halfway up when I heard of small squeak and began getting sprayed with water on all side, causing me to let go of Emma’s lease in surprise. It seemed that Justin had changed the sprinkler timer for the second time this week, drenching me and allowing Emma sprint off  through the mud.

Giving a loud groan, I ran after her, falling multiple times, losing a shoe, and ruining my best pair of pajamas in the process. After a five minute chase through sprinklers that gave off shockingly cold water, I caught Emma who, unhappy with being denied freedom, immediately peed all over me.

I hung my head as I walked towards Justin’s garage, knowing that if I brought Emma in all muddy, he’d send me right back out anyway. Grabbing the kiddie pool I used for bathing her, the garden hose, and a dirty shirt belonging to George, Justin’s gardener, in a futile effort to save my pajama top, I set off to clean the dog, tears of shame silently running down my face.

Thirty minutes later on the way home, my stomach growled reminding me I hadn’t eaten in….God, had it been 24 hours? I don’t really have an eating schedule anymore, relying on baby carrots and animal crackers to get me through the day (which probably explained why I’d lost twenty pounds in the last six weeks). I stopped in the In N’ Out, ordering some fries to go before parking to eat them, which is where I must of fell asleep.

With a dejected sigh, I opened my eyes again, glancing at the time, realizing I had to be in the office with Justin in two and half hours. I walked in my apartment, briefly relishing the feeling of home before heading straight for the bathroom. I took a long shower, doing my best to scrub off the depression and shame that seemed to coat my skin. After changing into another set of work clothes that now sat too loose on my frame, I stared longingly at my bedroom door, imagining myself floating onto the bed and sinking into a deep sleep. Slowly, almost painfully, I turned away heading for our hard, uncomfortable couch that we’d gotten for cheap at the Salvation Army.  Throwing a thin blanket over my legs, I sunk into a dreamless sleep, only to wake up two hours later, more tired than I was before.

----------------------------------------------

I walked up the stairs, carefully balancing two stacked cup holders with eight styrofoam Starbucks containers.

I hate studio days. Even though I normally get to just sit back and watch Justin work, (something that a few months ago I would have killed to do) studio days are when I have to suffer through public humiliation as Justin always finds something to bitch at me about in front of his entire production team and whoever else happens to be in there. Luckily they seem to like me, always joking with me when Justin leaves the room or goes in the booth. That, mixed with the fact that Trace had flown in for a few days which always improved Justin’s mood, had me hoping, no praying, that today would be better.

I walked in, passing Sherry the receptionist with a warm smile, before going back to door 3.

Awkwardly shifting to knock on the door with my elbow, Trace came to open the door, his face splitting into a grin as he saw me.

‘M&M! What’s up!’

Like always, his smile was contagious as I found myself smiling as well.

‘Hey Trace. How’re you?’

‘ Great now that you’re here.’

I laughed, ‘Oh you charmer, you.’

Giving me an obvious wink, Trace turned to give me a side hug and took the top layer of coffees.

I looked around to the other six people in the room.

‘Hi, everyone!  I know it’s an early session, so I picked everyone up some Starbucks.’

Everybody, with the exception of Justin who sneered in his headphones, said thanks as I passed out their coffee, remarking on how I managed to memorize everyone’s favorite. The last coffee I kept for myself, relishing the first sip of caffeinated goodness before I heard,

‘What the fuck is this?’

I slowly blinked and turned to Justin, annoyed that, as usual, he’d found something to complain about already.

‘What’s wrong, Justin?’

‘What do you mean what’s wrong? Come here, taste this.’

I stepped forward and took his cup, only partially lifting it to my lips before common sense got the better of me and, deliberately looking at Justin, I wiped off the opening with my sleeve, earning a hesitant laugh from the room and a death glare from Justin.

I took a sip and shrugged. It tasted like regular old tea to me.

His eyes bulged, ‘What do you mean - ’ he paused to pantomime my shrug.

‘I don’t know Justin. It tastes like tea.’

‘Wrong, it tastes like green tea. And did I ask for green tea, Emma?’

Fuck.

I sighed.

‘No, Justin you didn’t. You wanted chai and they messed it up. I’m sorry, I’ll go get another one.’

‘Jesus, Emma. That shit’s going to take forever with the way you drive. That’s time that I’ll have to sit here waiting and wasting my hard earned fucking money on studio time I can’t use because I can’t sing because you can’t do one simple thing.’

I looked down and closed my eyes, refusing to see the looks of pity everyone always gave me when shit like this happened.

Trace, the brave soul,  broke in, ‘J, man. It’s not even –

But Justin was too far gone to listen.

‘No Trace, she has one job. One fucking job. Help me with the simple shit. It’s not rocket science its…’

Justin’s words seemed to fade away behind the rushing sounds in my ears. Oddly enough, my head felt like it was floating away from my body and I was finally at peace. I giggled as I felt myself fall through a sea of clouds, barely registering my head hitting something hard, bringing the welcoming darkness.

‘Don’t worry, sweet pea. It’s going to be fine.’  

I looked up at Daddy with a pout. It is not going to be fine. I’m his sweet pea. I’m supposed to be his only sweet pea. Now she was going to ruin it. Daddy won’t pick me up and spin me anymore. He won’t let me go to work with him anymore. He’ll forget all about me then he won’t even love me anymore.

 His bright blue eyes stayed fastened on the airport gate, waiting for her, my new ‘sister’. But she’s not even my sister, she’s Aunt Mary’s daughter. Mommy and Daddy told me she’s going to stay with us from now on since Aunt Mary was sick. I had met Aunt Mary once. She smelled like peppermints and lemons and had red hair, just like Daddy. 

I look down at the blue carpet with the little airplanes on it, blinking past the tears in my eyes. Mommy squeezed my hand and leaned down to kiss my cheek. 

‘Mommy, I don’t want a new sister. I only want you and Daddy.’ 

She leaned back and looked in my eyes, ‘Emma, your father and I will always love you. No matter what happens. But Lily needs us right now and we’re family. You remember that. You always help family. Now what are you?’  

I sniffed and straightened up, ‘A lady’ 

‘And ?’ 

I sniffed again and wiped my eyes. ‘Ladies don’t cry in public.’ 

‘That’s right sweetie, now smile. You’re getting a new best friend today.’ 

I looked down and nodded.

 After a few minutes, Daddy pointed, ‘Look, Viv. There she is.’ 

A little girl walked out of the gate next to the flight attendant. Her yellow dress stood out at odds with her bright red curls and freckles. She saw Daddy and ran over smiling. 

‘Hi, Uncle Will!!!’ 

‘Is that my Lily? I haven’t seen you since you were a wee little thing. And look at you now, a little lady! Come here, poppet!’ 

Daddy let go of my hand and swung Lily up in his arms for a hug. I stared at my empty hand in dismay and then looked over at the both of them. She looked just like him. She had the same hair, the same eyes, and even had Daddy’s funny accent. My eyes traveled to my own caramel skin and curly brown hair. Everybody would think she was his daughter and not me. She was going to replace me. Daddy would forget about the Barbie Dream House he promised to get me for my eighth birthday and Mommy would start taking her to tea parties instead of me. Soon, nobody would even notice I was there.

 Daddy set Lily down and, after giving Mommy a hug, she came over to me

 ‘Hi, remember me? I’m Lily.’ 

I looked up at Mommy who squeezed my hand and nodded. ‘Hi.’ 

She turned and reached into her bookbag, pulling out a white pony with bright pink hair. 

‘Here, her name is Rainbow. She’s my favorite. We can share her though. That’s what sisters do.’ 

I felt a slow smile cross my face in response to her brilliant smile, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. 

I watched in confusion as Lily’s wide, green eyes slowly began to fade and transform into a pair of deep blue eyes located a couple inches from mine.

‘EMMA!! EMMA!!! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my – Em, can you hear me? Emma?’

As soon as I opened my mouth to answer a wave of pain and nausea hit me, eliciting a groan.

Justin cried out, ‘Oh thank God’

My world turned on its axis as he yanked me up from the floor into a sitting position, so he could wrap me in his arms. My cheek stung slightly at the sudden onslaught of his 5 o’clock shadow rubbing against it and his breath tickled my ear as he whispered, rocking back and forth.

‘It’s going to be okay. Thank you, Jesus. Oh God, you’re going to be fine. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. It’s going to be fine. You’ll be fine.’

And for a split second, everything stopped. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, relishing in the warm, strong circle of his arms. God, he gave good hugs….

I inhaled, taking in his scent. He rarely put on cologne, so he just smelled like, well, Justin, and it smelled intoxicating. Weirdly, there was another smell attached to him, vaguely familiar, kind of metal-y ... Oh shit, was that…

‘Blood? ’ I managed to croak out.

He pulled back.

‘What? You’re going to be okay, baby. You’re going to be fine. I promise.’

Though he sounded like he was telling the truth, his eyes told a different story. I dropped my gaze from his baby blues and turned to look down at the cream carpet, now turned a deep scarlet by blood… my blood. I felt my eyes roll up in my head before blackness claimed me yet again.

  I burst into my house, dropping my bookbag at the bottom of the stairs before speeding up to Lily’s room and throwing open her door.  

'He asked me! He asked me!!!!’’ 

Lily, who’d been sleeping, turned her head towards me, her eyes still closed. ‘What?’ 

‘He asked me!!! Devon asked me to homecoming! EEEEEEE!!!!!!’ 

Lily’s eyes popped. ‘WWHHHAAATTTT!!!!!!!’ 

‘I know! I was standing at my locker and then all of a sudden, he comes up to my locker and takes off his Oakley’s -'

'Oakleys? Are you serious?!?!’ 

‘I know right? They must have cost like a million dollars at the mall!! Anyways, he takes them off and he’s like, ‘Hey Em, wanna go to the dance next week?’ 

‘And what did you say?’ 

I started laughing, ‘I did just what you told me too. I was like, ‘Hm, I’ll think about it and get back to you.’. Cool as a cucumber.’ 

She broke out into laughter. ‘That my girl!’ 

‘I know! You should have seen his face!!  Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m going with Devon to homecoming!!!  I’m so excited!!! ’ 

Lily turned to me, smiling, ‘You know we’re going to have to get you a dress!'

'I know! Oh my God, we can totally double date!!’ 

Lily had already been asked to the Homecoming dance two weeks earlier by two seniors, even though she was only a junior,  a feat completely unheard of at James K. Wallis High School. 

‘Yeah, once I pick a date.’ 

‘Go for Scott. He’s funny, he’s hot, he’s on the soccer team, and he’s gets like straight As.’ 

Lily nodded in contemplation, then shook her head. ‘ That’s true, but Derek and I make a cuter couple, plus his hair  will totally go well with my dress.’

 I laughed and turned to look at her beautiful, dark green dress that complemented her long, auburn tresses. Only Lily… 

‘Hey, run downstairs and grab the dress catalog so we can find you something to make you as pretty as I’ll be.’ 

I smiled and threw a pillow at her before heading downstairs. I walked downstairs and grabbed the catalog off the kitchen counter, pausing in front of my parent’s bedroom door as I heard a choked off sob. 

‘William, no…’ 

My father, sniffed and cleared his throat, ‘Yes the doctor - the doctor said she was stage 2.’ 

‘But Will, she’s only 17. They must’ve messed up, she’s too young…she’s just a baby ’ 

‘No Vivian. That’s what...that’s why her mother…Mary had it too…’ 

‘No, I just can’t believe - ’ She broke off with a sob.

 I imagined my father hugging her as he whispered, ‘Shhh shhh. The doctor said she’s doing remarkably well for the how far along she is. And she’s young, that puts the odds in her favor. She’ll make her way through it, God willing. Shhh, there now.’ 

My mother sniffed, ‘Jesus. Oh my Jesus, how are we going to tell her, Will? How can we possibly…How are we going to tell Emma? God, they’re attached at the hip and now, oh my God…’ 

The catalog made a loud smack on the floor as I slowly backed away from the door, shaking my head. No, no, no, no…That’s not… The door opened and my father caught  me just in time to avoid my head hitting the floor... 

A deep, shuddering cry poured out of my mouth as I opened my eyes.

We had buried Lily a week before her senior prom. She was 18. I hadn’t cried at her funeral, nor after. It was like I had just shut down. It took six months of therapy for me to speak again and another two years before I could say her name out loud. Even now, her memory enveloped me…

‘Ma’am? Ma’am? Can you hear me?’

I blinked my blurry eyes and focused on a woman in a dark blue polo.

‘Ma’am? I need to ask you a few questions, ok? Are you allergic to any medications?’

I shook my head, causing my vision to spin.

‘Do you have any history of disease in your immediate family?’

‘No. I - what happened? Where am I?’

‘Looks like you fell and hit your head, hun. You’re going to need a few stiches ok? Right now we’re in an ambulance heading down to St. Augustine Medical Center. Ma’am?’

I whipped my head to the side, taking in the IV in my arm and the various equipment in the back of the ambulance.

I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest. Hospital…no, I don’t go to hospitals not after…

I saw Lily, a bright yellow scarf covering her head, at odds with her pale skin. She’d stopped the chemo, but the nausea and vomiting continued, leaving her thin and fragile.

I shook my head, my breath rushing in and out of my lungs. No, I didn’t want to go to the hospital.

‘Ms. Porter, you’re going to have to calm down, honey. Take a deep breath with me, okay.’

I continued to shake my head, ‘No hospital. Please, no hospital’

‘Emma, sweetheart, you really need to calm down, ok. Please. Take a deep breath.’

Her words fell on deaf ears, as my vision started to swim. My mind kept flashing back to the funeral, the condolences, the quiet whispers in the hallway as I passed. No, not again…

The EMT gave a sigh of frustration and injected a small vial of liquid into my IV line.

‘Alright, sweetie, you’re gonna get real sleepy now. You’re going to be just fine.’

Almost immediately, I felt my heart begin to slow and I floated off into darkness.

----------------------------

Justin stood in a trance, watching the EMTs roll Emma down the hall and onto the elevator. At the soft ding of the closing doors, he snapped out of it, then ran for the stairs. Halfway down the hall he was intercepted by Trace.

‘Whoa, where do you think you’re going?’

Justin pushed him off only to be grabbed again, this time by Steve, his head of security.

‘What the fuck! Let me go! They’re going to leave, man!’

Justin struggled again Steve, but it was like trying to move a brick wall.

‘Justin. Justin! HEY!’

Justin stopped moving and looked at Trace.

‘What?’

‘Dude, you can’t ride in the ambulance with her.’

‘Why the fuck not?  If I leave now I can still catch them.’

‘No, Justin! Look, you know who you are and you just can’t jump out of the back of an ambulance with blood on your hands behind an injured employee. People would start thinking things…’

‘Who gives a fuck what they think man? I gotta go…’

‘No, Justin you don’t. Trust me, man. You would hurt her more by going. She’d be on the cover of every major magazine by Tuesday and you’d be called the next Chris Brown. ’

‘I don’t care what they – Trace, it’s my fault, man. It my fault she has to go to the hospital in the first place.’

‘Come on dude, you don’t know that.’

‘Yes I do! I’ve been a complete bastard to her for the like last two months, man. I don’t let her sleep, she’s always running around doing stupid shit that I should do myself, and it’s all my fault. I didn’t even want to do it anymore, but she wouldn’t give up and I wasn’t going to lose and - ’

‘Hey, hey. This is something she needs to hear, not me. Now, we need to go so we can meet her at St. Augustines, so she’s not alone when she gets there, ok?’

Justin took a deep breath and nodded before heading to the car.

Two hours later, he sat in a chair next to her bed, worried. She wasn’t awake yet. The doctor said she’d gotten a light sedative, but still, they’d gone through the ER and transferred her to a private room at his request, but she remained asleep through the whole thing. He thought back to what she’d looked like on the night they met and compared it to now. He looked at the bags under her eyes, the paleness of her skin. Even in her sleep she looked so unhappy. Guilt gnawed at his insides as he saw what he had done to her.

Despite all that, though, she still had this ethereal beauty about her. Justin reached out to touch her face, his hand hovering over her cheek for what seemed like forever before his conscience got the better of him. He withdrew his hand and took a deep breath before resting his head on the bed next to her arm.

‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this,’ he whispered before closing his eyes and thinking of the night they’d met.

4 months ago:

He sat across from her, his eyes studying his dinner plate as if it contained the meaning of life. The room was silent, save for the delicate tings of silverware hitting china, but the silence was deafening. A sea of unspoken words hung between them but neither dared breach its barrier for fear of injuring their already fractured marriage.

Finally Jessica cleared her throat, ‘I have a late shoot tonight then I’m flying to New York for the Today Show, so I probably won’t see you until tomorrow night.’

Justin, eyes still downcast, nodded and mumbled ‘Ok.’

An uneasy silence settled over them again.

‘Do you want to go? I could postpone coming back to LA and we could spend some time in the city. You could get away from the studio for a couple days, it’d be fun.’

Justin continued to stare down at his cold filet mignon, his mind a thousand miles away.

‘It’s been six months today,’ he thought, listening to the phrase repeat itself over and over in his head.

‘Justin? JUSTIN!’

He finally looked up, hearing the anger and frustration in her voice.

‘Hmm?’

‘You didn’t hear a word I said did you?’

‘Oh sorry, must have zoned out.’

As he looked at her face, he could hear the words pounding inside his head, keeping time with his heart beat. ‘Six months, six months, six months’.

She sighed, ‘I asked if you wanted to go to New York with me tomorrow. Spend a couple of days there…together.’

A thread of hope, soft and hesitant, found its way into her voice, making Justin look back down again, not willing to see her reaction as he replied,

‘Tomorrow? Sorry Jess, I gotta go to the studio in the morning and lay some stuff down.’

‘Oh, ok.’

Justin closed his eyes at the crestfallen sound of her voice. He wanted to want to go with her. He wanted to want to walk through Manhattan, holding hands and laughing like they used to do. He wanted to go back, before the unending silence and the unspoken words, before that day six months ago. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t go back and he couldn’t act like nothing had happened, so now they were stuck. Frozen in an awkward void where no one spoke out of turn or said what they really meant for fear of hurting the other. He hated it and he knew Jess hated it, but he couldn’t go back and he couldn’t forget.

Suddenly Jessica stood up with a sob and ran towards the kitchen. He sighed before heading reluctantly after her.

He saw her in the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her in a vain attempt at self-comfort and her eyes overflowing with tears.

He pulled her to him, not even bothering to ask what was wrong. After a few seconds, she sobbed into his shirt,

‘I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Justin. I just – I just don’t know.’

He automatically grimaced, hating himself for it.  ‘Shhhh shhhh, we’ll get through this, babe. You know we will.’

‘I don’t know Justin. It’s just – every week, Dr. John talks to us about communication, how we should talk to one another and not keep this – this anger inside. How it’s ruining our relationship and I’m trying, I really am. And I keep trying to talk and connect with you and you just keep pushing me away and I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m only so strong, Justin.’

Justin sighed, ‘I know baby, I know you do. And I’m trying too but I just need some time to sort things out.’

She pulled away from him and quickly took a step back.

‘No, Justin you’ve had time. It’s been six months! Six months! And you still look at me like that!’

He paused, ‘Like what?’

‘Like – Like I’m the bad guy. Look, I understand why you’re upset and I’m sorry, but I can only apologize for so long.  I mean, you act like I don’t have feelings about it too. I was devastated, Justin, absolutely devastated. But, I made what I thought was the best decision and maybe you don’t like it, but it was my decision to make. It’s like you have a grudge against me! And I don’t know what to do to make it up to you. You just need to …. let it go, Justin, you need to let it go.’

Justin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to dispel the sudden rush of anger that roiled in the pit of his stomach.

 A decision. Is that what you call it?!? A DECISION! Ok, calm down, man.  Breathe, Justin, breathe. She’s right, you need to let it go so you can move on as a couple. Just breathe and let it go. 

 ‘Baby, I’m trying - ’

‘No Justin, I don’t want your TRYING anymore. We’ve been living with your trying for the last six months and it hasn’t been working. I want your DOING!’

Anger as dark as night reared its ugly head and Justin saw red for a moment as he was finally angry enough to break the truth barrier between them.

‘And it’s always about what you want isn’t it?’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You know what I mean, Jessica. You want a new car, we get a Mercedes. You want to live in the city, we move to New York. You want to get married, we get fucking married. It’s always got to be about you. You think that the whole world is a fucking stage and you’ve always got to be in the spotlight.’

Jessica turned around and headed to the fridge to pour herself a glass of wine, ‘Fuck you, Justin.’

Justin followed in her wake, ‘Fuck me? No fuck YOU! What about what I want?’

Jessica gave a derisive snort, taking a sip of wine from the flute, ‘Please, you don’t know what you want.’

Justin leaned in close to whisper in her ear, his face contorted with rage, frustration, and a myriad of other emotions.

‘I wanted our son.’

Jessica gave a small gasp, her wine glass slipping from her hands to fall forgotten onto the ceramic tiles on the kitchen floor.

He had said it, he had finally said it, what had been tearing at his insides for so long. It felt good – no, it felt great. Justin took a few steps back, the space between them almost tangible.

Jessica’s voice shook as she hoarsely whispered, ‘Justin, that’s not fair. I – ‘

Justin cut her off, his unbridled diatribe giving him a heady rush of freedom.

‘No, what’s not fair is the fact that that you tried to keep it from me. You, who always bitches to me about communication, said nothing and lied to my face about the most important decision a couple can make!  I mean, what were you thinking?!? That I was too stupid to notice the signs? The nausea, the morning sickness, the mood swings. Meanwhile, I was so excited. Everyday I waited for you to come home with the good news but no, all you told me was that you got a nasty case of the flu. Come on, Jess,  I mean, you actually paid your assistant to lie to me about where you were that day. And then, when I had to confront you about it, you have the audacity, to tell me it was your choice because it was your body?! Like I have no say in the matter just because I wouldn’t be the one that was physically pregnant. Does my opinion really matter that little to you? Did the fact that I was the child’s father mean nothing to you? And for what?   You killed our son, my son, for what? Some stupid bit part in a third rate movie?!?! God, what type of person are you?’

Jessica slid to the floor, heedless of the tiny shards of glass, my mouth open in a silent sob as waves of grief and regret poured off of her.

Justin looked down at her, the unhidden disgust prominent on his face, ‘I’m going out.’

And with that he grabbed his jacket and his wallet and just drove.

Justin stared at his reflection in the dark amber liquid of his crystal tumbler and tried to concentrate on how many he’d had.

Was it his fifth – no, seventh? Maybe eighth? Whatever, fuck it….

 Even in his private room located above the gyrating masses, the pulsing bass of the music in the club still practically rattled the teeth out of his head, but he didn’t care as it helped keep his thoughts at bay.

As he closed his eyes and leaned his head back onto the leather couch, his mind involuntarily flashing back to the sound Jessica’s voice, pleading with him to understand.

 ‘Justin, baby, you have to understand. We weren’t ready yet, I did this for us. Please - ’

Haunted, he opened his eyes and silenced the memory by downing the rest of his glass, the fiery whiskey burning its way straight down to the pit of his stomach. Stumbling over to the dark window, he stood and watched the people below, wishing he could be one of them. As he turned to go back to the couch, he froze as he saw her out of the corner of his eye.

Arms above her head in wild abandon, her bare skin flashed lavender then green in the glow of florescent strobe lights. Her head was thrown back allowing her wavy hair to brush her lower back. Her eyes were closed as she smiled, managing to dance in the crowd without becoming a part of it, a skill he’d rarely seen even amongst professional dancers.

Justin unconsciously licked his lips.  She looked like poetry in motion. Every bend of her arm, every roll of her hip had an unnatural grace that Justin wanted – no craved. She was stunning, she was sensual, she was…free. She danced with no inhibition, no fear of what people might think or say, she was just free, something Justin had never truly experienced.

As the song ended and slid seamlessly into the next, she exotically weaved her way towards the bar while never managing to lose the beat.

Never taking his eyes off the girl, Justin backed up and pressed the button on the wall next to the couch, immediately summoning his room attendant.

The skimpily clad brunette immediately pranced in, her stilettos making her hips sway to the music.

‘Yes sir? What can I do for you?’

As drunk as he was, Justin knew that tone of voice. He’d heard it since he was sixteen, that sexy purr with just a hint of question that said the owner of the voice was ready and willing to do anything he asked. If she had asked ten minutes before, Justin would have taken her up on the offer and damned the consequences, but he his eyes stayed fastened on the dancing girl as he slurred,

 ‘Yeah…I want – I want her.’

The attendant came to stand next to him at the window, making sure to rub herself against his hand.

‘What do you mean?’

Justin continued to ignore her, ‘I want her. That girl dancing next to the bar.’

She brushed up against him again, purring, ‘Are you sure? I like to dance too. And I do more…tricks than they do.’

Justin finally turned to look Brandy (or was it Christy? Amber maybe?) in the face, the motion making the room spin for a second. He frowned, puzzled, ‘What?’

‘The cage girls on top of the bar. I’m better than them. They do ok in the cage and all, but I’m great on a pole.’

Justin dragged his eyes off the dancing girl and looked up to see four women in skimpy neon leotards gyrating in cages on top of the bar.

He shook his head, ‘No, not them…or you. I want her. The one at the end of the bar, you see her?’

The brunette quickly curled her lip in disgust before quickly morphing it to what was supposed to be a sexy pout, but really looked a hooked fish.

‘Well, we don’t normally do that, sir. Go…fetch… regular people.’

Justin smiled and reached into his wallet, ‘Really? Cause my friends Ben and Ben told me y’all did’

The busty attendant folded up the bills and slowly squeezed them between her generous cleavage while watching him in hopes that he would change his request. Getting a blank stare in response, she dropped her wannabe-Playboy bunny façade and rolled her eyes with an ‘Ok’.

Justin watched as the attendant miraculously found the girl and yelled a few words in her ear, pointing up to the booth. The girl followed the brunette’s gesture before exchanging words and weaving her way back through the throngs of people onto the smoky dance floor. A few minutes later, the attendant reappeared sans the girl.

Justin’s bleary eyes glared at his attendant, ‘The fuck?’

She gave an evil smile and replied, ‘She said she something about not wanting to be some booty call for the Banker.’

Justin blinked at him for a few seconds.’ What?’

The attendant shrugged, ‘I think she’s talking about that Deal or No Deal show. ’

‘Yeah, I’ve watched the fucking show before.’

Seeing another shot at her fifteen minutes of fame, the attendant slid her way back over to Justin, sitting brazenly on his lap before whispering in his ear, ‘Well, I think you’re a big deal.’

She giggled before grinding on his lap to the music. Justin rolled his eyes and let her continue while he watched the girl on the floor, imagining it was her grinding on him instead.

Justin looked up twenty minutes later as the hand that had eventually snaked down to rub his crotch suddenly stopped moving. A pair of expectant blue eyes looked back at him.

‘What?’

The brunette repeated, ‘I said, do you want to take this back to your place?’

He gave her an incredulous look, ‘What?’

‘I’d love to get out of here.’ She leaned forward, exposing her cleavage further until her top practically fell off.

‘I mean, I know you’re married and stuff, but I like to….experiment a little.’

She giggled and tossed her hair before giving him what was supposed to be a sexy look, but instead reminded Justin of his dog Brenner when he had eaten something bad.

Justin stood, almost knocking the empty bottle laden table over, ‘No, I don’t think so. Bye’

Justin stumbled towards the exit, rolling his eyes at the audacity of the girl. He never understood why groupies thought he couldn’t read a magazine or turn on a TV and see stories of his fellow celebrities who’d fucked up their career over some golddigger who wanted her fifteen minutes of fame. He had worked too hard for too long to ruin everything for that shit.

Justin stumbled out the special VIP back door, his ball cap askew and sunglasses crooked, and leaned against the brick façade of the side of the building, silently willing contents of his stomach to quit sloshing around. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he hit three and pushed send, his speed dial calling Trace.

On the fourth ring, Trace picked up the phone, mumbling, ‘Hellerrrmmm’

‘Yo bitch, a need a ride. Come pick me up.’

‘Whaaaa?’

‘Dude, I’m at Dusk and I’m too drunk to drive home, come pick me up…please.’

‘Justin, I’m in New York man. It’s 7 am.’

Justin paused, ‘How long is the flight here?’

‘Dude, you’re fucking drunk. Just call a – WEEE BOOOOP’

Justin stared at his phone in surprise as the beep and subsequent chimes signaled the death of his cell battery.

‘What – awwww fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. DAMMIT’

He shoved the phone back in his pocket before stumbling towards the curb to hail a cab. He reached for his wallet to see how much money he had left and was surprised to find an empty slot where his money should have been.

‘Aww fuck,’ he said, remembering he’d thrown the last of his cash at the brunette attendant for his drinks and her services.

He sneered as he started down the street, determined to find an ATM to solve his problem. Justin had gone half a block before he stopped at the sight of the girl from the club, her arm high in the air as she screamed, ‘TAXI!!!!’

‘Damn baby, I can’t put a price on that body.’

She didn’t respond and continued to watch for an unoccupied taxi.

‘Hey! The Banker is finally revealing himself! Hellllooo?’

She continued to watch the street, ‘Sir, I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you leave before I scream for the cops.’

Hearing the slur of her words, Justin continued, thinking he had a chance.

‘Whoa whoa. Easy, mamacita. I spent a Benjamin on your fine self already, so you could at least try to talk to me.’

The girl finally turned around to give him an angry look, ‘Go away, perv’

‘Don’t act like you don’t recognize me. I tried to get you up to my VIP section, girl.’

She ignored him and walked further into the street, amazed that the one time she needed to catch a cab, she couldn’t find one. That’s LA for you…

Justin turned to drunkenly scan for any hiding paparazzis before taking of his shades and cap, ‘I’m Justin Timberlake, baby. I know you know me.’

She stared at him for a long minute, her expression changing from disbelief to shock to confusion to wariness.

At length, she shook her head and replied, ‘No, you’re not a Noah.’ before turning back to the street.

Justin frowned, ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

Sick of waiting, the girl begin to stalk down the street, away from the club and Justin.

Justin watched her go.  ‘Fine, you ain’t nothing, anyways.’

He began to stalk back towards the club, but froze as he heard, ‘No! Stop! HELP!’

He turned to see a hooded man running in the opposite direction of the girl who had been pushed onto the sidewalk.

Without thinking, he ran back towards the girl, ‘Are you ok?’

She nodded, ‘He took my purse! Get my purse!’

Justin pulled her onto her feet before taking off after the thief. Four blocks later, Justin knew he would never catch up to the Usain Bolt wannabe, so he chucked his cellphone at the back of the thief’s head out of sheer desperation. Justin watched in shock at it connected, making the thief stumble and fall into bank of trash bins, allowing Justin to tackle him from behind. A short scuffle later, Justin was the proud new owner of an enormous migraine and a slightly dirty, silver purse. He slowly stood, using the trash cans for balance, just in time to hear the rapid clack-clack-clack of heels hitting the pavement.

The girl, hair askew, flew around the corner, her eyes searching the area.

‘Where did he go?’

‘He got away.’

‘Shit.’

‘But I got your purse.’

She gasped and grabbed the purse from his hand before throwing her arms around his neck.

‘Oh my goodness, thank you, thank you, thank you!’

He smiled, feeling all the hero, ‘You can take the gentlemen out of the south, but you can’t the south out of the gentlemen.’

She smiled up at him, before suddenly frowning, ‘Oh my God, is that blood?’