Meredith’s dressing room, 10:15 p.m.

“Where the fuck is your fine ass at?”

I smile and sink down against the couch. His voice, his damn voice gets to me, deep and raspy, and southern. And sexy. I giggle at myself. I’m pathetic. “Where do you think? I’m in Mere’s dressing room.”

“Kinky…” His voice lowers and I find myself pulling my knees and shoulders so they can curl up into my torso. I bite my lip and try not to let him affect me. He’s so good at affecting me. “Would you like to fuck in there?”

“Trace…” I warn him and myself. I can’t afford to get this turned on by his whispered, breathy tone. Ever since we agreed to be together it’s really been great. We haven’t really argued except over really stupid things that wouldn’t last long. And while we’ve both been really rearing to go as far as sex is concerned, which is some of the best I’ve had in my life, it hasn’t been just about that. Well, even though that’s kind of what we do….most of the time. I mean, we’ve talked a lot, too and depending on where Mere and Justin sleep at night we’ll go the opposite station and we’ll stay up talking and laying there in bed together.

He never seemed like the cuddle type and I guess what we do isn’t really cuddling. We don’t lay there and call each other baby names, but he’ll hold me and kiss me and we’ll talk about everything.

And then usually I’ll feel him poking into me and he’ll say something dirty and I’ll laugh and we’ll start kissing and…yeah.

It’s…It’s….so far it’s been perfect.

“You like it when I talk dirty.”

I ignore the cockiness in his tone and ask, “Where are you at?”

“Justin’s stretching before his set. So I left him alone and I’m in the hallway, ya know…just thinking about my woman.”

After Keith I thought I’d never want to be someone’s “woman” again. But then I realized Keith always called me his “girl” so being Trace’s woman is a completely different, exciting thing.

“Maybe we should do it out there, then. Where everyone can see. I am only wearing a skirt, ya know.” I bite my lip, happy that I have the guts to be this bold with him, to talk dirty back, to not be the stuck up prude everyone else thinks I am. I know it gets him hot and it makes me feel empowered or something.

“One of these days we’re gonna get caught. We can’t keep sneaking around like this.”

I laugh a little, but I don’t really like where this conversation is going. “I’m not hiding it.”

“Yes you are. You haven’t told anyone.”

“Neither have you!” I say defensively. I haven’t told anyone because it’s no one else’s business. Plus, the less people that know about it the better it’ll be for us. Work relationships rarely work. I’m a prime example of that.

He groans on the other end, “I don’t wanna fight about this.”

“I’m not fighting.”

So I guess we have fought a little, but I’m sure it’ll be over with soon. We argue, everyone argues, it’s nothing really serious. “Look, I’ll come to Mere’s room in a few. I’m gonna go out and have a cigarette.”

“I thought you were quitting,” I tease.

“You’re a bad influence.”

I laugh again. “Hey, I am quitting.”

“Yeah right, you’re the one that peer pressures me to smoke after sex.”

“Hey…that’s diff--” I hear a click and pull the phone away. “--rent.” I see that he’s hung up on me and I laugh again and shake my head. “Ass.”

I snap the phone shut and put it on the table beside me that’s littered with some book Meredith was reading, some lip gloss, a couple magazines, Altoids, and her cell phone.

It’s funny I guess ‘cause Trace and I’s relationship hasn’t really changed from before we made it official except for the fact that we spend a hell of a lot more time together. He still annoys the shit out of me, on purpose I think. It usually ends in me cussing him out, smacking him and then him kissing me.

Which I really don’t mind that much.

The only problem is this sneaking around shit. I mean in a way it’s sexy ya know, making out in dark hallways and bathrooms, staring at the door while he’s kissing me and has his hand in between my thighs, waiting for someone to bust in on us, sneaking off to his room at night, wearing the sexiest underwear I have underneath my clothes (underwear he bought me, underwear I’d promise myself not to wear, that I told myself objectified women, underwear that now makes me feel sexy when I see myself in it) that kind of thing. But I can’t hide this from Meredith much more, even though I don’t want her going crazy and scheduling double dates and wanting to dish while getting our nails done.

The other afternoon we had several hours of travel. Trace was on the bus with Justin helping him do some business stuff so I was left on Meredith’s bus with her and Monique and Abbie. They were having a teen movie marathon. I hung out with them for about an hour just to not seem so anti-social, even though I hate teen movies. She asked me what was going on with Trace and I and I just told her we were good friends and hanging out a lot. She said “oh” in a very dejected tone and just nodded at me and sort of shut up and ignored me for the next little bit.

I think she could tell I was full of shit and I think it made her upset I wouldn’t be honest with her. I mean it’s not like we’re great friends. Sometimes she vents to me about Justin, but honestly she rambles so much it’s hard to keep up with her half the time. I guess that’s bitchy. Maybe I should be more interested in her pathetic drama with her boyfriend. Maybe it’d be easier if I didn’t hate her boyfriend’s guts. Wait, I don’t hate him. I should reword that. If her boyfriend didn’t hate my guts, that’s more accurate.

I know she still wants us to be best friends or something but I just can’t afford that type of relationship with someone. I can’t let her pull me into that life and go party with her or whatever and not do my job. I’m here to do a job, not be a best friend.

I’m not Trace, I can’t do both.

I don’t know how he gets away with it. I guess that Justin is easier to deal with. He gives Trace lots of space and still lets him live his life. I feel like Mere wants me to be around for her benefit, so she has someone to talk to, not really because she likes me or cares about what’s going on with me.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m being unfair.

I guess I just don’t understand what she would want to do with me. She’s got plenty of friends and we are very, very different people. Part of me also wonders why she wants to get so close to me, especially after her last assistant was her friend and ended up fucking her over. I’d think she’d want distance with me.

And I’d hate for her to become a good friend to me and then something happen and it hurt her and her think I betrayed her. And I hate feeling guilty, even if the thing that happens is out of my control.

I reach out to the book that Meredith was fumbling around with earlier and read the back of it to see if it’ll hold my interest for the next hour or so. I need to go on a book run because I’ve read all of mine I brought. I’ve been meaning to do it, but lately I’ve spent less time reading and more time with…with him.

I glance at my watch. She should be back here in 30 minutes or so when her set’s up. Maybe I should make more of an effort.

Before I get done with the first line of the back cover a voice makes me jump out of my skin. “Hello there.”

I breathe heavily and right myself so that I’m sitting on the couch instead of laying on it. It’s Justin. I didn’t even hear him come in and now he’s leaning up against the counter of Mere’s dressing room, dressed in his button down shirt, tie and slacks for this show, and he’s staring at me.

It’s a blank stare. But it’s challenging.

“Um, hi.”

I don’t know what the hell he wants and I’m not sure if I should stay here and listen to him or make a mad dash for the door.

“Got a moment?”

“I uh, think.”

“Yeah, you uh, do.” He mocks me and I glance at the door that he’s now walking towards. It’s my last chance. I should dash, come on Courtney. Get out of here. He speaks to someone in the hallway. “I’ll be ready in 10.”

The door shuts.

Shit.

I know I gotta be strong. I can’t let him see that he kind of terrifies me. I don’t think he’d ever do anything to me, but that boy can talk. And usually when he talks to me he pisses me off and clouds my mind and makes me over-think things and doubt things. And I don’t need that drama in my life right now.

Especially when Trace is on his way over here.

I sigh, put the book I’m clutching on the table and cross my legs, “What can I do for you, Justin?”

“I wanna talk. Is that ok?” His tone is biting and aggravated and I’m not sure I like it.

“Considering our track record, I’m not sure.”

He stares at me and says in a low voice, “Funny.”

“Right…”

I look at the coffee table in front of me. He doesn’t say anything so I start straightening things, putting the random pieces in some weird organized fashion, magazines in a stack, book on top, Altoids, lip gloss and phone in the opposite corner.

“You still fuckin’ Trace?”

I drop the lip gloss and it rolls off the coffee table onto the floor.

I look at him and narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Well he’s decided to distance himself from me so, well, yeah…I gotta get my info some how.” He shrugs and looks down at the counter. He perched himself up there, his shiny black shoes that look like ones my dad use to wear when he got dressed up for work swing slightly back and forth where his ankles are crossed.

I lean back against the couch. Here we go. “It’s none of your business if we are or not, and you’re the one that’s distancing yourself.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to seem defiant, trying to let him know I’m not one to be messed with.

I don’t really think Justin Timberlake cares though. I honestly wonder if he’s intimidated by anyone.

“So now you’re an expert about me and Trace?” He laughs and it’s not pleasant. “Interesting.”

I roll my eyes and uncross my arms, letting them smack against my thighs. “Why are you doing this? Don’t you have a show to do?”

“Look, I just need to get some shit straight. You shouldn’t be so uptight and worried like you’re hiding something. I know you’re dating or fucking or whatever you’re doing with him. And I don’t like it. You’re not good for him—“

“How the hell-”

He slides off the counter and puts up a hand to me. I’m surprised I let it happen, but his hand movement quiets me. I hate this. “I know, ok? He hasn’t told me himself, but enough people around here have spotted you two doing whatever it is you do. But, just know...If you do any little fucking thing to upset him I’ll have your ass shipped back to wherever the fuck you came from so fast you’ll not even realize it.”

I don’t like him standing up while I’m sitting down, so I stand up as well and glare at him as I move across the floor to the other side of the room, to the opposite counter. “Are you really threatening me?”

“He just broke up with a good girl, a girl that was good for him, he doesn’t need to be bouncing back with you, someone who’s dangerous.”

I lean against the counter and go back to my glaring, arm crossed stance. “Didn’t she break off their engagement and started dating someone else? How good can that be? Are you fucking serious? Dangerous? You make me sound like a terrorist.”

He smiles and steps closer to me even though there’s probably 15 feet separating us across the room. He crosses his arms and leans forward a little bit. He talks in a cocky, secretive way when he says, “In a way you are, Courtney. I don’t trust you. I think you’re here to sneak your way into this industry and get whatever benefits you can, fuck whoever gets in your way.”

“Oh my god…” I push myself up on the counter and then push some of Meredith’s hair products out of the way so that I don’t tip them over. “This is actually fucking hilarious. It’s like your living in a little movie world where you’ve cast me as the evil assistant and you’re gonna save the day and save your girl from anything wrong.”

“There’s been a hell of a lot of shit printed about me and Mere lately, shit that not very many people should know about Courtney. It just makes me wonder.”

This is ridiculous.

“She got over what that Leah girl did to her! You should, too. God I’m not gonna sell some shit. Half the time I’m not paying attention to what you two do.”

He laughs a full, sarcastic, asshole laugh and goes and sits where I just was, putting his feet up on the table, making my organized magazines slide. The book falls off the top of the stack and lands on its spine on the rug underneath and it tips over so the cover is facing up. I stare at it. The Princess Bride. I didn’t know that movie was based off a book. “Bull fucking shit. You’re always fucking staring at us. If I didn’t know better I’d say you either are a lesbian or you want my cock.”

My eyes snap from the book title to his steely blue eyes. I stare at him for a good 10 seconds. I haven’t let a man talk to me like this in a long, long time and I’m not about to let Justin fucking Timberlake do it either.

I smile a little bit, “I can not wait to tell your girlfriend about how you’re talking to me.”

“Please, she’s not gonna do shit. She might get mad at me for a bit but I can change her mind.”

I wish I had a fucking tape recorder and recorded his words. Maybe I should start carrying one and let her see how he really treats me. Maybe that’ll cause some drama since he so clearly wants to start some with me.

“Oh really?”

He turns a little, lifts his ass off the couch and reaches his hand into his back pocket and pulls out three pieces of small rectangular paper. I see they’re photographs. “With these. Why were these in your purse earlier today?”

I jump off the counter and step a little closer seeing the pictures of Meredith and her dancers. I snatch them out of his hand and glance at the pictures: They’re making faces in one, posing like Charlie’s Angels in another and just sitting there smiling with their arms around each other in another. I know the pictures. I know them well.

I took them myself. I drop them onto the coffee table. The bastard searched my purse?

“You’ve lost it.” I roll my eyes and go sit in the chair across from the couch. This is stupid.

He’s stupid.

“I’m not really sure Meredith is gonna be happy to know you’ve stolen pictures of her and her dancers hanging out. How much do those go for now? Hundred thousand?”

I start to laugh and I can’t control it and lean forward a little bit and shake my head at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“How so?” He’s still smiling at me, a cocky, asshole smile that I wanna punch.

I cross my legs and smooth out the long skirt I’m wearing. “I took these pictures myself last night. They fucking asked me to and this morning Meredith gave me her camera and told me to go get the pictures developed ‘cause she wants to make this collage or something on her bus.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes, but the cocky smile has been smacked off his face. He knows I’m not lying, even though he’s trying to convince himself otherwise.

This guy needs therapy.

“I’m surprised you didn’t snatch out the ones of you and her.”

“What?”

Oh, that got his attention. Yeah I got the whole memory card developed and there were several pictures of her and Justin, in fact most of them were of the two of them. Some were of her and Teddy and other random people on the crew. There was even one she took of me one morning on the bus right when I woke up. I didn’t get that one printed. But most of them were pictures she must have taken when her and Justin were together, probably drunk. There were several with him in his boxer-briefs and one of him kissing on her and her smiling holding the camera out in front of her and one that was kind of blurry but you could tell it was Meredith holding a sheet up against her. There was another one but it looked like a hand covered the lens at the time, the photo was all black except for a little bit of light in the corner where whoever’s fingers separated. I didn’t get the blurry one or that one printed either.

“Oh yeah, here…” I get up and go to my satchel over on the counter. I hadn’t had a chance to give Mere the pics yet because she was so busy this afternoon. The soundcheck ran late ‘cause they had some equipment problems and I was having dinner with Trace while she was getting dressed. I pull out the little box of pictures they gave me at the film place and move closer to Justin and toss them at him. “You might be careful with your girlfriend when she’s drunk. Ya know, I was really tempted to sell a picture of you in your underwear to People or whoever, but I restrained myself.”

He pulls the photos out of the holder and only looks at a few of them before pulling his legs off the coffee table and putting the box there. He glares at me. “You’re a bitch.”

Must of run out of excuses to be pissed at me or whatever and is now just using names.

“And you’re an asshole. Are you done interrogating me now?” I sigh and plop down in the chair again. At least I’ve won this battle with him.

The saddest part about it, or I guess the part that gets to me the most, is that I know that Justin, at least the Justin everyone else knows, isn’t an asshole. I mean if he was just mean to everyone and was stuck up and a prick then I probably wouldn’t let this bother me at all. I’d probably just sit here reading Mere’s book ignoring everything he did or said.

But I know he’s only like this with me. In fact, when people are around who he doesn’t like at all, he usually just ignores them completely, acts like they don’t exist. So why do I get to him so much? Why does he come after me? He knows that his girlfriend doesn’t like it, so why doesn’t he just suck it up and ignore me, too instead of causing all this drama? It’s just weird. I mean usually when I see him and he’s not with Mere or even when he is with her, he’s cutting up with people, laughing, joking around. He’s kind to people, opens doors, helps people carry stuff.

He really isn’t a stuck up pop star.

I guess in a way I keep hoping one of these days he’s gonna show me that side of him. But I’ve always been one to get my hopes up. And they always seem to get crushed.

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, “If anything, any fucking thing is traced back to you, you don’t even want to know what I’ll do to you.”

“I could press charges for threats, Justin.”

“I’d ruin your career. I don’t think you realize how much power I have in this business.”

I take in a breath and tell myself to step back from this for a moment. I realize how ridiculous this whole thing is, how stupid he’s being, how stupid I was for letting him come in here. “I don’t think you realize how much of an idiot you sound like right now.”

“And if you do anything to hurt Mere or Trace…”

“Why would she hurt me?”

We both dart our eyes to the door and I see Trace there, hand still on the door knob, darting his eyes in between us.

I sigh, thank fucking God.

“Good you’re here.” Justin stands up and wipes his hands on his pants. “You can finally fess up to me that you’re fucking her.”

His eyes are round and his mouth opens slowly. His voice is soft when he says, “I told you I was fucking her….”

I laugh and shake my head, “Nice Trace.” Great, fucking great. Now he can’t even be a man about this.

“What?”

I throw up my hands. “You can’t even tell him we’re dating.”

“Courtney, just chill out.” He glares at me a little.

Oh hell fucking no! I stand up and stare at him, hard. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Justin doesn’t look at me but stays staring at Trace. He points his thumb at me. “I’m just asking your girlfriend here how all this shit is starting to come out about me and Mere.”

I groan and say defensively, “Because you guys are one of the hottest couples right now, everyone wants a story.”

He turns and his voice is raised, finally. He kept his cool, cocky manner up until now. Now, well now he’s just pissed. “Then why are they getting one? Why are they getting true ones? It started with the Vegas shit. And now they know about us in Chicago, about how I gave her that bracelet. Nobody knew about that except you two ‘cause you were on the bus when I gave it to her.”

“Maybe when you bought it they assumed--” Trace says, but Justin cuts him off.

“My mom bought it for me.”

“You’re paranoid,” I laugh and sit back down on the chair sideways, pulling my legs over one of the armrests of the chair and pressing my back against the other. Ya know Trace is being kind of annoying right now, but Justin’s hilarious. He’s fucking insane and even though I’m the one getting all the shit rained down on me, it’s still hilarious to watch. “You need therapy.”

He doesn’t look at me, but stares at Trace, “You think I’m paranoid, Trace?”

“I think you just need to relax a little. You’ve got a show to do and you don’t need to go all stressed out.”

Of course. There’s my man, my man with the perfect fucking answer every god damn time.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like the fact that shit’s wrote up about me and my girl, but ya know, I gotta get over that. I have gotten over it. I’ve dealt with it for the past 10 years. Magazines are gonna lie, but ya know I find it strange and it really fucking bothers me when they somehow miraculously know the truth, they know about every little thing we do and they print it up.”

“Maybe you should stop buying the magazines Justin.” I say and reach in front of me and pick up the People magazine on the top of the stack that has a picture of Lindsey Lohan on the cover. I do it on purpose, hoping he’ll see it and get more pissed off. I’m beyond the point of caring. “You’re just fueling it.”

“It’s kind of hard when everyone, including you, buys them!” he bites out to me.

I sigh and shake my head at him. “I buy them for your fucking girlfriend Justin! God!”

He steps forward and gets closer to Trace and I watch them. I can see Trace almost cower in front of Justin and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. “I can’t believe you’d ever stoop this low, Trace. I know you think your desperate or something, but you don’t have to fuck this…” He slings his arm in my direction. “This is just a mess.”

Trace licks his lips and looks at Justin and then turns his eyes on me.

“Well?” I say.

“What?”

I laugh bitterly. This is just a sad, sad scene. “Un-fucking-believable. After all this you still can’t stand up to him?”

He steps back and puts his hands up in between him and Justin. “I’m not going to let you guys put me in the middle.”

“Too late.” I curse myself when me and Justin say it at the same time.

It’s not fair, I know it’s not. But good fucking God, he shouldn’t let his best friend treat him like that, or treat the woman he calls his girlfriend like that. It’s just wrong. Be a man.

“I gotta go. You have fun with your bitch of a girlfriend here.” Justin doesn’t look at me anymore and before I know it the door has slammed and it’s just me and Trace and a lot of really heavy air.

Several minutes pass. I just ignore him and read the magazine. Well I’m not really reading, but pretending to read, staring at a picture of Victoria and David Beckham. I need fresh air.

And I’m battling the urge to stomp out of here and go smoke like half a pack of Camels. Menthol. Mmmm. I can smell the tobacco on Trace. Shit. I reach in front of me and grab the box of Altoids and put two in my mouth and suck hard.

“Hey…”

I throw the magazine on the floor and push the Altoids under my tongue. I can’t stand it anymore. “I can’t fucking believe you,” I sound like I have a speech problem when I say it and quickly bite into the mints even though it’s a little too strong for me.

“What?”

“What? What!” I chew some more and sigh. Ya know, that…what just happened was something I don’t want to deal with anymore. I’m tired of Justin and his weird psychotic moods. I’m tired of Trace being a wimp around him. I’m tired of everyone falling on their feet for Meredith and me getting no respect for half the shit I do. I’m tired of everyone talking about me on the tour. I’m tired of it. I’m not in middle school anymore. I’m here to do a job, not be treated like this. I don’t know if I can deal with this anymore. I shake my head and say out loud, but mainly to myself, “I don’t know if I can do this. I just don’t know if I can do this.”

“What?” He licks his lips and sits down across from me.

“I might just have to quit.”

“What!”

I point to the door. “Trace, he just came in here and threatened me like five times about my job and my safety, claiming that, I guess, I’m selling info to the magazines.”

“Are you?”

I stare at him, “Oh my god.” I can’t believe this.

“Look, I’m not saying you would. I know you wouldn’t, but he’s right to some extent.”

I blink and shake my head. I really did not just hear that. I did not just hear my boyfriend’s complete lack of faith and trust in me. “I can’t believe this. He’s got hundreds of people around him and her every day. Why am I the one he points out?”

“He’s used this crew for almost every tour he’s been on. They go through extensive background checks, and most of them don’t give a shit about him or her and their life. They’re just here to work. You’re the easiest target.”

I can’t even look at him anymore. I feel like I might just throw up. After all the drama with us and finally breaking down and telling him everything and the past two weeks being phenomenal with him and...and me finally happy with where I am—then, this happens? “I can’t believe you believe him.”

“I don’t, I never said that.”

“You’re sure acting like it.”

He sighs and rubs his forehead. He can’t look me in the eye. “You do stare at them a lot, I’ve noticed it Courtney. I’m not blaming you, I’m just trying to let you know that I understand why he’s so fucking paranoid.”

“Then try to explain it to me ‘cause I’m lost here.”

“I’ve read the articles. He’s made me read the articles. And I’ve got to admit, they’ve never gotten this much info on him before, not truthful stuff. Now Meredith might be a different story, but Justin runs a tight shift. They post stories about him a lot, but that’s if they get picture proof and most of the time the captions with the pictures are blatant stories and hilarious lies. It’s rarely ever factual. And these have been. I don’t know how they’re getting this info out about the bracelet and about their little drunken private after parties and then the whole write up about how Tuesday night is their pizza and movie night. No one knows about that shit except us.”

I look at him and he’s staring at me with a pitiful lost stare. I know, I know he doesn’t think I did it and I know he’s struggling with some issues with Justin right now and I know I’m probably the main issue on the list, but I just…It’s not fair. And as much as I hate to whine and complain, I don’t deserve to be treated like this, I don’t care what’s happening in Justin’s life.

“Meredith doesn’t have the tightest mouth, Trace.”

“Look, I know. I’m sorry, but he needs someone to blame and unfortun-“

“It’s not an excuse Trace. I thought I was your girlfriend.”

“You are but I just…”

I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him. “I’m not gonna let you treat me like this, like he’s better than me.”

“Great, fucking great.” He throws his hands up and stands up and starts pacing. I just stare at him a little and suddenly I feel bad. “Ya know, I should send you both a fucking thank you card for putting me in the middle of this. I shouldn’t have to choose between you two.”

“Maybe you should.” He stops and the look he gives me isn’t one I want to see again. I should have know better than getting involved with someone who’s best friend is the most important person to them, more important than I could ever be. “You’re like his little puppet. Everyone calls you his little bitch and I’m starting to believe it.”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.” He sighs and stops pacing, scratching his head. He’s grown out his hair into this little stupid mohawk thing. It’s ridiculous. And I hate how last night I told him I thought it was cute.

“Is it working?”

Right now nothing about him is cute except the smell of smoke that’s tempting me outside.

He sits on the arm of my chair and sighs, picking up my hand in his. “He was out of line, ok? He probably said shit he shouldn’t have, Courtney. But what do you want me to do? Go punch my best friend in the face? Go tell him he’s wrong? It’s not gonna do a damn thing but make this situation a hell of a lot worse. After a while he’ll stop bothering you about it. If there is someone in the crew leaking info they’ll get caught and you’ll be off the hook and it’ll be all fine and dandy, ok?”

I pull my hand away from him. “I can’t just be a punching bag for him, Trace. If he has a bad day I don’t wanna be looking over my shoulder wondering if he’s gonna come and attack me. I can’t stand that. I can’t live like that. Maybe….maybe I should have left that first week. Maybe I should call Angie up right now and quit.”

“Don’t do that.” He turns and kneels in front of me and grabs both of my hands. I start to smile inside, thinking maybe, maybe he’s going to tell me he loves me or that he can’t be on this tour without me or that he’s gonna miss me or that he’ll quit with me.

He doesn’t say a thing about us.

“Mere relies on you. Forget Justin, ok? Just keep trying to avoid him.”

I sigh, “That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Look, you haven’t been talking to anyone have you?” I glare at him and he stands up and sits on the edge of the table in front of me. “Like, look I know you wouldn’t sell shit. I know you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be with you if I even thought you could do something like that. But, you haven’t been talking to anyone, like a friend or something, about what’s been going on with them, have you?”

“Who would I talk to Trace? You’re really my only friend here.”

He sighs and looks at me dead on, something I know is hard for him to do, especially when we’re arguing. So it kind of amazes me to see him do it now. “Ya know, that’s another thing, too. If you made yourself more accessible, people wouldn’t feel you were so shady. I know you’re not, but people talk ‘cause they say you don’t hang out enough and you’re so uptight. And honestly they’re right.”

“Oh my god, I am not gonna get into this with you.” I stand up and he looks up at me and I walk away from him and over towards my satchel again. I start messing with things in my purse, searching for my lighter and wondering if maybe there’s a cigarette hiding down in there somewhere. “You know I don’t make friends easy, Trace. We’ve talked about this. We’ve talked about how I’m very cautious about making friends at work. I can’t believe you would just…”

I find a cigarette but as soon as I have it in my hand the door swings open and I see Meredith charge through. I barely even get a glimpse except the silver sash around her waist and her teased hair flying behind her.

“Mere! Mere…”

Teddy, Monique, Abbie, one of the main stage directors, Tom is his name I think, and Derrek are all there, piling into the room, calling after her.

The bathroom door slams shut. I stare at Trace and then at everyone else.

Holy shit.

“What’s going on?” Trace asks before I get the chance to.

Teddy’s at the door knocking, talking low and softly to her.

Abbie starts talking wildly and I look at Monique and she’s standing there with her hand over her mouth and a worried look in her eyes. Shit, fucking shit. What just happened? This night is just getting worse.

“She’s really sick, she only got through her second song with Justin and they both came off stage right before her encore and she just-”

“Hey…” Teddy turns around and points to the door. “Everyone out.”

“Come on Teddy we just…” Abbie starts to say and I see Derrek come up and put an arm around both of the dancers.

“Look, I know.” He squeezes them and starts to lead them out of the room. “We’ll give her some space, Teddy? We’ll be outside if you need us.”

Tom sighs and pulls the mouthpiece away from his lips and stares at Teddy and then Trace. God, what the fuck is going on?

“He says he’s not going on until he knows she’s ok.”

“Give it here…” Trace stands up and Tom pulls off the head piece, the wire still connected to the pack on the side of his belt. Trace moves the headpiece close to his ear and speaks into the microphone. I listen carefully, trying to decipher out what’s going on and what just happened out there. I’m afraid if I ask Teddy he’ll kick me out, too.

“She’s fine man…Look, I know ok? She’s using the bathroom right now so she can’t talk to you…I promise man, I promise. Just get through the show and it’ll be fine, ok? ...No, no. She’s not gonna have to go to the hospital. Look, calm the fuck down. She probably just got a little dehydrated…Yeah, yeah ok. I’m here and Teddy’s here and we’re gonna take care of her, alright? Yes, I promise. Go…”

He sighs, nods quickly at Tom and hands him back his head set. Tom leaves, saying quietly, “I’ll come back in a few for a check up.”

I sigh when the door closes and look at Trace. I’m assuming she got sick or something. I guess if she was hurt she wouldn’t have been able to walk in here and if someone attacked her there would be security ransacked in here.

Trace is on the phone with God knows who and Teddy is leaning by the bathroom door asking her if he can come in.

I walk over there and put my hand on Teddy’s arm. He looks miserable. “Excuse me, Teddy.” I knock lightly and call out, “Mere?”

I can hear her crying in there. Shit.

I turn the knob and realize it’s not locked. When I look in she’s kneeling in front of the toilet, puke in the bowl, makeup runny and her forehead leaning against the porcelain seat.

She sniffs. “I…I feel so bad Court.”

“Shh, it’s ok.” I kneel down beside her and pull her hair back for her. I luckily have a hair band around my wrist and quickly tie her hair up in a loop for her behind her neck. I rub her back. “Just your stomach?”

“My head hurts, too.”

She leans against me and before I realize it I’ve got her in my arms and she’s holding onto me, breathing heavily. “What did you eat today?”

“Cereal…” She breathes and coughs a little. “Justin shared his big salad for lunch and then I had that chicken wrap you got for me a few hours ago.” Great, I already see Justin blaming me for poisoning her. She looks at me and wipes her face and her mouth with a wad of toilet paper she had in her hand. She sniffs but then starts panicking and crying even harder. “I know I scared him Courtney, please…please tell him I’m ok. I just, I feel better now that I threw up.”

“Hey…” There’s a knock and we both look up and Trace is leaning in, pushing the door all the way open. “We’ve got a paramedic coming to…”

I can feel her shaking and she tries to push herself up. “Trace, don’t. Please. It’s gonna be this big ordeal and I’m fine, really.”

Teddy pushes Trace out of the way and he looks at her like a father would, concerned, stern, and determined. “You coming off stage and throwing up on the floor is a big ordeal, a huge one. And if you don’t want the paramedic to check you out I’ll pick you up and take you to the hospital myself.”

“Ok, ok…” I can feel her wanting to push me away a little. I guess she doesn’t want to lean against me anymore. I stand up in the small space and press myself up against the corner of the room, trying to give her some space.

Teddy takes my space on the floor and squats down a little, smoothing her hair over her head. It’s actually a really touching scene if there wasn’t throw up in the bowl. I lean over and flush it for her. “I’m not letting you get sick again like last time Mere. I’m not letting you scare the shit out of us again.”

“I’m fine…” Teddy plops down on the floor in front of the sink and lets her rest her head on his shoulder and he keeps his arm around her. I look at Trace and he stares at me.

It’s funny how all this shit with us has gone down and all of a sudden none of it seems to matter anymore. I hope Mere’s ok. I really do. I hope she’s not dehydrated or has to ya know, be hospitalized or something. Maybe she just ate something that didn’t sit well with her. I don’t know. All I know is that the little world we live in has stopped for the moment and in a way I’m kind of thankful.

Maybe this will put everything into perspective. I’m sure she’ll be ok.

As horrible as it is to say, the problem is that she will be ok. I’m sure in a couple of days she’ll be back to herself and this, all this will still be there. And when our little world starts back up again I’m still going to have to deal with Trace and Justin and I pray to God there’s not Meredith added to the mix. The last thing she needs right now is stress and the last thing she needs is me quitting because her boyfriend hates me.

Justin’s hard enough to deal with when his girlfriend is happy and well, I don’t want to see what he’s like or who he blames or hear the threats he makes after his girlfriend’s been sick.